Vertís in usum

Studies in Honor of
Edward Courtney
Beiträge zur Altertumskunde

Herausgegeben von
Michael Erler, Dorothee Gall, Ernst Heitsch,
Ludwig Koenen, Reinhold Merkelbach,
Clemens Zintzen

Band 161

Κ · G · Saur München · Leipzig

 Vertís in usum

Studies in Honor of Edward Courtney

Edited by
John F. Miller Cynthia Damon
K. Sara Myers

Κ · G · Saur München · Leipzig 2002

 Die Deutsche Bibliothek - CIP-Einheitsaufhahme
Verás in usum : studies in honor of Edward Courtney /
ed. by John F. Miller . . .. -
München : Leipzig : Saur, 2002
(Beiträge zur Altertumskunde : Bd. 161)
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Photograph of Edward Courtney
at Trinity College, Dublin, 1954
 PREFACE

This volume honors Edward Courtney on the occasion of his retire-

ment. Born in Belfast and educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and at
Oxford, Ted first taught at King's College, London, where he was Pro-
fessor of Latin. In 1982 he moved to the United States, where he has
held two distinguished chairs, the Shirley R. and Leonard W. Ely, Jr.
Professorship of Humanities and Sciences at Stanford University, and
then at the University of Virginia the (first) Basil L. Gildersleeve Pro-
fessorship of Classics. Most of the contributors to the present
book—colleagues, students and friends—got to know Ted in one or
more of those various places. All twenty-three of us, like many others
in the community of classical scholars, have benefited from his great
erudition and generous collegiality.
We would like to express our gratitude to Melvyn Leffler, Dean of
the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of Virginia, for fi-
nancial support of the publication. Special thanks go to Brenda
Courtney, Ted's wife, who shared in planning this clandestine project
from the start, and who through the years has been an unfailing source
of kindness and practical assistance to Ted's students and colleagues.
The title, Vertís in usum, is taken from Statius. In Siluae 3.1.166-70
Hercules felicitates Pollius Felix on achievements rivaling his own,
among them the conversion of a wild and barren landscape into pro-
ductive terrain. The phrase is equally appropriate to Ted's labors, which
have made so many rough places plain. Thanks to his efforts, students
of all degrees can use with confidence and enjoy with understanding
Latin texts ranging from early poetic fragments to late inscribed verses,
from Ovid's calendar to Petronian poems to the Siluae of Statius and
the Satires of Juvenal. And like Hercules' praise, ours is expressed in
the present tense, in the expectation that Ted is far from finished with
the lustra habitata feris.

C. D., K. S. M., J. F. M.
 CONTENTS

1. QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR A N D GRECO-ROMAN

H I S T O R I O G R A P H Y AT R O M E
J O H N DILLERY L

2. B E L I E V I N G T H E PRO MARCELLO
MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM 24

3. THE STOIC PARADOXES A C C O R D I N G TO CICERO

DAVID M E H L 39

4. HORATIAN JOTTINGS
NIALL R U D D 47

5. SERA VINDEMIA: MARGINAL NOTES ON THE

TEXT O F H O R A C E A N D J U V E N A L
•R. G . M . NISBET 56

6. CRITICA VARIA
CHARLES E . MURGIA 67

7. HYPERMETER A N D ELISION IN VIRGIL

G . P. G O O L D 76

8. VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, A N D THE L A M E N T

OF IUTURNA
DIRK OBBINK 90

9 . T H E A U T H E N T I C I T Y O F AMORES 3.5
J. C . M C K E O W N 114

10. O V I D O N T H E A U G U S T A N PALATINE
('TRISTIA 3.1)
J O H N F. MILLER 129

11. O V I D A N D A U G U S T U S
D . E . HILL 140

12. ( M I S ) U S E S O F M Y T H O L O G Y I N P E T R O N I U S
GARETH SCHMELING 152
Χ CONTENTS

13. S T R U C T U R E A N D H I S T O R Y I N T H E GERMANIA
OF TACITUS
JAMES B. RIVES 164

14. T H E E M P E R O R ' S N E W C L O T H E S , O R ,
O N FLATTERY A N D E N C O M I U M IN THE SILVAE
CYNTHIA D A M O N 174

1 5 . PSITTACUS REDUX: IMITATION A N D LITERARY

P O L E M I C I N S T A T I U S , SILVAE 2.4
K . SARA MYERS 189

1 6 . T H E P S E U D O - F U L G E N T I A N SUPER THEBAIDEN
GREGORY HAYS 200

17. A T P L A Y W I T H A D O N I S
JAY R E E D 219

1 8 . STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE

JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS 230

1 9 . C A U G H T I N T H E A C T : "IN FILIA DEPREHENDERE"

I N T H E LEX JULIA DE ADULTERIIS
S U S A N TREGGIARI 243

2 0 . T H E DAIMON OF EUDAIMONIA
JON D . MIKALSON 250

21. A D R I N K F R O M T H E D A U G H T E R S O F MNEMOSYNE:
POETRY, E S C H A T O L O G Y A N D M E M O R Y AT T H E END
O F P I N D A R ' S ISTHMIAN 6
CHRISTOPHER A . FARAONE 259

22. R O W I N G F O R A T H E N S
JENNY STRAUSS CLAY 271

23. R A T I O N A L I S M , N A I V E A N D M A L I G N I N
EURIPIDES' ORESTES
D A V I D KOVACS 277
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR
AND GRECO-ROMAN HISTORIOGRAPHY AT ROME*

B Y JOHN DILLERY

Although non-Greeks had written histories of their own lands in the

Greek language since the time of Xanthus the Lydian at least (mid-fifth
century BC),1 a veritable explosion of such texts occurred in the third
century, marking the beginning of a process that was to continue
throughout Antiquity. In the first quarter of the third century we find
two figures of tremendous importance for the study of this brand of
historical writing: Berossus of Babylon, and Manetho of Sebennytus in
Egypt. At the end of the same century or the beginning of the next we
encounter the first Roman to undertake the task of writing a native
history in Greek, Quintus Fabius Pictor. Often these three are linked
together in the belief that they all represent the same historiographie
tendency.2
It is my purpose here to examine the work of Fabius in this larger
context of other non-Greeks who wrote histories of their lands in the
Greek language. I hope to show that Fabius was indeed very like Beros-
sus and Manetho in many important ways, but that in certain,
significant areas, he was not, demonstrating a degree of hellenization
that is not found in figures who are otherwise comparable to him. I
know that I will run the risk of oversimplifying or even forcing 'simi-
larities' upon this important set of historians. In the end, though, I think
that these similarities help to bring even more sharply into relief the
differences between Fabius and his historiographie brethren, indeed
so much so that further explanation is called for.

I consider it a privilege to have had Ted Courtney as a colleague. To him and to

Brenda I offer this paper as a small return for their friendship. I thank C. Damon and
Sara Myers for their advice and help.
1 Dates are BC unless otherwise stated. For Xanthus the Lydian, and other early

Greek authors who wrote histories of barbarian lands, see D. H. Th. 5.

2 See esp. A. Momigliano, The Classical Foundations of Modern Historiography (Ber-
keley 1990) 98, id., comment in Histoire et historiens dans l'antiquité = Fondation Hardt
4 (Vandœuvres-Genève 1956) 172-73, and Alien Wisdom: The Limits of Hellenization (Cam-
bridge 1975) 92. Note also E. Badian, "The Early Historians," in T. A. Dorey, ed., Latin
Historians (London 1966) 3: "Fabius' work fits into a series of 'barbarian' (including
Egyptian and Babylonian) historical works written in Greek"; cf. Β. Gentili and G.
Cerri, History and Biography in Ancient Thought (Amsterdam 1988) 36. In m y (admit-
tedly) selective review of the scholarship, only C. W. Fornara, The Nature of History in
2 JOHN DILLERY

1. SIMILARITIES

When we set Fabius beside historians such as Berossus and Manetho,

the first point to note is that they all seem to have been elite priests, or
at least high-ranking individuals who were intimately connected with
the religious affairs of their states. Berossus is identified as a priest of
Bel, and is also often referred to as a Chaldaean (FGrHist 680 Τ 1);
Manetho is described as a 'highpriest' (FGrHist 609 Τ 1) and is connect-
ed to Heliopolis, a traditional center of priestly learning in Egypt.
Although it is far from certain, Fabius may well have been a member
of the decemviri sacrisfaciundis.3 Even if he was not, we know from tes-
timonia in Livy, Plutarch, and Appian that he was sent out by the
decemviri in 216 after the disaster at Cannae to consult the oracle at
Delphi, and that he returned the same year (FGrHist 809 Τ 3).
Livy's description of Fabius' trip (23.11.1-7 = FGrHist 809 Τ 3d, HRR
lxx-lxxi) suggests an important fact about him, and provides several
key details. First the fact. Fabius was presumably chosen for the job of
emissary to Delphi because he was recognized by his peers as the right
man for this delicate mission. 4 Ambassadors to Delphi were often men
of learning; they had to know not only the Greek language, but also
Greek ways more broadly speaking. 5 Of course, the two often went
hand in hand: knowing Greek almost always meant possessing Greek
paideia as well. 6 As Josephus says of both Berossus and Manetho, while
not Greeks themselves, they participated in Greek paideia.7 We should
not expect anything less of Fabius.

Greece and Rome (Berkeley 1983) 39 expresses serious reservations about grouping Fabius
with the likes of Berossus and Manetho.
3 J. Briscoe, OCD 3 s.v. Cf. R. Syme, c o m m e n t in Histoire et historiens (above η. 2) 175;

Badian (above η. 2) 2; J. Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography (Cam-

bridge 1997) 138. Momigliano, Foundations (above n. 2) 88 is m o r e cautious.
4 B. W. Frier, Libri Annales Pontificum Maximorum: The Origins of the Annalistic Tradi-
tion, 2nd ed. (Ann Arbor 1999; first ed. 1979) 235.
5 H. Bouvier, " H o m m e s de lettres dans les inscriptions Delphiques," ZPE 58 (1985)

1 1 9 - 3 5 . On Fabius' c o m m a n d of Greek culture as implied by his mission to Delphi, see

e.g. Badian (above n. 2) 2, Momigliano, Foundations (above n. 2) 88, E. Gruen, Studies in
Greek Culture and Roman Policy (Berkeley 1990) 10.
6 See esp. D. T h o m p s o n , " L i t e r a c y and P o w e r in Ptolemaic E g y p t , " in A. B o w m a n

and G. Woolf, eds., Literacy and Power in the Ancient World ( C a m b r i d g e 1994) 6 7 - 8 3 ; also
T. Morgan, Literate Education in the Hellenistic and Roman Worlds ( C a m b r i d g e 1998). The
materials used to introduce Greek language often also included basic Greek myths,
gnomai, and key literary passages: I am thinking of the famous livre d'écolier published
by O. Guéraud and P. Jouguet (Un Livre d'écolier du iiiè siècle avant f.-C. [Cairo 1938]), as
well as, e.g., P. Oxy. 4099, published first by R. L. Fowler, P. Oxy. 61 (1995) 4 6 - 5 8 , cor-
rected and reinterpreted by M. Huys, "P. Oxy. 61.4099: A Combination of M y t h o g r a p h i c
Lists with Sentences of the Seven Wise M e n , " ZPE 113 (1996) 2 0 5 - 1 2 .
7 In both cases the contrast between their ethnicity and their acquaintance with
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 3

As for the details, we also learn from Livy at the beginning of the
passage in question that Fabius returned to Rome from Delphi and read
the oracular response from a written transcript (responsum ... ex scripto
recitavit). Then come the crucial elements of the oracle (23.11.2-3 = Fon-
tenrose H48, Parke-Wormell 354), quoted in archaizing Latin, in which
not only the future salvation, but the future victory of Rome against
Carthage is guaranteed if certain rites are observed and lascivia is avoid-
ed. 8 We are then told that when Fabius finished reading the oracle, now
described as having been translated from Greek verse (haec ubi ex grae-
co carmine interpretata recitavit), he performed two acts of piety: first he
sacrificed with incense and wine to all the gods who were responsible
for guaranteeing Rome's success, and, on the command of the hi-
erophant, he returned to Rome with a laurel wreath on his head that he
was not to remove until he arrived in the city. As is evident from this
summary, Livy presents the story in essence twice, with the bare facts
of the journey indicated in an introductory statement, and then reca-
pitulated and expanded in the chapter that follows.
Two important details emerge from this passage. First is Fabius'
signal piety, especially as demonstrated by his wearing of the wreath
from Delphi to Rome. Also noteworthy are the circumstances of the
oracle's recording and presentation at Rome: first we are told that the
oracular responsum was written down; then that it was translated from
Greek verse; and twice within the space of eight lines, framing the entire

Greek culture is carefully signaled by Josephus in his contra Apionem: Ap. 1.129 = FGrHist
680 Τ 3 Βηρώσος, άνήρ Χαλδαΐος μεν το γένος, γνώριμος δέ τοις περί παιδείαν
άναστρεφομένοις; Αρ. 1.73 = FGrHist 609 Τ 7 Μανεθών δ' ην το γένος Αιγύπτιος, άνήρ της
'Ελληνικής μετεσχηκώς παιδείαο The similarity of thought and language between these
two passages was noted by A. von Gutschmid, "Vorlesungen über Josephos Bücher gegen
Apion," Kleine Schriften, 5 vols., F. Riihl, ed. (Leipzig 1889-94) 4.491.
8 Livy 23.11.2-3 Si itafaxitis, Romani, vestrae res meliores facilioresque erunt magisque
ex sententia res publica vestra vobis procedei victoriaque duelli populi Romani erit. Pythio
Apollini re publica vestra bene gesta servataque lucris meritis donum mittitote, deque praeda
manubiis spoliisque honorem habetote; lasciviam a vobis prohibetote. Onfaxitis, cf. E. Courtney,
Archaic Latin Prose (Atlanta 1999) 22. For the expression vestrae res meliores facilioresque
erunt Weissenborn and Müller (Tifi Livi ab urbe condita libri [Berlin 1883] ad 23.11.2) note
other Latin parallels, one of which comes from a similar circumstance in Livy (25.12.10;
cf. Macr. 1.17.28): decemviri graeco ritu hostiis sacra faciant. hoc si recte facietis, gaudebitis
semper fietque res vestra melior. This is from the second oracle of the seer Marcius, the
first oracle having prophesied the disaster at Cannae. The second Marcian oracle may
have been originally in meter of some kind and, as is evident from the text, it has a
Greek emphasis (graeco ritu). Cf. F. Nicolet-Croizat, Tite-Live histoire romaine livre X X V
(Paris 1992) 106-108. The expression vestrae res meliores facilioresque erunt might conse-
quently be a fairly accurate translation of the standard oracular Greek phrase λφον καί
αμεινον: see esp. J. Fontenrose, The Delphic Oracle (Berkeley 1978) 14. G. Stübler, Die
Religiosität des Livius (1941; reprint Amsterdam 1964) 102 argues that lascivia here means
something akin to excessive superstition and use of unreliable divine communications.
4 JOHN DILLERY

oracular episode, we are told that Fabius read the oracle at Rome. Most
authorities on the Delphic oracle suppose that the response we read in
Livy was taken from Fabius' own account of the mission: Fontenrose
states that "the response . . . which Livy quotes in the Latin translation
is presumably Fabius' own"; Parke and Wormell are more cautious,
suggesting that we do not have the "verbatim text, but a Latin transla-
tion presumably derived from Fabius' record." 9 Note that his account
of his mission to Delphi would have been different from the transla-
tion he made and read out in Rome on his return because his history
was written in Greek. Although it is possible that Livy made use of a
translation of Fabius, perhaps by his grandson N. Fabius Pictor, it has been
largely ruled out that there was ever a Latin version of his work.10 If
Livy is following Fabius for the mission to Delphi after Cannae, and it seems
he surely is, then he is obviously relying on an account written in Greek.
It is possible that such an important oracle, however, may have been
transmitted independently from Fabius and consequently could have
been available to Livy in Latin. 11 But well might we ask at this juncture:
why would Fabius have translated the oracle into Latin in the first place if
his audience had to any significant degree a knowledge of Greek? The
answer is surely that public remarks had to be in Latin: Cicero famous-
ly does not use even single Greek terms in his speeches, even though
his private correspondence abounds with Greek words and phrases. 12
Another difficulty connected with Fabius' visit to Delphi as reported
by Livy is the detail that the oracle was a carmen graecum—written in
Greek verse. Although no actual responses survive from Delphi, it is
assumed that the practice there was much like that at other shrines,
e.g. Dodona: Delphic officials would have given to the consultant a
fairly simple answer to his question recorded on some sort of writing
material; 13 the response was not in verse at all, at least until the second
century AD.14 However, the impossibility of Livy's description need not
trouble us. If the bulk of the account is derived from Fabius, and spe-

9 Fontenrose (above n. 8) 260; H. W. Parke and D. E. W. Wormell, The Delphic Oracle:

Volume 2, The Oracular Responses (Oxford 1956) 143.

1 0 Frier (above n. 4) 2 4 6 - 5 0 ; cf. Momigliano, Foundations (above n. 2) 9 1 - 9 2 , D. S.

Potter, Literary Texts and the Roman Historian (London 1999) 176, n. 45.
11 Silius Italicus 12.324-36 also presents the oracle. He does not mention Fabius,

and the oracle is substantially different from what we read in Livy. Of course, this does
not mean that Silius' version is independent of Livy (it could be a very general para-
phrase), but it encourages one to think that the oracle was widely known.
1 2 I owe this observation to C. Damon, who also points to the scrupulousness with

which the emperor Tiberius avoided the use of Greek in public settings (Suet. Tib. 71).
1 3 L. H. Jeffery, The Local Scripts of Archaic Greece, rev. by A. W. Johnston (Oxford

1990) 58 and n. 1.
1 4 Fontenrose (above n. 8) 193-94.
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 5

cifically the detail that he translated the Greek oracular carmen, then
Fabius would have been doing nothing different from what Greek his-
torians had been doing for years. Herodotus, for example, reports
several Delphic oracles in verse, and in two very important cases the
consultants write the prophecies down themselves. 15
One final point that should not be lost sight of in connection with
Fabius' mission to Delphi is the centrality of the episode in Livy's ac-
count of the entire Second Punic War. Levene has recently argued that
the oracle of 23.11 "marks an important turning point in Roman for-
tunes"; books 21-22 are for the most part negative, with Cannae
representing Rome's nadir. The oracular response given to Fabius to-
wards the start of book 23 not only guarantees Rome's survival, it
promises an ultimate victory prophesied and sanctioned by the gods. 16
Hence in Livy's account of the war, Fabius' visit was in a sense a pivotal
moment. If Fabius' trip to Delphi had in his own narrative anything
like the significance it has in Livy's narrative, then a feature of real
importance about his history can be glimpsed that would put him
squarely into the company of the other Hellenistic non-Greeks writing
national histories. It is a noteworthy tendency in the work of priest-
historians of Egypt and Babylon to focus in their texts on members of
their own class at critical points in their nations' pasts. Thus of the
three preserved narrative fragments of Manetho, the role of a priest or
seer is important in two of them, following a tendency in Egyptian
narratives that had been especially felt from the period of the Persian
domination of Egypt onward. 17 In the case of Berossus, the fish-man
Oannes who appears out of the Red Sea and gives the arts of civiliza-
tion to man is clearly representative of the apkallu, or vizier, to the first
king Alorus. To be sure, Berossus is using traditional materials here,
but he is also placing unambiguous stress on the crucial role of the
priestly advisor to the king. 18 1 should hasten to add, however, that the
fact that Manetho and Berossus place such emphasis on the role of priests

1 5 Hdt. 1 . 4 7 - 4 8 (Croesus' test of the oracle) and 7 . 1 4 0 - 4 2 (the 'Wooden Wall' proph-

ecy for Athens).

1 6 D. S. Levene, Religion in Livy (Leiden 1993) 5 0 - 5 1 . For the continuing importance

of Delphi for Rome in this period, see Gruen (above n. 5) 10, 3 0 - 3 1 .

17 FGrHist §09 F 9 = J. Ap. 1.101 (the highpriest alerts Sethos of his brother's treach-

ery); F 10 = J. Ap. 1. 232 (Amenophis the seer prophesies for Amenophis the king), and
Ap. 1.238 (Osarseph is leader of leprous priests and is later recognized as the biblical
Moses). See J. Dillery, "The First Egyptian Narrative History: Manetho and Greek His-
toriography/' Ζ PE 127 (1999) 105-109.
18 FGrHist 680 F 1. See J. van Dijk, Vorläufiger Bericht über die von dem deutschen
archäologischen Institut und der deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft aus Mitteln der deutschen
Forschungsgemeinschaft unternommen Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka 18 (Berlin 1962) 4 6 -
47, S. M. Burstein, The Babyloniaca of Berossus (Malibu 1978) 13 and n. 6.
6 JOHN DILLERY

in their accounts is probably the result of foreign conquest; out of de-

sire to compensate for the loss of real power, these priest-historians
e 1 e vate the role played by their forebears. While such an explanation does
not fit Fabius of course (more on this below), at least one ancient read-
er believed that Fabius was guilty of a pronounced national bias
(Polybius 1.14.2-3 = FGrHist 809 Τ 6): his Annales were a deeply patri-
otic history, written, as were those of Berossus and Manetho, in a time
of national crisis, namely the Hannibalic War. 19 Momigliano has even
gone so far as to suggest that it was Fabius' mission to Delphi that
inspired him to write. 20
Formal similarities also link Fabius to other non-Greeks writing
local history in the Greek language. Of course nothing can be said for
certain about his prose style since we have Fabius only indirectly, but
it is worth pointing out that Cicero considered his work to be exilis,
'dry' or 'slender' (Leg. 1.6); indeed, he excuses Fabius' simplicity and
'spareness' by noting that the first Greek historians wrote in a similar-
ly primitive manner (de Orat. 2.51). 21 If this testimony is reliable, it
would suggest that Fabius' history was written in the same unadorned
and basic Greek which we assume also for Berossus, Manetho, and see
22
for ourselves in Josephus.
On the other hand, while Fabius' koine may have been plain, his
narrative could be quite complex. On the basis of Plutarch's character-
ization of Fabius' Romulus and Remus tale as something δραματικόν
καί πλασματώδες (Plu. Rom. 8.9 = FGrHist 809 F 4a), and of details from
the account itself as recorded by Plutarch (more on this below), Wal-
bank has argued convincingly that Fabius was "an historian whose work
showed the influence of the 'tragic' school," 2 3 that tendency in Greek

1 9 Cf. Frier (above n. 4) n. 282, and more generally M. Geizer, "Römische Politik bei

Fabius Pictor," Hermes 68 (1933) 1 2 9 - 6 6 = his Kleine Schriften, 3 vols. (Wiesbaden 1 9 6 2 -

64) 3 . 5 1 - 9 2 .
2 0 Momigliano, Foundations (above η. 2) 90.
21 FGrHist 809 Τ 8. Cf. Frier (above η. 4) 7 6 - 7 8 and 276. H e notes, contra Gelzer, that

it must be Fabius' Greek text that is being critiqued in these passages, not a Latin text
(i.e. of N. Fabius Pictor).
2 2 Josephus admits (famously) that he needed help with his Greek w h e n writing up

the Jewish War (Ap. 1.50); cf. T. Rajak, josephus (London 1983) 4 6 - 4 9 . There is reason to
believe that Fabius' Greek was considerably better. On early R o m a n bilingualism, see,
e.g., G. P. Goold, " A Greek Professorial Circle at R o m e , " TAPA 9 2 (1961) 1 6 8 - 9 2 , esp.
1 9 1 - 9 2 ; more generally, R. G. Meyer, "Grecism," ProcBritAc 9 3 (1999) 1 5 7 - 8 2 , esp. 1 7 7 -
80, for later periods. Also see below under 'Differences.'
2 3 F. W. Walbank, "Polybius, Philinus, and the First Punic War," in his Selected Pa-

pers (Cambridge 1985) 91 = CQ 39 (1945) 12; cf. eundem, A Historical Commentary on

Polybius, 3 vols. (Oxford 1957) 1.64-65. Note also K. Hanell, " Z u r Problematik der älteren
römischen Geschichtsschreibung," Histoire et historiens (above η. 2) 165, Frier (above η.
4) 278, Gentili and Cerri (above η. 2) 57.
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 7

historiography of the Hellenistic period towards dramatic and extrav-

agant reportage. 24 Dionysius of Halicarnassus also testifies to these
same narrative propensities in Fabius. 25 Fabius' account of the Roman
naval victory at Mylae in 260, for instance, can be glimpsed at Polybius
1.23-24: because of its focus on Roman determination after initial set-
back and Carthaginian overconfidence, Walbank is led to style the
presentation a peripeteia of sorts (indeed, note Polybius 1.24.1, where
the Romans are victorious παραδόξως).26 I have recently argued that
the same narrative structure is present in Manetho. 27
But speculation about Fabius' prose style and narrative technique
is hazardous in the extreme. We are on slightly firmer ground when we
turn to his dating systems. Although the exact title of Fabius' work is
not known, Roman readers are uniform in calling it Annales graeci (e.g.
Cie. Div. 1.43), strongly implying that the history was organized by
year; furthermore, later annalists cite him for events from the early
Republic, something which they would not have been able to do if his
narrative was not divided by consular year at that point. 28 He could be
very precise, even for the regal period: the rape of the Sabines took
place "in the fourth month after the foundation" (Plu. Rom. 14.1 =
FGrHist 809 Τ 5), a date that was rejected by at least some later writers
(Gellius put the event in the fourth year AUC, a confusion?). Very prob-
ably Fabius was working back from the Roman religious calendar of
his own day, for the Parilia, associated with the foundation, were held
on April 21, while the Consualia, at which the Sabine women were be-
29
lieved to have been taken (Liv. 1.9.6), were held four months later on
August 21. This is a classic piece of antiquarian reasoning, where firm
dates for the remote past are generated by reproducing a relative dat-

2 4 For the concept esp. of πλάσμα ιστορικόν see P. Scheller, De hellenistica historiae
conscribendae arte (Leipzig 1911) 62-63, and G. W. Bowersock, Fiction as History (Berke-
ley 1994) 10-11. On 'tragic history' itself, with significant cautions, see F. W. Walbank,
"History and Tragedy," Historia 9 (1960) 216-34 = Selected Papers 224-11.
2 5 D. H. (1.84.1) notes that "others" (ετεροι) have criticized the story of the expo-

sure and salvation of the Twins as "full of dramatic improbability" (δραμτικής μεστόν
άτοπίας). Cf. Walbank, "Polybius, Philinus" (above n. 23) 91, n. 65 = 12 n. 65.
2 6 Walbank, "Polybius, Philinus" (above n. 23) 91-92 = 12-13.

2 7 Dillery (above n. 17) 100-101.

2 8 Walbank, "Polybius, Philinus" (above n. 23) 97 = 17, Frier (above n. 4) 259-60.

Frier cites Cato as a counter-example: Cato did not use consular names for dating pur-
poses and was consequently never cited by later annalists except once; cf. Gentili and
Cerni (above n. 2) 57, and S. P. Oakley, A Commentary on Livy Books VI-X (Oxford 1997-) 1.22.
On the issue of the title of Fabius' work, see Walbank, Commentary (above n. 23) 1.312,
Frier (above n. 4) 216. Frier suggests as a title 'Ρωμαϊκά or 'Ρωμαίων πράξεις, as does T.
P. Wiseman, Clio's Cosmetics (Leicester 1979) 12, but both are cautious.
2 9 For this popular dating of the Rape, see R. M. Ogilvie, A Commentary on Livy
Books 1-5 (Oxford 1965) 66.
8 JOHN DILLERY

ing derived from a time-reckoning system with which the historian is

himself intimately familiar. 30
Fabius could also step out of this Roman scheme for dating in or-
der to make his work sensible to a larger audience when the event was
of surpassing or 'international' importance. He dates the foundation
of the city of Rome to "the first year of the eighth Olympiad" (748/7,
D. H. 1.74.1 = F GrHist 809 F 3a). 31 This last detail is itself significant,
for Berossus, too, managed to locate a transforming event from his na-
tion's past by means of a Greek, or rather Macedonian date: the Flood
is fixed by him to 'Daisios 15' (FGrHist 680 F 4b = Syncellus p. 30
Mosshammer), where 'Daisios' is a Macedonian, not a Babylonian
month-name. Of course, Macedonian month-names were precisely the
ones employed by the new overlords of Berossus' land, the Seleucids. 32
It should also be added that Berossus' account is unique among Meso-
potamian texts in providing a specific date for the flood. 33 Thus in
Berossus we have a situation parallel to Fabius' Olympiad dating of
the foundation of Rome: in an otherwise aggressively native dating
system he brings emphasis to a signal event by means of an 'interna-
tional' time marker.
One final similarity relates to the question of the audience of Fa-
bius' work, an issue implied in what was just brought up about his
dating schemes. It is often and no doubt correctly argued that Fabius
was writing for a Greek audience. The work was, after all, composed in the
Greek language, and betrayed significant Greek narrative mannerisms
(more on this below). Rome had recently been through a profound na-
tional crisis and there was evidently a need for a national history in
Greek. Elizabeth Rawson articulates the scholarly consensus well:

[ F a b i u s ] a t t e m p t e d t o p r o v e n o t o n l y t h a t [ R o m e ' s ] p o l i c y in h e r r e -
c e n t w a r s h a d b e e n e m i n e n t l y j u s t , b u t t h a t s h e w a s t o all i n t e n t s a
G r e e k city. H e w a s t r y i n g , n o d o u b t , t o r e d r e s s t h e b a l a n c e a g a i n s t
the p r o - C a r t h a g i n i a n historians f r o m Sicily a n d M a g n a G r a e c i a , in a n
u n p r e c e d e n t e d attempt to influence Greek opinion.34

30 Cf. F. Jacoby, Atthis (1949) 144.

31 Frier (above n. 4) 281, Momigliano, Foundations (above n. 2) 9 4 - 9 5 .
3 2 E. Bickerman, Institutions des Séleucides (Paris 1938) 205.

3 3 W. G. Lambert and A. R. Millard, Atrahasis: The Babylonian Flood Story (Oxford

1969) 136-37. Cf. Burstein (above η. 18) 20, η. 52. J. Tubach, "Der Beginn der Sintflut
nach Berossos," Philologus 142 (1998) 1 1 4 - 2 2 argues that the dating, while Macedonian,
is not without local significance, perhaps corresponding to the Winter solstice; Lambert
and Millard also suggest that cult might be involved. Berossus also uses a Macedonian
month to locate the Sacaea festival (F 2); this is a problematic case, inasmuch as the
festival in question seems actually to be Persian, not Babylonian.
3 4 E. Rawson, " R o m a n Tradition and the Greek World," CAH2 8 (1989) 4 2 5 ; cf. also

Badian (above n. 2) 4 - 5 .
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 9

But while this view is surely correct, it ought not to obscure the possi-
bility, indeed the likelihood that Fabius' Annales were written for a
Roman audience as well. In more than one place it seems clear that
Fabius attempted to glorify or defend members of his own gens, an
effort that makes sense only if the Roman elite was envisioned as read-
ing his work. 35 Although it might seem strange that Fabius would want
to communicate anything of importance in the Greek language to a
Roman audience, 36 we ought not to forget that Greek was the prestige
language, and that local elites often communicate with one another in
such languages in addition to their mother-tongue. 37 And, in fact, par-
allels can be cited for this same dual orientation in Berossus and
Manetho. It is true that in those cases, and in the parallels one can cite
from the modern world, the prestige language is used by subjugated
people, setting up a colonial dynamic that was simply not the case for
Fabius. But the sense of cultural and especially literary indebtedness
to Greece that was felt at Rome allows for a similar interpretation: Graecia
capta ferum victorem cepit.38
In Berossus' case ancient testimony suggests that he wrote his
Babyloniaca for Antiochus I (FGrHist 680 Τ 2), and that at points he re-
futed elements of the Greek tradition regarding his land (e.g. denying
that Semiramis founded Babylon, FGrHist 680 F 8 = J. Αρ. 1.142). 39 Both
these details argue strongly for an intended Greek audience, as does
the fact that the history was written in Greek. On the other hand, there
are features of the narrative that have special importance if viewed in
a Babylonian context. Although Berossus tries to broaden the relevance

3 5 Badian (above n. 2) 3 draws our notice to FGrHist 809 F 15 ( = Liv. 8.30); Frier
(above n. 4) 2 8 1 - 8 2 discusses specifically Fabius' defense of the reputation of Q. Fabius
Maximus Verrucosus, the 'Cunctator.' See Frier 281, n. 71 for further bibliography on
the R o m a n public for Fabius' Greek history, and cf. also Wiseman (above n. 28) 24.
3 6 I support Gruen's refusal to endorse the claim that because Fabius' history was

in Greek it was only for Greeks, but I cannot follow him w h e n he argues for primarily a
Roman audience for Fabius (Culture and National Identity in Republican Rome [Ithaca 1992]
231). The fact that there is no evidence that Greeks read Fabius does not tell us anything
about w h a t he m a y have intended. And in any case, w e can n a m e at least three Greeks
who did read him, and extensively: Polybius, Dionysius, and Plutarch, not to mention
the Tauromenium dipinto (below).
3 7 See, for instance, G. Viswanathan, Masks of Conquest: Literary Study and British
Rule in India (New York 1989). For a general statement see, e.g., C. Geertz, The Interpre-
tation of Cultures (New York 1973) 2 4 1 - 4 2 .
3 8 Hor. E p. 2.1.156. Obviously a vast topic, but see esp. A. Wallace-Hadrill, "Greek

Knowledge, Roman P o w e r , " CP 83 (1988) 2 2 4 - 3 3 .

3 9 Cf. Hdt. 1.184; but there were others too, e.g. Dinon, FGrHist 6 9 0 F 7. See esp. A.

Kuhrt, " B e r o s s u s ' Babyloniaka and Seleucid Rule in Babylonia," in A. Kuhrt and S.
Sherwin-White, eds., Hellenism in the East (London 1987) 5 3 - 5 6 , and e a n d e m , " T h e
Seleucid Kings and Babylonia: N e w Perspectives on the Seleucid Realm in the E a s t , " in
P. Bilde et al., eds., Aspects of Hellenistic Kingship (Aarhus 1996) 5 3 - 5 4 .
10 J O H N DILLERY

of the Flood by giving its Macedonian dating, the fact that he has all
antediluvian records buried in the city of Sippar (FGrHist 680 F 4 =
Syncellus p p . 30-32 Mosshammer) near Babylon is highly significant
from a local perspective. N o Near Eastern text places the Flood story
in Babylon—the city w a s not one of those regarded as in existence be-
fore the Deluge. But Sippar was the closest antediluvian city to Babylon,
so that in essence Berossus has m a d e the Flood story a Babylonian one,
to the extent he was able. He also altered the traditional king list in
favor of Babylon. 4 0 A n d finally the very process of b u r y i n g writings in
the m a n n e r Berossus relates is a form of conferring legitimacy and au-
thority on texts that is typical in a Near Eastern setting (naru literature),
and represents a custom whose legitimizing p o w e r is only intelligible
to those familiar with it. 41 Similarly Manetho w a s closely attached to
the early Ptolemaic court, and yet presents his history of Egypt f r o m a
very particular, local point of view: Memphis is the conceptual focus
of his history, inasmuch as the non-Memphite dynasties are noted as
such as t h o u g h departures from the norm. 4 2 That Manetho's king list
begins with the god Ptah rather than Re also suggests a Memphite point
of view. 4 3 This expression of local pride is typical of priestly scribes in
Egypt w h o were attached to specific religious centers, 4 4 b u t w o u l d not
have meant m u c h to the ruling Ptolemies or their Greek a n d Mace-
donian functionaries and soldiers. These parallels suggest that Fabius
too w o u l d have had both a Greek and a Roman audience in m i n d w h e n
he wrote u p his Annales graeci.

2 . DIFFERENCES: SOURCES A N D EARLY HISTORY

In turning to Fabius' sources w e encounter an enormously important

topic b u t also one that presents us w i t h far more questions than an-

40
Both the importance of Sippar a n d Berossus' m o d i f i c a t i o n of the k i n g list in fa-
vor of Babylon are n o t e d b y Lambert and Millard (above n. 33) 137. J. Knobloch, "Eine
e t y m o l o g i s c h e Fabel i m Sintflutbericht bei B e r o s s o s / ' Gioita 63 (1985) 1 s u g g e s t s that
Sippar m a y also h a v e b e e n c h o s e n as the repository for a n t e d i l u v i a n w r i t i n g s b e c a u s e
of a p o s s i b l e p u n o n the n a m e of the city w h i c h is related to the c o n c e p t of writing.
41
P. Michalowski, "Commemoration, Writing, a n d Genre in A n c i e n t M e s o p o t a m i a , "
in C. S. Kraus, ed., Genre and Narrative in Ancient Historical Texts (Leiden 1999) 6 9 - 9 0 ,
esp. 80 and 87. See also, e.g., M. A. P o w e l l , "Naram-Sin, Son of Sargon: A n c i e n t History,
F a m o u s N a m e s , a n d a F a m o u s Babylonian Forgery," Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 81 (1991)
20-30.
42
D. M e n d e l s , "The Polemical Character of M a n e t h o ' s Aegyptiaca," in Purposes of
History, H. Verdín, G. Schepens, a n d E. d e Keyser, eds. (Louvain 1990) 102-103.
43
W. Helck, Untersuchungen zu Manetho und die ägyptischen Königslisten (Berlin 1956)
5; cf. M e n d e l s (above η. 42) 103 a n d η. 42.
44
C o n s i d e r the portrait w e get of Hor, priest of N e i t h , f r o m the reign of P t o l e m y
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 11

swers. Again what is said here must be seen as guesswork, but if guess-
w o r k , h o p e f u l l y as r e a s o n a b l y argued. A l t h o u g h n e c e s s a r i l y
speculative, the cumulative effect of what I present here will I think
reveal Fabius to have been far more 'hellenized' than Berossus and
Manetho, though I will conclude with remarks that will refine what is
meant by that term.
It is, frankly, a dangerous argument from silence, but nonetheless
still worth pointing out that nowhere in the fragments of Fabius do we
get a clear sense of his sources except for once, and that is in the story
of Romulus and Remus, to be dealt with below. By contrast, although
Berossus and Manetho are similarly fragmentary, and their fragments
are likewise preserved for reasons that can distort the picture of what
their complete works would have looked like, the preponderant im-
pression we get from the remains is that these were built out of native
documentary records.
Our testimony comes almost exclusively from Josephus. He writes
in the Jewish Antiquities that Manetho wrote up an anagraphe of Egyptian
materials, and that Berossus collected ta Chaldaika (FGrHist 609 Τ 6a).
In the Against Apion he is even more specific, noting that Manetho wrote
up a native history from "sacred tablets" in the Greek language, and
claimed that he himself had made the translations, presumably in his
preface (Ap. 1.73 = Τ 7a γέγραφεν γαρ Ελλάδι φωνή την πάτριον νστορίαν
έκ δελτών ιερών, ώς φησιν αυτός, μεταφράσας).45 In Berossus' case, Jose-
phus writes that he was following "the most ancient records" (FGrHist
680 Τ 3 = Αρ. 1.130 ταΐς άρχαιοτάταις επακολουθών άναγραφαΐς). From
a corrupt passage in Syncellus, 46 originally preserved in Alexander
Polyhistor, we see for ourselves that in his introduction Berossus stat-
ed that he was following Babylonian anagraphai, indeed that in some
way he was guarding his nation's documentary past (F 1 p. 28 Mosshammer
Βηροσσός . . . φησι... φυλάσσεσθαι). Furthermore, if this dependence on
their nations' respective recorded pasts was articulated in the introductions
of Berossus and Manetho—and I believe it was—then another point of
importance emerges: by stressing their use of native records, they were
also indicating their independence from, indeed their rejection of the
Greek versions of their national history. This was surely true for Berossus,
as we saw in connection with Semiramis and the foundation of Baby-
lon. In Manetho's case we even know who his target was, for in addition
to stating that he himself had translated sacred texts for his work, he

VI, p r e s e r v e d in his bilingual archive (mostly Demotic, some Greek): J. D. Ray, The
Archive ofHor (London 1976).
4 5 Cf. Dillery (above n. 17) 98.

4 6 For the problems see Burstein (above n. 18) 13, n. 3.

12 JOHN DILLERY

evidently also made it clear that he was refuting Herodotus on several

issues relating to Egypt's past (FGrHist 609 Τ 7a = J. Αρ. 1.73). 47
All this is not to imply that Fabius did not in fact use whatever
written material was available to him, in addition to orally transmitted
information; surely his 'annalistic' facts and notices will have come
from chronicles of some kind. Frier has conjectured that Fabius' narra-
tive would have been made up of a chronological "skeleton" derived
from documentary chronicles that was "fleshed out" at key points by
"extended narratives of orally transmitted material," a view that has
been elaborated but not fundamentally altered by Ungern-Sternberg
and Oakley, who emphasize oral tradition rather more than Frier did,
at least initially.48 Significantly, this is precisely the reconstruction that
has been arrived at independently for Manetho's Aegyptiaca.49
But however we construe the precise nature of Fabius' use of source
material, the essential point is that the later reception of his work does
not stress his reliance on a documentary tradition in anything like the
manner or degree we see for Berossus and Manetho. 50 Indeed we have
Josephus' testimony that Manetho himself said that he had made use
of Egyptian documents, and Berossus clearly made a similar claim. It
is true that both Cicero (Rep. 1.25, 2.28, de Orat. 2.51-54) and Dionysius
(1.74.1, 3; 4.2.1; 7.1.1-6) can imagine, even claim that pontifical tabulae
underpinned the work of the early annalists,51 but nowhere is this claim
substantiated for any one of the individual historians in particular; rath-
er, they are all treated as a single, somewhat homogeneous group of
early chroniclers. And for good reason. The men of the first century
were dealing with a mirage of historicity for the facts of early Rome
and could not cite a relevant historian as a case in point. One senses

47 See O. Murray, "Herodotus and Hellenistic Culture," CQ 22 (1972) 200-13. For

Berossus, see above n. 39.

48 Frier (above n. 4) 21-22 and 274-75; J. von Ungern-Sternberg, "Überlegungen

zur frühen römischen Überlieferung im Lichte der Oral-Tradition Forschung," in J. von

Ungern-Sternberg and H. Reinau, eds., Vergangenheit in mündlicher Überlieferung = Col-
loquium Rauricum 1 (Stuttgart 1988) esp. 243-45; Oakley (above η. 28) 1.22-24. See also
E. Rawson, "The Antiquarian Tradition: Spoils and Representations of Foreign Armour,"
in Roman Culture and Society (Oxford 1991) 595 for the possibility of Fabius' use of oral
tradition for his treatment of Samnite armor. In the introduction to the second edition
of his Libri Annales, Frier acknowledges and accepts this change in emphasis, citing the
first two discussions (xi and n. 13).
4 9 See esp. P. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 3 vols. (Oxford 1972) 1.509 and 2.734-35,
n. 124; cf. Dillery (above n. 17) 95.
5 0 D. H. 7.71.1 (= FGrHist 809 Τ 4b) comes close to what Josephus has to say about

Berossus and Manetho: παλαιότατος γαρ άνήρ των τα 'Ρωμαϊκά συνταξαμένων . . . But
even this statement does not really imply that Fabius made use of national records,
only that he "organized" or "brought order to" Roman affairs.
51 See Frier (above n. 4) 277-78.
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 13

that the Romans of this period basically wanted to believe that there
were annalists who worked from a reliable documentary tradition that
stretched back to Rome's earliest epoch.
It is time to look at one of the most celebrated and problematic
fragments of Fabius' Annales graeci, namely his treatment of the Romu-
lus and Remus legend, the foundation of Rome, and the city's first years.
Until the 1970s our understanding of Fabius' treatment of Rome's be-
ginnings was based almost exclusively on Dionysius of Halicarnassus
1.79-84 (= FGrHist 809 F 4b) and Plutarch, Romulus 3-8 (F 4a). Then in
1974 Giacomo Manganaro published in Parola del Passato (= SEG 26.1123)
a second century dipinto from Tauromenium surviving in four frag-
ments, in all likelihood listing a catalogue of historical authors collected
in the library of the city's gymnasium. 52 The first column of the third
fragment reads as follows:
Κόι]ντος Φάβι[ο]ς ό Πι-
κτω]ρινός επικαλού-
μ ε ν ε ς , 'Ρωμαίος, Γαίου
υίό]ς· vac.
ο]ς ίστόρηκεν την 5
Ή]ρακλέους αφιξιν
εί]ς Ίταλίαν καΐ δ' ετι
νόσ]τον Λανοίου συμ-
μ ά χ ο υ τ ε Αινεία καί
Άσκα]νίου • πολί ϋστε- 10
ρον έγ]ένοντο 'Ρωμύλος
καί 'Ρ]έμος καί 'Ρώμης
κτίσιςύ]πό 'Ρωμύλου, [ος]
πρώτο]ς βεβασί[λευκεν . . .

Manganaro considered this and the accompanying fragments that re-

fer to Callisthenes and Philistus to be biographical lemmata, and, at least
in the case of Philistus, the information provided seems related to the
materials that eventually show up in the Suda. 53 What the dipinto tells
us that we do not already know from Dionysius and Plutarch is that
Fabius dealt with the coming to Italy of Heracles; further, that uniquely
a m o n g ancient accounts he seems to have made the hero Lanoios rather
than Diomedes the founder of Lanuvium; and finally, that unlike the
MSS of Dionysius at 1.79-82 he wrote Remus' name with an epsilon

52
"Una biblioteca storica nel ginnasio di Tauromenion e il P. Oxy. 1241," PP 29
(1974) 389-409; partially republished by Manganaro in A. Alföldi, Römische Frühgeschichte
(Heidelberg 1976) 83-96. Note also A. Chaniotis, Historie und Historiker in den griechischen
Inschriften (Stuttgart 1988) 229. See also below, n. 56, for the fourth fragment.
53
Manganaro (above n. 52) "Biblioteca storica" 397, Frühgeschichte 85.
14 JOHN DILLERY

('Ρέμος), not an omega ('Ρώμος).54 Note that the document does not state
what Fabius' sources were. This is significant, for the same text does
give rather more information concerning Callisthenes and Philistus, in
particular providing details that help to confirm their authority. 55
Of greater significance, however, is the choice of authors, as Man-
ganare and, later, Gabba recognized. This Greek community in Sicily
was making a 'political choice' of sorts: 56 it produced a list of authors,
two of whom were emphatically western in orientation (Philistus, Fa-
bius), and a third added luster through the obvious connection to
Alexander (Callisthenes). Tauromenium was putting itself on the his-
toriographie map by promoting historians of its region, and suggesting
that events there were as worthy of record as those of Alexander the
Great. And note, too, in the description of Fabius' work, how seam-
lessly Hercules is inserted into the framework of heroes. The dipinto
anticipates by almost two centuries the intimate linking of Heracles
and Aeneas that Vergil daringly attempts in the Aeneid:57 the greatest
Greek hero was evidently brought squarely into the Roman context by
Fabius. Although the hero's visit to Rome may have been treated by
Stesichorus, Fabius' account of his journey to Italy must be one of the
very first; and inasmuch as Heracles was connected to the Fabian gens,
the dipinto suggests that Fabius was bringing together both family and
national history. 58
But since the Tauromenium dipinto is incomplete, it is difficult to
gauge the overall extent of Fabius' treatment of the mythical origins of
Rome. It is a crucial matter. Dionysius provides important but vexed
testimony. At 1.6.1 he refers to Greek authors who treated early Rome:
Hieronymus of Cardia, Timaeus of Tauromenium, Antigonus of Carystus,
Polybius, and Silenus of Caleacte are specifically mentioned, 59 with the
first two singled out as dealing with the archaiologia and ta archaia of

54 Frier (above n. 4) 231.

55 Callisthenes is identified as a secretary of Alexander who undertook to record
his deeds (SEG 26.1123 frag. 1). Philistus is mentioned as being a student of the elegist
Euenus (frag. 3 col. B).
5 6 See above n. 42; cf. E. Gabba, "True History and False History in Classical Antiq-

uity," J RS 71 (1981) 51. L. Pearson, The Greek Historians of the West: Timaeus and His
Predecessors (Atlanta 1987) 22 connects the choice of historians to its native son, the
historian Timaeus. H. Blanck, " U n N u o v o F r a m m e n t o del 'Catalogo' della Biblioteca di
Tauromenion," PP 52 (1997) 2 4 1 - 5 5 , has discovered a further fragment of the dipinto
that deals with A n a x i m a n d e r ; hence the text does not deal exclusively with historians.
Cf. SEG 47.1464.
57 Cf. Κ. Galinsky, Aeneas, Sicily, and Rome (Princeton 1969) 22.
58 C. P. Jones, Kinship Diplomacy in the Ancient World (Cambridge, Ma. 1999) 82, 90-91.
5 9 See J. H o r n b l o w e r , Hieronymus of Cardia (Oxford 1981) 2 4 8 - 5 0 , and U. v o n
Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Antigonos von Karystos = Philologische Untersuchungen 4 (Berlin
1881) 1 6 0 - 6 2 ; cf. T. Dorandi, Antigone de Caryste (Paris 1999) x x v i - x x x i i .
 QUINTOS FABIUS PICTOR 15

Rome. H e then mentions (1.6.2 = FGrHist 809 Τ 4a) as like these histori-
ans certain Roman authors w h o treated the same period and w h o wrote
in the Greek language, the oldest of these being Fabius and Lucius Cin-
cius Alimentus. Each of these men, Dionysius remarks, οίς μεν αυτός
έργοις παρεγένετο, δια την έμπειρίαν ακριβώς ανέγραψε, τα δε αρχαία τα
μετά την κτίσιν της πόλεως γενόμενα κεφαλαιωδώς έπέδραμεν. Some have
taken this description by Dionysius to reflect a tripartite division of
Fabius' Annales: the Foundation of Rome and (probably) the Regal Pe-
riod, the Early Republic, and finally the two conflicts w i t h Carthage or
"contemporary history." 6 0 This argument maintains that Fabius treat-
e d t h e first a n d third periods in detail and expertly, b u t that the
material for the middle section was dealt with cursorily (κεφαλαιωδώς).
In our effort to use Dionysius as a guide to the organization a n d
economy of Fabius' text, however, there is the very real d a n g e r that w e
lose sight of an important and obvious detail: for Dionysius the histo-
ries of Fabius and Cincius were "like" the narratives of certain Greek
historians and "in no w a y different" from them (1.6.2 όμοιας δε τούτοις
και ουδέν διαφόρους). Furthermore, in the immediately preceding sec-
tion Dionysius complains that "no accurate Greek history d o w n to our
time has treated the Romans, apart from cursory and brief epitomes"
(1.5.4 ουδεμία γαρ ακριβής έξελήλυθε περί αυτών Έ λ λ η ν ί ς ιστορία μέχρι
των καθ' ημάς χρόνων, οτι μη κεφαλαιώδεις έπιτομαί πάνυ βραχειαι,
where note the use of κεφαλαιώδεις again). It is as an expansion of this
claim that Dionysius comments on the similarities of Greek and Ro-
m a n historians of early Rome. To be sure this sentiment is p a r t of
Dionysius' polemic and hence justification for his o w n work. 6 1 But that
should not stop us from seeing the larger point: to this first century
reader, the earliest Roman historians w h o wrote on Rome were n o dif-
ferent f r o m Greek authors w h o treated the same subject w h e n it came
to early Roman history: the histories of both were κεφαλαιώδεις.
Even the most superficial glance at the surviving f r a g m e n t s of
Berossus a n d Manetho tells us that the scale of their narratives for the
comparable parts of their national histories w a s radically different from
that of Fabius' Annales. Berossus devoted the whole of Book 1 of the
Babyloniaca to earliest history, from the genesis of the w o r l d and h u -
manity d o w n to the first walls of Babylon; in the second book he told

60
See esp. Gelzer (above n. 18) 129-130 = 5 1 - 5 2 , and " N o c h m a l s über d e n A n f a n g
der r ö m i s c h e n Geschichtsschreibung," Hermes 82 (1954) 3 4 3 - 4 6 = Kleine Schriften 3 . 1 0 5 -
109; a n d D. Timpe, "Fabius Pictor u n d d i e A n f ä n g e der r ö m i s c h e n Historiographie,"
ANRW 1.2 (1972) 932-40. Frier (above n. 4) 2 5 5 - 6 0 criticizes this v i e w a n d argues that
the m i d d l e section m a y h a v e b e e n as c o m p r e h e n s i v e as the first and last.
61
Jacoby (above n. 30) 285 n. 75, a n d Frier (above n. 4) 257. Cf. E. Gabba, Dionysius
and the History of Archaic Rome (Berkeley 1991) 159.
16 JOHN DILLERY

the story of the rest of the antediluvian kings, the Flood itself, and sub-
sequent events down to the reign of Nabu-Nasir (734); Book 3 went
from Tiglath-Pileser II down through the period of the Persian domi-
nation. Similarly, Manetho dealt with pre-dynastic Egypt and the thirty
subsequent pharaonic dynasties in three massive books, but unlike
Berossus he did not even get around to discussing the second phase of
the Persian occupation of his land, the so-called Thirty-First Dynasty
(343-332). 6 2 There is no evidence from the fragments of either histori-
an to suggest that any earlier period received less treatment than later
ones; in fact, if anything, the opposite seems to be the case. There is no
indication, furthermore, that either treated contemporary events.
If the scale and temporal orientation of Fabius' Annales were radi-
cally different from the histories of Berossus and Manetho, the work's
actual handling of 'pre-history' was even more so. As was briefly men-
tioned above, Manetho began his Aegyptiaca with the first rulers of
Egypt, namely the gods (Dynasties 1 and 2), who were followed by
demigods (Dynasty 3) and then finally the first human pharaohs
(FGrHist 609 F 2-3 Anlage). While this may look like a euhemerist and
hence Greek way of viewing the remote past, Manetho was simply fol-
lowing the Egyptian King-List tradition represented by, for example,
the Turin Canon: in the eyes of the Egyptians, their first rulers were the
gods. 63 It is true that earlier Greek authors noticed this detail and re-
produced it in their own treatments of Egypt (Hdt. 2.144.2, Hecataeus
of Abdera FGrHist 264 F 25 = Diodorus 1.11-25), 64 but this fact should
not obscure the point that Manetho's picture of prehistory was funda-
mentally Egyptian and would have been understood as such by his
fellow priests.
Berossus' account of earliest history was similarly conventional by
the standards of his own culture. A giant fish-man, Oannes, came out
of the Red Sea and gave the arts of civilization to humanity, and then
proceeded to tell these early humans the story of creation: first there
was water and darkness, the home of disorder and strangely mixed
creatures, ruled over by a woman named Thalath; she is destroyed by
Bel who splits her in two and creates the universe and humanity out of
her two halves and her blood (FGrHist 680 F 1 = Syncellus pp. 29-30
Mosshammer). Oannes is the Babylonian culture hero U'an Adapa in

6 2 A. B. Lloyd, "Manetho and the Thirty-First Dynasty," in Pyramid Studies and Other

Essays Presented to I. E. S. Edwards, J. Baines et al., eds. (London 1988) 1 5 4 - 6 0 . The frag-
ments concerning the 31 s t Dynasty that are alleged to be from Manetho's Aegyptiaca are
clearly not authentic.
6 3 Helck (above n. 43) 4 - 8 , for the 'Götterdynastien.'

6 4 Dillery (above n. 17) 109, n. 52; cf. eundem, "Hecataeus of Abdera: Hyperboreans,

Egypt, and the Interpretatio Graeca," Historia 47 (1998) 2 5 5 - 7 5 .

 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 17

the fish-form of a beneficent spirit; and of course the tale he tells is a

version of the Babylonian creation epic, Enuma Elish (note Thalath =
Tiamat). 65 Syncellus asserts that Berossus considered his account as an
"allegorical discourse on nature" (p. 30 Mosshammer αλληγορικός δέ
φησι τοΰτο πεφυσιολογησθαι). As with the apparent 'euhemerism' of
Manetho, Syncellus' remark raises the possibility that Berossus had been
influenced by Greek thought. The language allegedly used by him has
a close parallel, for instance, in a learned commentary on a 'cosmogon-
ie' fragment of Alemán (P. Oxy. 2390), where the archaic poet is described
as "speaking about nature" (φυσιολογεί) or "is a natural philosopher"
(φυσικός έστι). 66 But again, what Berossus presented would have been
completely comprehensible from a native Babylonian point of view.
Despite their apparently Hellenic veneers, the 'pre-histories' of both
Berossus and Manetho must have seemed profoundly 'other' w h e n
viewed from a Greek perspective. With the exception of certain eccen-
trics like Alexander Polyhistor, it was other non-Greeks like Josephus
who looked into them; the Greeks themselves by and large simply did
not read these historians, and those who did were much later and were
67
probably influenced by Christian authors. How different is the case
of Fabius and the Greek knowledge of his treatment of his nation's origins!
Of course, to start with, what we know of Fabius' handling of the Ro-
mulus and Remus story is due chiefly to two Greek authors: Dionysius
and Plutarch. One good reason for this is that both men lived in a world
dominated by Roman power, and hence were of course interested in

65
A. Green, "Beneficent Spirits and Malevolent D e m o n s / ' Visible Religions 3 (1984)
83-84; Burstein (above n. 18) 14, n. 10.
66
Note esp. P. Oxy. 2390 frag. 2, col. II 25-26: έν δ]έ ταύΐτηι τήι ώι[δήι Άλ]κμάν
φυσ[ιολο(γεΐ) or φυσικός έστι. Cf. G. Most, "Alcman's 'Cosmogonie' Fragment (fr. 5 Page,
81 Calarne)," CQ 37 (1987) 6-8.
67
In general consult Momigliano, Alien Wisdom (above n. 2) 7-8. For the Greek lack
of interest in Berossus and Manetho in particular, see W. Adler, Time Immemorial: Ar-
chaic History and its Sources in Christian Chronography from Julius Africanus to George
Syncellus (Washington, D.C. 1989) 28-29. Adler notes (29, n. 66) that the emperor Julian
knew of Oannes (Against the Galileans 176AB), but this was no doubt part of the 'pagan
reaction' and d u e to Christian familiarity with Berossus and his ilk, rather than repre-
sentative of a genuine Hellenic perspective that had a knowledge of Berossus: cf. G. W.
Bowersock, Hellenism in Late Antiquity (Ann Arbor 1990) 6, "[Julian's] view of paganism
was conditioned by his Christian upbringing." It should be pointed out in connection
with Oannes' creation story, however, that Eudemus, the student of Aristotle, did know
the Enuma Elish in translation: Eudemus frag. 150 Wehrli = Damascius, Quaestiones de
primis principiis 1.322.1 (W. Burkert, The Orientalizing Revolution [Cambridge, Ma. 1992]
93 and 202, n. 15). For Alexander Polyhistor, see J. Freudenthal, Hellenistische Studien I:
Alexander Polyhistor und die von ihm erhaltenen Reste jüdischer und samaritanischer
Geschichtswerk (Breslau 1874), E. Rawson, Intellectual Life in the Late Roman Republic (Bal-
timore 1985) 256, and L. Troiani, "Sull'opera di Cornelio Alessandro soprannominato
Polistore," in Due studi di storiografia e religione antiche (Como 1988) 9-20.
18 JOHN DILLERY

Rome's past and the stories that reflected and enshrined its identity.
Indeed it was crucial for both men that Rome be seen to be a Hellenic
colony of sorts, whose leading statesmen could quite literally be com-
pared to distinguished Greeks from the past. 68
Towards the beginning of his Life of Romulus Plutarch makes an
especially important observation regarding the sources for the legend
of Romulus and Remus (Rom. 3.1 = FGrHist 809 F 4a):
Του δε πίστιν έχοντος λόγου μάλιστα και πλείστους μάρτυρας τα μεν
κυριώτατα πρώτος εις τους " Ε λ λ η ν α ς έξέδωκε Διοκλής Πεπαρήθιος, φ
καί Φάβιος ó Πίκτωρ έν τοις πλείστοις έπηκολούθηκε.

D i o c l e s of P e p a r e t h u s first m a d e k n o w n to t h e G r e e k s t h e chief d e -
t a i l s o f t h e s t o r y t h a t is m o s t r e l i a b l e a n d h a s t h e m o s t witnesses;
Fabius Pictor also has followed him on most points.

This remark has occasioned a flood of scholarship. Although we can-

not know for sure whether Diocles preceded Fabius, and, if he did so,
whether Fabius in fact relied on him, most scholars have accepted Plu-
tarch's claim: Fabius followed Diocles' account of the Romulus and
Remus story. 69 The objections have been raised that there was no rea-
son for Romans to look to a Greek treatment of the foundation of their
own nation, and furthermore that it would be strange for a Greek to
know or care about the legend of Romulus and Remus at such an early
date. The first objection gains strength from the fact that there are strong
indications that the core elements of the tale were already known at
least by the beginning of the third century, almost one hundred years
before Fabius' Annales: there is the famous reference in Livy (10.23.12)
to the brothers Ogulnii putting up a statue in 296 at the Ficus Rumina-

6 8 For Dionysius, see Gabba (above n. 60) 203 with J. Linderski's review "Vergil

and Dionysius," Vergilius 38 (1992) 11; for Plutarch, S. Swain, Hellenism and Empire: Lan-
guage, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, AD 50-250 (Oxford 1996) 137.
6 9 E.g. A. Momigliano, JRS 33 (1943) 102 = Secondo contributo alla storia degli studi

classici (Rome 1960) 403, and Foundations (above n. 2) 101; Walbank, "Polybius, Philinus"
(above n. 23) 91 and n. 66 = 12 and n. 66; R. Flacelière, "Sur quelques passages des Vies
de Plutarque," REG 61 (1948) 8 5 - 8 7 ; Fraser (above n. 49) 2.1076, n. 373; Timpe (above n.
59) 9 4 1 - 4 6 ; Frier (above n. 4) 2 6 0 - 6 1 . Momigliano in JRS 33 lists earlier bibliography,
the most important of which is K. von Holzinger, "Diokles v o n Peparethos als Quelle
des Fabius Pictor," WS 34 (1912) 1 7 5 - 2 0 2 . T. J. Cornell, " A e n e a s and the Twins: The
Development of the Roman Foundation Legend," PCPS 21 (1975) 10, n. 2 questions the
priority of Diocles and hence Fabius' dependence on him; cf. eundem, The Beginnings of
Rome (London 1995) 6 0 - 6 3 . T. P. Wiseman, Remus: A Roman Myth (Cambridge 1995) 2
and 61 pronounces a strong non liquet that in effect puts Diocles v e r y m u c h on the mar-
gins, and in this he is followed by C. Schultze, "Authority, Originality and C o m p e t e n c e
in the Roman Archaeology of Dionysius of Halicarnassus," Histos 4 (posted on w w w in
December 2000) n. 81. J. Poucet, "Fabius Pictor et Denys d'Halicarnasse: 'Les enfances
de Romulus et R é m u s ' , " Historia 25 (1976) 2 0 1 - 1 6 is also cautious.
 QUINTOS FABIUS PICTOR 19

lis of the she-wolf suckling the twins, as well as coins dating some-
what later (from 269, Crawford RRC no. 20) depicting the same scene,
not to mention the Capitoline Wolf herself. 70
It would of course be folly to deny that there were Roman accounts
of Romulus, Remus and the wolf that antedated Fabius, or for that
matter Diocles, by many decades or (more likely) centuries. It was no
doubt a main constituent of the Roman oral tradition that has recently
begun to attract increased scholarly attention. 71 And it is this lore that
those who would reject Plutarch's testimony rely on. While I do not
agree with this view, it does force one to think more deeply why Fa-
bius would have followed a Greek source for his nation's foundation
myth when he had so much native Roman material to hand. In the first
place, it is possible that inasmuch as Fabius was writing in Greek, he
also felt the need to adopt Greek narrative mannerisms, and what bet-
ter way to do that than to adapt a pre-existing Greek text. That such a
text could exist is no longer in doubt after the discovery of an inscrip-
tion from Chios from the early second century (189-88), almost exactly
contemporary with Fabius, which refers to the Roman muthos of Ro-
mulus and his brother Remus and the circumstances of their birth (lines
72
26-27). One should probably also add in this context the Delian ap-
peal to the Trojan origins of Rome from the same period that is found
in IG XI.4.756. 73 And Chios and Delos were not alone in making such
mythical cases for connection to Rome at precisely the same time as
Fabius' Annales.7*
Importantly there may be a parallel for a non-Greek adapting the
narrative of a Greek historian who in turn made use of materials that
were ultimately derived from that non-Greek historian's culture:
Manetho. I have argued elsewhere that in his treatment of the Hyksos
myth Manetho may have followed the lead of Herodotus in dealing
with the tricky issue of marrying narrative to chronological frame. 75 I

7 0 See esp. Cornell, Beginnings (above n. 68) 60-61 and 395 figure 32c; also J. N.
Bremmer and N. M. Horsfall, Roman Myth and Mythography (London 1987) 47, Wiseman
(above n. 68) 72-76 and 156-57 with figure 17.
7 1 E.g. Ungern-Sternberg (above n. 48) and Oakley (above n. 28).

72 S EG 30.1073, published first by Kontoleon in 1953, and definitively by Derow

and Forrest in 1982: P. S. Derow and W. G. Forrest, "An Inscription from Chios," BSA 77
(1982) 79-92 with plate 5. They provide the complete publication history. The lines in
question relate how an anathema is to be put up to Rome πε]ριέχον της γενέσεως του
κτίστου της 'Ρώ[μης 'Ρωμύλου καί του αδελφού] I αύτοΰ 'Ρέμου· vac. καθ' ην συμβέβηκεν
αύτού[ς ύπ' αύτοΰ του "Αρεος γεννηθήναι. See also Chaniotis (above n. 52) 94-99.
7 3 A. Erskine, "Delos, Aeneas and IG XI.4.756," ZPE 117 (1997) 133-36.

7 4 Erskine (above n. 72) 136 and nn. 21-23. In general consult O. Curty, Les parentés
légendaires entre cités grecques (Geneva 1995), and Jones (above n. 58) 63 and 81.
7 5 Dillery (above n. 17) 104-105. He no doubt also looked to Hecataeus of Abdera.
20 JOHN DILLERY

should hasten to add, though, that this case of adaptation was one of
narrative structure only and did not involve Egypt's foundation. The
Fabian story of Romulus and Remus contained specific details that are
typical of Greek narrative patterns.
It is important to be specific about these allegedly Greek features,
for critics of the view that Fabius drew on Greek sources can always
point to the widespread appeal of the 'Aussetzung' or 'exposure' motif
relating to great leaders and kings. 76 The core of the argument for a
Greek source for Fabius' foundation story rests on its narrative, espe-
cially as it is found in Dionysius, who claims repeatedly throughout
the relevant sections that he is following Fabius (FGrHist 809 F 4 = D.
H. 1.79.4, 80.3, 83.3). Several scholars have pointed to the recognition
of the true identities of the twins in particular as deriving ultimately
from a plot of tragic anagnorisis, indeed specifically from Sophocles'
Tyro.77 We know from a reference in Aristotle's Poetics (1454b) that the
recognition of the twins Pelias and Neleus was effected in that play by
means of an 'ark' or 'cradle' (skaphe). 78 The same item is also involved
in Dionysius' Fabian narrative (1.82.3-5). The discovery of the ark and
its significance is exceedingly complex and 'stagey' in Dionysius /Fa-
bius, relying as it does on an improbable coincidence: Faustulus conceals
the skaphe and takes it with him to persuade Numitor as to the true
identity of Romulus and Remus; however he is stopped at the gates of
Alba and forced to reveal the ark, which is recognized by a guard who
happens to be there and happens to be the very man who years before
carried the infants in that cradle to the river (καί τις [των φυλάκων]
γνωρίζει την σκάφην αυτός έν έκείνη τα παιδία κομίσας έπί τον ποταμόν . . .).
These coincidences, crucial to the working of the plot and up to this
juncture suppressed, are typical of the conventions of tragic recogni-
tion. 79 The essential point is that this plot-device could not have come

7 6 E.g. Cornell, Beginnings (above n. 68) 6 1 - 6 2 , who produces a long list that in-
cludes Sargon, Cyrus the Great, Moses, Shapur, and P o p e G r e g o r y the Great. The
fundamental treatment of this popular motif is G. Binder, Die Aussetzung des Königskindes:
Kyros und Romulus (Meisenheim a m Glan 1964).
7 7 Holzinger (above n. 68) 191; G. de Sanctis, Storia di Romani: Volume 1, Roma dalle

origini alla monarchia (1916; reprint Florence 1980) 2 2 1 - 2 2 ; Walbank, "Polybius, Philinus"
(above n. 23) 91 = 12; H. Strassburger, Zur Sage von der Gründung Roms = SBHeid 5 (1968)
2 4 - 2 5 ; Frier (above n. 4) 261.
7 8 Cf. Menander Epit. 3 2 6 - 3 3 , where the recognition of Pelias and Neleus from a

Tyro—not necessarily Sophocles' play of that name—is summarized. Apollodorus (1.9.8)

speaks of an anagnorisis (they "recognized their mother"), but does not mention the
means by which it was accomplished
7 9 See e.g. P. Burian, "Myth into Muthos: The Shaping of Tragic Plot," in P. E. Easterling,

ed., GreekTragedy (Cambridge 1997) 196; and for suppressed and essential narrative de-
tail, E. Fraenkel, Aeschylus: Agamemnon, 3 vols. (Oxford 1950) 3.805.
 QUINTUS FABIUS PICTOR 21

from anywhere other than the Greek tragic theater; or to put it another
way, this type of recognition does not occur in any of the other stories
of the recognition of royal children from elsewhere in the world, even
when, I hasten to add, they also feature arks (Moses, Sargon). And one
can also look more broadly at Fabius' account as it is reflected in Di-
onysius to see other Greek story-telling features. Herodotus in his
treatment of the origins of Cyrus the Great is particularly close: there
is the feigned spirit of reconciliation by the evil male relative (Amulius
and Astyages), the helper(s) of the royal youth who come from his
household (Harpagus and Faustulus/Numitor), and the convenient fact
from earlier in the story that the foster father figure had lost his own
child (Mithridates and Faustulus). 80
Again, there is a 'big picture' here that should not be lost sight of.
Even on the most minimal interpretation there are significant Greek
features in Fabius' story of Romulus and Remus, details that strongly
suggest he was following a Greek account. Perhaps there was an ad-
vantage to him doing so precisely because as a member of the Roman
elite Fabius would not have wanted to be seen to follow an oral tradi-
tion that favored one noble Roman family or a particular group of
them. 81 But whatever the reason, his reliance on a Greek version for
the story of his nation's foundation is completely without parallel in
Berossus, Manetho, and other comparable figures. 82

3 . C O N C L U S I O N S : HISTORIOGRAPHY ' T O ' R O M E OR ' A T ' R O M E ?

Elias Bickerman pointed out some time ago that men like Berossus,
Manetho, and the later 3 r d century Jewish historian Demetrius "want-
ed to replace the romances of Herodotus, Ctesias, Megasthenes, and
other Greek authorities on the Orient, with a dry but authentic recapit-
ulation of native records." 83 How unlike these figures does Fabius now

8 0 Cf. S. Mazzarino, Il pensiero storico classico, 3 vols. (1966; reprint Bari 1983) 2.69,

and Frier (above η. 4) 264, who claims that the death of the foster father's child is the
only point of similarity.
8 1 See Ungern-Sternberg (above n. 48) 245, Oakley (above n. 28) 1.23.

8 2 1 a m thinking in particular of the first Jewish historian we know of who wrote in

Greek, Demetrius 'the Chronographer' (C. R. Holladay, Fragments from Hellenistic Jew-
ish Authors, 4 vols. [Chico 1983] 1.62-79): the fragments of his history, which predates
the Septuagint, consist chiefly of paraphrase and commentary on episodes from Genesis
(Jacob, Joseph, Moses). His dates are not known, but he was probably active toward the
end of the third century, and hence an earlier contemporary of Fabius: see E. Bickerman,
"The Jewish Historian Demetrios," in Studies in Jewish and Christian History, 3 vols.
(Leiden 1 9 7 6 - 8 6 ) 2 . 3 4 7 - 5 8 = Christianity, Judaism and Other Greco-Roman Cults: Studies
for Morton Smith, 4 vols. (Leiden 1975) 3 . 7 2 - 8 4 .
83 Bickerman (above n. 81) 352; cf. eundem, "Origines Gentium," CP 47 (1952) 6 5 -
22 JOHN DILLERY

seem. To a significant degree the comparison is unfair, for Fabius was

limited by the fact that there could not have been available to him any-
thing like the written records and written traditions that these other
non-Greek historians could draw on. But this fairly obvious point gets
us only so far.
The title of this paper is an intentional reworking of Momigliano's
original title for his Sather Lecture on Fabius, "Fabius Pictor and the
Introduction of Greek Historiography to Rome." 8 4 Such a description
makes Fabius' enterprise sound like an isolable fact that could in theo-
ry be precisely dated, and whose necessary preconditions did not
antedate by much the actual writing of the Annales graeci. But I won-
der. Assessing Fabius' work, Momigliano said in the same lecture that
"[t]he Romans always judged themselves with an eye to the Greeks." 85
Indeed, I think that Fabius wrote his history of Rome in Greek and
"with an eye" to Greek narrative traditions precisely because he had
no choice. Wiseman has put it most eloquently: "as the archaeological
record gets fuller, it becomes ever more clear that for about two and a
half centuries—from the origins (essentially) to the first pinnacle of
her power—Rome had been in more or less close contact with people
whose minds were full of Homer and Hesiod, the Nostoi, the Telegoneia
" 8 6 Th e literary culture of Fabius' day was Greco-Roman; in fact
there had never been a 'pre-Greek' period when native Roman myth
was not in some way adorned with Greek dress. 87 And so Fabius and
his elite Roman audience could not help but think in Greek ways when
it came to conjuring their past. The alternative, documentary history
with which Berossus and Manetho sought to replace the Greek accounts
of their lands was an impossibility for Fabius: for the Romans of this
period, Greek and Roman ways of viewing the past were inextricably
bound together.
Fabius Pictor was in many ways like Berossus and Manetho, and
like many other later figures from antiquity who took up the pen to
enshrine their nations' pasts in the Greek language. But the major dif-
ferences between Fabius and these other non-Greek historians throw
into the sharpest relief the deep hellenization of Roman culture from
its inception. It has been said of Manetho that his was the mind of the
"translator," not that of a writer who had deeply internalized Greek

81 = Religions and Politics in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods (Como 1985) 4 0 1 - 1 7 , and
]ews in the Greek Age (Cambridge, Ma. 1988) 2 2 2 - 2 3 .
8 4 Momigliano, Foundations (above n. 2) 80.
8 5 Momigliano, Foundations (above n. 2) 107.
8 6 T. P. Wiseman, " R o m a n Legend and Oral Tradition," ]RS 79 (1989) 132.

8 7 D. Feeney, Literature and Religion at Rome (Cambridge 1998) 5 0 - 5 2 .

 Q U I N T U S FABIUS PICTOR 23

historiography and married it to Egyptian strategies for keeping hold

of the past.88 The same holds true for Berossus and Demetrius. But Fabius
was altogether a different sort of non-Greek historian writing in Greek.
In him a true Greco-Roman historiography was first articulated at Rome,
coming as it did from a Greco-Roman elite culture. It was not the case
that thanks to him Greek historiography had been brought to Rome.

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

8 8 G. Fowden, The Egyptian Hermes (Cambridge 1986) 54 in contrasting Manetho

with Chaeremon observes: "[I]t was really Manetho's linguistic medium that was inno-
vative, far more so than his m e s s a g e . . . . His was clearly the mentality of the translator
rather than the interpreter or commentator."
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO1

BY MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

It is generally agreed (and indeed obvious) that the speech of Cicero com-
monly known as the pro Marcello was nothing of the sort, but the expression
of thanks to Julius Caesar on an occasion in the Senate in 46 BC when he
agreed to forgive Marcus Claudius Marcellus. But agreement about the
speech goes little further. An extreme position was taken in 1990, when R.
R. Dyer 2 argued that, far from being a eulogy, it is a "figured" and ironical
oration that covertly criticises Caesar and even calls for his assassination.
But, as Dyer of course knew, the battle-lines had been drawn up long ago.
The Gronovian Scholiast3 commented: Plerique putant figuratam esse istam
orationem, et sic exponunt quasi plus uituperationis habeat quam laudis. Hoc nec
temporibus conuenit nec Caesari. Nam et tempus tale est ut uera laude Caesar
inducatur ad clementiam et Caesar orator est qui non possit falli.
The point of the second part of this last sentence is that a figured ora-
tion fails if its covert meaning is apparent to the person against whom it is
directed. If Caesar realises he is being criticised, then all is lost. Dyer ques-
tions this analysis; but if a 'figure' in this sense is meant to be seen through, it
seems odd to employ it. However, I shall concentrate on the first point, that
concerning the "times" (or "time"), and argue that the speech, taken straight,
is entirely consistent with Cicero's known position in the summer of 46.
Cicero had joined the Republicans across the Adriatic only late in the
day, and was not present at the culminating battle of Pharsalus. Swiftly
pardoned by Caesar, he returned to Italy in October 48. Marcellus, who
had after his early intransigence behaved in a very similar way, did not
wish to be pardoned, and retired to Mytilene, to pursue his studies. Cicero,
after a trying stay at Brundisium, was back in Rome a year or so later. He
was studying too. While the Pompeiane in Africa met defeat, and those in
Spain awaited their turn, Cicero was embarking on his remarkable corpus
of late rhetorical and philosophical works. Overt politics were out, but not

1 To choose an appropriate topic for a paper in honour of Ted was an easy matter,

for he has written with distinction over so wide a field. But when I first m e t h i m in the
fifties, he was concerned with Cicero; and I hope he will enjoy this reminder of an early
enthusiasm. I have floated these thoughts in various forums, most recently in an Institute
of Classical Studies' L a t i n S e m i n a r in London on 20 N o v e m b e r 2000. I a m v e r y
grateful to those who m a d e such helpful contributions on that occasion, and to Dr C. B. R.
Pelling for commenting on an earlier draft.
2 R. R. Dyer, "Rhetoric and Intention in Cicero's Pro Marcello,"JRS 80 (1990) 1 7 - 3 0 .
3 Ciceronis Orationum Scholiastae, ed. T. Stangl (Vienna 1912) 2 9 5 - 9 6 .
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO 25

quite forgotten: modo nobis stet illud, he wrote to Varrò in April, una uiuere in
studiis nostris, a quibus antea delectationem modo petebamus, nunc uero etiam
salutem; non deesse si quis adhibere uolet, non modo ut architectos uerum etiam
utfabros, ad aedificandam rem publicum, et potius libenter accurrere;... et, si
minus in curia atque in foro, at in litteris et libris... ñauare <operam> rei publi-
cae (F am. 9.2.5 = SB 177).4
One of the first products of this burst of creativity was the Brutus. This
work generally confines itself to dead orators; but at one point (248) Brutus
is made to ask Cicero to speak of two orators who are still alive. They are a
striking pair: Caesar and Marcellus. Cicero had no need to mention either
of them, and the fact that he does so suggests how much they are both in
his mind at this period, probably the early months of 46.
Caesar is paid high compliments, especially for the purity of his Latin.
But we should notice two features of this passage in particular. First, Atticus
is made (254) to quote Caesar's own complimentary words about Cicero's
eloquence; Cicero is concerned to emphasise the friendly relations between
the two of them. Second, Brutus comments that such a compliment is worth
more than a triumph (255). There may be some allusion intended to a re-
mark of Caesar's own, reported by the Elder Pliny (7.117), that advancing
the bounds of the Roman genius (ingenium) is superior to advancing those
of the empire. Cicero, in the dialogue, takes this up by asserting that in the
last resort an orator is of more value to a state than a general. This may
look back to the passage of the Catilinarians (3.26) where Cicero classed
himself alongside Pompey as a saviour of the state. But it also looks for-
ward to a prominent argument of the pro Marcello, that glory in statecraft is
superior to glory in war. I shall return to the theme of glory, and to Cicero's
attitude to Caesar during 46. But meanwhile I turn to the discussion of
Marcellus in the Brutus.
Brutus stresses the similarity between Marcellus and Cicero as orators
(249), so that Cicero is able to use his encomium of Marcellus's oratory as
an indirect means of specifying the virtues of his own. Brutus adds that
Marcellus's present philosophical studies are making him even more like
Cicero (250). His picture of Marcellus consoling himself with his studies in
hoc communi nostro et quasi fatali malo makes another parallel with Cicero.
Here too the Brutus looks forward to the speech for Marcellus (2), where
Cicero calls his friend ilio aemulo atque imitatore studiorum ac laborum meorum.
Indeed, right back in 51, the year of Marcellus's consulship, Cicero writes
to him that ab hominibus prudentissimis... omnibus dictisfactis, studiis institutis
uel me tui similem esse audio uel te mei (Fam. 15.9.1 = SB 101). But the similar-
ity had become of crucial concern to Cicero after Pharsalus. In a letter to

4 1 cite the letters Ad Familiares from W. S. Watt's OCT, but add the number of each

letter according to the arrangement of D. R. Shackleton Bailey (whose da tings I follow).

26 MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

Marcellus, perhaps written in September 46 (Fam. 4.7.2 = SB 230), Cicero

puts the parallel in their attitudes to the civil war thus: neque tu multum
interfuisti rebus gerendis et ego id semper egi, ne interessem. In the pro Marcello
(16) he makes the same point with less nuance: Nostri etiim sensus ut in pace
semper, sic turn etiam in bello congruebant.
Why does Cicero dwell so lovingly on the similarities between the pair
of them? No doubt a certain vanity was involved: Marcellus was a grandee.
But after Cicero's return to Italy in 47 there was a further consideration.
For Marcellus had not returned; his studies were being conducted in Lesbos.
Nor was it clear that, of the two, Cicero had taken the more principled
course. That worried Cicero. Early on in the pro Marcello (2) he says: Dolebam
... et uehementer angebar, cum uiderem uirum talem, cum in eadem causa in qua
egofuisset, non in eadem esse fortuna. It was this feeling that, above all, had
motivated him in working for Marcellus's return.
Working in such a cause required not only the bringing round of Cae-
sar, but, tiresomely enough, the bringing round of Marcellus himself. Cicero
had to write to him several times to urge on him the desirability of return-
ing to Italy—the desirability, though he did not phrase it like that, of putting
Cicero at ease with himself.
There are three extant letters. In the first (Fam. 4.8.2 = SB 229, Aug. 46)
Cicero says he must advise his friend ut, quod ego facio, tu quoque animum
inducas, si sit aliqua res publica, in ea te esse oportere iudicio hominum reque
principem, necessitate cedentem tempori; sin autem nulla sit, hunc tamen
aptissimum esse etiam ad exsulandum locum. Si enim libertatem sequimur, qui
locus hoc dominatu uacat? sin qualemcumque locum, quae est domestica sede
iucundior? The first-person plural sequimur is significant; Cicero puts to
Marcellus arguments he had gone through, perhaps was still going through,
himself.
In the next letter, Cicero portrays the options facing those who fought
against Caesar at Pharsalus as three in number: aut enim renouare bellum
conati sunt, ii qui se in Africam contulerunt, aut, quem ad modum nos, uictori
sese crediderunt. Medium quoddam tuum consilium fuit, qui hocfortasse humilis
animi duceres, illud pertinacis.... tamen id cogitare deberes, ubicumque esses, te
fore in eius ipsius quemfugeres potestate (Fam. 4.7.3-4 = SB 230, ?Sept.). Cicero
has said that Marcellus's choice is highly praiseworthy; but he urges on
him (4) the same considerations that he had put to him in the earlier letter:
cogitandum tibi tamen esset Romaene et domi tuae, cuicuimodi res esset, an
Mytilenis aut Rhodi malles uiuere. And in the third letter (Fam. 4.9.1 = SB 231,
?Sept.), he has the same advice to offer: hortor. ..ut in ea re publica, quaecumque
est, quam primum uelis esse.
That in these letters Cicero is thinking of himself as much of Marcellus
is shown by various touches in them, but especially by a fourth letter, ad-
dressed to M. Marius as early as April 46 (Fam. 7.3 = SB 183). Here Cicero
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO 27

looks back over his own actions since he left Italy to join the Pompeiane.
The options following Pharsalus are here portrayed as wider (they include
suicide). That actually chosen by Marcellus (who is not mentioned by name)
is made to sound attractive and sensible (3): exsilio, praesertim innocenti, ubi
nulla adiuncta est turpitudo; addo etiam, cum ea urbe careas in qua nihil sit quod
uidere possis sine dolore. But Cicero had of course taken a different line (3-4):
Ego cum meis . . . esse malui. . . . Veni domum, . . . si esset aliqua forma rei
publicae, tamquam in patria ut essem, si nulla, tamquam in exsilio. Cicero
summarises his position thus (5): nunc autem, si haec ciuitas est, ciuem esse
me, si non, exsulem esse non incommodiore loco quam si Rhodum <me> aut
Mytilenas contulissem. The choice of places makes clear how much Marcellus
is in his thoughts; and the closeness of the arguments he musters in his
own case to those he was to employ to Marcellus speaks for itself. Though
to Marius he asserts bravely that uacare culpa magnum est solacium, it re-
mained true that if Marcellus could be brought home Cicero's conscience
would be that much clearer.5
We have seen Cicero's care in the Brutus to emphasise his good rela-
tions with Caesar. Letters written in the spring and summer of 46 give a
more nuanced but still largely favourable picture of the great man, whose
virtues show up the more clearly in comparison with the Republicans he
had defeated. In the letter to Marius in April (Fam. 7.3 = SB 183), Cicero
recalls his dismay when he joined the Pompeian camp before Pharsalus
(2): extra ducem paucosque praeterea (de principibus loquor) reliqui primum in
ipso bello rapaces, deinde in oratione ita crudeles ut ipsam uictoriam horrerem.
And he recalls how he had tried, unsuccessfully, to urge peace or at least
delay on Pompey. As to Caesar, ut primum scires me numquam uoluisse plus
quemquam posse quam uniuersam rem publicam, postea autem quam alicuius [sc.
Pompei] culpa tantum ualeret unus ut obsisti non posset, me uoluisse pacem (5).
Later in the year, we find Cicero saying (Fam. 9.17.2 = SB 195, to Papirius
Paetus: Aug. or Sept. 46) 6 that non possum eum non diligere cuius beneficio id
[sc. uiuere] consecutus sum; or again (Fam. 6.10b.2 = SB 222, to Trebianus: 46,
?Aug.): ipse qui plurimum potest cottidie magis mihi delabi ad aequitatem et ad
irerumî [s uam Shackleton Bailey] naturam uidetur... ; cottidieque aliquid fit
lenius et liberalius quam timebamus; or (Fam. 4.13.2 = SB 225): Obtinemus ipsius
Caesaris summam erga nos humanitatem. The letters to Marcellus, written in

5 Cf. Äff. 11.7.3 = SB 218 (Dec. 48; criticism of Cicero for not staying with P o m p e y

and not going to Africa); Fam. 9.16.5 = SB 190 (to Papirius Paetus: July 46): . . . culpam.
Qua mihi videor dupliciter carere with self-defence); and esp. Fam. 4.13.2 = SB 225 (to
Nigidius Figulus: 46, ? A u g . ) . . . Mi ipsum quod maneam in vita peccare me existimem. Careo
ertim cum familiarissimis multis, quos aut mors eripuit nobis aut distraxit fuga ... Conversely,
Cicero felt at ease with Varrò, who had behaved in a similar w a y to himself (Fam. 9.5.2
= SB 179).
6 So in the speech, e.g. 34 me . . . a te . . . conseruato.
28 MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

August and September, fit perfectly into the series. We have seen Cicero
counseling that his friend "yield to the time." Caesar, not named but al-
luded to as is qui omnia tenet (Fam. 4.8.2 = SB 229), is seen as powerful all
over the Roman world, but well disposed to talent and (where possible) to birth
and rank also. In the second letter (Fam. 4.7.2-4 = SB 230), Cicero recalls his
and Marcellus's dissatisfaction with Pompey's forces, with "the sort of army
he had." Caesar, ei penes quern est potestas), is again seen as controlling the
whole world, including of course Lesbos, as surely as he controls Italy.
Finally, in the third letter (Fam. 4.9.2-3 = SB 231), Cicero says: At tibi ipsi
dicendum erit aliquid quod non sentías aut faciendum quod non probes. Primum
tempori cedere, id est necessitati parere, semper sapientis est habitum . . . Dicere
fortasse quae sentías non licet, tacere plane licet. Cicero argues that Pompey
would have been no better if he had won. Indeed, he asks Marcellus: An tu
non uidebas mecum simul quam illa [i.e. Pompey's] crudelis essetfutura uictoria?
Cicero, then, in 46, however dismayed by the sort of régime that had
replaced the Republic, was in no mood to do other than conform to it. It
was in his own interest, as well as in that of Marcellus, to pull such strings
as he could and "yield to the times." Nor was Marcellus the only Pompeian
who was concerning him. We see him in various letters of these months
interested in the recall also of Nigidius Figulus, Ampius Balbus, Trebianus,
Caecina, and the Ligarius he eventually defended before Caesar.8 It was
not usually a matter of direct interview with Caesar. It was an exception
when he paid a morning call to plead for Ligarius: cum fratres et propinqui
tui iacerent ad pedes [i.e. those of Caesar] et ego ess em locutus quae causa, quae
tuum tempus postulabat (Fam. 6.14.2 = SB 228, to Ligarius: Nov. 46). Nor-
mally, it was another story, tus adeundi... non habemus, he tells Marcellus,
gratia tantum possumus quantum uicti (Fam. 4.7.6 = SB 230). The way to Cae-
sar was through his friends, many of whom were not only friendly with
Cicero but even under obligations to him. As early as May, he is writing
(Fam. 9.7.1 = SB 178, to Varrò): Itaque non desino apud istos qui nunc dominantur
cenitare. Quid faciam? Tempori seruiendum est.9 There was of course an ele-
ment of craft in all this: sic, mi Paete, habeto, quicquid arte fieri potuerit. . .,
quicquid elaborari aut ejfici potuerit ad istorum beneuolentiam conciliandam et
conligendam, summo studio me consecutum esse (Fam. 9.16.2 = SB 190). But it
was all in a good cause. Cicero's contribution to politics, during his en-
forced silence, was backstage activity for his Pompeian friends. Hirtius and
the rest were to be buttered up. Caesar himself was not to be offended at
any cost: Sed tarnen eius ipsius nulla re a me offensus est animus; est enim adhibita

7Fam. 4.8 = SB 229, 4.7 = SB 230, 4.9 = SB 231.

8Fam. 4.13 = SB 225,6.12 = SB 226,6.10 = SB 222-23,6.6 = SB 234,6.13-14 = SB 227-28.
9 Cf. Fam. 9.16.7 = SB 190 (to Papirius Paetus: July): dining with Hirtius and

Dolabella.
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO 29

in ea re ipsa summa a nobis moderatio. Vt enim olim arbitrabar esse meum Ubere
loqui,... sic ea nunc amissa nihil loqui quod offendat aut illius aut eorum qui ab
ilio diliguntur uoluntatem (Fam. 9.16.3 = SB 190).
So we come to pro Marcello, spoken, it would seem, in mid-September.
We are fortunate to have Cicero's own account of the occasion, in a letter to
Servius Sulpicius Rufus written not long afterwards (Fam. 4.4 = SB 203,
Sept.-Oct. 46). It should be stressed that there is no reason to suppose the
letter was meant to be other than private, and that it strikes no note other
than pleasure at the turn of events. It might seem strange that a scene in-
volving the successful supplication of Caesar (and a Caesar sitting on the
curule chair between the two consuls) in a meeting of the Senate should be de-
scribed so warmly. The fact remains that Cicero gushes (3-4): fac existimes,. . .
postquam armis disceptari coeptum sit de iure publico, nihil esse actum aliud cum
dignitate— ita mihi pulcher hic dies uisus est ut speciem aliquam uiderer uidere
quasi reuiuiscentis rei publicae. Caesar, writes Cicero, accepted the petition of
the Senate repente praeter spem. Cicero, it may be observed, claims himself
to have acted on the spur of the moment (4): Ego rogatus mutaui meum
consilium; nam statueram.. .in perpetuum tacere. Fregit hoc meum consilium et
Caesaris magnitudo animi et senatus officium; itaque pluribus uerbis egi Caesari
gratias.
None of all this gives the slightest colour to the notion that the speech
as given was 'figured/ that it was a rallying of the disaffected, even a call
for the assassination of a tyrant. Cicero, so far as we can tell, did not at this
stage regard Caesar as a tyrant. The gratitude for the forgiveness of
Marcellus can only have been genuine. And any open or hinted criticism
of Caesar would have been entirely counter-productive at a time when
Cicero was hoping that similar methods would produce the same happy
result in the case of other Pompeiane still in exile.
It might still be true that the speech as we have it differs from the one
that was delivered, and that the written version is 'figured.' I doubt if Harry
Gotoff can be right in entertaining the possibility that what we have is the
unvarnished record of the actual words spoken, taken down "by a court
[sic] stenographer at the time." 10 But as usual it is not easy to show that
much revision was needed or supplied. It is not beyond the realms of pos-
sibility that the (as we shall see) elaborately designed speech we read could
have been delivered more or less as we have it by an orator as skilful and
practised as Cicero. And it may be worth mentioning another possibility:
that the whole occasion was less impromptu than it appears from Cicero's
letter to Sulpicius. We know from what he wrote to Marcellus, and from
what is said at the end of the speech, that much had been done in advance

10 Harold C. Gotoff, Cicero's Caesarian Speeches (Chapel Hill and London 1993) xxxii.
30 MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

on the exile's behalf, in particular by his cousin C. Marcellus. In the case of

Ligarius, who was even less favourably looked upon by Caesar, Cicero
asserts that he had deduced from the look in Caesar's eyes "and many
other indications" that he intended to forgive.11 Some such hints may have
prompted Cicero's words in one of the letters to Marcellus (Fam. 4.7.3 = SB
230): . . . praesertim cum tibi nihil deesse arbitrer ad tuas fortunas omnis
obtinendas praeter uoluntatem. Sic enim intellexi, nihil aliud esse quod
dubitationem adferret ei penes quem est potestas nisi quod uereretur ne tu illud
beneficium omnino non putares. That is, Cicero believes that Caesar will re-
lent so long as he is convinced that Marcellus really wishes to be forgiven.
If cousin Marcellus had indicated to Cicero that the omens were good, the
scene in the Senate might have been stage-managed or at least foreseen:
both Caesar and Cicero playing out the parts of sudden changes of mind.
Then Cicero would have had a chance to map out his speech in advance.
It is time to look at the speech in some detail to see if it shows any sign
of failing to fit into the context that I have elicited from the private letters
that precede it. At the same time, I shall analyse its carefully balanced structure.
Cicero himself comments (33) on the ring composition that makes the
epilogue take up the prologue: ut, unde est orsa, in eodem terminetur oratio.
The common theme of both is stated to be the thanking of Caesar, though
that is in fact more explicitly done in the epilogue. And the thanks are not
only for the forgiveness of Marcellus, but, emphatically in the last sentence
of the speech, for Caesar's services to Cicero himself, now and in the past:
tua in me unum innumerabilia merita. This was only to say in public what
Cicero had been writing in private; thus to Nigidius Figulus, perhaps a
month before (Fam. 4.13.2. = SB 225): nec mihi quicquam tali tempore in mentem
uenit optare quod non ultro mihi Caesar detulerit. Equally, to look back to the
prologue, the praise of the restraint being shown by Caesar, tantum in summa
potestate rerum omnium modum, recalls passages I have cited earlier about
the extent of Caesar's power and the justice with which he was exercising
it during 46. Cicero says not merely that he is now breaking his long si-
lence, but that he is going back to his old practice of saying what he means
and what he feels. He had earlier warned Marcellus that such freedom of
speech would not be open to him if he returned, any more than it was open
to Cicero himself. But the change of emphasis here is natural in the circum-
stances. At least for the moment Cicero thinks that Caesar's gesture means
some kind of return to the past; he goes on to say (2) that Caesar had raised
to all a standard of hope for the commonwealth. 12 The same hope is ex-

11 Fam. 6.14.2 = SB 228: non solum ex oratione Caesaris . . . sed etiam ex oculis et uultu,
ex multis praeterea signis. Cf. the encouraging words to Nigidius Figulus in Fam. 4.13.5 = SB 225.
12 Marc. 1 initium quae uellem quaeque sentirem meo pristino more dicendi (contrast
Fam. 4.9.2, cited above); 2 ad bene de re publica sperandum quasi signum aliquod sustulisti.
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO 31

pressed in private to Servilius Isauricus, perhaps in October (Fam. 13.68.2

= SB 211): Sperare tarnen uideor Caesari.. .fore curae et esse ut habeamus aliquam
rem publicum. Cicero puts forward the outlines of such a restored republic
later in the speech.
13
I give in a footnote a proposed structure of the main body of the
speech, marking off four sections that I call Al, A2, B1 and B2. This is meant
to draw attention to a clear break at 21 (Nunc uenio . . .). Hitherto Cicero
has conducted two comparisons. The first (Al) is between Caesar's mili-
tary victories and the victory over his own anger that has led to his forgiving
Marcellus. The latter is seen as superior, personal to Caesar, and not the
result of any luck. The second comparison (A2), allied to the first by the
theme of victory, is between the way Caesar had behaved in victory with
the way the Pompeians would have behaved had they won. After 21 we
have, in shorter compass, another double structure, unified by the asser-
tion that on Caesar and on him alone rest all Rome's hopes for the future.
In the first part (Bl), Cicero expresses his worry that Caesar's life may be in
danger. In the second (B2), he starts from the hardly less serious worry that
Caesar may retire. As it proceeds, this section of the speech comes
chiastically to build on Al. True glory consists not in the winning of the
war, but in re-building the state after the war. Again, this demands more
than luck: it requires judgement, consilium.
To Al, with its praise of Caesar's victory over his anger, I shall return
when I discuss Cicero's philosophical stance in this speech; I know of no
parallels to its general purport in the letters. But A2 is familiar territory.
Cicero's account of his (and Marcellus's) actions during the civil war he
has often rehearsed to his correspondents. And equally we have already
seen Cicero commenting on the grim consequences that would have fol-
lowed a republican victory at Pharsalus. Non enim iam causae sunt inter se
sed uictoriae comparandae (16) has moved on from the words of April (Fam.
5.21.3 = SB 182, to Mescinius Rufus): ut, quamquam multum intersit inter
eorum causas quidimicant, tamen inter uictorias non multum interfuturum putem.
But we can trace some of the steps leading to this new judgement. By June
Cicero is already telling Varrò of the intemperance and anger that would
have marked a republican victory.14 And when Cicero in 19-20 comes to
summarise this first half of the speech, there is nothing new or forced in his
confident allusion to Caesar's "nature and character" (natura et moribus
tuis). We have seen him writing (perhaps in August) that Caesar "seems to

1 3 A l = 4 b - 1 2 Caesar's victories over enemies and over himself; A 2 = 1 3 - 1 8 C a e s a r ' s

victory, and P o m p e y ' s ; B l = 21 [Nunc uenio . . . ] - 2 3 a Caesar m a y die (not forgotten in

B2); B2 = 2 3 b - 3 0 a Caesar m a y retire: a programme.
14 Fam. 9.6.3 = SB 181 si essent nostri potiti, ualde intemperantes fuissent. Already in
N o v e m b e r 48 note Att. 11.6.2 = SB 217.
32 MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

me to be inclining ever more and more toward justice and his own natural
disposition," 15 and so too to Ligarius: nam et res eum cottidie et dies et opinio
hominum et, ut mihi uidetur, etiam sua natura mitiorem facit (Fam. 6.13.2 = SB
227, 46, Aug. or Sept.).16 It was Caesar's "nature" that was for Cicero the
best hope for Rome, and it was the fear of in one way or another being
deprived of his services that dictates the other half of the speech.
The two ways by which Caesar could have been lost to the state were
death and retirement. These form the topics of what I call B1 and B2. It is
the first of these passages that might seem to give some colour to Dyer's
view of the figured nature of the speech, and in these sections (21-23) that
he hears the clarion call to assassination. It remains true that the passage
can (and surely should) be read straight. It is entirely credible that Caesar
should have expressed fears for his life. Already in 3 Cicero has referred to
the uel doloribus uel suspicionibus despite which Caesar had forgiven him-
self and now Marcellus, and it is as a querela and suspicio that Cicero
introduces Caesar's alleged fear here. In the second Philippic, indeed, he
would mention an incident round about this time when Caesar complained
openly in the Senate that he had been the object of an assassination at-
tempt (74).17 Equally, it is entirely credible that Cicero should be anxious
that Caesar should live on, and work on, if for nothing else than to con-
tinue the process of bringing back penitent exiles. And we should notice
too that it is not merely death by assassination that Cicero is worrying about.
He twice mentions Caesar's health (22,23). Deplorable (he says in 22) though
it is that the republic should depend on the continuing existence of a single
man, that is the position, and it is not to be denied.
In unius mortalis anima. Cicero uses the word unus in both 22 and 23,
praeter te nemo in 24. When, in one of the letters to Marcellus (Fam. 4.9.2 =
SB 231), he had said Omnia . . . delata ad unum sunt, he went on: is utitur
Consilio ne suorum quidem sed suo. Yet only a section later in the same letter,
he is generalising: multa . . . uictori eorum arbitrio per quos uicit etiam inuito
facienda sunt (3). That was perhaps true even of Caesar. To Paetus, Cicero
had written recently (Fam. 9.17.2 = SB 195, Aug. or Sept. 46): si cupiat [sc.
Caesar] esse rem publicam qualem fortasse et Ule uult et omnes optare debemus,
quid faciat tamen non habet; ita se cum multis conligauit. And very soon he

15 Fam. 6.10B.2 (cited above, p. 34).

16 Compare Fam. 6.6.8 = SB 234 (dated soon after the speech?,) in Caesare haec sunt:
mitis clemensque natura . . . Contrast, from 49, Att. 10.4.8 (and 8.16.2: Caesar's insidiosa
dementia).
17 Cf. Marc. 32 quoniam subesse aliquid putas quod cauendum sit. Note Plut. Caes. 57.7

των δε φίλων άξιούντων αύτόν δορυφορείσθαι και πολλών έπί τοΰτο παρεχόντων εαυτούς
οΰκ ύπέμεινεν. One possible source of danger was Antony, publicly blamed by Caesar
for the incident mentioned in Phil. 2.74. He would be prominent among the associates
of Caesar discussed in my next paragraph.
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO 33

would be writing to Cornificius (Fam. 12.18.2 = SB 205, Sept.-Oct. 46):

Bellorum enim ciuilium ii semper exitus sunt ut non ea solum fiant quae uelit
uictor sed etiam ut iis mos gerendus sit quibus adiutoribus sit parta uictoria. In
this part of the pro Marcello, it may be, Cicero is not merely warning Caesar
of possible dangers to his life; 18 he is reminding senators that if Caesar
ceases to rule, for whatever reason, the alternative might be unpleasant.
Not, then, a clarion call to assassination; rather the advice of Hilaire Belloc
to keep a hold of Nurse for fear of finding something worse.
B2 marks an advance in complexity on B l . The stress on the reliance of
the republic on Caesar's retaining power provides the link with B l , but
this is exploited in a new and striking way. Caesar must go on because he
has work to do that only he can do, work described in a way that remark-
ably foreshadows the eventual programme of his heir: the bringing back of
due legal processes, moral reform, encouragement for the raising of chil-
dren, restoration (though Cicero does not put it like that) of the republic.
To add to the complexity of the argument, Cicero from 25 argues the case
from the standpoint of gloria, in a way that, as we have seen, takes us back,
chiastically, to A l . True glory lies not so much in military success as in
'finishing the job' by rebuilding a shattered state. And again there is a con-
trast of the chance that governs warfare and the calculated planning that
marks statesmanship. I shall come back to these quasi-philosophical ideas.
The speech then reflects the themes of Cicero's private letters of sum-
mer 46: his recognition of and acquiescence in Caesar's supreme power,
his wish to use his good relations with him and his henchmen to get
Pompeians recalled, his hopes that Caesar may in the end return to consti-
tutional ways. It was not in his interest, at this juncture, to make a speech
that did anything but encourage Caesar to continue treading the present
comparatively hopeful path. The scholiast put it correctly when he said
that "the time is such that Caesar can be led to clemency by sincere praise." 19
That is not quite the same as to say (with Elizabeth Rawson) that the
speech is "entirely sincere." 20 Cicero is making the best of a bad job. The
letters often enough speak of his despair at the condition of Rome. But we
should recognise that Cicero is in a volatile mood at this period. It is diffi-
cult to see how he could have drawn much comfort from the spectacle of
senators in full session supplicating an unconstitutional ruler, even though
that supplication was successful. Yet both in his letter to Sulpicius Rufus
and in the published speech he is ready to see this as the beginning of a

18 Observe the dark remarks in 21 about tui (a word much bandied about in Lig. 3 2 - 3 8 ) .
19 Cf. Marc. 13 hoc C. Caesaris iudicium ... quam late pa teat attendite and what follows;
20 noli igitur in conseruandis uiris bonis defetigari. Note, soon after the speech, the
s u m m a r y in Fam. 6.6.10 = SB 234 (to Caecina: ?Oct.) praising C a e s a r ' s sapientia: At nos
quem ad modum est complexus! (with examples, Marcellus the climax).
20 Cicero: A Portrait (Bristol 1983) 219.
34 MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

new and more hopeful era. Nor was it a time to cavil about dementia. Cicero
had said long before, while defending Sulla, that being able to save a life
maius est beneficium quam posse debet ciuis dui dare (Sull. 72). But the letters
are ready to use without embarrassment not only dementia but the equally
loaded word 'forgive' of Caesar's lenity towards his defeated enemies.
Weinstock has shown how Cicero may well have been responsible for the
acceptance of dementia as a political term. But, as Weinstock says, "Cicero
could not have done it alone." 21 Dyer says that "to the Stoics, as to any
Roman noble, clemency is not a virtue." 22 It had not long been one, but it
was one now; a temple and coins celebrating CLEMENTIA CAESARIS were
soon to come.
Cicero's hopes in September 46 were to be dashed. The Caesar he
praised in the pro Marcello became the object of his hatred after the return
from Spain in the next year. Dyer obliquely accepts the force of the sort of
arguments I have been deploying by toying with a publication date in April
or May 45. But the speech, read straight, fits coherently into the context of
the month when it was delivered; ignoring that coherence, and arbitrarily
delaying its publication, is too high a price to pay for reading it in the forced
way that Dyer recommends.
* * * * * * * * * * *

In the last part of this paper I should like to sketch a further context for the
speech, not this time historical but philosophical. 23 This will be something
of a digression from my main argument. But that the speech exploits ab-
stract ideas about which Cicero was thinking seriously at this period
provides some comfort for those who believe in its sincerity.
In the second sentence Cicero says he cannot pass over a series of quali-
ties in Caesar. They culminate in his incredibilem sapientiam ac paene diuinam.
That there is nothing particularly striking, let alone subversive, in the word
"god-like" is shown by a close parallel in the second Philippic (39), where
Pompey is called ille singularis uir ac paene diuinus. Equally, sapientia does
not claim for Caesar any approximation to a Stoic sage. Cicero is merely
talking about his soundness of judgement. And that is the normal connota-
tion of sapiens and sapientia in this speech. But one passage gives us pause.
In 25 Cicero is protesting against Caesar's resignation to death. He has

21
Stefan Weinstock, Divus Julius (Oxford 1971) 2 3 3 - 1 3 (esp. 239). Cf. D. S. L e v e n e ,
"God and M a n in the Classical Latin Panegyric," PCPS 43 (1997) 6 8 - 6 9 (perhaps not
altogether fair to Dyer); the article g o e s o n (69-77) to g i v e an interesting a n a l y s i s of the
religious e l e m e n t s in the speech, to w h i c h m y o w n d i s c u s s i o n (below) of its philosophical
s i d e m a y be s e e n as complementary.
22
D y e r (above n. 2) 25.
23
1 h a v e f o u n d n o t h i n g relevant to m y a r g u m e n t in Sabine Rochlitz, Das Bild Caesars
in Ciceros Orationes Caesarianae, Studien zur klassischen Philologie 78 (Frankfurt a m Main 1993).
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO 35

heard Caesar's dictum satis diu uel naturae uixi uel glorine; and he calls it a
praeclarissimam et sapientissimam uocem.2i Ruch comments on the latter adjec-
tive: "parce que c'est une preuve de temperantia; d'aequitas animi."25 And
the section continues in that vein. Cicero asks Caesar to lay aside istam doc-
torum hominum in contemnenda morte prudentiam: noli nostro periodo esse sapiens.
Doctorum hominum points to philosophers, and not only Stoics: Epicureans
too despised death. There is nothing very technical about these words: but
they are beyond doubt tinged with philosophical tones. A little further on,
Cicero asks Caesar: Hic tu modum uitae tuae non salute rei publicae sed aequi-
tate animi definies? Is Caesar, that is, to get away with judging the correct
length of his life not by the needs of the state but by those of his own peace
of mind? Philosophical concepts hover lightly over the whole passage.
Such lightness of touch suits the occasion. The Senate was not the place
for deep philosophy. Nor was Caesar himself an abstract philosopher. All
the same, Sallust, reconstructing the senatorial debate at the heart of the
Catiline, was to judge it appropriate to make some gesture towards a con-
trast between an Epicurean Caesar and the Stoic Cato. Caesar (in Sallust's
speech) sees death as peace after suffering, leaving no place after it for
either joy or care (51.20); as Cato remarks in reply, Caesar thinks false what
is related of the underworld (52.13). Cicero will concede (27) to such senti-
ment that when the end comes, past pleasure goes for nothing, for none is
to come later.26 But, more generally, he is concerned to flatter the intelli-
gence of Caesar by raising the level of his speech from straight-forward
eulogy of military deeds and clement character, or even advice about the
future, to a more abstract plane.
That is part of Cicero's oratorical creed, which he had been thinking
through afresh during this same year. In the Orator, he had proudly as-
serted (12) that if he was an orator it was because he was sprung not from
the workshops of the rhetors but from the spatia of the Academy. What this
amounted to in practice is disputable, but one thing is clear. Cicero thought
that a central quality of his oratory was his ability to pass from the particular to
the general; to quote the Orator again (45), ut. .. orator, non Ule uulgaris sed hic
excellens, a propriis personis et temporibus semper, si potest, auocet controuersiam.
Returning to public speaking after an enforced period of reflection, Cicero
finds the opportunity to put this doctrine into immediate practice.
Along with reflection about rhetoric had gone reflection on philoso-
phy. We have seen Cicero writing to Varrò about the studies that drew

24
So wise that (as Michael Reeve remarked in the London seminar) Cicero adapted
it for himself in Phil. 1.38. In Marc. 25 Cicero ripostes: patriae certe parum, w i t h w h i c h
c o m p a r e O f f . 1.22 non nobis solum nati sumus ortusque nostri partem patria uindicat. ..
25
M.T. Ciceronis Pro Marcello Oratio, ed. Michel Ruch (Paris 1965) 68.
26
Cf. 30, with the remark ut quidam falso putant; s o m e have w i s h e d to delete falso.
36 MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

them together; and he mentioned research on custom and law as a substi-

tute for serving the republic more actively.27 It may be that he was resuming
work on the de Legibus at this period in spring 46. But more certainly dated
to that time is the Paradoxa Stoicorum. In this little book, Cicero provides
defences of six Stoic paradoxes, each masquerading as a locus communis
that could be inserted into a forensic oration. Nothing could fit more snugly
into this period: Cicero was happily playing the rhetor in a private school
for his Caesarian friends Hirtius and Pansa, while at the same time (one
may conjecture) brooding on the great series of philosophical books that
was to follow in 45 and 44, and in particular on the problem of how best to
present them attractively to a Roman audience not used to philosophy
written in Latin. Nor were these merely παίγνια in the tradition of Gorgias,
though there is an element of that. Cicero in his introduction goes out of
his way to say (4) that he has chosen to treat the paradoxes that seem to
him to be most Socratic and far the most true (maxime... Socratica longeque
uerissima). Hence, when he embarks on the first paradox with the words
dicam quod sentio (6), one is pre-disposed to believe in his sincerity. At any
rate, the libellus is written in a far different vein from the notorious guying
of Stoic doctrine in the pro Murena. In the Paradoxa Cato, the victim of that
speech, is or is represented to be still alive, and the thought of him fighting
for the republic in Africa will have had a sobering effect. The proem to the
book portrays Cicero as aiming to say better than Cato what Cato might
have said himself.
Cicero starts the fifth Paradox with thoughts on generals (33). Is an
imperator worthy of the name? No: Imperator quo modo? aut cui tandem hie
libero imperabit, qui non potest cupiditatibus suis imperare? Refrenet primum
libídines, spernat uoluptates, iracundiam teneat, coerceat auaritiam, ceteras animi
labes repellat. A few months later Cicero was to re-work this idea to suit a
eulogy of the ultimate imperator. Selecting carefully from the list, he con-
trasts Caesar's victory over his own anger favourably with victory over his
enemies in war: Animum uincere, iracundiam cohibere, uicto temperare . . .,
haec quifaciat, non ego eum cum summis uiris comparo, sed simillimum deo iudico
(Marc. 8). At the end of this section of the speech (12), Cicero closurally
sharpens the terms of his comparison: hodierno... die te ipse uicisti ipsam
uictoriam uicisse uideris. The cupiditates mentioned in the Paradoxa are not of
course dwelt on. But, for a Stoic, anger was a cupiditas, the "bad desire to
take vengeance for an injury." 28 In controlling it, Caesar was displaying
philosophic virtue.29 Clementia, argued by Dyer to be a dirty word in sena-

27 Fam. 9.2.5 = SB 177 de moribus ac legibus quaerere.

28 Sen. de Ira 1.2.3b ira est cupiditas ulciscendae iniuriae.
2 9 Cf. Fin. 3.75 (the sapiens ) rectius ... appellabitur rex quam Tarquinius, qui nec se nec
suos regere potuit.
 BELIEVING THE PRO MARCELLO 37

torial ears, is certainly not that in Cicero's mouth, as we have already seen:
and he was soon to argue in the de Officiis (1.88) against those who ap-
proved of anger directed against enemies and regarded it as the sign of a
uir magnanimus: Nec uero audiendi qui grauiter inimicis irascendum putabunt
idque magnanimi etfortis uiri esse censebunt; nihil enim laudabilius, nihil magno
et praeclaro uiro dignius placabilitate atque dementia. Such behaviour shows
that reason has proved superior to emotion. As Cicero says in the speech
(9): cum aliquid clementer, mansuete, iuste, moderate, sapienter factum, in
iracundia praesertim quae est inimica Consilio, . . . audimus aut legimus, quo
studio incendimur ... !
Equally deep-rooted in philosophical ideas is the passage in 19-20
where Cicero sums up, and even advances on, the argument of the first
half of his speech: tantus est... splendor in laude uera, tanta in magnitudine
animi et consili dignitas ut haec a uirtute donata, cetera a Fortuna commodata
esse uideantur. The idea of chance has already played some part. Fortuna,
Cicero has said in 6, has a crucial role in war: maximam ... partem quasi suo
iure Fortuna sibi uindicat, et quicquid est prospere gestum, id paene omne ducit
suum. But it plays no part in Caesar's new exploit, the pardoning of
Marcellus (7): tibi cedit, tuam esse totam et proprium fatetur. Now, in 19, such
leniency is seen as a mark of greatness of mind, of Virtue that is not slave of
Fortune.30 For Seneca, such reliance on oneself, not on what chance may
bring, was to be a mark of the Stoic sapiens, who nihil perdere potest; omnia in
se reposuit, nihil fortunae credit, bona sua in solido habet contentus uirtute, quae
fortuitis non indiget ideoque nec augeri nec minui potest (de Constantia Sapientis
5.4). Again Caesar's "soundness of judgement" is approaching philosophic
wisdom. And the theme recurs late in the speech (29), when Cicero says
that some may feel that something is lacking in Caesar's claim to fame if he
fails to bring Rome back to normality and relies only on his military record:
aliifortasse aliquid requirent, idque uel maximum, nisi belli ciuilis incendium
salute patriae restinxeris, ut illudfatifiiisse uideatur, hoc consili.31 To act ratio-
nally is to overcome chance.
Those words forward a theme that Cicero would again have thought
of as philosophical. In the part of the speech I called Al he had distin-
guished the praise gained by warlike exploits, fleeting and fortuitous, from
the praise which Caesar can win in peace-time. Now in B2 Cicero sharpens
that distinction by calling the fruits of war admiratio, amazement, while

3 0 Gotoff (above n. 10) compares de Natura Deorum 3.88 iudicium hoc omnium
mortalium est, fortunam a deo petendam, a se ipso sumendam esse sapientiam. Note the
philosophical language (Marc. 19) of quae non modo summa bona sed nimirum audebo uel
sola dicere.
3 1 Cf. Marc. 7 Numquam enim temeritas cum sapientia commiscetur nec ad consilium
casus admittitur.
38 MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

gloria is to be attained by the 'stabilisation' of the state after the civil wars.
This was a topic of interest to Caesar (25): cuius [sc. gloriae] te esse auidissimum,
quamuis sis sapiens, non negabis. That pointed the issue; philosophy had its
reservations about both praise and glory.
Such matters had always been of concern to Cicero, especially since
his own consulship. One thinks especially of the speech for Archias, where
he confesses (28) that his own love of glory is nimis acrifortasse, uerunt tamen
honesto. Virtue can look for no other recompense for toil and danger than
praise, and lasting praise at that. The speech for Marcellus picks up and
elaborates that fevered paragraph. Nor did the theme exhaust itself. In the
summer of 44 Cicero was to write two books de Gloria, and the de Officiis
does something to repair their loss. We learn there that uera gloria must rest
on the observance of justice; and passages in the Philippics show that brood-
ing on the recent behaviour of Caesar and Antony had focused Cicero's
thinking on the subject: these men are present in the de Officiis even when
there is no direct allusion to the condition of Rome. Nor was the contrast of
glory won in war and peace lacking in the de Officiis: Cicero predictably
argues for the claims of peace.32
»at-********

The theme of praise brings us back to the scholiast from whom I began. He
judged that the time was such that Caesar could be led to clemency by uera
laus, and, by implication, that Cicero was providing praise that was genu-
ine and not full of hidden sarcasms. I have tried to show that the evidence
of the letters of 46 strongly supports this judgement: that what Cicero says
in this speech is consistent with his feelings during this year. He is not
saying all that is in his mind, but he is not being deceitful. He is saying
what he thinks best for the interests of the Pompeian exiles for whom he
has been working, and best in the long run for Rome. That in a short time
he was to be harbouring much darker thoughts about Caesar is not to the
present point. The speech was written in and for 46, and we should take it
at face value, even in some sense 'believe' it. The plerique known to the
scholiast looked for uituperatio in it because they were influenced by a rhe-
torical education in which figured controversiae played an exciting part.
Those who follow them today may be thought to be subject to influences
no less scholastic.

CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OXFORD

3 2 2.43 Qui igitur adipisci ueram gloriam uolet, iustitiaefungatur officiis (with A. Dyck,

A Commentary on Cicero, De Officiis [Ann Arbor 1996] ad loc.), 1.74-78 (war and peace).
 THE STOIC PARADOXES ACCORDING TO CICERO

BY DAVID MEHL

In 46 BC Cicero wrote Paradoxa Stoicorum, a defense of the Stoic tenets

known as the paradoxes. These paradoxes are concise assertions, such
as "only the wise man is free, and every fool is a slave" and "all mis-
deeds are equal," which, as Cicero explains (Parad, pro. 4), are surprising
(admirabilia) and run contrary to common belief (contra opinionem om-
nium). A year or so after writing Paradoxa Cicero wrote De Finibus, books
3 and 4 of which are a systematic explanation and refutation of Stoic
ethics, including the paradoxes. This apparent contradiction in Cicero's
perspective, evident in this defense and refutation of the same Stoic
teaching, is problematic. Was he serious in one work but not the other?
Does one work and not the other reveal his true philosophical convic-
tions? Does he refute the paradoxes in De Finibus only to an extent,
while substantially agreeing with them? What I will attempt to show
here is that Cicero was not favorable toward the paradoxes, because he
disagreed with a fundamental point of early Stoic doctrine which gave
the paradoxes their logical foundation; and that in Paradoxa Stoicorum,
a rhetorical exercise that Cicero wrote for the purpose of amusement,
he defends the paradoxes by turning them into principles of Roman
rather than early Stoic virtue, thus making them palpable for a popu-
lar Roman audience.
The paradoxes originate with the early Stoics of the third century,
that is Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus. In order to understand Cicero's
contention with the paradoxes, it will be useful for us to trace their develop-
ment from the beginning. The ethical doctrines of the early Stoics are
inextricably linked to their physical doctrines. They maintain that the
governor of the universe, which is called various things, including Zeus
and pneuma, is a sort of fire or breath, a physical living substance that
pervades the universe and even penetrates into human beings as their
psyche. This substance is also called logos, or reason, and is the source
of human rationality. The soul is monistic, that is to say completely
rational. It does not have an irrational side or part to it. Irrational ac-
tion occurs when the purely rational soul is functioning improperly. 1

1 SVF 1 . 1 0 7 , 1 0 9 , 5 1 0 - 1 2 ; 2.528, 5 8 5 - 6 2 0 , 6 2 2 - 3 2 , 6 6 3 - 6 4 , 836, 879. See M. Lapidge,

"Stoic Cosmology," in J. Rist, ed., The Stoics (Berkeley 1970) 1 6 3 - 8 3 ; D. E. H a h m , The

Origins of Stoic Cosmology (Columbus 1977) 185; A. A. L o n g and D. N. Sedley, The Helle-
nistic Philosophers, Vol. 1 (Cambridge 1987) 383.
40 DAVID MEHL

Another name given to this governor of the universe is physis, or

nature. The Stoics hold that the telos of life is to live kata physin, accord-
ing to nature. But it is essential to understand that the Stoics define
nature as universal reason, a corporeal entity. To live kata physin is to
be completely rational. Therefore any action is either right or w r o n g
depending upon whether or not it is done through right reason. Virtue
is to be found in the disposition an action displays rather than in the
action itself. 2
A fundamental tenet of early Stoicism is that good and bad are
absloute and do not allow for degree. Something either is or is not kata
physin. But while on the one hand the only thing w e should strive for is
to live according to nature b y using perfect reason, on the other hand
w e must perform perfect actions in an attempt to obtain things that are
not part of that one and only good. These things are called proegmena,
or preferred. But the good itself, living kata physin, is not a preferred
thing. It has the highest value per se, like a king in relation to his sub-
jects. That distinction between the good itself and the things preferred
is one of the most vulnerable aspects of the entire Stoic system. To al-
low the good and the things preferred to run together is no longer to
be Stoic in the original sense, because that permits things to be ranked
according to their degree of goodness. 3
It is the absolute distinction between good and bad that creates the
paradoxes. There are some famous metaphors associated with that dis-
tinction: as a stick is either crooked or straight, so a man is either good
or bad; and the drowning man drowns whether he be just beneath the
surface of the water or at the bottom of the ocean. Accordingly every-
thing the wise man does he does perfectly well, because he a l w a y s acts
with perfect reason. But the man w h o is not wise a l w a y s acts badly;
and all his actions are equally bad, because they are done through a
state of improper reason. 4 The bad are also equally mad, because their
reason is out of order. Zeno in his Republic creates a state in which the
only free citizens are the wise. E v e r y b o d y else is either an enemy or a
slave, with no account taken for blood-relation. A n d it is only through
proper reason that someone is able to act autonomously. Therefore the
wise man is also a king, because he alone does not answer to others. For that
same reason only the wise can hold any public offices whatsoever. 5

2
SVF 3 . 6 8 , 1 2 4 , 1 7 8 , 3 2 6 , 4 9 1 , 5 0 0 ; Stob. 2.76,9-15; see L o n g a n d S e d l e y ( a b o v e n. 1)
1.366.
3
SVF 1.361, 351; 3.92, 560; Stob. 2.84; L o n g a n d S e d l e y ( a b o v e n. 1) 1.357.
4
SVF 3.529; Stob. 2.99, 3 - 8 ; D. L. 7.127; see J. M. Rist, Stoic Philosophy ( C a m b r i d g e
1969) 83.
5 D. L. 7.32-3,121-2; SVF 1.218; 3.658.
 THE STOIC PARADOXES ACCORDING TO CICERO 41

Again, it is the boundary between the good and the things pre-
ferred that allows for the absolute distinction between good and bad;
but this boundary is a vulnerable point of the Stoic doctrine. Long and
Sedley observe (above n. 1: 1.406-408) that if the purpose of life is to
live according to nature and therefore to use perfect reason to select
things that are according to nature, and if the things selected are point-
less in themselves, then the formula is reduced to absurdity unless the
Stoics are proposing two ends, that of having perfect reason and of
having the things acquired through perfect reason.
Panaetius in the second century marks a period of change in Stoic
philosophy.6 Although the surviving fragments of Panaetius are few, it
seems that he rejected the corporeal explanation of the universe with
its all-pervasive breath of reason, and thus disassociated man physi-
cally from the cosmos. 7 The telos of life becomes for Panaetius not to
follow universal nature, according to which a community of the wise
would all be living the same way so to speak, but to follow one's own
individual nature as found in his aphormai, that is his 'starting points'
or 'instincts.' 8 In De Officiis (1.107,110-11,114-17), the first two books
of which Cicero tells us are based on Panaetius' Peri tou kathekontos,
Cicero presents the theory of the four personae, which recognizes dif-
ferences among individuals. Good is not an absolute, single
phenomenon which it is the duty of the wise man to follow. Under
those circumstances, the foundation of the paradoxes breaks down. Two
passages in fact give specific evidence that Panaetius rejected the para-
doxes. Seneca (Ep. 116.5 = van Str. frag. 114) writes that a young man
once asked Panaetius whether a wise man could fall in love; Panaetius
responded that consideration of the wise man could be postponed; they
themselves, who were far from being wise, ought to attempt to keep
themselves from falling into a state of being that was disturbed, pow-
erless, subservient to another, and worthless to themselves. The passage
implies that for Panaetius one who is not wise is capable of acting prop-
erly, is capable of being in a state that is not disturbed, and is capable
of avoiding slavery, capacities that contradict the paradoxes. The sec-
ond passage is in the first book of De Officiis, which as I mentioned
above Cicero based on the writings of Panaetius. There Cicero explains
(1.46) that one does not live among sapientes, but among those who are
doing well if they have a semblance of virtue (simulacra virtutis), and

6 Although both Panaetius and Posidonius represent what scholars refer to as Middle

Stoicism, I will discuss only Panaetius here, because the evidence for Panaetius is m u c h
more fruitful in considering Cicero and the paradoxes.
7 v a n Str. frag. 64 (= Cie. N.D. 2.118), 6 5 - 6 9 . See M. v a n Straeten, Panétius, sa vie, ses

écrits et sa doctrine (Amsterdam 1946) 6 5 - 6 8 .

8 v a n Str. frag. 96 = Clem. Strom. 2.21.129.4.
42 DAVID MEHL

that no one ought to be neglected in whom there is an indication of

virtue {significatio virtutis). Here, the non-sapiens has been allowed to
possess virtus, in contrast to the fundamental tenet that creates the ab-
solute distinction between the wise man and the fool, without which
the paradoxes lose their basis.
Panaetius' influence on Cicero is apparent not only in De Officiis,
but also, I believe, in De Finibus. Books 3 and 4 of De Finibus treat Stoic
ethics. Cicero presents the arguments in a dialogue between Cato the
Younger and himself. In Book 3 the character Cato describes and sup-
ports the Stoic ethical system; in Book 4 the character Cicero refutes it.
Both characters complete their discussions with reference to the para-
doxes, Cato upholding them, Cicero condemning them and making
mention of Panaetius. The main point of dissension is the difference
between the absolute good, which does not admit degree, and the things
preferred, which do. Furthermore, in the introduction to Book 3 (3-4),
while discussing the peculiar language of philosophy, Cicero in his own
voice says that philosophy is an ars whose practice is not everyday or
common (non vulgaris communisque); the arte s of rhetoric, on the other
hand, are completely public and popular (totae forenses atque populares).
His recognition of that distinction is one key for understanding what
he is doing in Paradoxa Stoicorum, in which, as I will argue, he attempts
for amusement to blend together the artes of philosophy and rhetoric.
At the beginning of their dialogue (3.10-11) Cicero encounters Cato
in a library, where he himself has gone in order to get some books by
Aristotle. Immediately they debate the distinction between absolute
good, which is called honestum or bonum in Cicero's language, and the
things preferred. Cato states his position thus (3.10): Quidquid enim
praeter id quod honestum sit expetendum esse dixeris in bonisque numeraveris,
et honestum ipsum, quasi virtutis lumen, exstinxeris et virtutem penitus
everteris. Cicero counters by telling Cato that his argument does not
allow for any worth to exist except in that which is the good (3.14):
Si una virtus, unum istud quod honestum appellas, rectum, laudabile,
decorum . . . id igitur, inquam, si solum est bonum, quid habebis
praeterea quod sequare? aut, si nihil malum nisi quod turpe,
inhonestum, indecorum, pravum, flagitiosum, foedum . . . quid
praeterea esse fugiendum?

Following this exchange Cato's long exposition begins. Through-

out his argument he maintains the distinction between the only good
(bonum or honestum) and the things to be preferred and avoided
(praeposita and reiecta). Moreover he insists (3.31) that the only good,
the telos or extremum of life, is to live according to nature (convenienter
congruenterque naturae vivere). Again in 3.48 he reiterates that the good
 THE STOIC PARADOXES ACCORDING TO CICERO 43

does not vary by degree. Following this rationale Cato concludes by

affirming the paradoxes (3.75):
qui (sapiens), cum ratio docuerit quod honestum esset id esse solum
bonum, semper sit necesse est beatus vereque omnia ista nomina
possideat quae irrideri ab imperitis soient. Rectius enim appellabitur
rex quam Tarquinius . . . rectius magister populi quam Sulla . . . rectius
dives quam Crassus . . . recte eius omnia dicentur qui seit uti solus
omnibus, recte etiam pulcher appellabitur . . . recte solus liber.

Book 4 contains Cicero's refutation. His principal argument is that

the Stoics are trying to maintain an impossible distinction between the
good and the preferred, a distinction that leads to the equally impos-
sible paradoxes. The following passage is indicative (4.20-22):

(Zeno dixit) ea enim omnia quae illi (philosophi antiqui) bona dicerent
praeposita esse, non bona; itemque ilia quae in corpore excellerent
stulte antiquos dixisse per se esse expetenda, sumenda potius quam
expetenda . . . O magnam vim ingeni causamque iustam cur nova
exsisteret disciplina. Perge porro: sequuntur enim ea quae tu
scientissime complexus es, omnium insipientiam, iniustitiam, alia vitia
similia esse, omniaque peccata esse paria, eosque qui natura
doctrinaque longe ad virtutem processissent, nisi earn plane consecuti
essent, summe esse miseros, ñeque inter eorum vitam et
improbissimorum quidquam omnino interesse . . . Haec videlicet est
correctio philosophiae veteris et emendatio, quae omnino aditum
nullum habere potest in urbem, in forum, in curiam... . Patronusne
causae in epilogo pro reo dicens negaret esse malum exsilium,
publicationem bonorum? haec reicienda esse, non fugienda?

What is significant to recognize in this passage is that the paradoxes

are the logical consequence (sequuntur enim ea) of the absolute distinc-
tion between the good and the bad, and the separation of the good
from the things preferred. Cicero rejects and even mocks that distinc-
tion; and consequently he rejects the paradoxes. It is untenable then to
conclude that his defense of the paradoxes in Paradoxa Stoicorum is
unqualified. What therefore are w e to make of it?
Among scholars there have been two contrasting schools of thought
on the work. 9 The first claims that Paradoxa Stoicorum is entirely a rhe-
torical exercise, the philosophical content of which ranges from playful
to worthless. The second, which has been gaining favor in recent years,
says that Cicero is entirely in earnest, and that his own philosophical
beliefs coincide with those of the Stoics. Lee writes that although Cicero

9
For a discussion of the debate, see M. Rormick, Cicero's Paradoxa Stoicorum (Frank-
furt am Main 1991) 2 - 3 , 1 8 - 1 9 .
44 DAVID MEHL

criticizes the Stoic paradoxes in De Finibus, "the general implication of

his remarks is that while he quarrels with the Stoics over their clumsy
terminology and the concealed contradictions inherent in certain of their
doctrines, none the less he regards the essential content of their teach-
ing as being in harmony with his own philosophical position." 1 0
Ronnick says that the paradoxes are "moral exhortation for [Cicero's]
fellow Romans," and that the "earnestness of [his] intent was based on
the quintessential elements of Stoic doctrine which rang in harmony
with his own philosophical position" (above n. 9: 37 and 19).
To a large extent the debate centers on a line that comes in the dedi-
catory introduction (pro. 3): Ego tibi illa quae vix in gymnasiis et in otio
Stoici probant ludens conieci in communes locos. For Brutus' benefit, Cicero
says, he has put into general arguments or common forms those doc-
trines which the Stoics only with difficulty prove within the confines
of their schools. In my eyes the word ludens means that Cicero is amus-
ing himself by doing this. Ronnick, however, gives the following
interpretation of the word (above n. 9: 18):
When Cicero insisted . . . that his attitude was playful and sportive,
he was referring to the rhetorical structure which was purposefully
designed to appeal to a popular audience. The participle ludens sig-
nals the beginning of a special 'play-format' whose dynamics were
present in the philosophical debates of sophists and non-sophists and
that demonstrate the main factors of social play in ancient culture:
glorious exhibitionism and agnostic aspiration. It also permits Cicero,
the novice philosopher, to make a 'polite bow,' as it were, to Cato the
serious, professional Stoic.

Ronnick's point here is not entirely clear to me. But I believe that she
has resorted to a rather abstract definition in order to explain away the
word ludens, which otherwise contradicts her general argument that
Cicero agrees with and is seriously defending the Stoic doctrine of the
paradoxes.
Cicero also says in the introduction (pro. 4) that he wants to see
whether he can bring into the light the paradoxes, that is to say bring
them into the forum (id est in forum), and expound them in such a way
that they be approved, or whether scholarly speech and common speech
are two different things (an alia quaedam esset erudita, alia popularis oratio).
We should recall now what Cicero says in De Finibus about the differ-
ence between the artes of philosophy and rhetoric (see above), and also
his comment on the impossibility of defending the paradoxes in the
forum, based as they are on the separation between the good and the

10 A. G. Lee, ed., M. Tulli Ciceronis Paradoxa Stoicorum (London 1953) xiii.

 THE STOIC PARADOXES ACCORDING TO CICERO 45

preferred. For amusement Cicero is going to defend the paradoxes as if

they were a difficult client. What has been missed, I believe, by those
who see the work as a rhetorical exercise of worthless philosophical
content, is what Cicero does to make the paradoxes palpable to a popu-
lar audience. He tells us in so many words in De Finibus. He eliminates
that problematic distinction between the good and the preferred. He
then is left free to make of the paradoxes what he will, to define virtue
as he will, and to turn the Roman ancestors, not the Stoic philosophers,
into the sapientes. The ancestors in fact are an essential key to under-
standing the work.
In the first paradox, which proclaims that only what is right is good
(quod honestum sit, id solum bonum esse), Cicero briefly and in general
terms condemns greed and Epicureanism. But he spends a lot of time,
as he often does in his orations, praising the example set by the Roman
ancestors (1.11-12). In a series of rhetorical questions he mentions
Brutus, C. Mucius, the Decii, C. Fabricius, M . Curius, the Scipios, and
Cato the Elder. In the second paradox, which says that the man w h o
has virtue has everything necessary for happiness (in quo virtus sit, ei
nihil deesse ad beate vivendum), he defines virtue as the self-reliance that
one achieves from great deeds and the knowledge that one's glory is
everlasting; and Regulus and Marius are his examples (2.16). That is
not Stoic doctrine, as Cicero himself knew. In De Finibus (3.51; 57) he
has Cato say that glory, or a good reputation, is a thing preferred rather
than a good.
This pattern of argument repeats itself throughout Cicero's defense
of the paradoxes. In four of the six discussions he offers the ancestors
as exemplars of virtue, men who desired glory instead of wealth and
possessions. In the end traditional Roman virtues, such as modesty,
not Stoic virtue, become the model. At one point (#4) he permits him-
self the luxury of attacking Clodius while defending himself. And in
the final paradox, that only the wise man is rich (solum sapientem esse
divitem), he again generally disparages greed, praises the ancestors,
praises himself, but then corrects himself, saying that he too perhaps
has been caught u p in the vices of the age, and returns to his laudation
of the ancestors (6.48-50).
It is reasonable to say that Cicero did in fact believe in the great
virtue of the ancestors, and that he perceived that his 'forensic' audi-
ence did so, too. By eliminating the distinction between the good and
the preferred, it becomes possible for him to confer the distinction of
virtue u p o n them, making them good through their glory and their
traditional Roman piety, rather than through strictly Stoic virtue. The
prominence of the ancestors in this short work cannot be ignored.
Ronnick writes, "The Stoics did not think that wise men like Regulus,
46 DAVID MEHL

Marius, or even Cicero could be [unhappy], for they were sustained by

a quartet of Stoic qualities . . ." (above n. 9: 24). The problem with this
argument is that Stoics who followed the original doctrine and adhered
to the paradoxes would not have located the Roman ancestors among
the sages. A passage from Cicero's De Amicitia tells us so explicitly (5.18-19) :
Sed hoc primum sentio, nisi in bonis amicitiam esse non posse; neque
id ad vivum reseco, ut illi, qui haec subtilius disserunt, fortasse vere,
sed ad communem utilitatem parum; negant enim quemquam esse
virum b o n u m nisi sapientem. Sit ita sane: sed earn sapientiam
interpretantur, quam adhuc mortalis nemo est consecutus. Nos autem
ea quae sunt in usu vitaque communi, non ea quae finguntur aut
optantur, spectare debemus. Numquam ego dicam C. Fabricium, M .
Curium, Ti. Coruncanium, quos sapientis nostri maiores iudicabant,
ad istorum normam fuisse sapientis. Qua re sibi habeant sapientiae
nomen et invidiosum et obscurum, concédant ut viri boni fuerint. Ne
id quidem facient; negabunt id nisi sapienti posse concedi. Agamus
igitur pingui, ut aiunt, Minerva. Qui ita se gerunt, ita vivunt, ut eorum
probetur fides integritas aequitas liberalitas, nec sit in eis ulla cupiditas
libido audacia, sintque magna constantia, ut ei fuerunt, modo quos
nominavi, hos viros bonos, ut habiti sunt, sic etiam appellandos
putemus, quia sequantur, quantum homines possunt, n a t u r a m
optimam bene vivendi ducem.

Here it becomes clear that the Roman ancestors were not Stoic sages
whose example could serve to defend the inflexibility of the paradoxes.
Cicero's task in Paradoxa, however, was not philosophical but rhetori-
cal. He himself disagreed with the doctrine that logically led to the
paradoxes, namely the separation of the absolute good and the things
preferred, a doctrine which did not recognize the achievement of glory,
for instance, as a good. Cicero took it upon himself to eliminate the
distinction between good and preferred, to allow as a consequence glory
and ancient Roman virtue to represent the good, and therefore to make
Stoic sages, so to speak, out of the Roman ancestors.
Cicero was not writing a serious work of philosophy. Logically
speaking, as soon as he removed the distinction between the good and
the preferred and therefore the strict boundary between the rare sage
and the omnipresent fool, he removed the basis for the paradoxes them-
selves. But his argument in favor of the paradoxes served nevertheless
to satisfy a popular Roman audience, one that Cicero, as he conceived
the work for the sake of amusement, imagined he might encounter in
the Roman forum.

WESTMINSTER SCHOOL
 HORATIAN JOTTINGS

BY NIALL RUDD

Eduardo doctiori condiscípulo

In the course of preparing a new Loeb translation of the Odes and Epodes
certain points occurred to me which I thought might be of interest to
the recipient of these essays. A few may be original, though in view of
the vast amount of translation and comment devoted to Horace that
would be a rash claim to make. But they are all independent in the
sense that I thought of each idea before consulting the English transla-
tions and commentaries that I had available. I then excluded anything
that occurred in more than a small minority of those works; and where
I have taken over a particular version I have tried to adduce new argu-
ments. There are no comments on Book 3 of the Odes. Anything I may
want to say about that book will be incorporated in the commentary
that is being prepared by Robin Nisbet and myself.

EPODES

1) In Epod. 2 it seems a pity to put vv. 1-66 within quotation-marks,

not just because they were unknown to Horace but because they give
the show away. Granted, no one who had read Sermones 1, which had
appeared about five years before, would have imagined that a healthy
energetic life on a farm would have been seriously contemplated by
the young man who lay in bed until 10 A.M. (S. 1.6.122), or that one
who had such a varied love-life would have settled down quietly with
a hard-working sunburnt wife of the kind described in Epod. 2.41-42.
(This piquant contrast is spoilt if we read Roma quas curas habet in v.
37.) When Horace longed for a place in the country (S. 2.6.1 Hoc erat in
votis), he intended someone else to do the ploughing; he did not cast
himself in the role of the unfortunate Volteius Mena (Ep. 1.7.84-87).
Nevertheless, though the attentive reader of Epod. 2 would have realised
that he was not listening to Horace's voice, he would not have guessed
that the man who yearned to be solutus omnifaenore (4) was actually a
faenerator (67).
2) 2.33 rara tendit retía: 'wide-meshed nets' like those mentioned a
decade later in Verg. A. 4.131 might have trapped a stag or a wild boar,
but they would not have caught many thrushes. Why not take the ad-
jective in the basic meaning of 'with spaces in between/ i.e. 'placed at
48 NIALLRUDD

intervals' (OLD 2)? That w o u l d make sense, and w o u l d also balance

hinc et hinc in v. 31.
3) 3.19-22 at si quid umquam tale concupiveris, /iocose Maecenas, precor,
/ manum puella savio opponat tuo / extrema et in sponda cubet. Line 19 is
usually translated as "If ever you wish to repeat the jest" or something
similar. But this does not square w i t h w h a t follows. Granted, Maece-
nas seems to have played a trick, as is shown by iocose; Horace responds,
closing w i t h a wish for revenge: if Maecenas ever does X, m a y his girl
w a r d off his kisses and sleep on the very edge of the bed. What, then, is
X? It cannot be something that he has already done to Horace (there is
no 'again' in the Latin, and there is no obvious connection b e t w e e n the
j o k e played on Horace and the p u n i s h m e n t envisaged). W h y should
the girl w a r d off his kisses and sleep on the edge of the bed? Surely
because she will be trying to escape the w a f t s of garlic exhaled by the
"descendant of ancestral kings." So the si-clause means "If ever you
w a n t to eat such stuff." Mankin tells u s that this w a s the view of
Lambinus.
4) 5.57-70. At v. 69 Shackleton Bailey reads an dormit . . . ? saying
that "In 69 the text contradicts w h a t precedes" (Profile of Horace [Cam-
bridge, Ma 1982] 80). But does it? In p a r a p h r a s e the sense r u n s thus:
"The old fellow w h o m I'm trying to attract is out on the loose, even
though I've smeared him with drugs. What has gone wrong? W h y have
the d r u g s failed? I gathered the best I could find. The very bed in which
he sleeps is plastered w i t h substances designed to m a k e h i m forget all
his other lady-loves." Then the answer comes: she has been o u t d o n e
by a cleverer witch. In v. 69 indormit does not m e a n "he is n o w asleep,"
b u t "he habitually sleeps." Similarly, w h e n in S. 1.1.70-71 Horace says
to the miser congestis undique saccis / indormis inhians, it does n o t m e a n
that the m a n to w h o m he is talking is fast asleep. So there is n o need to
change the text.
5) 6.11-12 in malos asperrimus / parata tollo cornua. W h e n it is about
to attack, a bull actually lowers its horns. I can think of no w a y of sav-
ing Horace's credit, unless he meant "I am tossing m y h o r n s in readi-
ness," b u t then one w o u l d have expected iacto.
6) 8.7 sed incitât me pectus et mammae putres. This line and the three
that follow it m u s t be ironical. But there is no indication of this in the
Latin. Reading an instead of sed w o u l d make the m e a n i n g clear, b u t it
is not easy to explain the corruption.
7) 13.13-14 te manet Assaraci tellus, quam frigida parvi / findunt
Scamandri flumina lubricus et Simois. As most scholars agree, parvi is
surely w r o n g . It is w o r t h restating the case for Oberdick's ravi, w h i c h
w a s a c c e p t e d b y G o w a n d H o u s m a n a n d , o d d l y , is a b s e n t f r o m
Shackleton Bailey's apparatus. Festus says ravi coloris appellantur qui
 HORATIAN JOTTINGS 49

sunt inter flavos et caesios. It was not a common word, and therefore was
prone to corruption; but Horace thought it would do well to translate
the Greek ξανθός, which was another name for the Scamander: μέγας
ποταμός βαθυδίνης / öv Ξάνθον καλέουσι θεοί, άνδρες δε Σκαμάνδρον
(Horn. II. 20.73-74). Cicero showed that ravus could be used of water
when he described the sea mare... modo caeruleum videbatur, mane ravum
(Lucullus 105). That is sufficient justification for ravi Scamandri, even if
in ravos leones (Epod. 16.33), and rava lupa (Carm. 3.27.3) the word refers
to the colour of the animal's eyes (see Mankin's note on Epod. 16.33
and Fordyce on caesio in Catul. 45.7).
8) 15.15 nec semel offensae cedet constantia formae: "nor will my reso-
lution give way to your beauty once it has become hateful to me."
Bentley with his usual blend of certainty and scorn writes: "sed rogo
vos, quid causae erat CUT forma Neaerae Horatio invisa foret? non enim
vetula iam facta erat, non morbo aliquo deturpata . . . Formam quidem
eius nunc cum maxime amabat noster; sed mores, n e q u i t i a m ,
inconstantiam perfidiam, aversum in se animum & rivali suo deditum,
iam coeperat odisse." He therefore alters offensae to offensi, with which
mei has to be understood. Many have accepted this, including Müller,
Kiessling, Heinze, and more recently Klingner, Shackleton Bailey, and
Mankin. Yet it is hard to resist the suspicion that this has come from
the other Bentley, the one who mangled Milton and enraged Pope. When
Horace looks at Neaera he sees a beautiful woman whom he still de-
sires; but that same beautiful woman has so hurt him that he cannot
bear the sight of her. Catullus knew the feeling (72.7-8, 75, 86). Page's
note is worth reading.

ODES 1 - 2

9) 1.3.21-22 nequiquam deus abscidit / prudens oceano dissociabili /

terras, si tamen impiae / non tangenda rates transiliunt vada. At 3.29.29
Orelli rightly glosses prudens with sapienter et consulto; for prudens =
consulto cf. S. 1.10.86-87 doctos ego quos et amicos /prudens praetereo and
Ars 462 qui seis an prudens hue se proiecerit? That is uncontroversial, but
it also seems preferable (pace N-H) to take oceano as an instrumental or
modal ablative: all for nothing did god separate one country from an-
other by means of the divisive sea if greedy men hop across the barrier
with contempt. Compare Juv. 10.151-53, where Hannibal hops across
the natural barrier of the Pyrenees. On the other view (i.e. that there
was no point in dividing land from sea) the idea of a barrier or bound-
ary is less clear. If there is to be a boundary between land and sea, it
would presumably have to be the coastline; but that doesn't work; the
barrier is explicitly vada.
50 NIALLRUDD

10) 1.9.18-24. It seems that repetantur undergoes a change of sense.

The young are urged, literally, to make for the Park or the city squares.
But they are not being urged just to walk towards the sound of whis-
pers and laughter, still less just to visit the area in which tokens are
being snatched. It looks as if repetantur now means 'participate in' or
'enjoy' (OLD 3). This switch can be conveyed in translation, but not (I
think) if one retains the same verb.
11) 1.18.16 arcanique fides prodiga. There are two ideas in prodiga:
prodigality and betrayal. The phrase that combines them best, perhaps,
is "the sort of faith that gives away what is secret."
12) 1.22.23 dulce ridentem. Translators are divided between "sweetly
smiling" and "sweetly laughing." Since Horace almost certainly had
in mind Catullus 51.5 dulce ridentem, this points to "sweetly laughing";
for Catullus says spectat et audit, and Sappho in the first place had
υπακούει.
13) 1.25.1 Parcius iunctas quatiunt fenestras. Christopher Smart (1767)
has "more sparing" and N-H give "more sparingly"; they are excep-
tions. Yet there are advantages in retaining the literal meaning. The
sarcasm implies that to any respectable woman the cessation of these
disturbances would be a welcome relief; but in the case of a meretrix
like Lydia it suggests that her career is nearing its end.
14) 1.25.17-18 laeta quod pubes hederá virenti / gaudeat pulla magis
atque myrto, I aridas frondes hiemis sodali / dedicet Euro. N-H have given
reasons for the interpretation "rejoices in green ivy rather than dark
myrtle, but consecrates withered leaves to winter's comrade, the East
Wind." In support one might point out that pulla myrto could hardly be
bracketed with hederá virenti, whereas viridi myrto (1.4.9) could. In a
context where the season of youth is being contrasted with those of
autumn and winter, pulla should have sombre connotations, as it often
has (see OLD 2).
15) 1.30.8 Mercuriusque. Glycera is summoning Venus to her house.
Horace seconds her prayer, asking in addition for the presence of Cu-
pid, the Graces, the Nymphs, Youthfulness and Mercury. N-H quote
parallels for associating Mercury with Persuasion as a companion of
Venus, e.g. Ep. 1.6.38 Suadela Venusque. One might add Ep. 1.15.18-21,
where Horace, setting out on a vacation, is looking for a local wine that
will have a similar function to Mercury's (verba ministret); it will also
enhance the impression of Youthfulness (iuvenem) and encourage Cu-
pid (commendet amicae). I would not, however, be in favour of Ps.-Acro's
interpretation cited by N-H on p. 344, viz. that "Mercury was sum-
moned by the courtesan as the god of gain." For it is Horace that sum-
mons Mercury, and if there is any fee involved the poet is the one who
will have to pay it.
 HORATIAN JOTTINGS 51

16) 1.32.6-10 quiferox bello tarnen inter arma .. . canebat. Most of the
older translators (Conington, Wickham, Page, Bennett, and others) took
inter arma to mean "even amid the clash of arms," or the like. The idea
is also found among more recent scholars like Michie "on battlefields"
and West "when the steel was flying." All this is surprising, for it con-
jures up a picture of Alcaeus, who was "fierce in war," playing his lyre
in the middle of the action. Lee rightly translates "between attacks."
This is confirmed by the balancing picture sive iactatam religarat udo
litore navem—i.e. when not fighting a storm at sea.
17) 1.35.9 profugi Scythae. The Scythians are said to be "wander-
ing," "roving," "flying," "nomadic," "quick to retreat." But consider
the sequence: the sailor who provokes the sea, the savage Dacian, the
profiigi Scythae, and fierce Latium. Surely the Scythians are neither cow-
ards nor passive nomads. They are like another race of archers, with
whom they shared much of their history, viz. the Parthians. (See, e.g.,
what Justin says about this period in Book 42.1.1-2; 2.1 and 5; 5-6.)
Porphyrion may have had this in mind when he wrote quod scilicet etiam
fugiendo proeliarentur, but that is somewhat vague, and is interpreted
by N-H as "the well-known Russian stratagem of retreating before an
invader," which sounds more like the scorched earth policy.
18) 1.37.16-17 Caesar ab Italia volantem / remis adurgens, accipiter
velut ... Cleopatra is "flying" from Italy; Caesar is pursuing her "like
a hawk . . . " Perhaps remis is part of the same image. One thinks of the
old metaphor remigium alarum in Verg. A. 6.19, which goes back to
Aesch. Ag. 52 πτερύγων έρετμοισιν.
19) 2.1.37 Musa procax. The adjective can, of course, mean 'playful/
'wanton/ naughty/ and the like, and this aspect of Horace's Muse comes
to the fore in vv. 39-40 mecum Dionaeo sub antro / quaere modos leviore
plectro. But here we need some word that conveys a rebuke to the young
lady for getting above her station. (She had no business to become in-
volved in such grave matters as the civil wars.) The best possibility,
perhaps, is "impertinent." Lee's "cheeky" gives the right idea, but may
be in too low a stylistic register.
20) 2.2.13 crescit indulgens sibi dirus hydrops. David West says "swells
with self-indulgence." Swelling is exactly the right idea for dropsy—
so right, in fact, that one wonders why Horace did not write turget. The
word dirus suggests some kind of dreadful monster, and crescit one that
is growing. This raises the possibility that Horace had the Hydra at the
back of his mind. Apollodorus (2.5.2) tells us that every time a head
was lopped off two more took its place. So the monster literally grew.
Finally, in 4.4.61-62 when explicitly referring to the Hydra, Horace says
secto corpore firmier . . . crevit.
21) 2.13.11-12 te, triste lignum, te caducum/in domini caput immerentis.
52 NIALLRUDD

The amusing tone of the preceding stanzas, reminiscent of the invec-

tive against garlic in Epod. 3, may lead us to overlook the seriousness
of what happened. It was not just a narrow miss. In domini caput im-
plies that Horace was actually injured, perhaps quite badly. Otherwise
it is hard to account for the recurrent references to the incident. In
2.17.27-29 Faunus is said to have "lightened" the blow. That points to
a real, though non-fatal, impact. Again, in 3.8.7-8 the poet says he was
prope funeratus / arboris ictu. Finally, in 3.4.26-28 the episode is brack-
eted with his narrow escapes at Philippi and off Cape Palinurus.
22) 2.13.13 quid quisque vitet numquam homini satis / cautum est in
horas. "Man never heeds enough from hour to hour what he should
shun." So Bennett, whose rendering is strictly accurate. But there is
more in the line than a reproof of human carelessness (though no doubt
that is also present). N-H recognize that "complete cover is never
achieved"; that points to Horace's implication: by his very nature man
cannot take sufficient precautions.
23) 2.16.1 Otium divos rogat. The word otium is rendered variously
as 'peace of mind,' 'calm,' 'tranquillity,' 'rest,' 'repose'—all, no doubt,
close to the mark. Yet if we think of 1.1.15-17, where the merchant (at
sea and afraid that he my not survive the storm) otium et oppidi / laudat
rura sui, we may conclude that Horace is thinking not so much of an
inner state as of a quiet life. To be sure, such a life is based on the right
mental attitude (mentis in 11, animus in 25), but the surroundings and
general ambience are made clear in the cottage scene (13-16), and again
in parva rura (37).
24) 2.16.5 otium bello furiosa Thrace. W h y s h o u l d T h r a c e , w h o is bello
furiosa, long for a quiet life? Presumably we are meant to continue the
thought of the opening stanza, in which the sailor yearns for the quiet
life only when he has put himself into a frightening and potentially
lethal situation; cf. once again 1.1.15-17. In that case Thrace, whose
furor has carried her into war, now begins to have regrets. The same idea, it
seems, must be extended to the Medes with their ornamental quivers (6).
25) 2 . 2 0 . 2 1 - 2 4 absint inani funere neniae / luctusque turpis et
querimoniae; / compesce clamorem ac sepulcri / mitte supervacuos honores.
In dealing with inani funere translators often resort to paraphrase, and
one can see why. Lee, however, says "my hollow funeral," where "hol-
low," like inani, has the additional sense of 'pointless,' but at the same
time allows the reader to think of the empty bier (for the real Horace
will not be in it, though his corpse will). That seems to be as close as
one can get. As Gow points out, Horace is thinking of the Greek 'ceno-
taph,' but the tomb does not come until sepulcri, and the emptiness of
the tomb is not referred to directly, but is implied in supervacuos honores.
To call this 'word-play' or even 'ingenuity' is to see the process in over-
 HORATIAN JOTTINGS 53

intellectual terms. What we are admiring is rather the agility of the

poet's imagination.
CARMEN SAECULARE

26) H o w should one render the title? Often it is left untranslated;

but why, w h e n Horace's Carmina are called / "Odes" a n d his Iambi are
called "Epodes," should this Carmen be left in the Latin? The question
also includes the w o r d Saeculare. It is strange to find E. C.Wickham, the
Dean of Lincoln Cathedral, translating the title (deliberately, no d o u b t ,
b u t misleadingly) as "The Secular H y m n " ; for it is unmistakably 'reli-
gious.' Michie's 'Centennial H y m n ' is m u c h closer, t h o u g h in v. 21 it
becomes clear that Horace has in m i n d a cycle of a h u n d r e d a n d ten
years. In the end I settled for something vaguer: "Hymn for a New Age."

ODES 4

27) 4.4.72 Where does Hannibal's speech end? It seems best to close
the quotation after interempto. Then Hannibal's w o r d s finish w i t h his
reference to Carthage and the death of Hasdrubal. The specifically Ro-
m a n conclusion, the acknowledgement of Jupiter's favour, and above
all the reference to the Claudiae manus (73), which includes the two later
Claudii Nerones (28), must surely belong to Horace.
28) 4.7.15 Pater Aeneas or pius Aeneas? The n a m e Aeneas by itself,
which takes u p Saec. 37 ff. and 4.6.21 ff., is sufficient to establish the
allusion to Vergil. Pater Aeneas, which occurs only a few times in the
Aeneid (e.g. 1.699, 2.2, 5.348) w a s m u c h less likely to be substituted for
the frequently recurring pius Aeneas than vice versa. Again, Aeneas, as
father of the Roman people, comes suitably at the beginning of the se-
ries Aeneas, Tullus, and Ancus, which represents the most venerable
antiquity. Finally, pietas (24) looks f o r w a r d to the affection of Diana
and Theseus, as described in the next stanza; it w o u l d be inelegant for
it to look back to the pietas of Aeneas, which represented a primarily
religious devotion. These points outweigh the fact that pius provides a
rather better balance with dives.
29) 4.9.15 regalisque cultus. After gazing e n r a p t u r e d at Paris's hair-
style (crinis) and clothes (vestibus) Helen's eye moves eventually to his
entourage (comités). But w h a t is meant by his cultus? I once thought of
"refined m a n n e r s " and Lee has something of the same kind in "his
princely behaviour." But the material collected by TLL indicates that
the plural tells against this meaning. So p e r h a p s the nearest w o u l d be
"finery" in the sense of jewelled head-gear, rings, medals, ornamental
dagger a n d so on. Claudian (47.7) uses the phrase of a horse's trap-
pings.
28) 4.12.13 Vergili. Is this the poet? An old question. I will summarise
54 NIALLRUDD

the case for answering yes (set out in detail by L. A. Moritz in GaR 16
[1969] 174-93), adding a couple of arguments which I have not seen
adduced. In seven other poems of Horace Vergilius is unquestionably
the poet, a major celebrity. If Horace intended to address any one else
of that name, he would have been obliged to make the distinction clear.
With one exception (Lyce in 3.10), the other people addressed in this
metre are all notabilities: Agrippa (1.6), Vergil (1.24), Tibullus (1.33).
Maecenas (2.12), Augustus (4.5). The first three people addressed in
Book 1 are the three most important people in Horace's life: Maecenas,
Augustus, and Vergil. In Book 4, no. 11 celebrates Maecenas's birthday,
no. 12 is addressed to Vergilius, and no.14 to Augustus (Lyce again
breaks the sequence).
The identification would never have been questioned but for three
points: (a) Vergil died in 19 BC, roughly four years before this poem
was written, (b) Vergilius is said to be the client of young nobles
(iuvenum nobiliutn cliens in 15), and (c) he is urged to set aside his pur-
suit of money (Studium lucri in 25). To overcome these points it has
been maintained that this Vergilius is not the poet, but a rich knight
who as an importer of luxury-goods (like the perfume mentioned in
16-17) has come into contact with young nobles; or perhaps he is a
banker? This seems to me to be an extraordinary argument, but as it
has been presented by men of high distinction, e.g. Heinze (p. 448 of
his commentary), Fraenkel (Horace [Oxford 1957] 418 n. 1), Williams
(Tradition and Originality in Roman Poetry [Oxford 1968] 122), Syme (The
Augustan Aristocracy [Oxford 1986] 397), it cannot be dismissed with-
out argument. An alternative approach is to assume that Horace res-
cued this ode from a drawer. That is David West's formulation of the
idea (p. 191 of his translation), though he does not commit himself to it.
To take the last point first: Odes 3.30, written in 23 BC, clearly im-
plies that in Horace's view his lyric phase is over. This impression is
reinforced by Ep. 1.1.10-11, written in late 20 or early 19 BC, where he
states that from now on he is concentrating on matters of ethical inter-
est, and by Ep. 2.2, from 19 BC, which offers a number of excuses for not
supplying the lyrics he had promised (v. 25). Moreover, Suetonius tells
us that Horace only resumed writing lyrics after he had been commis-
sioned by Augustus to compose the Hymn for a New Age (Life of Horace,
Loeb ed., vol. 2.487). So there is no evidence for this poem lying in a
drawer after the publication of the first collection. If it had been writ-
ten in the mid 20s, it would not have been a contemporary document,
for Vergil could not even then have been described as "the client of
young nobles." And why was it not included with the other poems?
Only one hypothesis remains: Horace wrote 4.12 in the same nos-
talgic mood that we find in the preceding and succeeding odes. In 4.11
 H O R A T I A N JOTTINGS 55

Phyllis is the last of his loves, and 4.13 refers back to the time when,
after Cinara's death, the young Lyce became his mistress. That sombre
mood was already foreshadowed at the beginning and end of 4.1, and
it is magnificently illustrated by Diffugere nives (4.7). Horace, then, set
4.12 in 40 BC, or a little later, when Octavian was under twenty-five
and Pollio was still in his thirties; hence "the client of young nobles."
At that time Vergil's financial position was a lot more secure than
Horace's; hence the teasing accusation of pursuing money. (Though,
since the accusation was merely a joke, it could have come at any time;
cf. Ep. 1.5.8, where Manlius Torquatus is urged to leave off the certamina
divitiarum. Certainly it would not make us brand the writer as "a mon-
ster of callousness," to use Fraenkel's phrase.) The bargain involving
scented ointment (16-17) recalls Catullus no. 13, where we encounter
the same sort of youthful banter. Finally, as in 1.24.13-15 Horace had
backed u p his words of comfort to Vergil with an allusion to the story
of Orpheus in the Georgics, so here, in vv. 9-12, he reinforced his retro-
spective invitation with an allusion to the world of the Eclogues. (In the
period immediately after 40 BC that was the poem for which Vergil was
known; cf. S. 1.10.44-45 molle atquefacetum / Vergilio adnuerunt gaudentes
rure Camenae.)
The invitation itself is thought of as coming from Horace's place in
Rome. We would not expect any references to the Sabinum at that date,
for Horace did not receive it until 34 BC. Vergil, too, is supposed to be
in Rome at the time. A positive indication of an urban setting comes in
v. 18, where we are told that the wine Horace intends to serve is not far
away in Sulpicius' storehouse. So the signs of spring in vv. 1-12 are all
general and imagined (though not, of course, imaginary).
If this hypothesis were obvious, I should not have to support it
now. But it is, I would argue, the only possibility that remains. And
there is, as it happens, something of a parallel. Writing the fifth book of
De Finibus in 45 BC, Cicero creates a dialogue set in the Athens of 79, a
dialogue in which he and his young friends take part. Nobody ques-
tions this, because Cicero has told us what he is doing, whereas Horace
leaves it, like so much else, to be inferred.
A further effect should be added. As Mr. Arnold Bradshaw has
pointed out to me, the poem would serve to remind future generations
that Horace numbered Vergil amongst his friends. The pride that he
took in distinguished company is implied in many of the odes, and
openly expressed in S. 2.1.76 cum magnis vixisse and Ep. 1.20.23 primis
urbis belli placuisse domique. And no one knew better than he that Vergil's
prodigious achievement would prove more lasting even than that of
Augustus himself.
UNIVERSITY OF BRISTOL
 SERA VINDEMIA:
MARGINAL NOTES O N THE TEXT
OF HORACE A N D JUVENAL

BY R. G. M. NlSBET

For the p u r p o s e s of this Festschrift I have gleaned f r o m m y margins

some conjectures on Horace and Juvenal. I h a d not v e n t u r e d to publish
them in m y previous adversaria on these authors, 1 a n d still feel some
hesitation about most of them. But it m a y give Ted C o u r t n e y some
innocent a m u s e m e n t at his retirement celebration to think u p better
solutions.

(a) Hor. S. 1.2.24-27

dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt.
Malthinus tunicis demissis ambulat, est qui
inguen ad obscenum subductis usque facetus.
pastillos Rufillus olet, Gargonius hircum.

To illustrate the undesirability of extremes Horace remarks that one

m a n wears his tunic too long, another too short. The wearer of the short
tunic is described as facetus, a w o r d that can m e a n ' e l e g a n t / ' w i t t y / or
'courteous'; b u t these senses are all conspicuously inappropriate. Ps.-
Acro comments est qui sibi facetus esse videatur si altiore veste utatur, and
Lejay s p e a k s of irony; b u t such artificial i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s spoil the
contrast w i t h the over-exquisite Malthinus. So some editors follow
Porphyrio a n d attach the adjective to the following Rufillus; t h o u g h
this is an improvement, it produces an unconvincing p a u s e after usque,
a n d it i m p a i r s the e p i g r a m m a t i c c h i a s m u s in line 27. A d m i t t e d l y
Rufillus is given an adjective at 1.4.91-92 ego si risi quod ineptus/pastillos
Rufillus olet, Gargonius hircum; but that is not an epigrammatic climax,
and ineptus suits the m a n m u c h better than facetus.
I suggest that facetus has displaced a verb (as it is hard to think of a
suitable adjective); I h a v e c o n s i d e r e d facessit or facessat,2 w h i c h I

1
See the i n d e x to m y Collected Papers on Latin Literature (Oxford 1995). For Juvenal
a d d n o w ActaAntAcadHung 39 (1999) 2 2 5 - 3 0 w h e r e I p r o p o s e or e n d o r s e the f o l l o w i n g :
3.274 alta, 7.77 indomitum, 8.154 ejfundet, 9.113 nolenti, 10.109 ad sua . . . deduxit Saepta,
11.154 ingenitique pudoris, 11.187 noe te solet tacita, 12.4 Maurae, 14.287 lacertis, 15.50
mutilaeque.
2
The indicative w o u l d refer to an i n d i v i d u a l , the subjunctive to the m e m b e r of a
 SERA VINDEMIA 57

translate "hurries about his business/' though I have no exact parallel.

For the two senses of this word see Paul. Fest. 86 M. = 77 L. Jacessere'
significai interdum 'facere' ut est 'iussafacessunt,' interdum vero pro 'abeat'
ponitur: Pacuvius (326) Jacessite omnes hinc,' id est 'abite'; this intransitive
usage ('be off with you') suggests the wider meaning 'to go about one's
business.' ambulare often describes a measured walk, and according to
the context can imply either 'strolls' or 'struts' (see Mankin on Epodes
4.5); it suits Malthinus well, but is not impossible for the other
character. 3 Yet in our passage it is appropriate that a contrast should be
drawn, and iifacessit could mean 'bustles' as opposed to 'strolls,' that
would suit; short tunics were associated with busy people like slaves
and soldiers (Quint. Inst. 11.3.138), the succincti as opposed to the
discincti.

(b) Hor. S. 2.3.43-45

quem mala stultitia et quemcumque inscitia veri
caecum agit, insanum Chrysippi porticus et grex
autumat.

It is quite normal for the indefinite relative pronouns quicumque and

quisquís to be followed in parallel clauses by simple qui, as this avoids
the clumsy repetition of a long word; cf. Cie. Ver. 5.145, Hor. S. 2.8.12-
13 sublegit quodcumque iaceret inutile quodque / posset cenantes offendere,
Housman on Man. 3.103 (with addenda, vol. 5, p. 149) and Classical
Papers (Cambridge 1972) 3.1230-31. The reverse process is less plausible.
Lucían Müller cited Catul. 42.1-2 adeste, hendecasyllabi, quot estis /omnes
undique, quotquot estis omnes; but it is surely easier to repeat quot with
the intensive quotquot than to repeat qui with the indefinite quicumque.
Müller must have lacked confidence in his parallel, as he goes on to
suggest most implausibly et quern utcumque inscitia veri.
I propose quaecumque ("any ignorance whatsoever"); the change
from quecumque to quëcumque is minimal. It was a standard objection to
the Stoics that they regarded as reprehensible the slightest deviation
from the right. This is the precise point that Horace goes on to attribute
to Damasippus (50-51): ille sinistrórsum, hic dextrorsum obit, unus utrique /error,
sed varis illudit partibus (varis Shackleton Bailey, variis codd.). For qui-
cumque as an indefinite adjective, see OLD s.v. 8, Kühner-Stegmann 2.199.

class ('the sort of person to'); cf. Ep. 2.2.182 sunt qui non habeant, est qui non curat habere
with Brink.
3 Heinze quotes Varrò, Men. 301 (of a hunter) non modo suris apertis sed paene natibus apertis

ambulare. For ambulare of marching soldiers cf. Cie. Farn. 8.15.1, Att. 8.14.1, Veget. 1.27.1, RE
1 . 1 8 1 6 , W. Heraeus, ArchLatLex 12 (1902) 269 f., M. Gonzáles-Haba, Glotta 64 (1986) 108 η. 16.
58 R. G. M. NISBET

(c) Hor. S. 2.8.90-93

tum pectore adusto
vidimus et merulas poni et sine clune palumbis,
suavis res, si non causas narraret earum et
naturas dominus.

Commentators point out that causas has a pseudo-scientific air, but it is

hard to see what is meant by "the causes of blackbirds and pigeons."
Nasidienus cannot be referring to the reasons for their delicious taste,
for naturas refers to the birds themselves. The pseudo-Acronian scholia
recognise a difficulty but give an absurd explanation: ista pulmenta ...
suaviter comederemus nisi nobis narrasset causas quare partes eorum attulisset
et non integra, intellegimus autem dixisse Nasidienum vermes invenisse in
ceteris partibus quas non attulit.
I have tentatively considered casus (casu is corrupted to causa at
Lucr. 1.741). I interpret "accidental properties" (as opposed to naturas),
what we should call "secondary qualities" like colour and taste. Though
I have no parallel, Lucretius uses eventa and Epicurus συμπτώματα in a
similar way. 4
Nasidienus in this satire uses the pretentious jargon of Catius, the
gastronomic expert of Sermone s 2.4. Porphyrio is wrong to identify this
man with the Epicurean Catius, who was dead in 45 BC (Cie. Fam.
15.16.1), but as the name is relatively rare, he might have been his
freedman; 5 the commentator Cruquianus says on 2.4.47 scribit de se ipso
'haec primus invenit et cognovit Catius Miltiades,' which looks too
circumstantial to be a fiction. Cicero (loc. cit.) mocks Catius the
Epicurean because he had used spectra as a translation of εί'δωλα;
perhaps he used casus in an equally idiosyncratic way and was imitated
in this by his acolytes.

(d) Hor. Epod. 2.39-42

quod si pudica mulier in partem iuvet
domum atque dulcis liberos,
Sabina qualis aut perusta solibus
pernicis uxor Apuli . . .

The text of line 42 is supported by a citation by Servius on Virg. G.

3.230, where he mistakenly glosses pernix as perseverane (perhaps
through a confusion with pertinax); but the right reading in that passage

4 See Bailey on Lucr. 1.449-82 and Epicur. Ep. ad Herod. 67-68. We are not here
concerned with the fine distinction between συμπτώματα and συμβεβηκότα.
5 For the two Catii see P. Lejay's commentary (Paris 1911) 47-49, RE 3.1792.
 SERA VINDEMIA 59

is dura iacet pertiox (as Mynors rightly insists). In our passage the pseudo-
Acronian scholia interpret the adjective as celeris, velocis, impigri; it
certainly can mean 'swift' or 'agile/ but the Apulians were not typically
characterised in this way. impiger would be an appropriate epithet
(Carm. 3.16.26 quidquid arat impiger Apulus, Lucan 5 . 4 0 3 - 4 0 4 pigerApulus
arva / deseruit rastris, a reversal of the norm); but those p a s s a g e s refer
to hard work in the fields rather than the agility implied by pernix.
I p r o p o s e parcentis, " s p a r i n g . " Apulians w e r e a s s o c i a t e d w i t h
frugality; see especially the imitation of Horace's passage in Statius,
Silvae 5 . 1 . 1 2 2 - 2 3 velut Apula cotiiunx/agricolae parci vel sole infecta Sabina
(Sabina Heinsius: Sabino cod.). For the use of parcens without a dative
cf. Carm. 3 . 1 9 . 2 1 - 2 2 parcentis ego dexteras / odi, Ter. Hau. 139 laborans,
parcens, quaerens, TLL 10.1.337.47-63.

(e) Hor. Carm. 1 . 2 3 . 5 - 8

nam seu mobilibus veris inhorruit

adventus foliis seu virides rubum
dimovere lacertae,
et corde et genibus tremit.

The difficulties of this passage are notorious, and need not be repeated
in detail (see Nisbet-Hubbard ad loc.). adventus veris is too abstract to
make a convincing subject for inhorruit (though Porphyrio speaks of a
hypallage for veris adventu folia inhorruerunt); and as Bentley pointed
out, at the arrival of spring the leaves are not yet on the trees. Muretus
proposed vitis and ad ventum, but the vine does not suit the mountain
scene. Bentley among others supported vepris.. .ad ventum, but singular
vepris is a dubious form, and is not clearly differentiated from rubum
below.
Perhaps verts is sound and only adventus corrupt. I suggest adflatus,
" t h e breath of spring" (cf. Plin. Nat. 15.13 non antefavonii adflatum); this
coheres better with inhorruit than "the arrival of spring." adflatus (two
words) might have led to the meaningless ad ventos, which w a s then
'corrected' to adventus.

(f) Hor. Ep. 1.2.23-26:

Sirenum voces et Circae pocula nosti;

quae si cum sociis stultus cupidusque bibisset,
sub domina meretrice fuisset turpis et excors,
vixisset canis immundus vel amica luto sus.

Shackleton Bailey comments that fuisset. . . vixisset is poor writing and

the asyndeton unattractive (HSCP 89 [1985] 167); in place oí fuisset he
60 R. G. M. NISBET

suggests retentus, "which had fallen out between rice and tu." The
asyndeton is surely not impossible, but I agree that fuisset seems too
weak to balance vixisset convincingly. The transmitted text is supported
by a citation by Servius on Virg. A. 7.19, but this adds little to the picture;
fiiisset was clearly the reading of late antiquity.
I suggest exisset, "would have turned out" (capital E and F are easily
confused). For exire in the sense of evadere cf. Ep. 2.2.81-83 ingenium sibi
quod vacuas desumpsit Athenas Iet studiis annos Septem dedit insenuitque /
libris et curis statua taciturnius exit (where many interpret "ventures
forth"), Pers. 5.78-79 verterit hunc dominus: momento turbinis exit/Marcus
Dama (where Marcus is the predicate), TLL 5.2.1364.30-51. exisset gives
a more regular rhythm than/uissef; words with the shape of a baccheus
C ' ') are rare in the Epistles at this place in the line. But one cannot
make too much of this as they sometimes occur (1.1.24, 1.3.3, 1.14.13
aprico parcere prato, etc.).

(g) Hor. Ep. 2.2.199-200

pauperies immunda tdomust procul absit: ego utrum
nave ferar magna an parva, ferar unus et idem.

Thus one side of the manuscript tradition; the other side omits domus
and absit. Horace is saying that provided he can keep clear of squalor,
it makes no difference whether he sails in a big or a little ship (i.e.
whether his resources are large or small). Bentley observed that domus
spoils the metaphor of the ship ("quorsum obsecro Domus, cum de Nave
hie sermo sit?"). See the discussion by Brink, who points out that though
modo for domus would give the right sense ('provided that'), its scansion
as an iambus is impossible. He cites with favour A. Y. Campbell's
proposal dummodo pauperies immunda procul sit, but one looks for a
simpler change.
I have considered with hesitation pauperies immunda dabo procul absit;
the da of dabo might have been lost after immunda. I interpret "I shall
grant that squalor is to be far away." dare can be used with an accusative
and infinitive when one concedes that something is the case; cf. Cie.
Tuse. 1.25 dasne aut manere ánimos post mortem aut morte ipsa interire?,
Hor. Ep. 2.1.125 si das hoc, parvis quoque rebus magna iuvari (with Brink's
note), TLL 5.1.1690.47-56. There is a similar usage at Cie. Tuse. 5.34 quare
demus hoc sane Bruto ut sit beatus semper sapiens; here hoc is developed
by an ut-clause rather than by the accusative and infinitive. On the
other hand in our passage dabo would not concede a proposition but
offer a proviso to meet possible objections. There is no difficulty in the
absence of ut; cf. Virg. A. 4.683-84 date vulnera lymphis / abluam, TLL
5.1.1691.10-18.
 SERA VINDEMIA 61

(h) Juv. 2.108-109

quod nec in Assyrio pharetrata Sameramis orbe,
maesta nec Actiaca fecit Cleopatra carina.

Otho on campaign beautified himself with bread-poultices, a thing that

warrior-queens like Semiramis and Cleopatra never did. maesta spoils
the rhetoric: as Courtney points out, Cleopatra could not have been
expected to adorn herself when mourning her defeat at Actium. One
looks for a word that stresses warlike activity (as Professor W. S. Watt
emphasises to me); this rules out Heinrich's moecha. Courtney himself
proposed saeva and Delz vecta (MH 55 [1998] 121-22). I suggest that
nauta would balance pharetrata better (Cleopatra had a considerable
fleet); 6 the word suggests a rough masculine occupation (cf. 6.101), and
would be characteristically facetious when used of a queen.
Courtney takes orbe to mean "part of the world." I should prefer to
see a reference to theη famous walls that
f
Semiramis was said to have
built round Babylon; cf. the use of κύκλος (Strabo 16.1.5 of Babylon
τον κύκλον . . . του τείχους), and for orbis note Liv. 34.9.2 orbem muri,
36.9.12 orbis munitionis (though in all these passages the genitives make
things easier). If this is judged too difficult, we might be driven to accept
the duller variant Assyria . . . urbe (with Delz, loc. cit.). At one time I
considered reading nec stans for maesta nec·, this could be combined both
with carina (cf. Virg. A. 8.680 stans celsa in puppi of Octavian at Actium)
and with orbe in the sense of "walls" (cf. Virg. A. 9.575 summis stantem
pro turribus Idan, Juv. 6.291 stantes Collina turre mariti). But if stans is
applied to both queens the contrast with pharetrata is impaired.

(i) Juv. 2.149-52:

esse aliquos Manes et subterranea regna,
tet pontumf et Stygio ranas in gurgite nigras,
atque una transiré vadum tot milia cumba
nec pueri credunt, nisi qui nondum aere lavantur.

et pontum is read by the Pithoeanus and a few other MSS; the vulgate in
general has et contum, alluding to Charon's barge-pole (Virg. A. 6.302).
Cocytum is now generally accepted; this comes from a quotation in the
tenth-century Liutprand, 8 but appears only in the interpolated side of

6 For Cleopatra's fleet cf. Hor. Carm. 3.6.15, Virg. A. 8.705-706, Plut. Ant. 56.4, etc.
7 For the walls of Babylon see Hdt. 1 . 1 7 8 - 8 1 (where they are attributed to Nitocris),
D.S. 2 . 7 . 2 - 5 , Prop. 3 . 1 1 . 2 1 - 2 4 Persarum statuti Babylona Semiramis urbem / ut solidum cocto
tolleret aggere opus, /et duo in adversum mitti per moenia currus /nec possent tacto stringere
ab axe latus, Ον. Met. 4 . 5 7 - 5 8 with Borner, Strabo 16.1.5.
8 Antapodosis 5.8 (p. 134 in the edition of Joseph Becker, H a n n o v e r and Leipzig
62 R. G. M. NISBET

his tradition. It has no authority but might be a successful conjecture

for et contum; cf. Cie. Tuse. 1.10 num te illa terrent, triceps apud inferos
Cerberus, Cocy ti fremitus, travectio Acherontis ... ?
Alternatively we might start with pontum; the Pithoeanus rewrites
corrupt passages less readily than the vulgar MSS, and pontum is even
more nonsensical than contum. Heinsius, as recorded by Ruperti,
suggested Porthmeaque; this is ignored in modern editions but is worth
reviving at least in an apparatus. Charon is regularly called 'the
Ferryman' by way of euphemism (RE 3.2177-78), and it is highly
appropriate that he should be mentioned in this context; Courtney
quotes the line οΰκ εστ' έν "Αδου πλοΐον, οΰ πορθμεύς Χάρων (from ILS
8156). For the Greek form, which was exposed to corruption, see Juv.
3.265 iam sedet in ripa taetrumque novicius horret / Porthmea (where the
first hand of the Pithoeanus reads portamea), Petr. 121 vv. 117-18 vix
navita Porthmeus / sujficiet simulacra virum traducere cumba (which may
have influenced our passage).

(j) Juv. 6.292-97

nunc patimur longae pacis mala, saevior armis
luxuria incubuit victumque ulciscitur orbem.
nullum crimen abest facinusque libidinis ex quo
paupertas Romana périt, hinc fluxit ad istos
et Sybaris colles, hinc et Rhodos et Miletos,
atque coronatum et petulans madidumque Tarentum.

Sybaris was proverbial for its luxury, but was destroyed in 510 BC and
never adequately restored. Various dates in the second century BC were
suggested for the onset of Roman decadence, but the longae pacis mala
cannot go back to the regal period. Courtney explains Sybaris as "the
Sybaritic way of life," which shows that he has seen a problem.
I propose Sagaris; this was the great river of Phrygia (now the
Sakarya), known as 'Sangarios' from the time of Homer (II. 3.187,16.719,
RE 1A.2269-71). It was associated with the Magna Mater, whose rites
are regarded by Juvenal with particular abhorrence (2.110-16, 6.512-
16). By one account the daughter of Sagaris was the mother of Attis
(Paus. 7.17.11, Arnob. Nat. 5.6), by another the lover; according to Ovid
it was because of her that the goddess drove him to castrate himself
(Fasti 4.229 with Börner). The goddess is also associated with the river
in dedicatory epigrams (AP 6.220.14,6.234.3); there is surely a pun when
her emasculated priest offers up to her his sagaris or chopper (Philippus,

1915). For the conjectures incorporated in the third class of MSS (which alone offer
Cocytum) see Becker, p. xxxiii.
 SERA VINDEMIA 63

ibid. 6.94.5). In 189 BC the army of Manlius Vulso w a s said to have met
the Great Mother's procession by the banks of the Sangarius vaticinantes
fanatico carmine deam Romanis... victoriam dare imperiumque eius regionis
(Liv. 38.18.9, cf. Plb. 21.37.4), and in the context of Manlius's t r i u m p h
in 187 Livy goes on to comment luxuriae enim peregrinae origo ab exercitu
Asiatico invecta in urbem est (39.6.7). Juvenal's fluxit suits an Eastern
river (cf. 3.62 iam pridem in Tiberim defluxit Orontes); there w a s also a
river Sybaris, b u t it w a s not important. 9

(k) Juv. 6.0.9-11

nec cella ponit eadem
munimenta umeri tpulsatamque armaf tridentem
qui nudus pugnare solet.

The retiarius w h o wears a loin-cloth (nudus) does not keep his gear in
the same place as the tunicatus (who w a s regarded as infamis). The
Oxford f r a g m e n t w a s exposed to miscopying because of its eccentric
t r a n s m i s s i o n , a n d pulsatamque arma is clearly c o r r u p t . H o u s m a n
p r o p o s e d pulsata hastamque tridentem (Classical Papers 2.540-41), b u t
pulsata is weak (as Courtney points out).
Leo proposed pulsatoremque tridentem (Hermes 44 [1909] 602), which
is accepted by Courtney in his commentary (1980), t h o u g h he obelizes
in his later text (Rome 1984); H o u s m a n h a d ignored it in his second
edition of 1931. The conjecture is s u p p o r t e d b y a Thracian m o n u m e n t
p u b l i s h e d in 1949 by Louis Robert; 1 0 this depicts two gladiators, a
retiarius described as ΠΟΥΛΣΑΤΩΡ, a n d an o p p o n e n t described as
ΕΠΙΠΤΑΣ. These may not be types of gladiator b u t the sobriquets of
individuals; a gladiator is apparently n a m e d Iaculator at CIL 6.10206 (I
owe this reference to Professor K. M. Coleman).
As an alternative I have considered piscatoremque tridentem, "the
fish-spearing trident." It is well k n o w n that the retiarius, w h o wielded
a trident, w a s associated with fishermen, while the opposing murmillo
wore a helmet representing the fish of that name; cf. Festus 285 M. =
358 L. retiario pugnanti adversus murmillonem cantatur 'non te peto, piscem
peto, quid mefugis, Galle?', Arnob. Nat. 6.12 cum fascina rex maris, tamquam
illi pugna sit gladiatorii obeunda certaminis, RE 1 A.693. The adjectival use
of piscatorem can be supported by Sil. 13.376 bellatorem ensem (cited by

9
The text of this passage is discussed by M. Hendry, CQ 47 (1997) 323-27, but I am
not persuaded; on the other hand at 14.61 his hórrida should be noted in everybody's
margin (Museum Criticum 30-31 [1995-96] 265).
i0
Hellenica 7(1949) 135-39 (with pi. 18) and245(an important correction). See also J. Colin,
AttfTor 87 (1952-53) 369-77; I owe this reference with so much else to Courtney's commentary.
64 R. G. M. NISBET

Leo in favour of his pulsatorem). The brutal realism would be

appropriate; cf. Ar. V. 1087 είτα δ' είπόμεσθα θυννάζοντες εις τους
θυλάκους (the men of Marathon harpooned the Persians in their baggy
trousers as if they were tunny-fish). But it must be acknowledged that
pulsatorem is closer to the transmitted reading, makes a good contrast
with the defensive munimenta, and derives formidable support from
the monument that Leo did not know.

(1) Juv. 9.67-69

quid agam bruma spirante? quid, oro,
quid dicam scapulis puerorum aquilone Decembri
et pedibus?

Naevolus is afraid that he may not afford to clothe his slaves in a cold
winter, aquilone Decembri is translated "in the December wind" but one
would like to see a parallel; the variant mense Decembri is very tame
and may indicate corruption. Ruperti, who notices the problem,
punctuates quid agam bruma? spirante quid, oro, / quid dicam scapulis
puerorum aquilone Decembri. . . ?; but the hyperbaton puts unnatural
emphasis on spirante. I look for something like algente (or hórrente)
Decembri; aquilone could be a gloss on spirante above, which to a literal
mind might seem the wrong verb to combine with bruma.

(m) Juv. 10.283-85

provida Pompeio dederat Campania febres
optandas, sed multae urbes et publica vota
vicerunt.

When Pompey fell ill he was saved by the prayers of Italy

(unfortunately, in view of his later fate). Editors take multae urbes et
publica vota as a hendiadys, a term that may be over-used. I prefer to
give urbes a more vivid epithet; Ruhnken proposed moestae, but mutae
would be an easier change. In times of anxiety and grief a silence is
said to descend on a city; cf. Cie. Sest. 128 omnia discessu meo deserta
hórrida muta plena luctus et maerorisfuerunt, Tac. Ann. 2.82.3 (on the fatai
illness of Germanicus) ut... desererenturfora, clauderentur domus, passim
silentia et gemitus. In the same way mutae urbes would refer to
spontaneous reactions as distinct from official ceremonies.

(n) Juv. 11.78-80

Curius parvo quae legerat horto
ipse focis brevibus ponebat holuscula quae nunc
squalidus in magna fastidii conpede fossor.
 SERA VINDEMIA 65

ponere is regularly used of laying dishes on a table, but here may not
emphasise sharply enough that Curius cooked his own dinner; cf. Sen.
Dial. 12.10.8 dictator noster... cum vilissimum cibum infoco ipse manu sua
versaret, Plin. Nat. 19.87 M' Curium imperatorem quern ... rapum torrentem
infoco inventum annales nostri prodiderunt. Willis, in what is now the
standard text of Juvenal (Teubner 1997), accepts Scholte's torrebat, and
in view of the parallel in Pliny this may be right. Alternatively one
might consider properabat, "prepared hurriedly"; cf. Ον. Fast. 6.531-32
liba sua properata manu Tegeaea sacerdos / traditur in subito coda dedisse
foco, Stat. Ach. 1.120 properatque dapes, Juv. 4.134 argillam atque rotam
citius properate, OLD s.v. 5a. The haste of the cooking would point a
contrast with the elaborate preparation of grand dinners.

(o) Juv. 15.89-92

nam scelere in tanto ne quaeras et dubites an
prima voluptatem gula senserit, ultimus lautem
qui stetit, absumpto iam toto corpore ductis
per terram digitis aliquid de sanguine gustat.

Cannibalism in the Egyptian village was not confined to the first-comer;

even the last in line had a lick at the blood, autem makes no sense and
Housman proposed ante, which was later found in a London MS without
authority. This is now universally accepted, but seems little more than
a stop-gap; stetit with ultimus should mean "took up position," not
"stood waiting" (as at Lucan 9.953 stat dum lixa bibat). I should have
expected a genitive with ultimus, but it is not easy to find a substitute
for autem that begins with a vowel. Juvenal applies military terms to
the Egyptian mob, and I have considered without satisfaction alae, the
wing of an army.
At this point I call attention to the rare word antes, which was used
for ranks of cavalry or rows of vines. See Cato, De re militari 9 Jordan
pedites quattuor agminibus, équités duobus antibus ducas, Virg. G. 2.417
iam canit effectos extremus vinitor antes (where Mynors suggests that the
vine-dresser is at the far end of the last row), Serv. ad loc. et 'antes' alii
extremos vinearum ordines accipiunt, alii macerias quibus viñeta cluduntur
. . ., Columella 10.376 (of a garden hedge) umidaque andrachle sitientis
protegit antas,11 Paul. Fest. 16 M. = 15 L. antes sunt extremi ordines
vinearum, unde etiam nomen trahunt antae quae sunt latera ostiorum. As a
long shot I have considered in our passage ultimus antis or antae or
whatever is the genitive singular of this word. It is a damaging objection

11 antas is solidly supported by the manuscript tradition of Columella, according to

L u n d s t r ö m ' s edition; antes, which is read by some editors, is a conjecture.

66 R. G. M. NISBET

that Charisius includes antes a m o n g the masculina semper pluralia (GL

1.548 = 34.3 Barwick), but the feminine plural is found in the MSS of
Columella, antes, the word for rows (especially those at the outer edge),
m a y have been conflated with antae (TLL 2.126.22ff.), which can refer
to pilasters at the side of a door or the end of a wall (Vitr. 3.2.2); see
especially Festus cited above.

However that m a y be, I have now exhausted m y margins and harvested

all I could find for the moment: carpebat raras serus vindemitor uvas
(Seneca, Apoc. 2.1). The late grape-picker was derided by the passer-by,
but sometimes could give as good as he got (Horace, S. 1.7.28-31):

tum Praenestinus salso multoque fluenti

expressa arbusto regerit convicia, durus
vindemiator et invictus, cui saepe viator
cessisset magna compellans voce cuculum.

It is generally assumed that the vindemiator here is a vinitor or vine-

pruner; the point of the gibe cucule is that the first cuckoo of spring
had arrived before he had finished pruning. 1 2 But vindemiator should
refer to the vintage (and that suits the metaphor expressa arbusto)·, it
looks as if a disputation in the autumn recalled earlier triumphs in the
spring. But by this time Ted Courtney, indefatigable though he is, must
be saying " o h e . "

CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OXFORD

1 2 Plin. Nat. 18.249 in hoc temporis intervallo [after the spring equinox] XV diebus
primis agricolae rapienda sunt quibus peragendis ante aequinoctium non suffecerit, dum sciat
inde natam exprobrationem foedam putantium vites per imitationem cantus alitis temporariae
quam cuculum vocant.
 CRITICA VARIA

B Y CHARLES E . MURGIA

To honor Ted Courtney, I offer the following smorgasbord of critical

notes. I hope that some, at least, will be to his taste.

1) Aedituus fr. 1

In his excellent edition of The Fragmentary Latin Poets (Oxford 1993) 70,
Ted prints from Gel. 19.9.11 the following fragment of Aedituus (fr. 1):

dicere cum conor curam tibi, Pamphila, cordis,

quid mi abs te quaeram, uerba labris abeunt,
per pectus manat subito <subido> mihi sudor;
sic tacitus, subidus, dum pudeo, pereo.

Subito <subido> mihi is Usener's conjecture for mihi subito. The word
subidus is known only from line 4; the OLD interprets it as meaning
'sexually excited.' But the last line (as indicated by sic) seems to sum
up the content of the preceding three. Therefore I suggest that subidus
is a weakened form of subudus, 'damp': "In this way, speechless, wet,
while I blush, I die." (Since the initial u of udus, as of uuidus and umidus,
is long, weakening would have to have originated in the period of ar-
chaic initial accent on all words; note that the Greek hudor has sometimes
a long and sometimes a short upsilon.) Tacitus corresponds to uerba
labris abeunt; subidus would correspond to manat mihi sudor. What is
missing is a correspondence to dum pudeo, "while I blush." I suggest
then, instead of subido in line 3, rubido ('flushing red'). Peiper had sug-
gested rubidus in 4, but gelidus in 3.

2) Catullus 64.116-20
Sed quid ego a primo digressus carmine plura
commemorem, ut linquens genitoris filia uultum,
ut consanguineae complexum, ut denique matris,
quae misera in gnata deperdita lamentetur,
omnibus his Thesei dulcem praeoptarit amorem;

Lamentetur in 119 is my correction of the MSS leta. Lachmann's laetabatur

had long been read, but W. Clausen, ICS 2 (1977) 219, pointed out that
the line is imitated by Varrò of Atax (9 Courtney) experdita lamentatur.
He therefore argued for lamentata est in Catul. 64.119. But the relative
clause within an indirect question requires a subjunctive to show that
68 CHARLES E. MURGIA

it is part of the indirect question: "Why should I recall how, leaving the
embrace of her mother (who, completely done in, kept lamenting over
her u n h a p p y daughter), she preferred the sweet love of Theseus." The
time of lamentetur is contemporaneous to praeop tarit, and the conduct
of the mother, as part of the preterition, requires the subjunctive. The
corruption started with haplography, laet coming from laetet (which,
with lines over the a and first e, and an abbreviation stroke after the
last t is the abbreviation of lamentetur). The laet became leta to agree
with the endings of the other adjectives and n o u n in the line.

3) Catullus 64.121-23
aut ut uecta rati spumosa ad litora Diae
aut ut earn <dulci> deuictam lumina somno
liquerit immemori discedens pectore coniunx?
These lines continue right after the lines of the previous note. In 122,
dulci deuictam is my supplement for the transmitted deuincta (deuictam
is in a codex recentior). The transmitted line is short a foot, and Mynors
printed Lachmann's uenerit at the beginning of the line, before aut (and
Passerat's rati for the transmitted raffs in the preceding line). But the
beginning of a line is an unlikely place for an accidental omission, if
the scribe read and copied line by line. And the neoterics tend to attach
an adjective to almost every noun. Further, the repeated aut ut in the
same metrical position at the beginning of successive lines is very much
in neoteric style, and sit can be understood with uecta in 121. Therefore
Pomponio Leto was closer when he conjectured placido after earn. But
there is no apparent reason for that adjective to have fallen out, and it
fails to satisfy either appropriateness for binding or conquering, or the
neoteric love of oxymoron. If we read deuinctam, we should expect sleep
to be characterized as either 'hard' or, more likely, 'soft' or such, to
attribute to it a characteristic either appropriate or alien to 'binding.'
And if we read deuictam (which differs little in pronunciation or writ-
ing f r o m deuinctam), w e w o u l d w a n t any adjective to be either
appropriate or alien to the idea of conquering ('sweet' would qualify,
since we are normally attracted to what is sweet, rather than needing
to be overcome). The easiest adjective to have fallen out in Rustic Capi-
tal script before DEVICT is DVLCI (since Τ and I look alike, and I and
L). The most likely objection to this adjective is that dulcem had already
been used in 120 otamorem. But such repetitions are not alien to neoteric
style, and Catul. 64 has its share. In Catul. 66, a form of dulcís occurs in
lines 6 and 13, in Catul. 68 in 7,18, 24, and, for 68b, in 61, 96, 106, and
160. Ciris 206 iamque adeo dulci deui(n)ctus lumina somno / Nisus erat
(where the MSS are split between deuinctus and deuictus) is a possible
 CRITICA VARIA 69

imitation of Catul. 64.122. Whatever the preference in the Ciris, the

omission of DVLCI would have been easier if DEVICTVS was the
Catullan reading in the Rustic Capital stage; the metaphor 'conquered'
could be supported by many Greek poetic precedents. The most likely
ultimate model is Odyssey 13.119, where the Phaeacians lay Odysseus
down in the sand of Ithaca, overcome with sleep (δεδμημένον ϋπνω),
and Odysseus, on awakening, weeps and complains (13.196-214), in-
voking the vengeance of Zeus, because he believes that he has been
abandoned in a strange land.

4) Cicero, Brutus 162

Sed est etiam L. Crassi in consulatu pro Q. Caepione oratiuncula, non
breuis ut laudatio, ut oratio autem breuis.

Oratiuncula is my suggestion for the transmitted (and nonsensical)

defensione iuncta. Defensio may have arisen as a gloss (and the -ne under
the influence of the preceding Caepione), the iuncta from a possible
scrambling of iuncula. Or possibly the process was first the corruption
of oratiuncula to oratione iuncta (under the influence of Caepione), and
then the supplanting of oratione with defensione in order to avoid two
occurrences of oratio in the same sentence. A. E. Douglas, Brutus (Ox-
ford 1966) 125, supported defensiuncula (which he attributed to Lange
and Krueger), but one says not defensio pro, but defensio of (with objec-
tive genitive); this is because defendere takes a direct object. The pro is
the clue that the omitted word is oratiuncula, Cicero's favored diminu-
tive in the work (Brut. 77 and 207). Defensiuncula is unattested.

5) Propertius 2.19.18

For Prop. 2.19.17-18, the MSS give:

ipse ego uenabor: iam nunc me sacra Dianae
suscipere et Veneri ponere uota iuuat.

This would seem to mean: "I myself shall go hunting: even now it
pleases me to take up the rites of Diana and make vows to Venus." But
the meaning required for the last clause is, "and lay down the rites of
Venus." Goold (in his Loeb, 1990 and 1999) has sought to remedy the
transmission by accepting the Veneris of the Itali. But one other change
is necessary (since ponere uota can only mean "to make vows"): for uota
read Guyet's nota: "Even now it pleases me to take up the rites of Diana
and lay down the old familiar ones of Venus." Ponere uota alicui was
such a familiar combination to the scribe that the corruption was al-
most inevitable. Even if Veneris ponere uota could mean "to lay aside
the worship of Venus" (Goold's translation), it is not a clear way of
70 CHARLES E. MURGIA

euphemizing "to refrain from sex." That is achieved by nota (sacra):

that is, 'the rites of Venus' easily means 'sex/ but vows = worship = sex
is too far to travel.

6) Propertius 4.1.8

Goold (in his 1999 Loeb) prints the opening of Prop. 4.1a as follows.
Hoc qUodcumque uides, hospes, qua maxima Romast,
ante Phrygem Aenean Collis et herba fuit;
atque ubi Nauali stant sacra Palatia Phoebo,
Euandri profugae procubuere boues,
fictilibus creuere deis haec aurea templa,
nec fuit opprobrio facta sine arte casa;
Tarpeiusque Pater nuda de rupe tonabat,
et Tiberis nostris adueña bubus erat,
qua gradibus domus ista, Remi se sustulit olim.

The speaker contrasts the Rome that can be seen now with the Rome of
ancient days, a vision inspired in part by Aeneas' visit to Evander's
realm in Aeneid 8, where (360-61) passimque armenta uidebant / Romanoque
foro et lautis mugiré Carinis. The essential structure of the Propertian
passage is the constant contrast of past with present. Watt was the first to
punctuate line 9 correctly: "Where now rises on steps yonder house,
Remus's used to rise." The enclitic se marks Remi as starting a new
clause (see my "Analyzing Cicero's Style," CP 76 [1981] 310, n. 13). But
the correct solution for 8 has yet to be perceived. There the MSS give et
Tiberis nostris adueña bubus erat, which Goold (1999) translates: "And
the Tiber was an alien to our cattle." Adueña cannot mean simply 'alien'
or 'strange,' since an adueña is not any foreigner, but only an immi-
grant. Heyworth, CQ 36 (1986) 208-209, objected to the repetition of bubus
from boues in 4, and conjectured murus. This was printed by Goold in his 1990
Loeb, but later rejected. The transmitted bubus is supported by Ovid's imita-
tion of the section in Fast. 5.639-44 (in the voice of the river-god):
'haec loca desertas uidi sine moenibus herbas:
pascebat sparsas utraque ripa boues,
et, quem nunc gentes Tiberim noruntque timentque,
tunc etiam pecori despiciendus eram.
Arcadis Euandri nomen tibi saepe refertur:
ille meas remis adueña torsit aquas.'

Nevertheless Heyworth did good service in insisting that nostris did

not have to modify bubus. In fact the cows were not 'ours,' but in both
the Aeneid (8.360) and Propertius (1.4.4) were Evander's. But neither
were 'our men' protected by the Tiber as by a wall in the days before
Aeneas (line 2); Rome would not be founded until over 333 years after
 CRITICA VARIA 71

the arrival of Aeneas (Verg. A. 1.265-77); descent to the time of Romulus

and Remus is not marked until olim in the next line. The solution, I
suggest, is, as in 9, a matter of punctuation: et Tiberis nostris, adueña
bubus erat. "And w h a t is the Tiber to m e n of our day, w a s a mere inter-
loper to the cows." Bubus means ' t h e c o w s / namely the cows specified
above as Evander's. The first half of the line has been converted into
Fast. 5.641 ("And I, w h o m the world now knows and fears as the Tiber"),
while the second half has become the pentameter ("at that time h a d to
be looked d o w n on even by the cattle"). Ovid has varied the boues of
640 to the pecori of 642, but most ancient writers use the same w o r d
w h e n referring to the same thing.
The basic structure of contrasting ' t h e n ' w i t h ' n o w ' is thus pre-
served. The Tiber, by the way, used to be called the Albula (Verg. A.
8.332), a n d then Thybris (A. 8.331), so even if cows could speak, they
w o u l d not have called it the Tiber. Since cows cannot speak, I resist
conjecturing Albula for adueña. That is not w h a t O v i d ' s despiciendus
translates, so, if Propertius wrote Albula, the error adueña w o u l d h a v e
to have been in place by the time Ovid knew Prop. 4.1 (and, t h o u g h the
Fasti w a s a late composition, I suspect that Ovid knew 4.1 even before
it w a s published; he probably heard Propertius recite the p o e m , and
therefore k n e w f r o m the horse's m o u t h h o w to p u n c t u a t e 4.1.8).

7) Asconius Corn. 52-53 (60.9 Clark)

Sequente deinde anno L. Cotta L. Torquato coss., quo haec oratio a
Cicerone praetura <functo Celso> praetore dicta est.

The a r g u m e n t u m to Asconius' commentary on the pro Cornelio is be-

deviled w i t h lacunae at regular intervals in the MS tradition. I h a v e
supplied this one (starting f r o m the praetura . . . praetore of S), getting
the n a m e Celsus f r o m 65.6-8 Clark: Petiuit tamen a me praetor. . . . C.
Attium Celsum significat, sicut iatn ante dictum est. I take the ante dictum
est to refer to the passage in question. The preceding p a r a g r a p h h a s
informed us that Cicero was praetor in the preceding year. Clark printed
the conjecture of Kiessling-Schoell, praetura nuper perada, in which I
see no point in nuper, and peracta unnecessarily changes the transmit-
ted praetore.

8) Suetonius Gram. 13.1

L. Staberius Eros, a Metra emptus de catasta et propter litterarum
Studium manumissus, docuit inter ceteros Brutum et Cassium.

A Metra is m y conjecture for the transmitted nam etra: "bought and freed
by Metra." A Metra precedes both participles to show that it goes with
72 CHARLES E. MURGIA

both. My conjecture made it into the apparatus of Raster's edition (Ox-

ford 1995), but I believe that it belongs in the text, since it is invariable
in this work that Suetonius, when specifying that a slave was bought
and freed, specifies the person w h o freed the slave: enough detail is
given to make clear the full name of the manumitted and manumitter.
Compare 3.5 a Q. Catulo emptum ac breui manumissum (of Lutatius
Daphnis, who therefore was Quintus Lutatius Daphnis, manumitted
b y Q u i n t u s L u t a t i u s Catulus); 19.1 a Scribonia . . . redemptus et
manumissus, of Scribonius Aphrodisius. One T. Statilius Metra is at-
tested in CIL 6.26770.1, but our Metra would have to be a L. Staberius
Metra (the full name not used since it was used for Eros). Nam arose
from an attempt to form intelligible words from am et ra.

9) Lactantius Placidus in Stat. Theb. 3.296

VNAQVE PAX ANIMO pacem a Venere <re>petiit, cui soli concessum
est Martern domare, ut Lucretius (1.31-34).

The subject of the verb (repetiit is my conjecture for petiit) is Statius, as

in the preceding comment (on 295) matheseos hie monstravit ("Statius
here has s h o w n his k n o w l e d g e of astrology")· In that c o m m e n t ,
matheseos is treated as an indeclinable noun (it is in origin a genitive,
found in the title of Firmicus Maternus' work on astrology, Matheseos
libri VIII, and misunderstood, as in 3.558 also). The commentator goes
on to say that if Mars is combined with other constellations, he be-
comes m o r e t r u c u l e n t , b u t if c o m b i n e d w i t h Venus he b e c o m e s
suppliant. The lemma on 3.296 is from a speech of Mars, in which nei-
ther Mars nor Statius "has sought peace from Venus" (Venus has sought
to stop Mars from stirring the Argives to war against the Thebans).
Rather, Mars calls Venus "the sole source of peace for my heart." The
easiest w a y to get the required meaning from the text (that Statius has
represented Venus as the source of peace) is to suppose a haplography
after the final syllable of Venere: "Statius has traced peace back to Venus."

10) Symmachus Ep. 3.39

Ne tibi videor medendi artem morbi diuturnitate didi<ci>sse.

Symmachus jokes, as he tells us in the next sentence (volo enim, ut me-

moriam malorum ioci venustate frangamus). Diuturnitate didicisse is my
correction of the attested diuturnitatem dedisse (note the spelling dedicisti
for didicisti in the MS in the beginning of Symmachus' first oration).
Symmachus jokingly claims to have been sick so long that he is becom-
ing a doctor: "Surely I seem to you to have learned the art of healing by
the length of my illness." Medendi and morbi are in emphatic contrast.
 CRITICA VARIA 73

Otherwise the grammatical structure is the same as in memoriam malorum

ioci venustate frangamus.

11) Martianus Capella 317 (99.7ff. Willis)

tertiae coniugationis <correptae> verba, quae indicativo m o d o tem-
pore praesenti persona prima io litteris terminantur, ea praeteritum
perfectum et plusquamperfectum sex modis enuntiant. primus est qui
tertiae coniugationis productae integram regulam sequitur: hie est qui
imperativi modi < e > in < i > productam convertit et in absoluta specie
assumit vi syllabam et in exacta veram, ut cupio cupivi cupiveram.

The words e in i productam convertit ("changes the e of the imperative

mood into a long i") are my conjecture for the codices' regulam in
productionem vertit, printed by Willis with an obelus before regulam.
Regulam had been deleted by Petersen, and Willis in his apparatus sug-
gests substituting for it syllabam; but neither conjecture suffices to
remedy the awkwardness of expression or to supply the needed sense.
Martianus has chosen to explain verbs of the form cupio as following
the rule of verbs of the fourth conjugation (his tertia coniugatio producta);
since he explains the derivation of the perfect system of these verbs as
built on the imperative (cf. 321, p. 102.2 Willis), he is obligated to show
how the perfect of third conjugation verbs of the form cupio is built on
the imperative. For the diction, see 320 (101.13) ea enim e in i convertunt
et assumpta am syliaba faciunt futurum, which describes the passage of
rapio to rapiam by way of the imperative rape. I suppose omission by
haplography of e between modi and i, and of i after i (in is abbreviated
i with superscript line); this would be followed by corruption of
productamcon into productionem, aided by the incomprehensibility of
the adjective after i had fallen out (one of the four major codices used
by Willis, codex A, does have convertit, but this may be a conjectural
restoration by a scribe aware that Martianus regularly uses the com-
pound; cf. e.g. 85.11, 99.19, 100.11). Following such corruptions, the
sentence would read so:

primus est qui tertiae coniugationis productae integram regulam se-

quitur: hie est, qui imperativi modi in productionem vertit et in
absoluta specie assumit vi syllabam et in exacta veram, ut cupio cupivi
cupiveram.

The first is the type which follows the entire rule of the the fourth
conjugation: that is, which turns the imperative mood's into length-
ening, and in the perfect assumes the syllable vi, and in the pluperfect
veram, as cupio cupivi cupiveram.

This is nonsense, but it can be construed, with the reader understand-

ing an ellipsis after imperativi modi of the last accusative noun
74 CHARLES E. MURGIA

mentioned, i.e. regulam. So the scribe understood, and, seeking to clarify

the structure of the clause, interpolated the noun which he understood.
Therefore regulam probably entered not as an accidental intrusion from
the preceding line, nor as an error of perseveration, driving out an-
other word (as Willis' conjecture seems to suppose), but as a scribal
supplement of an apparent ellipsis. If a word had been driven out by
regulam, it would be not syllabam, but litteram (e litteram).
A comment now on the word order. The e would have fallen out as
easily if it had been placed after qui; but Martianus' style calls for place-
ment after the genitive: cf. 315 (98.8) cum indicativi modi primae persotiae
e et o litterae transeunt in i. Again placement is after the genitive in 319
(100.12) qui primae positionis verbi o litteram in i commutât. An order
productam i convertit would perhaps more easily be corrupted into
productionem vertit: since we find both (101.9) producta e and (101.19) i
producta, either order might seem acceptable to Martianus. But in 101.9
Martianus describes the change from the short e of the imperative to
the long e of the imperfect: the word producta is therefore more em-
phatic than e, and properly precedes. But in 99.11, i, contrasted with e,
should be more emphatic, and should precede.

12) Martianus Capella 319 (lOO.llff. Willis)

secundus est, cum o in i convertitur, <ut mando mandi manderam,
verto verti verteram. tertius,> qui primae positionis verbi o litteram
in i commutât et praeeuntem syllabam seu mutata vocali seu
perseverante producit, deposita etiam consonante, si fuerit media, in
quam prima vocalis desinat, ut ago egi egeram, lego legi legeram . . .
frango fregi fregeram, fundo fudi fuderam. quartus est qui. . .

Martianus describes the twelve types of third conjugation verbs which

end in o preceded by a consonant. Petersen recognized that there was
a lacuna leaving out the end of the description of the second type and
the introduction to the third type (for which he supplied tertius est).
Dick suggested a supplement ut cudo cudi cuderam. tertius est. He thereby
showed that he recognized the type of verb omitted: those in which
there is no change of the present stem. The third class described (corre-
sponding to a single type in Charisius and Diomedes: see Charisius
320.5ff. Barwick, Diomedes 370.2ff. Keil) covers the verbs which have
as their sole change a lengthening of the stem-vowel, accompanied by
dropping of the infix η if there is one in the present. My supplement is
given above, based in content on Charisius and Diomedes (Martianus
is dependent ultimately on the same source as used by Charisius and
Diomedes), and in style on parallels in Martianus. The type in ques-
tion is the ninth form of Charisius (320.21 Barwick), nona forma est quae
perfectumfacit secundae personae dempta s littera, velut mando manáis mandi,
 CRITICA VARIA 75

pando pandis pandi, the eighth of Diomedes (370.10 Keil), octava forma
est quae desinit in i quidem litteram, ita tarnen ut a secunda persona instantis
temporis venire videatur, ut mando mandi, verto verti, suspendo suspendí,
extendo, extendi, capesse capessi, viso visi. Though Martianus draws on
the same tradition for content and examples, his language throughout
differs from Diomedes and Charisius. For that we turn to Martianus
himself, first of all his description of the analogous verb ending in io.
See 99.15-20: secundus modus est, qui... (18) tertius modus est, cum i et o
in u et i convertuntur, ut elido elicui elicueram. quartus, <qui> . . . The
final qui is found only in ML of Willis' codices, but is stylistically nec-
essary: see 99.21 quintus qui, 22 sextus qui. In 317 (99.18f.) we find closely
similar diction to what the MSS present before the lacuna in 100.11:
cum i et o in u et i convertuntur versus our cum o in i convertitur. This
language in 99.19 is followed immediately by a single example, but in
the sequences on p. 100 we usually have a pair of examples (two sets of
examples are given for the fourth, fifth, sixth, ninth, tenth, eleventh,
and twelfth types, and the four examples for the third type are broken
into two groups of two by an intervening clause of introduction). Here
the range of types encompassed by the class (verbs both with and with-
out a nasal infix) requires a minimum of two sets. Accordingly I restore
ut mando mandi manderam, verto verti verteram. tertius. About the first
example there is room for doubt, since Martianus does not have to pick
the first example of Charisius and Diomedes; but mando is a good choice,
because it is well to exemplify verbs in which the η does not fall out in
the perfect before describing those in which it does. But the chance is
good that the second example was verto, because it helps to explain the
lacuna, a saut du même au même from convertitur. This could have hap-
pened in many ways. For instance there might have been a previous
saut, producing vertius from verteram tertius or easier from verti verteram
tertius (terti'). Any resulting converti' would, in context, easily be cor-
rected back to convertitur (convertit').

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY

 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL

BY G. P. GOOLD

How did Virgil recite his hypermetric verses? Or rather, how did he
expect us to recite them? The fact is that they seem to violate one of the
most fundamental principles of the hexameter, namely that the metri-
cal c o n t i n u u m is c o m p o s e d of identical s e g m e n t s in w h i c h the
rhythmical pattern ends with the sixth foot. The sense of the words
may run on without any break whatever, but as far as the rhythm or
prosody is concerned, at the end of the sixth foot we come to a frontier
(this I shall indicate below by a vertical). That is why the sixth foot
consists of two long syllables, a spondee, never a dactyl or a trochee:
prosodically the last syllable is always long, even though its vowel is
short. Placed elsewhere in the line the same words are subject to their
own prosody and if necessary undergo elision. Two examples from the
Aeneid:
2.441 testudine lîmën | but 2.453 limën erat
2.460 -que sub âstrâ | but 3.158 àstr(a) ignea surgunt

Strictly speaking we ought, with Sidney Allen, to talk about heavy and
light syllables, not long and short, and to mark them with diacritics
different from those we use to indicate vowel length. However, for
simplicity's sake I shall adhere in this paper to traditional terminology
and practice. Now Virgil's frequent enjambment constantly forces us
to hurry on from one line to the next, but even here the 'frontier' oper-
ates to put an absolute prohibition on elision, which otherwise would
happen about 2000 times in the text of the poet. Just consider
2.4 et lamentabile regnüm | eruerint Danai. . .
2.5 ipse miserrima vidi | et quorum pars . . .
2.15 divina Palladis arte | aedificant. . .
2.21 notissima fämä | insula . . .

and similarly throughout the poem. Let me emphasize that in the above
examples the long marks indicate syllabic length, not vowel length
(though the vowels may be long, as in vidi): a syllable may be long be-
cause its vowel is long, but also because it is closed; this is often caused
by two or more consonants following the vowel, but always occurs at
the termination of the verse, when the rhythmical pause has the effect
of a consonant closing the syllable. The ablative arte, for example, is
always pronounced with a short final vowel, but the rhythmical pause
 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL 77

which follows, infinitesimal though it may be (we may choose to think

of it as a kind of glottal stop), is enough to close the syllable of which e
is the nucleus, enough to make the syllable long.
A fortiori, any sense-pause or strong stop at the end of the hexam-
eter will not affect the principle that the verse terminates in two long
syllables:

1.253 hic pietatis honos? sic nos in sceptra repônîs? | o l i i . . .

1.277 . . . Romanosque suo de nomine dîcët. | his ego . . .

The fact that each of these lines is followed by a vowel or h makes clear
that the length of the final syllable is not caused by a consonant effect-
ing it.

So much by way of preamble. However, we find in Virgil's roughly

12,900 hexameters a few—the Oxford text prints 23—which have at the
end an extra syllable, a syllable elided before an initial vowel in the
following line. It has been plausibly suggested that Hellenistic poets
were responsible for the innovation: observing that some verses of
Homer ended in Ζην and were followed by an initial vowel, they specu-
lated that the poet had elided Ζήνα before the next verse; and this
phenomenon they copied. Of this no examples survive in Greek, but
Ennius is supposed to have indulged in the practice, and we have one
instance each from Lucilius (547 M), Lucretius (5.849), and Catullus
(64.298; 115.5 is corrupt and should read . . . ingentes silvas vastasque
paludes). It is Virgil, the arch-wizard of verbal music, who has experi-
mented most with hypermeter. But even he has done so most cautiously
and has confined himself within very narrow limits. There are no
hypermeters in the Eclogues, and it is quite possible that Virgil received
the impulse to experiment with them from Horace, who in the first
book of his Satires (35 BC) wrote:

4.96 me Capitolinus convictore usus amicoque | a puero est. . .

6.102 et comes alter uti ne solus rusve peregreve | exirem . . .

Let us begin with an example from the Aeneid (all references, un-
less otherwise marked, are to the Aeneid):
1.448 aerea cui gradibus surgebant limina, nëxâe | que aere trabes . . .

Observe, in the first place, that Virgil has avoided violating the rules
given above. Utterance proceeds from the beginning of the hexameter
to the sixth foot; when we get there, we recognize the two long syl-
lables which constitute it, and we come up against the frontier indicated
by the vertical. We are then puzzled to find a -que over and above the
78 G. P. GOOLD

metrical space of the line. It transpires that no less than 19 of his

hypermeters end with -que.
This is the shortest Latin word theré is, shorter even than its syn-
onym et: it is so short that neque is hardly distinguishable from nec; in
fact, since nec and neque before a vowel are metrically identical, I won-
der what precisely the difference in sound was and to what extent it
was perceptible to the ear. Similarly with atque and ac; everyone now
knows that in elegiacs atque is not found before a consonant, and the
reason seems to be that, if scanned as a trochee, the word would arro-
gate to itself more sound-space than it merited, it being nearer to η (as
in fish 'n chips) than to also.
I suggest therefore that we simply pronounce this hypermetric que
as c, i.e. k, (not as q + u, that is to say English kw, for in Latin syllabifica-
tion this should count as two consonants and make position). We might
even think of it as written q. The difference between elided -que and c
must have existed, but been minimal. Certainly this is suggested by
the doublets neque/nec, neve/neu, sive/seu, and by the apocope of the
interrogative enclitic -ne (in the Aeneid compare 3.319 Pyrrhin conubia
servas? and 10.668; 12.503, 797, and 874). Thus it may be that on the
thousands of occasions Virgil has elided -que we shall get nearer to the
poet's articulation by pronouncing the word as c rather than kwe. To
emphasize the point I write this as q. For example:
2.1 conticuere omnes, intenti*? ora tenebant
6.1 sic fatur lacrimans, classi^ immittit habenas

The foregoing account compels some modification of what I wrote

earlier: the frontier must be considered as standing not before the
hypermetric syllable, but after it, thus:
aerea cui gradibus surgebant limina, nêxâeq(e) |

That this is more accurate than regarding it as belonging to the next

line seems to follow inexorably from four lines which come to a dead halt:
G. 2.443 navigiis pinus, domibus cedrumque cuprêssôsq(e). |
4.629 imprecor, arma armis: pugnent ipsique nepôtësq(e). |
7.470 se satis ambobus Teucrisque venire Latînîsq(e). |
10.895 clamore incendunt caelum Troesque Latînîq(e). |

The first, second and fourth of these verses terminate in a -que / -q(e)
ending, and we shall not be surprised to discover that this is true of a
further eight instances:
G. 2.344 si non tanta quies iret frigusque calôrëmq(e) | inter,
G. 3.242 omne adeo genus in terris hominumque ferärümq(e) | et
1.332 iactemur doceas: ignari hominumque locörümq(e) | erramus
 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL 79

2.745 quem non incusavi amens hominumque deörümq(e), | aut

3.684 contra iussa monent Heleni, Scyllamque Charybdlnq(e) | inter
5.753 robora navigiis, aptant remosque rudëntîsq(e), | exigui
4.558 omnia Mercurio similis, vocemque colôrëmq(e) | et crinis
9.650 omnia longaevo similis, vocemque colôrëmq(e) | et crinis

The discerning will observe from the context that the last two examples
have practically become a formula.
The remaining hypermeters ending in -cje are these (all, be it noted,
before a monosyllabic prefix):

G. 3.377 otia agunt terra, congestaque robora tötäsq(e) | ad-

5.422 et magnos membrorum artus, magna ossa lacërtôsq(e) | ex-
6.602 quos super atra silex iam iam lapsura cadëntïq(e) | im-
8.228 ecce furens animis aderat Tirynthius ômnëmq(e) | ac-
10.781 sternitur infelix alieno vulnere, cäelümq(e) | a(d)-
11.609 substiterat: subito erumpunt clamore furëntîsq(e) | ex-

Here someone m a y interrupt to ask whether all Virgilian lines end-

ing in -que and followed in the next verse by a vowel or h suffer elision
and are thus hypermetric. No, there are about thirty which conform to
the regular rules of closure at a 'frontier' after the sixth foot and are
consequently not hypermetric but immune from elision. There are no less
than seven in Book 10, including two consecutive non-hypermetric lines:

376 mortales; totidem nobis animâequë mänüsque. | ecce maris . . .

504 intactum Pallanta, et cum spoli(a) ïsta dïëmquê | oderit. . .
505 oderit. at socii multo gemitü lâcrïmïsquê | impositum . . .
525 te precor, hanc animam serves gnatôquë patrïquë. | est domus . . .
695 vim cunctam atque minas perfert caelïquë marisque I ipsa . . .
777 iecit. at ilia volans clipeo est excüssä prôcûlquë | egregium . . .
883 inde aliud super atque aliud figîtquë vôlâtquë | ingenti.. .

Four hypermeters are left to discuss, a motley collection, of which

we m a y at once dismiss two as corrupt:

G. 3.449 et spumas miscent argenti vivaque sülpürä | Idaeasque

This verse does not run up to a sixth-foot spondee, which would en-
able us to anticipate and elide a hypermetric syllable, even if a short
final a could be so identified; however, no argument is necessary in
view of the fact that the three available capital manuscripts, several
commentators, and most of the Carolingian manuscripts give the per-
fectly normal verse:

et spumas miscent argenti et sulpura viva | . . .

The contrary evidence comes from Servius, Macrobius, and some Bern
manuscripts, scarcely reliable enough testimony to warrant our refus-
80 G. P. GOOLD

ing to accept MPR and the unexceptionable rhythm. The last two words
were apparently inverted; someone, noticing that the next verse began
with a vowel, concocted the fable that this one was hypermetric. A simi-
lar scenario seems also to be indicated by the case of
G. 2.69 inseritur vero et fetu nucís arbutus hórrida, | et

Once again the line does not run up to a sixth-foot spondee, for we
cannot count the middle syllable of hórrida as terminal and scan it as a
long. This time we are not so fortunate with manuscript coverage: of
the capitals only M is available, and the first hand wrote the line as
here given; moreover, γ and a, our fallbacks for Ρ and R, agree with it;
we are compelled to assume that the corruption occurred very early.
About 1470 the Italian humanist Pomponius Laetus corrected the metre
by the simple expedient of transposing the word fetu to the end of the
verse, and this, following Wagner and Ribbeck, I accept: inseritur vero
et nucis arbutus hórrida fetu. The unusual word-order and rhythm may
have led to the original dislocation. Virgil seldom has dactylic words
occupying fourth and fifth feet in the same line, but see, for example,
A. 9.670.

Of the OCT's list of Virgil's hypermeters the last two involve syl-
lables ending in -m. Here we encounter a situation rather different from
an affixed -que. There the enclitic was a kind of excrescence which could
be detached without destroying the integrity of the word to which it
was affixed. With an inflection that is not the case:

7.160 iamque iter emensi turris ac tecta Latlnör | (um)

ardua cernebant iuvenes.

This time, we reach the frontier without any warning that we are still a
syllable away from the end of the word. It is difficult to detect any
special effect intended: the meaning and language of the sentence are
quite straightforward and unremarkable: "And now the young men,
having accomplished their journey, were in sight of the towers and high
roofs of the Latins." But the hypermeter pulls us up. And we cannot
help wondering whether something is wrong. Could Virgil have writ-
ten Latinûm, the old genitive plural ending, as given by some
Carolingian manuscripts? However, Aeneas had not ordered the young
men to go to the Latins, but ad moenia regis (153); and a much more
plausible solution is that Virgil wrote Latini, again the conjecture of
Pomponius Laetus. Moreover this would explain the mistake: mention
of towers and roofs suggested to some early Virgilian that "of Latinus"
was illogical and that "of the Latins" must have been what the poet
intended. Virgil so often uses Latinus, the king's name, to represent the
 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL 81

Latin people as much as the man himself (6.891; 7.407,585; 11.213,402;

12.58) that I believe he wrote here, in an unexceptionable hexameter
verse,

iamque iter emensi turris ac tecta L a t i n i . . .

At this point one might be tempted to conclude that the only au-
thentic hypermeters in Virgil are ones ending in -que. The one remaining
candidate, however, is strong enough to withstand challenge to its au-
thenticity:
G. 1.295 aut dulcís musti Volcano decoquit ümör(em)
et foliis undam trepidi despumat aëni.

"or she boils down on the fire the sweet juice of must and skims with
leaves the froth of the bubbling cauldron." This clearly represents
Virgil's desire to reflect the context in sound: the liquid is bubbling on
the fire and the froth threatens to spill over the top of the cauldron, a
threat aptly conveyed by a hypermetric line. Even so, the elision of an
inflection was revolutionary.
The remarkable quality of this last hypermeter provokes specula-
tion about Virgil's intentions in embarking on such a daring device. In
some instances the explanation is fairly obvious. Thus at A. 6.602 the
syllable on the point of being elided exquisitely suggests the rock on
the point of tottering; the unending enmity of Carthage against Rome
could hardly be better mirrored in metre than by a verse (4.629) which
does not end at its limit; and at a similar halt in syntax (10.895) the
hypermeter somehow causes one to pause and imagine the effect of
the tumultuous cries which go up to heaven and set it ablaze. At 5.422
the veteran Entellus resolves to compete and strips for the fight:

et magnos membrorum artus, magna ossa lacertosq(e) | exuit.

Exceeding the normal span, the hypermeter encourages us to visualize

the supernormal physique of the man. Virgil, however (so we learn
from Macrobius, Sat. 6.1.45), has borrowed the phrase, hypermeter and
all, from Lucilius:

magna ossa lacertiq(e) | adparent homini.

Virgil's motivation is not elsewhere so readily detected, and per-

haps we should not on every occasion look for a dramatic explanation.
It is possible that by its frequent use -que -que (e.g. 1.88 caelumque
diemque; 1.94 terque quaterque), in spite of its being an epic characteris-
tic and ultimately based on Homeric τε . . . τε . . . , had struck the poet's
ear as just a shade trite, calling for some restraint in its use or, alterna-
tively, for some variation. So while at 1.229 he writes hominumque
82 G. P. GOOLD

deumque, at 2.745 he varies this to the hypermetric hominumque

deorumque (though Servius Auctus may be right in considering the varia-
tion to have been prompted by the occurrence of natumque virumque in
the middle of the preceding line). At G. 2.344 and A. 3.684 the sing-
song quality of -que -que is diminished by the elision of the second e,
which at the same time facilitates the anastrophe of inter at the begin-
ning of the following verse. The jingle of -que -que at 7.470 is rendered
less obtrusive both by the hypermeter and by the insertion of another
word (Teucrisque venire Latinisque). Lessening this jingle may thus be
the sole purpose behind Virgil's resorting to hypermeter at G. 2.443;
3.242; A. 1.332; 4.558 (= 9.650); and 5.753.
In the remaining hypermeters -que looks forward, that is it means
not 'and' as a link ('Gilbert and Sullivan') but 'and' looking forward
and presupposing a stop of some kind before it ('And it came to pass
that...'), namely this hypermetric -que has the effect of placing a comma
after the fifth foot. In his desire to vary the potential monotony of hex-
ameter rhythm Virgil goes to inordinate lengths to avoid repetitive
phrasing and to contrive stops at every point in the line; he had not
punctuation to help him and was consequently stretched to the limit of
his compositional powers to force his phrasing upon the reader.
The clearest case is the tricolon at 1.448:
aerea cui gradibus surgebant limina, nexaeque
aere trabes, foribus cardo stridebat aenis.

Here are three sentences: "Its threshold of bronze rose on steps; of

bronze its posts were bound; on doors of bronze creaked the hinges."
The verb after trabes is not surgebant, but erant (understood). The struc-
ture of 10.781 is similar:
sternitur infelix alieno vulnere, caelumque
aspicit, et dulcís moriens reminiscitur Argos.

"Unlucky man, he falls under a wound meant for another; he gazes at

heaven, and as he dies dreams of his beloved Argos." At 11.609-10
clamore has no epithet, and this may cause one to hasten on without
realizing that it is followed by a new sentence: the hypermetric -que
leads one to conclude that a new clause begins with furentis.
Construing 8.228-29 poses no problem, but Virgil has made clear
by the rhythm the precise phrasing he intended:

ecce furens animi aderat Tirynthius, omnemque

accessum lustrans hue ora ferebat et illuc . . .

"All of a sudden Hercules dashes up in a rage; all way round he looks

for some way in . . ." In his edition of Book 8 Eden perceptively ex-
 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL 83

plains that the series of dactyls up to Tirynthius mirrors the speed of

Hercules' arrival; then there is a pause while (expressed in spondees)
he looks round for an opening. The hypermeter serves as punctuation
and contrives to signal a pause after Tirynthius.
Commentators pass too quickly over the hypermeter at G. 3.377:
otia agunt terra, congestaque robora totasque
advolvere focis ulmos, ignique dedere.

The Scythians, who spend their lives in incredible cold, neverthe-

less enjoy life in deep-dug caverns, "and they roll piles of logs and
whole elm-trees to the hearth, throwing them on the fire." But
Conington has had the insight to realize that 'and' for the hypermetric
-que is insufficient, translating "with store of timber, nay, whole elms
pushed up to the hearth, and heaped on the blaze." This is surely a
more accurate interpretation than equating mere logs and whole trees,
and is rightly adopted by Fairclough in the Loeb Classical Library.
So we see that if, as it is reasonable to assume, the licence of resort-
ing to hypermetric hexameters (be it only once in 600 verses) needs
some special justification, this can be provided for each of Virgil's ex-
amples of it. Later poets, however, though eager to emulate Virgil, found
this particular feat too difficult or too questionable to repeat. Ovid's
three attempts (Met. 4.11; 4.480; 6.507) are unremarkable, save for the
obvious imitations of G. 3.242 and A. 4.629, as also is Valerius' single
venture at Arg. 4.629 (all of these, by the way, adding the enclitic -que);
Lucan and Statius and Silius (for at Pun. 17.399 the best mss have
virumque) chose to have nothing to do with the artifice.

I pass on to the question raised at the beginning: how were

hypermetric verses recited?
Now concerning the matter of pronunciation, which lacking record-
ings of ancient Latin we can only theorize about, even the best
authorities disagree over some fairly fundamental principles, and I must
at once admit that what follows is speculative. However, the school
which has won my allegiance postulates in classical Latin a stress-accent
determined by the penultimate syllable, which if long (that is, syllabi-
cally long) carries the accent, but if short throws the accent back to the
antepenultimate (if there is one): silvestrem, formosam, resonare; pátülae,
récübans, tégmìne, dSces, Amaryllìda. Further, it holds that Virgil (like
Shakespeare) is to be recited with the ordinary stress-accent prevailing
over the metrical ictus. Obviously, as in English, there frequently oc-
curred a conflict between the regular, sing-song metrical ictus and the
irregular (but dramatic) stress-accent. In Virgil, however, this conflict
was resolved in the fifth and sixth feet, where an almost invariable
84 G. P. GOOLD

coincidence of ictus and accent gave the metre a clearly audible iden-
tity and firmly established each segment of the rhythmical continuum:
. . . sub tégmine fági | . . . meditáris avéna
. . . línquimus árva | . . . léntus in umbra
. . . Amaryllida silvas | . . . haec ótia fécit

It also provides us with some evidential basis for our opinions about
the stress-accent on Virgil's lips.
We must realize that occasionally the poet has resorted to some
unusual closures, in which not the individual word but the phrase de-
termines the accent. It looks as if a final monosyllable acquired the
properties of an enclitic:
I.105 praerúptus aquáe-mons |
2.355 inde lupí-ceu |
3.375 sic fáta deúm-rex |
4.132 odóra canúm-vis |
5.481 procúmbit humí-bos |
7.592 Iunónis eúnt-res |

So too a pyrrhic in the fifth foot:

5.731 Ditís-tamen ánte |
10.400 moráe-fuit ilo |
10.849 miseró-mihi démum |
II.562 rapidúm-super ámnem |

This latter type noticeably clusters in the later books of the Aeneid, the
poet having elected to vary his rhythms more as he neared the end of
his task of composition:
10.440 mediúm-secat ágmen |
10.772 quantúm-satis hástae |
11.143 lucét-via longo |
11.170 magní-Phryges ét quam |

An irregularity is unavoidable whenever Virgil uses, as he often does,

a Greek noun or name of ionic measure ( ). The commonest word is
hymenaeus: sometimes he treats it as though it began with an initial
consonant; sometimes he elides before it. There is no doubt about the
5th-foot ictus, but where Virgil put the stress-accent is not certain (I
give my view here without argument):
7.398 cánit hymenáeos |
1.651 inconcéssosque hymenáeos |
4.316 per incéptos hymenáeos |

A few other examples may be cited, the first involving hiatus:

 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL 85

4.667 et femíneo ululátu |

6.895 nítens elephánto |
10.136 Orícia terebíntho |

One other anomaly deserves mention, the clash of ictus and accent in
the fifth foot at 3.581, and followed too by an elision before the sixth
foot:
et fessum quotiens mutet latus, intrémere omnem . . .

"Here Virgil is clearly intending imitative effect: the dislocation of the

rhythm reflects the violence of the earthquake" (R. D.Williams). But it
is a rhythm the poet never repeated.
In respect of hypermeters a crucial question to be answered is how
the enclitic particle -que affected stress-accent. The simple answer is
that w h e n -que is attached to a word, the now expanded word receives
the accent determined by the penultimate rule: when it is attached to a
long or closed syllable, the accent on that word moves forward to the
syllable immediately preceding -que:
E. 2.33 oviúmque magístros |
E. 3.46 silvásque sequéntis |

When -que is attached to a short vowel (in a trochaic ending), the ac-
cent of the word is unaffected:
1.248 ármaque fíxit |
7.526 áeraque fulgent |

Hexameter verse does not permit a sequence of three short syllables,

but—and here w e encounter another example of Virgil's imitating
Homeric precedent—under special circumstances -que is scanned as a
long syllable; hence
3.91 liminaquê laurusque . . .

But such a licence is limited to -que -que sequences, and cannot be ap-
plied to such a type as omniaque, which can only be brought into a
hexameter by elision (8.249 omniaque arma).
Where then does the stress fall when an elided -que is attached to a
word? Examples of its occurrence after a short syllable or two short
syllables suggest that it does not change the accent of the preceding
word:
1.640 caelátaqu(e) in àuro |
3.418 árvaqu(e) et úrbes |

1.177 Cereáliaqu(e) árma |

1.569 Satúrniaqu(e) árva |
86 G. P. GOOLD

Since the pattern of syllables in the final two feet of a hexameter does
not permit of an elided -que after a long syllable, we shall have to stretch
our catchment for a test case. And this we can do by examining those
verses which have word diaeresis between the fourth and fifth feet, for
in such verses Virgil very commonly (though not invariably) has co-
incidence of ictus and accent in the fourth, fifth, and sixth feet:

7.5 Aenéas rite solútis |

7.11 ubi Sólis filia lucos |
7.22 neu litora dira subirent |

In such lines so many examples occur of -que, elided and unelided,

attached to the same or a similar word, itself also occurring without
any -que, that the stress-accent must have been placed on the same syl-
lable. Let the following serve as an example:

3.186 venturos litora Téucros |

2.47 ventúraque désuper urbi |
8.627 ventúriqu(e) ínscius áevi |

That is to say, an elided -que attached to the final long syllable of a

word does not change the accent of that word. Another example, with
the whole verse:
3.716 sic pater Aeneas inténtis omnibus unus |
5.136 considunt transtris, inténtaque bracchia remis |
2.1 conticuere omnes inténtiqu(e) ora tenebant |

Of course, an unelided -que suffixed to venturi or intenti would move

the accent forward to the last syllable (-i). This is shown by the follow-
ing two examples:
2.50 ingéntem viribus hástam |
3.579 ingéntemqu(e) ínsuper Áetnam \ , but
5.118 ingentémque Gyas, ingènti mole Chimaeram |

where the anaphora with a variation of ictus is a feature of the poet's style.
5.647 divini signa decóris |
5.47 divíniqu(e) ossa paréntis |, but
3.442 divinósque lacus et Averna sonantia silvis |

where, as with ingentemque in 5.118, a stress on the second syllable

would be most unnatural; on the contrary, moving the main accent to
the penultimate, the natural place, tends to create a secondary accent
on the first syllable, again a natural place for it (ingentémque).
I have noted a score of other examples, of which I give five: on the
left the form with elided -que, on the right the unexpanded form about
whose stress accent there can be no doubt:
 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL 87

I.152 arréctisqu(e) auribus astant 2.303 arréctis auribus asto

2.301 armórumqu(e) ingruit horror 3.520 velórum pandimus alas
9.24 onerávitqu(e) aethera votis 10.620 onerávit limina donis
II.826 Troiánosqu(e) arceat urbe 5.420 Troiános exue caestus
12.848 ventósasqu(e) addidit alas 8.449 ventósis follibus auras

This will reinforce the general proposition that an elided -que, attached
to a word ending in a final long syllable, does not change the stress
accent of that word.
It is a fair inference that in all Virgil's hypermeters in -que the addi-
tion of the enclitic does not affect the accentuation; and that we should
recite the endings as
frigúsque calóremqu(e) |
hominúmque ferárumqu(e) |
Scyllámque Charybdinqu(e) |

and thus preserve the coincidence of ictus and accent at the end of the
hexameter.
This may enable us to recognize that what might otherwise have
seemed an anarchistic and musically harsh anomaly does not after all
constitute such an outrageous innovation; and it may enable us to solve
a difficulty with the first of Virgil's hypermeters, the only one which
does not involve -que. The difficulty is this. Why did Virgil, clearly in-
terested in experimenting with hypermeter, almost totally limit himself
to verses ending in -que? His verse ending in ümör(em) has won the
appreciation of many commentators, whereas most of those ending in
-que have, on the whole, left those same commentators indifferent and
even baffled as to his purposes. And yet one would have thought that
words of molossus length, like umorem, offered the poet many striking
opportunités of producing sound effects. How strange that Virgil passed
up the possibility of achieving some sensational effect in contexts of
fear and doubt, vastness and enormity, exhaustion and hesitation! There
was certainly no shortage of words: terrorem, suspensum, immensum,
ingentem, defessum, cunctantem, and a host of others readily spring to
mind as capable of interchange with umorem as the final word in a
hypermetric hexameter.
Bentley, it may be recalled, held that in the first line of the Andria
(Poeta quom primum animum ad scribendum appulit) ictus and accent co-
incided in the word scribendum and therefore elision had caused
recession of the stress-accent. Though he persuaded a number of schol-
ars, the prevalent opinion today is that he was wrong: the elision of a
final syllable which is an inflection has no effect on a word's accent,
and it does not seem natural that the stress on a word should be retro-
spectively affected by the initial phoneme of a word which happens to
88 G. P. GOOLD

follow it. So umorem, even elided, as it was at G. 1.295, must have been
pronounced with a stress accent on the penultimate syllable: this would
have meant that the verse ended in - not ' - , a metrical imperfection.
It is unlikely that Virgil wanted the reader to mispronounce the line (.. .Volcano
décoquit úmor(em)), compelling the metrical momentum to prevail over
the correct stress; rather, it seems, his considered opinion was that such
a hypermeter was inartistic, and it was for this reason that he never
repeated it.

Finally, a word on elision. We can all scan Virgil's hexameters so as

to elicit the six feet with their longs and shorts. But precisely how were
elisions articulated? Ancient testimony is regrettably ambiguous to the
point of being inconclusive, and scholars differ in their speculations.
Rather than attempt a definitive exposition I shall simply give my own
beliefs and practice, indicating what has led me to them.
When two vowels (or diphthongs) come together and an elision
takes place, one of three things must occur: (1) the first vowel is com-
pletely eliminated; (2) the second vowel is completely eliminated
(prodelision or aphaeresis); (3) synaliphe, which I believe to happen most
of the time—the first vocalic component is sounded, but so lightly as
not to consume any metrical time (how this is effected is illustrated
well enough in Italian song and poetry, so that it needs no demonstra-
tion here).
Complete elimination of the elided vowel must often h a p p e n with
-e, particularly with -que, as I hope to have suggested by my exposi-
tion of hypermeters, and also with -ä before a- (as for example in 4.629
arm(a) armis). But, fully granting that there was not the slightest ambi-
guity, I am not persuaded that in the first line of Book 2 Virgil uttered
conticuer rather than conticuer(e).
Orthodoxy regards prodelision as occurring only before est (unem-
phatic) and es. That it was not so limited and, in particular, often
occurred before et is suggested by a number of passages which, other-
wise, w o u l d compel a most u n n a t u r a l stress being placed on the
conjunction. Just imagine the following:
1.424-25 molírique árc et mánibus subvólvere sáxa,
párs optáre lócum téct et conclùdere súlco

1.563-64 rés dur et régni nóvitas me tália cógunt

molír et láte finis custóde tuéri

I have indicated the natural stress-accent of the words, from which it is clear
that et, though it carries the ictus four times, is not an important semantic
ingredient and, moreover, obscures the preceding inflection, which is.
Here are a handful of the hundreds of passages which might be adduced:
 HYPERMETER AND ELISION IN VIRGIL 89

1.462 sunt lacrimae rér et méntem mortalia tangunt

1.614 casu deinde viri tánt, et sic ore locuta est
1.679 dona ferens pélag et flámmis restantia Troiae
2.25 nos abiisse rát et vènto petiisse Mycenas
2.280 compellare vir et máestas expromere voces
2.774 obstipui, steteruntque cóm et vox faucibus haesit

The last example struck F. W. Shipley as so improbable an example of

elision that he suggested (TAPA 55 [1924] 152 ff.) that it must have been
pronounced steteruntque comae't vox . . ., a suggestion that has found
favour with Soubiran. No doubt in principle this is correct, but it may
be more accurate to regard these cases as a special kind of synizesis in
which, unlike the normal fusion of vowels into a diphthong, the first
rather than the second element predominates, thus: comae (e)t rather
than com(ae) et. It is significant that almost all these cases involve long
syllables. There are only four exceptions (where the resultant syllable
is the second short of the first foot):

E. 3.86 Polli(o) et ipse facit nova carmina: . . .

E. 4.12 Polli(o), et incipient. . .
I.391 nunti(o) et in tutum . . .
II.503 aude(o) et Aeneadum . . .

Of course, only in this way can a word of cretic measure be brought

into the hexameter. I believe the final -o was quickly uttered and con-
sumed no metrical time. Sidney Allen (Accent and Rhythm [Cambridge
1973] 144) denies that this is possible and that any kind of blending of
two vowels must produce a heavy (i.e. long) syllable. Presumably he
regards a total suppression of the elided syllable as taking place: Polli
et ipse ... and so on. Against this I should contest whether it is correct
to straightjacket syllables into two quantities only, long (heavy) and
short (light), each absolutely identical in duration: some long syllables
are longer than others; some short syllables are shorter than others;
and the rhetorical demands of the context compel the rhythmical con-
tinuum to accommodate elided vowels almost extra metrum without
offending the ear. The ultimate test would be whether the ear is able to
accept and take pleasure in the composition; but in the case of Virgil,
since we cannot know what pleased him and his audience and thus
cannot submit him to that test, only painstaking analysis to determine
what he allowed and what he eschewed is likely to guide us to a reli-
able appreciation of his practice.

Y A L E UNIVERSITY
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA

B Y DIRK OBBINK

1. INTRODUCTION

Among numerous similarities between Vergil and Philodemus, there

is none so striking as their common concern for the parallel universes
of pietas and εύοέβεια and the concern they demonstrate over represen-
tations of the divine. Vergil's attitudes toward piety on the one hand,
and Hellenistic philosophy (especially Stoicism and Epicureanism) on
the other, have been extensively discussed, 1 especially (though not ex-
clusively) in connection with the Aeneid. This paper offers as a modest
contribution to the discussion and as a tribute to a superb Latinist a
critical edition of a column of a Greek text from Philodemus' De pietate
which illuminates the philosophical background to Iuturna's lament
in Aeneid 12 and may well offer a textual link closer still.
Both Vergil and Philodemus in the passages given below draw an
ironic contrast between the intense but comparatively brief sufferings
of humans and the equally painful yet eternal sufferings of the gods.
Vergil's early education in Hellenistic theology pervaded his writing
and persisted throughout his career. Comparison with the passage of
Philodemus (and its parallel texts) shows Vergil in the process of staging
Epicureanism by putting an Epicurean criticism of the gods of Greek
mythology in the mouth of a fully mythicised, divine actress in his
imperial cosmos. Although she is immortal, Iuturna is depicted as
inferior and worsted in the action and as suffering a mortal's plight.
She is made to complain of her own less than perfect divine existence.
She thus appears in the epic as an embodiment of debased human beliefs
about the gods' nature. Vergil is thus seen to have drawn on Philodemus
(or a common source) in order to evacuate Iuturna of her own divinity,
paving the way for a reformed mythological theology by implication.
At the same time she remains true in her characterisation to Vergil's
mythological models, in particular Homer. A similar strategy may be
glimpsed in Vergil's treatment of other less than perfect gods and heroes
in the Aeneid.

1 P. Hardie, Virgil's Aeneid: Cosmos and Imperium (Oxford 1986); V. Mellinghoff-

Bourgerie, Les incertitudes de Virgile. Contributions épicuriennes à la théologie de l'Enéide
(Collection Latomus 210, Bruxelles 1990).
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 91

2. THE GODDESS'S COMPLAINT

At Aeneid 1 2 . 8 4 3 - 8 6 Iuppiter sends a fury and Iuturna plunges into her

river. Her lament strikes a discordant note in the operatic overture that
is the end of the Aeneid. Forced into a bargain with his h a r p y wife for
the intermarriage of Trojans and Latins, Iuppiter sends one of his t w o
divine foot-servants (Dirae = Curses) to command Iuturna to desist from
her assistance to her brother in his battle with Aeneas. To Iuturna's
ears, their approach is Turnus' death-knell (12.865-86):

hanc uersa in faciem Turni se pestis ob ora

fertque refertque sonans clipeumque euerberat alis.
illi membra nouus soluit formidine torpor,
arrectaeque horrore comae et uox faucibus haesit.
At procul ut Dirae stridorem agnouit et alas,
infelix crinis scindit Iuturna solutos
unguibus ora soror foedans et pectora pugnis:
'quid nunc te tua, Turne, potest germana iuuare?
aut quid iam durae superat mihi? qua tibi lucem
arte morer? talin possum me opponere monstro?
iam iam linquo acies. ne me terrete timentem,
obscenae uolucres: alarum uerbera nosco
letalemque sonum, nec fallunt iussa superba
magnanimi louis, haec pro uirginitate reponit?
quo uitam dedit aeternam? cur mortis adempta est
condicio? possem tantos finire dolores
nunc certe, et misero fratri comes ire per umbras!
immortalis ego? aut quicquam mihi dulce meorum
te sine, frater, erit? o quae satis ima dehiscat
terra mihi, Manisque deam demittat ad imos?'
tantum effata caput glauco contexit amictu
multa gemens et se fluuio dea condidit alto.

The irony of Iuturna's words—it is a goddess (884, 887) w h o must suf-

fer, and thus suffer eternally—is matched by her actions, which suggests
a goddess deeply conflicted over the status of her o w n divinity. The
veiling of her head 2 would normally suggest a sacrifice, especially of a
h u m a n (like Iphigenia) or a suicide (like Antigone). It is noteworthy
how heavily laden—it is practically a cento—the passage is with ver-
bal reminiscences and quotations from Aeneid 4: 3

2 12.885 caput glauco contexit amictu·, cf. however 8.33 glauco uelabat amictu of an-

other river-god (Tiber).

3 Some of these resemblences are observed by A. Barchiesi, "Il lamento di Giuturna,"

M D 1 ( 1 9 7 8 ) 1 0 4 - 1 0 5 , but I have augmented his list. H e suggests (p. 106) that they em-
ploy conventional stylistic topoi associating Vergil's narrative with the genre of tragedy.
92 DIRK OBBINK

At the beginning: 866 fertque refertque so(nans) ~ 4.438fertque refertque

so(ror); 868 arrectaeque horrore comae et uox faucibus haesit = 4.280
uerbatim (cf. uox faucibus haesit = line-end at 2.773,3.48); 871 unguibus
ora soror foedans et pectora pugnis = 4.673 verbatim (cf. 4.589 terque
quaterque manu pectus percussa decorum); 873 aut quid iam durae superat
mihi? ~ 4.681 sic te ut posita crudelis abessem. In the middle: 876 obscenae
uolucres ~ 4.455 obscenum . . . cruorem; 878 magnamini Iouis. haec pro
uirginitate reponit? ~ 4.372 nec Saturnins haec oculis pater aspicit aequis;
881 misero fratri comes ire per umbras ~ 4.677 comitemne sororem / spreuisti
moriens? 882 quicquam mihi dulce meorum ~ 4.317 fuit aut tibi quicquam
/dulce meum. At the end: 883 (sati)s ima dehiscat ~ 4.24 (priu)s ima dehiscat
(cf. 10.675; II. 4.182 etc. τότε μοι χάνοι ευρεία χθων); 884 manis(que). ..
ad irnos ~ 4.287 manis . . . sub irnos; 886 multa gemens ~ 4.395 multa
gemens (also at 1. 465).

That the passage reverberates with the language of Aeneid 4 so as to

frame it (it is absent immediately before and disappears after), together
with the correspondence of theme—the impending demise of an influ-
ential female character—can hardly escape notice. 4 It is in her mortality
that Dido is thereby compared to Iuturna—an ironical note, since, as
Iuturna herself points out (882), she herself is in fact not (like Dido)
mortal. But Iuturna has special reason to complain. Unlike the mortal
Dido who is at least granted the cessation of pain that comes with a
mortal's death, Iuturna laments the death of her brother, since, although
a goddess, she will suffer its pain for all time.
Iuturna's lament has become programmatic for discussions of the
end of the Aeneid, which flounder on the possibility of an unfinished
poem and the philosophical indeterminacy of Vergil's psychology of
emotions. 5 Vergil scholars may be surprised to learn of the existence of
a near-contemporary prose account setting out the philosophical back-
ground of Iuturna's learned lament. Coming from the second part of
Philodemus' treatise De pietate, it similarly frames the topic of piety or
mythological theology, insofar as it comments on a way (or a way not)

M y point is somewhat different: Vergil echoes the rhetoric of Dido's suicide in order to
underscore the potential irony of a divinity's attempt to mimic it.
4 Not all these, of course, refer directly to Dido or her death. At 4 . 3 9 5 it is Aeneas

who is multa gemens (over his o w n problems, not Dido's).

5 In addition to Barchiesi (above n. 3) see C. Perkell, " T h e L a m e n t of Juturna: Pa-

thos and Interpretation in the Aeneid," TAPA 127 (1997) 2 5 7 - 8 6 . On Vergil's Epicurean
psychology of emotions in the Aeneid and especially its ending, see M. Erler, " D e r Zorn
des Helden. Philodems 'De Ira' und Vergils Konzept des Zorns in der 'Aeneis'," GrazBeitr
118 (1992) 1 7 1 - 2 0 0 ; K. Galinsky, " H o w to be Philosophical about the End of the Aeneid,"
ICS 19 (1994) 1 9 1 - 2 0 1 ; cf. J. Annas, "Epicurean E m o t i o n s , " GRBS 30 (1989) 1 4 5 - 6 4 ; J.
Procopé, "Epicureans on Anger," in G. W. Most, H. Petersmann, and A. M. Ritter, eds.,
Philanthropia kai Eusebeia: Festschrift für Albrecht Dihle (Göttingen 1993) 3 6 3 - 8 6 .
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 93

to represent the gods, by describing the sufferings of the gods as repre-

sented in poetry and myth.

3. PHILODEMUS, Περί εύοεβείαα P. HERC. 4 3 3 FR. 2 COL. 2 + 1 0 8 8 FR. I 6

μ[ 433 2 col. 2
CK[

20/3 π[ e-]
θαι[
δετ[
ύπο[
ναι τ[
25/8 "Hpac[
δετ[
"Ομηρ[<κ κ α ι Πείοαν- Homerus
ôpoc [ t à c ουμφοροκ Pisander
29/12 κ α ί μ [ a v { a c έ π ' α ύ - II
xoî]c èicne7tc^[<pÓTec 1088 1
π α ν τ α χ ] ό θ ε ν κ [ α ί πά-
λι] ν ταλαιπωρ[οτ]έ-
ρ ο ι κ ] των έχ[όντ]ων
έξηΰ]ρον αύτοίκ καί
κακ]άο ύ [ π ] ο λ ή ψ ε ι ο [πε-
ρί α ] ύ ι ώ ν · οι με[ν γαρ
ον]τε€ θνητοί πα-
ρ]αγρα[πτέ]οικ εχου-
10 c ] i iàc κακοπαθί-
ac. οί δ ' ά ε ί ζώντεο
aïωvíoυc άναδέ-
χ ο ν τ α ι τάο ουμφο-
pác. α μ α [δ]ή κ α ί
15 vocoûvTa(c) πεποι-
ή ] κ α α τ[ο]ν Ή ρ α κ λ έ -
α] κ α ί την [Λητ]ώ [καί
δ ι ] ά z a c [τή(:] " H p a c
άγ]ανακ[τήοειο,] ώ { ι } -
20 δ ] ε ί ν ο ν [ τ α δε κ ] α ί τον
Δ ί α , τον [δέ] Ή ρ α κ λ έ -

The first was published (without restorations) by Th. Gomperz, Philodem über
Frömmigkeit (Herculanische Studien, zweites Heft, Leipzig 1866) 29; the second by id.
ibid. p. 36, re-edited by W. Luppe, "Leiden und Krankheiten der Götter bei Philodem,
De pietate 1088 I," CErc 16 (1986) 67-69. I discovered the link between the two col-
umns during preparation for a complete edition of Philodemus' De pietate (On Piety 2,
Oxford forthcoming), and offer here a substantially improved version.
94 DIRK OBBINK

α καί μα[νί]α(ι) κ α τ ά [ ο
χετον [doc] Co<po- Soph. VGF voL 4 F 810, lì·. e.g. 784
κλήο [ κ α ί Ε ] ύ ρ ι π ί - Eur. Hercules Furens
25 ÔT|c, κ [ α ί τό]ν Δ ι ό ν υ -
COV <á[c Ά χ ] α ι ό κ έν Ε [ ϊ - Achaeus TrGF vol. 1 20 F 20
ρ ι δ ε ι ο α τ [ ύ ρ ] ο κ καν
Φ ε ρ ] ε κ [ ύ δ τ κ ό] Ά θ η - Pheiecyd.FGrHtst3F91=EGM91
29 v a î ] o c . κ α [ ί x]oîc θ ε - II

.7
APPARATUS CRITICUS'

P. Here. 433 2 col. 2 (HV 2 II 57, p. 29 G.) fontes [Π]Ν ad init. desunt 17 vv. 8 "Hpac
Philippson 10 "Ομηρ[οο καν Philippson 10 Πεκαν]1δρ<κ [έν Ήρακλείαι Schober coll.
II. 14.250 et aliis locis in quibus agitur de Hercule ab Iunone periculisque uexato:
Μέναν]δρ<χ Philippson 2 8 - 2 9 [xàc ευμφοροκ] I καί μ[ανίαε έπ' αύΙΙτοκ sc. θ ε ο κ ego, cf.
1088 1.13-14 ¿υμφοίράί, 22 μα[νί]α(ι) 12 s. columnas coniunxi

P. Here. 1088 1 (HV2 II 86, p. 36 G.) fontes [Π]Ν 1 έκπεπομ[φότεε vel έκπεπόμ[φαίΐ
Luppe: έκπεπολε[μωΙμένο\κ Philippson 2 πανταχ]όθεν Luppe: οθεν Q u a r a n t a - G o m p e r z
κ[αί Quaranta 2 - 3 [πάΙλι]ν ego: [πολΙλώ]ι spatio longius Luppe 1 : κ[αί (spatio brevius)|
βίω]ι S c h o b e r 3 - 4 ταλαιπωρ[οτ]έΙ[ροικ] L u p p e : ταλαιπωρ[οτ]έΙ[ρωι] S c h o b e r :
καλαιπώρ[ου]ς I [έκ Quaranta: ταλαιπωρ[ία]ς Gomperz 4 έχ[όντ]ων Luppe: έ χ [ θ ί « ] ω ν
Schober: έχ[θρ]ών Gomperz 5 έξηΰ]ρον sc. ποιηταί Luppe: εφυ]ρον Schober: φανε]ρον
Philippson: πονη]ρόν Quaranta 5 - 6 κακ]άε Luppe: κα{ι)1τά x]àc Schober: a ï 5 i ] a c
Philippson: T]ÒC Gomperz: nác]ac Quaranta ύ[π]ολήψεκ Q u a r a n t a - G o m p e r z 6-7
[πεΙρί] Luppe 7 α]ύτών Philippson: καί (δέ Schober) I το]ύτων Quaranta 7 οί με[ν
Bücheler [γάρ] Gomperz 8 öv]t8c Quaranta-Gomperz: [γεγοΙνό]τεο Philippson 8-
9 παΙ[ρ]αγρα[πτέ]ουο ego: παΙ[ρ]αγρά[πτ]οικ Quaranta-Gomperz: πεΙ[ρ]ιγρά[πτ]ου( contra
spationem et vestigiis Bücheler unde Luppe 9 - 1 0 εχουΙ[ο]ι Q u a r a n t a - G o m p e r z 11
αμα Quaranta: άλλα N a u c k 8 - G o m p e r z [δ]ή Nauck 15 vocoûvTa(c) Schober: vocoûvxa
edd. ceteri 1 5 - 1 6 πεποιΙ[ή]κα« Q u a r a n t a - G o m p e r z 1 6 - 1 7 τ[ό]ν ΉρακλέΙ[α]
Quaranta-Gomperz 17 [Λητ]ώ Nauck [καί ego: [ . . Ν 18 δι]ά τάο [τήε] "Hpac
Luppe: η ρ lineam direct, sup. ut γ, ξ, π, τ, sed η excluso, tum hastam ut ι sed satis distat
ab α ut possis ρ Ν: [καΙτ]ά zac [ώδ]ΐναε Bücheler: πλ]άνοκ Schmid 19-20 άγ]ανακ[τήίειο,]
ώ| ι)Ι[δ]είνον[τα δε κ]αί Luppe: κ]άντικ[έίτ]ως[άλΙγ]εΐν velώδ[ίΙν]ειν έν [λοχί]αι Schober 2 :
κ]ανακ[τα θε]ώ[ν I δ]εινόν (έλε]εινόν Schmid) [είναι Gomperz 20 [δέ] Luppe: [äc]
Quaranta-Gomperz 2 0 - 2 1 κ]α! τον I Δία iam Nauck, δ angulus inf. dext. δ 21 τον
Nauck: ν lineam diag. cum hasta in sin. part, ut ν Ν [δε] Schober 2 1 - 2 2 ΉρακλέΙα
Gomperz: lineam direct, sup. ut γ, ξ, π, τ sed η excluso, tum αμε, κλ male lectum ut μ Ν
22 μα[νί]α<ι) Schmid 1 : μα[λ' spatio brevius Nauck 2 2 - 2 3 κατά[<:]Ιχετον Quaranta:
άκατά[ε]Ιχετον Nauck 23 [ώο] Quaranta-Gomperz: [ . . . ] Ν 2 4 - 2 5 [καί Ε]ύρίπίΙδηο

7 Underscored letters indicated a correction b y the editor of the letters transcribed

by the nineteenth-century copyist, in cases where the papyrus no longer exists to con-
firm the c o r r e c t i o n . B e r n a r d o di Q u a r a n t a w a s a p r o m i n e n t N e a p o l i t a n s c h o l a r
commissioned b y the Bourbon kings and Neapolitan Academy to produce the editio
princeps of Philodemus' De pietate. His manuscript remains unpublished in the Biblioteca
Nazionale, Naples.
8 A. Nauck, " Ü b e r Philodemus περί εύεεβείαο," Bulletin de l'Académie Impériale des
Sciences de St-Pétersbourg 7 (1864) 191-220 (4/16 Mar.); "Nachtrag zu den Bemerkungen
über Philodemus περί εύοεβείαο," ibid. 5 6 8 - 7 6 (24 Jun./6 Jul.) = Mélanges Gréco-romains
tirés du Bulletin de l'Académie Impériale de St-Pétersbourg 2 (1866) 5 8 5 - 6 2 6 , 6 2 7 - 3 8 .
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, A N D THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 95

Quaranta-Gomperz 25 κ[αί τό]ν Nauck: κ[ακό]ν Quaranta 26-27 Nauck 28-29

Quaranta-Gomperz 29 post ]oc distinxit dubitanter Gomperz 29 ss. pergere κα[ί
Î ] O Î C 6ell[oîc και xoîc άνθρώποιχ δυεμενέετατον, sc. Hercules e.g. Gomperz, vel Liberum
D. Sutton, Eos 62 (1974) 209, fort. x]oîc θεΙΙ[ολόγοκ temptandum

T H E TEXT IN C O N V E N T I O N A L LAYOUT

"Hpac [ ]1δετ[ ]l "Ομηρ[οε καί rieícav]l6poc [xàc

ουμφοράε] I καί μ[ανία<: έπ' αύΙΙτοΐ]ο έκπεπομ[φότεο I πανταχ]όθεν κ[αί
πάΙλι]ν ταλανπωρ[οτ]έΙ[ρουο] των έχ[όντ]ων I [έξηΰ]ρον α ύ τ ο ΐ κ καί I
[ κ α κ ] ά ο ύ [ π ] o λ ή ψ ε ι c [πεΙρί α ] ύ τ ώ ν · οΐ μέ[ν γ α ρ I ον]τεο θ ν η τ ο ί
παΙ[ρ]αγρα[πτέ]ουο εχουΙ[<:]ιτάο κακοπαθίΙαε. οί δ ' άεί ζώντεο I αίωνίουο
άναδέίχονται τάο ουμφοίροχ. δίμα [δ]ή καί I νοοοΰντα(ε) πεποιΙ[ή]καει
τ[ό]ν Ή ρ α κ λ έ Ι [ α ] κ α ί την [Λητ]ώ [καν I δ ι ] ά τάο [τήο] " ü p a c I
[άγ]ανακ[τήοεκ,] ώΙ[δ]είνον[ταδέκ]αίτόν I Δία, τον [δέ] ΉρακλέΙα καί
μα[νί]α(ι) κατά[ο]1χετον [á>c] (ΙοφοΙκλήο [καί Ε]ύριπίΙδηο, κ[αί τό]ν
ΔνόνυΙοον á[c Άχ]αιόο έν Ε[ϊ]1ριδει οατ[ύρ]οιε καί I [Φερ]εκ[ύδηο ό]
ΆθηΙ[ναι]οο. κα[1 x]oîc θε-ΙΙ

TRANSLATION

. . . Hera (several words missing). H a v i n g inflicted 9 s u f f e r i n g a n d m e n -

tal illness u p o n t h e m (i.e. gods) f r o m all sides, H o m e r a n d P i s a n d e r
h a v e i n t r o d u c e d t h e m (together w i t h d e b a s e d ideas a b o u t t h e m ) as
b e i n g e v e n m o r e w r e t c h e d still t h a n those (i.e. h u m a n s ) w h o really
d o h a v e such troubles. 1 0 For the latter g r o u p 1 1 h a v e s u f f e r i n g s w h i c h
m u s t reach a conclusion, 1 2 since they a r e m o r t a l . But t h e f o r m e r
g r o u p , 1 3 b e c a u s e they live forever, e n d u r e w o e s that last for all eter-
nity. 14
At the s a m e time 1 5 they (i.e. poets a n d m y t h o g r a p h e r s ) h a v e also 1 6
r e p r e s e n t e d Heracles as s u f f e r i n g f r o m illness, a n d Leto as s u f f e r i n g
f r o m illness also on account of H e r a ' s o u t b u r s t s of w r a t h , a n d Z e u s as
s u f f e r i n g p a i n s of childbirth (viz. at the b i r t h of D i o n y s u s f r o m his
thigh), a n d Heracles as seized b y insanity, as Sophocles (in Women of
Trachis) a n d E u r i p i d e s (in Madness of Heracles) d i d , a n d D i o n y s u s as

9
Literally: "sent out to," "exported" from our world onto the gods,' i.e. in the
narratives of the poets.
10
viz. the suffering and mental illness mentioned above.
11
sc. those who really have these troubles, viz. humans.
12
i.e. death (literally: "which are going to have an end-mark").
13
viz. gods introduced by poets like Homer and Pisander.
14
Cf. Longinus, De sublimitate 9.7: "Homer has done his best to make the men in
the Iliad gods and the gods men. Vet, if we mortals are unhappy, death is the 'harbour
from our troubles,' whereas Homer has made their miseries rather than their divine
nature immortal." See discussion below.
15
sc. at the same time as they have represented them as living forever.
16
sc. in addition to suffering from labours imposed by Hera.
96 DIRK OBBINK

s e i z e d b y i n s a n i t y , a s A c h a e u s in his s a t y r - d r a m a Iris17 a n d P h e r e c y d e s
of A t h e n s 1 8 did. A n d for t h e g o d s 1 9 [end of c o l u m n ]
20
Philodemus draws a contrast between mortals (and dying gods )
and the gods of traditional epic poets (Homer and Pisander) who,
though anthropomorphic, live eternally. Iuturna complains that if she
were mortal, she would easily bring her woes to an end, whereas as a
goddess she must suffer them eternally. The passage from Philodemus
was first drawn into comparison with Vergil by Alessandro Barchiesi. 21
It is close enough to suspect (we cannot say prove) acquaintance on
Vergil's part. A constellation of parallel passages (discussed below) clus-
tering in the middle of the first century BC suggests that Iuturna's lament
at the end of the Aeneid was designed as a conscious recollection of the
contemporary philosophical milieu, perhaps dating to the middle of
the century and Vergil's own education at Naples. Cicero, writing in
the 40s, certainly knew the passage and translated a whole section from
the same work by Philodemus at De natura deorum 1.25-A2. Writing on
16 August 45 BC he summarised the section of the treatise from which
the present passage derives as follows (1.42):

e x p o s u i fere n o n p h i l o s o p h o r u m iudicia sed d e l i r a n t i u m s o m n i a . nec

e n i m m u l t o absurdiora sunt ea quae p o e t a r u m u o c i b u s fusa ipsa
s u a u i t a t e n o c u e r u n t , q u i et ira i n f l a m m a t o s et l i b i d i n e furentis
i n d u x e r u n t d e o s f e c e r u n t q u e ut e o r u m bella proelia p u g n a s u u l n e r a
u i d e r e m u s , odia praeterea discidia discordias, o r t u s interitus, querellas
l a m e n t a t i o n e s , e f f u s a s in o m n i i n t e m p e r a n t i a l i b í d i n e s , adulteria,
uincula, c u m h u m a n o genere concubitus mortalisque ex inmortali
procreatos.

Cicero's summary apes the compilation style of Philodemus' De pietate,

the second part of which consists of an extended catalogue, running to

17 TrGF vol. 1 20 F 20 = p. 525 Krumeich-Pechstein-Seidensticker, Das griechische

Satyrspiel (Darmstadt 1999). In the drama Iris was represented as raped by satyrs while
acting as a messenger for the gods. Philodemus adds that Dionysus w a s represented as
"seized by m a d n e s s , " perhaps w h e n inciting the satyrs to the attack, or leading a band
of Maenads to come to Iris' rescue.
18 FGrHist 3 F 91, EGM 91 Fowler.
19 This phrase probably begins a new sentence.
2 0 Philodemus earlier in De pietate devotes an entire section to criticism of gods

depicted by poets, historians, and mythographers as susceptible to death: in particular

Egyptian divinities are singled out for mention (247 3 . 1 9 - 2 3 ) , together with those of
Greek poets and mythographers (like Hesiod), who, having been born, also died.
2 1 W h o kindly brought the parallel to m y attention: Barchiesi (above n. 3) 105. A

connection between the same passage of Philodemus (without mention of Vergil) and
Longinus 9.7 (discussed below) had already been noted by W. Bühler, Beiträge zur
Erklärung der Schrift vom Erhabenen (Göttingen 1964) 31.
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 97

over a hundred columns, listing improprieties of the gods as depicted

by poets, mythographers, and philosophers. Philodemus lists passages
from famous Greek authors which illustrate the gods' birth, death, sexu-
ality, suffering, etc.—i.e. qualities deemed inappropriate of the gods in
the philosophical tradition of criticism of poetry. The papyrus roll was
broken open in the eighteenth century and its texts copied, at which
time the original order of most of the columns was lost. Even the origi-
nal papyri of many of its texts were lost, and the reassembly of the
papyrus roll has involved the painstaking analysis of the apographs
and surviving papyri and a reconstruction of the original order of col-
umns. 1088 fr. 1 survives only in a single copy, the Neapolitan apograph
(N) drawn in 1800. Discovery of the preceding column, 433 fr. 2 col. 2,
in preparation of a new edition provides little text but, equally impor-
tant, the subjects (Homer and Pisander) of the sentence continued in
the following column. Indeed the theme of the preceding column (433
fr. 2 col. 2), fragmentary as it is, seems to have been Hera's harassment
of gods like Heracles and Dionysus. This subject is then continued in
1088 fr. 1 after a digression which compares the gods' suffering to mor-
tals, also the subject of Iuturna's lament: why must the gods suffer? Why
would a god inflict suffering on another, or on humans?
W. Luppe already in 1986 cleverly divined that the subject must be
the poets, by comparison with 15-16 πεποιΙ[ή]καα. We could as easily
follow Luppe in restoring έκπεπόμ[φαα] here and punctuating before
κ[αί] in 2. There is no space left by the scribe for punctuation, but nei-
ther does he consistently so punctuate. On the other hand, the participle
neatly states the reason for thinking that the early epic poets introduce
the gods in the form of false beliefs about them (6-7), namely because
they depict them as subjected to evils in their narratives (433 fr. 2 col.
2.28-1088 fr. 1.1); no god (according to the Epicureans) would have to
endure such treatment: they portray the gods as "even more wretched
still" than humans who do in fact suffer in this way. If we restore
[πανταχ]όθεν as suggested by Luppe in 2, the more likely candidate for
an object is illnesses inflicted on the gods "from all sides," rather than
(as Luppe thought) that these poets (Homer and Pisander) sent out
Heracles etc. "from all directions."
In line 4, των έχ[όντ]ων must be a genitive of comparison with
ταλαιπωρ[οτ]έΙ[ρουο (= the gods). In this case των έχ[όντ]ων must be
entities other than the gods, presumably and suitably (by contrast)
mortals. The direct object, which these are said to 'have/ 'hold,' 'pos-
sess/ is not immediately apparent, apparently lost in or understood
from what precedes. F. Longo Auricchio suggests to me that the object
might be [κακ]άο ΰ[π]ολήψειο in 6 (with 5 καί taken meaning 'in addi-
tion/ i.e. to the fact that they must suffer): "more wretched than those
98 DIRK OBBINK

who have false beliefs about them as well," i.e. humans. But this re-
quires a main verb and adjective to be sandwiched in between a
participle and its object in a word order that seems too convoluted even
for Philodemus to have written or his readers to have understood.
Therefore we must look backward in the text for a direct object of
έχόντων. Luppe, taking έχόντων to be mortals, not unreasonably sug-
gests that the object might have been something like τελευτήν του βίου
(i.e. death), an object lost in the preceding column. "More wretched
than those having a τελευτήν του βίου (i.e. death)"; this could describe
either humans or the gods according to the myths. Now that we know
the identity of the preceding column (433 fr. 2 col. 2), we can be more
precise. More likely the object of έχόντων was various mortal deficien-
cies inflicted on the gods by e.g. Hera, according to Homer and Pisander,
or by the poets themselves, according to Philodemus. These must have
come in 433 fr. 2 col. 2.11-12. We have only the woefully fragmentary
433 fr. 2 col. 2.12 καί μ[ as a basis on which to reconstruct them. This
does not at first sight look like much to go on. But fortunately μ[ανίαν
may be easily supplied from 1088 fr. 1.22 μα[νί]α(ι), while τάο ουμφορόκ
(433 fr. 2 col. 2.11) is restored from ibid. 13-14 infra (ΐυμφοΙράκ, where
the author spells out what the gods of myth suffer from. (This seems
preferable to restoring κακοπαθίαο from ibid. 10-11 which is applied to
mortals, θνητοί, whereas ουμφοράο are said to be suffered by the gods,
οί δ άεΐ ζώντεο.) Thus, according to Philodemus, the gods are "even
more wretched still than those (i.e. humans) who endure real disas-
ters."
With 5 [έξηΰ]ρον may be compared Cie. Tuse. 1.65 fingebat haec
Homerus et humana ad deos transferebat: diuina mallem ad nos. The verb
έξευρίοκω is not otherwise used by Philodemus. But I cannot think of
another second aorist to accommodate the word-fragment ]pov. Schober
adroitly restored [εφυ]ρον, 'mix-up,' 'confuse/ and wished to construe
with it both amove (the gods) and ΰπολήψεκ περί αυτών as the things
that the poets were 'mixing-up,' or 'confusing,' so that Philodemus
would mean that they mistake 'false beliefs about the gods' for the real
gods themselves. This initially seems attractive. 22 But it runs fatally
aground on two counts: first, the imperfect tense with its continuous
aspect would be inexplicable and unexampled in a description of what

2 2 So attractive, in fact, that I am not sure that Luppe was aware of Schober's pro-

posed supplement: in the 1988 first printing of Schober's handwritten 1923 Königsberg
dissertation (written entirely in capitals) in Cronache Ercolanesi 18 (1988) the supple-
ment is rendered as "Εφυ]ρον, as though it were a personal name. I am certain that
Schober intended the verb, but I am undecided whether he intended it to be imperfect
or aorist (we would expect έφύρεεα for the latter, but its occurrence is apparently unex-
ampled, and a 2nd aorist is not inconceivable).
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 99

the early poets did: we need an aorist 23 or perfect which Philodemus

characteristically uses in such reports in De pietate (cf. 15-16
πεποιΙ[ή]καα), as far as I can tell without exception. Second, Philodemus
in his only other attested use of φύρω employs a different construction,
namely with the dative (of the thing something is 'confused with') in-
stead of two accusatives connected by καί as required here: compare
De mus. 39.2 Kemke [κατά τ]6 φύρειν τάο I κατά cpí>c[iv ά]ρετάο ταίο
δεΙδοξαομέ[ναι]ο, where the entities (in this case also beliefs) which the
άρεταί are said to be confused with are couched in the dative.
The choice of supplements (Luppe's [έξεΰ]ρον vs. Schober's
[εφυ]ρον) here radically alters the significance of the passage for Epi-
curean views on the gods. Note that Schober's restoration [εφυ]ρον puts
the gods and false beliefs in them on completely different levels: Homer
and Pisander err in mistaking one for the other in their stories of
Heracles, etc. Adopting Luppe's [έξηΰ]ρον gives a completely differ-
ent, and more precise sense, for while it distinguishes between them, it
puts the two, 'real' gods and false beliefs, on more or less the same
footing. Homer and Pisander do not simply 'mix things up'; they are
actually responsible for introducing and constructing real gods in the
form of our ideas of them. And this seems true to Philodemus' repre-
sentation of Epicurean theology elsewhere. 24 In the latter case, Homer
and Pisander invented them as even more wretched than humans who
really do suffer what the poets depict the gods as doing. In doing so
they also brought into existence false beliefs about the true nature of
the former. In this light καί might even be read as epexegetical, i.e.
αύτοίκ κ α ί . . . ύπολήψειο = 'the gods, i.e. false beliefs about them.' 25
A marked advance on the text of the passage from Philodemus is
achieved in 8-9 παΙ[ρ]αγρα[πτέ]ουο. I suggest that παραγράφειν
κακοπαθίαο here is echoed by Vergil at Aen. 12.879-80 as cur mortis
adempia est / condicio and finire dolores. Iuturna is 'cut-off' from the 'limi-
tation' that death provides to mortals. Furthermore, tantos . . . dolores
(tantos because she must suffer them for all time) can be seen as a rec-
ollection of Philodemus' αίωνίουο... xòc ουμφοΙράο (11-12) as applied to the
sufferings of the gods of myth. It should be noted that condicio is a hapax in

23
See, however, the previous note.
24
See D. Obbink, "All Gods are True in Epicurus," in D. Frede and A. Laks, eds.,
Traditions of Theology: Studies in Hellenistic Theology (forthcoming Leiden). Gods can be
more or less in conformity with our πρόληψιε of how we know (from a study of nature)
they must be. Both are essentially products of h u m a n thought, the one natural and the
other not.
25
6 - 7 ύ[π]ολήψεκ [πεΙρί α]ύτών: Cf. Epic. Ad Menoec. 124, Philod. De piet. vol. 1 v.
1408, De dis 1 col. 12.3, De mus. 4 col. 4.10-11. Luppe compares Arist. Politica 1339b7 την
ύπόληψιν ην εχομεν περί των θεών. Other examples listed in Lex. Philod. s.v. ύπόληψκ.
100 DIRK OBBINK

Vergil and a word from prose, possibly from the legal or mercantile sphere,
e.g. a restriction of normal legal rights in a contract or sale. Unlike
Iuturna, mortals not only may but must 'bring their cares to a conclu-
sion.' Whereas Vergil uses a technical term from contracts and legal docu-
ments for his description of death, P h i l o d e m u s ' m e t a p h o r i c a l
παραγραφείν derives from the scribal world of documents and book-
production. At De morte 39.18 Philodemus similarly calls death ή του βίου
παραγραφή. Horace famously at Ep. 1.16.79 refers to it as the ultima linea
rerum.26 At the end of De pietate Philodemus says that it is time to παρα-
γραφείν ("put the paragraphes to") the discussion (P. Here. 1428 col. 15.23).
παΙ[ρ]αγρα[πτέ]ουο is an obvious supplement here (ρα[. . . ]ουο Ν).
Previous editors were unware of the existence of three full letter-spaces
in the original apograph (N). They based their supplements on the space
in the engravings published in HV¿ II, which are unclear and imprecise
and could easily be interpreted as showing only two spaces. Thus
Gomperz restored παΙ[ρ]αγρά[πτ]ου<:, and he was followed in this by
Philippson and Schober. 27 Luppe adopts Bücheler's 2 8 correction of the
letters transcribed by the copyist to πεΙ[ρ]ιγρά[πτ]ου<:. This correction is
further sustained by Gigante 29 on the grounds that παραγράπτοο is a
uox nihili (cf. απαράγραπτο«:), while the adjective περιγράπτοο is securely
attested. But this is to ignore the letters transmitted in the apograph
and no doubt read by the Italian copyists. One would have to postu-
late that the papyrus had already been corrupted in antiquity from an
original περνγράπτουο to the non-existent παραγραπτουα Our new in-
formation that the papyrus showed three and not just two letter-spaces
allows us to restore the verbal adjective παραγραπτέουο from the well-
attested verb παραγραφείν, without any editorial alteration of the letters
copied by the copyists. The verbal adjective can carry connotations of
potentiality and futurity as well as obligation. It is not certain whether
any one of senses thereby allowed, i.e. 'terminable,' 'going to be termi-
nated,' or 'must needs be terminated,' are here any more commendable
than the other two. Vergil's condicio, however, suggests something more
like a requirement or stipulation, in keeping with the last translation,

2 6 For the topos see W. Schmid, Ethica Epicurea: Pap. Here. 1251 (Studia Herculanensia

1, Leipzig 1939) 71-72; id., "Contritio und 'ultima linea rerum' in neuen epikureischen
Texten," RhM 100 (1957) 326-27; D. Obbink, Philodemus on Piety: Critical Text with Com-
mentary Vol. 1 (Oxford 1996) 92-94, with further references.
2 7 R. Philippson, "Zu Philodems Schrift Über die Frömmigkeit," Hermes 56 (1921)
364-410; A. Schober, "Philodemi Περί εύοεβείοκ libelli partem priorem restituit Adolf
Schober," CErc 18 (1988) 67-125 (= in part diss. ined. Königsberg 1923).
2 8 Fr. Bücheler, "Philodemos Περί ειχεβείαο" JbClPh 91 (1865) 513-41 = Kleine
Schriften 1 (Leipzig and Berlin 1915) 580-612. Luppe (above n. 6) gives an image of the
original apograph (the only witness to the text).
29 CErc 8 (1978) 19.
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 101

' m u s t be terminated.' Could it even have been suggested by the verbal

adjective παραγραπτέουο in Philodemus?

4 . THE SUFFERING OF THE G O D S

That mortals can d e p e n d on death as bringing a cessation to ills, while

the gods m u s t suffer forever, is the second of the t w o m a i n p o i n t s
stressed by Iuturna in her soliloquy. I shall comment on it first, before
treating her first point (the cruelty of the gods, specifically Iuppiter) in
second place.
The idea that death brings mortals a welcome cessation from suf-
fering is not specifically Epicurean. 3 0 Socrates at Plato, Apologia 40c-d,
for example, can use it as one of two alternatives to be preferred to life.
That the gods in Homer and traditional epic poetry by contrast are eter-
nally subject to h u m a n ills is already noted by H o m e r himself, w h e n
Ares, w o u n d e d , complains to Zeus (II. 5.873): Ζεΰ πάτερ, ού νεμεαζη
όρων τάδε καρτερά εργα; / αίεί τοι ρίγιοτα θεοί τετληότεο είμέν / αλλήλων
ίότητι, χάριν άνδρεοοι φέροντεα Ares' speech in the Iliad might well have
served as Vergil's model for Iuturna's speech; Philodemus' w o r d s could
easily be a commentary on it. Translators of the Iliad generally miss the
irony contained in αίεί . . . θεοί τετληότεα not so Vergil. It w o u l d be
even more ironic in the case of an allusion to it by Iuturna, w h e r e the
god w h o is h a r m i n g another god is Iuppiter himself (and not Aphrodite
as in Homer). The concern enunciated by Philodemus and Iuturna in
Vergil m a y have even derived from a non-Epicurean, scholiastic tradi-
tion of criticism of Homer. Compare e.g. Porphyry, Quaest. Horn. 1.186.10
Sehr, ρητέον ούν οτι παρά τω ποιητή οι θεοί οωματικώο λαμβανόμενοι
ανθρώπων τοιο αύτοΐο ενέχονται πάθηοιν. Vergil's interest in the ancient
critical tradition on H o m e r and the detail in which the debates over
Homeric προβλήματα and the various competing λύοειο to these pro-
posed by famous Greek scholars have been the subject of fascinating if
insufficient study. 3 1 In this respect it is relevant that Longinus, De
sublimitate 9.7 makes a point similar very to Philodemus':

ά λ λ α τ α ΰ τ α φοβερά μεν, πλην ά λ λ α κ , εί μή κατ' ά λ λ η γ ο ρ ί α ν λ α μ β ά ν ο ι τ ο ,

π α ν τ ά π α ο ι ν α θ ε α καί ού c t ^ o v t a το π ρ έ π ο ν . "Ομηροο γ α ρ μοι δ ο κ ε ΐ
π α ρ α δ ι δ ο ΐ κ τ ρ α ύ μ α τ α θ ε ώ ν ciáczxc τ ι μ ω ρ ί α ο δ ά κ ρ υ α δ ε ε μ ά π ά θ η

30
On its specifically Epicurean associations see below.
31
R. R. Schlunk, The Homeric Scholia and the Aeneid: A Study in the Influence of Homeric
Literary Criticism on Vergil (Ann Arbor 1974). More recently: Tilman Schmit-Neuerburg,
Vergils Aeneis und die antike Homerexegese: Untersuchungen zum Einfluss ethischer und
kritischer Homerrezeption auf Imitatio und Aemulatio Vergils (Berlin 1999). On Homeric
scholarship in the Latin scholiastic tradition: G. Walter, Untersuchungen zur antiken
Äneiskritik (diss. Leipzig 1930).
102 DIRK OBBINK

πάμφυρτα τούο μεν επί των Ίλιακών άνθρώποικ öcov έπί τη δυνάμει θεούο
πεποιηκέναι, tox>c θεοίκ δέ άνθρώποικ. ά λ λ ' ήμίν μεν δικδαιμονοΰοιν
απόκειται "λιμήν κακών ό θάνατο«:," των θεών δ' ού την φ ύ α ν , ά λ λ α την
άτυχίαν έποίηοεν αίώνιον.

Terrible as these p a s s a g e s 3 2 are, they are utterly irreligious a n d breach

the canons of propriety u n l e s s o n e takes t h e m allegorically. I feel in-
d e e d that in recording as he d o e s the w o u n d i n g of the g o d s , their
quarrels, v e n g e a n c e , tears, imprisonment, and all their m a n i f o l d pas-
sions H o m e r has d o n e his best to make the m e n in the Iliad g o d s a n d
the g o d s men. Yet, if w e mortals are unhappy, death is the 'harbour
from our troubles,' w h e r e a s Homer: (a) has g i v e n the g o d s not o n l y
immortal natures but immortal sorrows; 3 3 or (b): has m a d e their mis-
eries rather than their divine nature immortal. 3 4

In the final sentence the latter translation (b) is clearly correct, for (as
Russell ad loc. notes) ού . . . άλλά cannot be understood as an abbreviated
form of the full οΰ μόνον . . . άλλα καί, so that the emphasis falls rather
firmly on άτυχίαν. I note further that this is precisely the emphasis given
to the topos by Philodemus. The gods, unlike mortals, suffer xàc
ουμφοΙράο (13-14) that are αίωνίουο (12), where αίωνίουο is clearly in
predicative, i.e. emphatic position. Longinus' reasoning follows a simi-
lar line to the ethical criticism of the gods as in Philodemus and Vergil.
But his point is different: namely that since such characteristics attrib-
uted to the gods by the poets are άπρεπεκ, if they are not understood
allegorically, then υψθ€ in the author in question will be lost, for the
gods' condition will not be ennobled but will be even worse than man's.
Since the dating of Longinus is unclear, the chronology of his re-
marks relative to Vergil's portrait of Iuturna in the Aeneid is uncertain.
M. Heath has recently argued for a very late date for Longinus. The
majority of scholars, however, have been content to see him as a pro-
duct of the late Republic or early Augustan period, closer in time to
Caecilius of Calactae whom he criticises, a time when the debate over
the appropriateness of allegory as an interpretive strategy was still at
full force. Thus the more traditional dating would put Longinus in the
same era as Philodemus and Caesar. But the jury on this matter is still
out as long as we lack a secure dating based on a complete analysis of
Longinus' prose. 35

32
II. 21.388 & 20.61-65 (Aidoneus fears that Poseidon might split the earth asunder
in the theomachia).
33
So Fyfe-Rhys Roberts-Russell in their Loebs.
34
G. M. A. Grube, trans., Longinus on Great Writing (New York 1957); Russell in his
commentary.
35 My contribution to the debate is to note that Longinus' terminology κατ'
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 103

The similarity of Longinus' remarks to Philodemus' in this pas-

sage w a s first noted by Bühler, 36 w h o also compares ("ähnlich, später")
Lucían, Iupp. conf. 7 οΰ γαρ άποχρήοει αϋτοκ το άθανάτουο είναι, <bc δι'
αύτο άμείνουο δοκενν. έπεί τοΰτό γε μακρφ χείρον èetiv, ε'ίγε τούο μεν καν
ò θάνατοο èc έλευθερίαν άφείλετο, ύμιν δέ èc άπειρον έκπίπτει το πράγμα
και άιδιοο ή δουλεία γίγνεται ΰπό μακρφ τφ λίνω οτρεφομένη. Similarly
the list of sufferings of the gods in the poets given by Longinus as
τραύματα θεών οτάοειο τιμωρίαο δάκρυα δεcμà πάθη πάμφυρτα recapitu-
lates m u c h the same sequence of topics covered in this part of De pietate,
and is very similar to that given by Cicero in his s u m m a r y of De pietate
at N.D. 1.42. The asyndetic, catalogue style exhibited by the two pas-
sages is noted by Bühler (above n. 21) 30: bella proelia pugnas uulnera (=
Longinus' τραύματα) . . ., odia praeterea discidia discordias (- cxáceic),
ortus interitus querelas lamentationes (= δ ά κ ρ υ α ) , effusas in omni
intemperantia libídines adulterio uincula (= δεομά; cf. Plato R. 378d "Hpac
δε δεομούο ΰπό ύέοο και Ήφαίοτου ρίψεκ ΰπό πατρόο, Isocrates 11.38
παίδων βρώοειο καί πατέρων έκτομάο και μητέρων δεομούο). Cf. also Clem.
Alex. Protr. 2.32 1 p. 23 St. δάκρυα καί πάθη. Further parallels w i t h
Longinus' πάθη πάμφυρτα are noted by E. N o r d e n , "Das Genesiszitat
in der Schrift v o m Erhabenen," AbhBerl (Kl. f. Sprachen, Literatur u n d
Kunst) 1954, 1.9: Iosephus, Ap. 2.241 την περί τάο μίξεκ άκραοίαν καί
τούο ερωταο; a n d w i t h L o n g i n u s ' τούο μεν άνθρώπουο . . . θεούο
πεποιηκέναι, τούο θεούο δέ άνθρώπουο cf. Heraclitus fr. 62 D. άθάντατοι
θνητοί, θνητοί αθάνατοι.
Longinus' catalogue omits births and deaths of the gods, and also
sexual activity, all of which are treated by Philodemus in De pietate a n d
given in s u m m a r y by Cicero at De natura deorum 1.43 (quoted above).
Longinus also omits the gods' servitudes and occupations, which are
treated by Philodemus b u t not mentioned b y Cicero. With this excep-
tion, there s e e m s to be b e h i n d L o n g i n u s ' a c c o u n t a s u m m a r y or
catalogue of breaches of ethical propriety by the gods of poetry m u c h
like Philodemus' (summarised by Cicero). Unlike Philodemus', it m a y
have licenced allegorical interpretation as a defense against such ob-
jections to the gods of the poets taken literally, in which case it m a y
well have been a Stoic source, w h e t h e r of earlier date like Philodemus',
or later in response to the Epicurean criticism, I cannot tell.
Longinus' description of death as a " h a r b o u r f r o m evils," λιμήν
κακών ό θάνατο«:, does not help very m u c h to n a r r o w d o w n that source,

άλληγορίαν (9.7) reflects the later (post-Augustan) terminology for allegory as found
e.g. in Pseudo-Heraclitus and Plutarch (e.g. in "How Young Poeple Should Read Po-
etry"). The pre-Hellenistic term (e.g. Plato) is ύπονοία, and Philodemus uses ¿υνοικείοχ ic,
apparently Chrysippus' term.
36
Above n. 21, 31.
104 DIRK OBBINK

in spite of its Epicurean ring, for as Russell (ad loc.) notes, it is a com-
mon metaphor: 3 7 TrGF vol. 2 Adespota F 369 λιμήν Ά'ίδαο άνιάν;
Epictetus 4.10.27 οΰτοο δ' έοτίν ό λιμήν πάντων ò θάνατοο αΰτη ή
καταφυγή. Jahn-Vahlen (Dionysii vel Longini De sublimitate libellus, ed.
4, Leipzig 1910) ad loc. add further examples: Plutarch Cons, ad Apoll.
10.106d τούτον (sc. Aeschylum) γαρ άπεμιμήοατο καί ό ειπών - ώ Θάνατε
παιάν μόλοιο; Sotades ap. Stob. Flor. 120.11 πάντων ò λιμήν των μερόπων
ό θάνατόο έοτιν; Cie. Tuse. 5.117 quid est tandem quod laboremus? portus
enim praesto est, quoniam mors ubi est, ibidem est aeternum nihil sentiendi
receptaculum; Plin. Nat. 2.27 imperfectae uero in homine naturae praecipua
solacia, ne deum quidem posse omnia, namque nec s ibi potest mortem
consciscere, si uelit, quod homini dedit optimum in tantis uitae poenis. Bühler
(above n. 21) 31 n. 2 notes further parallels: Sen. Her. O. 1021 mors sola
portus dabitur aerumnis meis; Ag. 590 cum pateat malis/effugium et miseros
libera mors uocet /portus aeterna placidus quiete (with R. J. Tarrant's note),
Suid. Θ 44 θάνατοι κακών άπόδραοκ καί ώοπερ εκ τινοο χειμώνοο
» λ 38
αναγκαιοο ορμοο.
Elsewhere in Epicurean contexts the image of the 'safe harbour' is
employed to convey the safety and security brought by philosophical
understanding. See, for example, Philod. Rhet. 4 P. Here. 463 fr. 13
καταπλείκαντεε I ek τον λιμένα (sc. of philosophy); more familiarly, Verg.
Catalepton 5.8-10: nos ad beatos uela mittimus portus, /magni petentes docta
dicta Sironis, / uitamque ab omni uindicabimus cura.
In these instances, of course, philosophical understanding would
include the Epicurean thesis that 'Death is nothing to us.' Philodemus
also employs this version of the topos in On Choices and Avoidances when
he writes: "From boyhood onward, he [the Epicurean] never casts off
from the mooring of philosophy" (col. 21.12-14 καί φιλοο[ο]φία[ο I
ο]ρμουο έκ νέου παιδοο ούΙδέπο[τ'] άφίετα[ι]). Here a new reading from
the papyrus by the most recent editors 3 9 triumphantly confirms
Comparetti's elegant [ο]ρμουο against Schmid's prosaic [θέ]ομουο. Os-
tensibly the point is that one should never cease studying philosophy,
either young or old, but stick to it throughout one's life, as Epicurus
had said. 40 Notoriously, the Epicureans took all comers, young, old,
men, women, children, even Epicurus' learned slave Mus. But the im-
age is also a canny reversal of Epicurus' infamous instructions to

3 7 A proverbial image. Longinus' words fall into iambics; they may, indeed, be a

quotation.
3 8 Cf. J. Warren, "Epicurean Immortality," OSAPh 18 (2000) 231-61.

39 Philodemus], [On Choices and Avoidances}, edd. G. Indelli and V. Tsouna-McKirahan

(La Scuola di Epicuro 15, Naples 1995).

40Men. 122;Philod. Πpòcτοίκ [col. 16.11-13 έκπαιΙδίου μέχριγηροκ ( p [ i ] X o l c o ( p T | c a v T e c .
 VERGIL, P H I L O D E M U S , A N D T H E L A M E N T O F I U T U R N A 105

2
Pythocles (fr. 89 Arr. ) regarding traditional education, which the bud-
ding philosopher was to be strictly warned against: "Hoist the sails of
your ship, my blessed man, and steer clear of every form of conven-
tional education" (παιδείαν δέ nâcav, μακάριε, φεΰγε τάκάτιον άράμενοο).
Epicurus' warning was itself an ironic echo of Circe's instructions to
Odysseus to flee the Sirens' song. 41 By anchoring his Epicurean to the
harbour of philosophy Philodemus has brought the image full circle,
replacing Homer the textbook with protreptics on pleasure and com-
mentaries on the κυριώτατα.42
It is interesting to note further43 that Longinus' phrasing of the topos
so that the harbour 'lies before one,' 'is open to one,' 'offers itself to
one,' 'is available to one' (απόκειται) seems to reflect a traditional for-
mulation: thus Cie. Tuse. 5.117 portus praesto est; 1.118 portum potius
paratum et perfugium putemus. Also in Longinus the dative of interest
ήμίν (for which see see Kiihner-Gerth 1.88 A. 4; cf. De subi. 35.2) carries
the implication that 'death is a harbour from evils' holds true for hu-
mans generally (but not for gods). The same point is made by
Philodemus and by Iuturna in the Aeneid.
The words λιμήν κακών ό θάνατοε in Longinus "fall into iambics"
(Russell). Possibly they are quoted (by Longinus or his source) from a
lost tragedy or (less likely on account of the metre) epigram. To sum
up: they may lend themselves to an Epicurean reading, but are not es-
sentially Epicurean. But the metaphor is certainly at home in Epicurean
philosophy, which more than once is itself characterised as a safe
'harbour' for 'mooring' of ethical principles. 44

5 . T H E CRUELTY OF THE GODS

The first of the two main complaints offered by Iuturna in her solilo-
quy is that her brother's death is ordered by Iuppiter himself
(12.877-79). She foresees in the coming of the Fury news from Iuppiter

41 Od. 12.47 (cf. 55) άλλα παρεξ έλάαν. Plut. De leg. poet. 15d makes the connection.

The image is as old as Alcaeus (fr. 6 = 326 L.-P.; cf. Hor. Carm. 1.14.16-20 on a philo-
sophical reading). Similarly, Philodemus concludes On the Good King according to Homer
by apologizing εί Séxivac παραλελοίΙπαμε]ν των άφ[ορμών], ώ ΠείΙεων, äc ec-u παρ' Όμηρου
λαΙβείν εκ έπανόρθακιν δυΙνα(ί)τε[ιών], καί τ[ών] πα[ρα]1δε[ιγμά]των, " i f I have passed
over any of the points of departure, Piso, which one can take from Homer to serve as
corrections for (his representations of) government and the models (they contain) . . ."
(col. 43.15-20, p. 109 Dorandi). On άφορμαί, 'departure-points' on a philosophical voy-
age, see Wilamowitz on Eur. HF 236; Sextus, G. 270. Cf. Philod. Rhet. I p. 357.8ff. Sudhaus
(even those άπό φιλοοοφίαο ώρμημένοι can successfully engage in rhetoric).
4 2 Philod. Epigr. 27.6-7 Sider promises Piso that he will έπακοιχη / Φαιήκων γαίηε
πουλί) μελιχρότερα at a modest Epicurean banquet, in return for his hefty patronage.
4 3 With Bühler (above n. 21) n. 2.

4 4 Cf. OSAPh 15 (1997) 278-79.

106 DIRKOBBINK

that her brother must die. His orders (iussa) she characterises as
superba.45 Is it this (haec), i.e. her brother's death, that Iuppiter reaps as
a profit in deflowering her (pro uirginitate)? Iuppiter is magnanimus,
she says, in sending them. The Greek philosophical background informs
Vergil's intended meaning here. Such a description of Iuppiter might
be thought to be ironic, if magnanimus = 'kindly/ 'generous,' as though
translating μεγαλόψυχίκ. It would hardly be generous of Iuppiter to
take the life of Iuturna's brother, dear to her as he is, especially in light
of Iuppiter's past treatment of the nymph. But if, on the other hand,
magnanimus has its other sense of 'high-spirited,' 'passionate/ as though
translating μεγαλοθύμοο, then the epithet might simply describe Iuppiter
as easily aroused to anger, e.g. if his orders (for this reason superba) are
not obeyed. However, even if the latter sense is understood, Vergil
clearly characterises Iuppiter in a way that befits more a human being
than a god, let alone the supreme one. Magnanimus might even refer to
the passion which led Iuppiter to rape Iuturna, an event alluded to in
the next line. 46 Iuturna questions whether this is Iuppiter's profit from
taking her virginity. Like condicio (880), reponit is a word from prose
(perhaps again from the spheres of banking and financial law), imply-
ing an all too human interest on Iuppiter's part in mortal affairs,
emotions, and reasoning. Iuturna, on the other hand, has sacrificed her
own virginity to an immortal, in order that she might become one too
(12.880 uitam ... aeternam = 1088 fr. 1.11 άεί ζωντεο), only to suffer worse
than mortals do, for her term of suffering is incomparably long. The
improprieties of Zeus for his own interests and pleasure are often men-
tioned in the philosophical and scholiastic tradition of criticism of
mythological poetry. They come under extensive treatment in
Philodemus' account, in which the mortal affairs of Zeus are listed.
Zeus' seduction of mortal women through deception is stressed, and
on least one occasion (the rape of Europa) it is stressed that force was
used "because she would not endure him."
Although composed as a comment on the philosophical implica-
tions of the narratives of Homer and Pisander, the passage from
Philodemus provides a salutary commentary on Iuturna's lament in
the Aeneid. And like Philodemus' passage, Iuturna's lament comments
suitably on the fate of divine figures of myth.

4 5 Not a desirable quality, often used e.g. in connection with Mezentius in the Aeneid,

e.g. 8.481 of his superbum imperium.

4 6 12.879 quo uitam dedit aeternam? The event is explicitly narrated at 1 2 . 1 3 9 - 4 1 :
Iuppiter had previously accorded divinity to Iuturna in recompense for her maiden-
hood: diua deam . . . hunc illi rex aetheris altus honorem / Iuppiter erepta pro uirginitate
sacrauit. On magnanimus see Barchiesi (above n. 3) 117 and n. 26 with further discussion.
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 107

That this theme is programmatic for the poem as a whole may be

taken as given from the outset (Aeneid 1.11): tantae animis caelestibus47
irae? The line may be taken as introducing the topic of piety as pro-
grammatic not only in Vergil's epic but in the entire tradition of
mythological poetry with a divine superstructure. Vergil's epic will be
a kind of De pietate, inspired by the Muse (for which read 'mythologi-
cal in form'), recounting the causes by which the very queen of the
gods, dolens with her numine laesoi8 could p u t a man—uirum / ανδρα
—outstanding in piety (insignem pietate) through such a lot of bother
and misery (labores / πολλά πλάγχθη) and why? The echoes of the themes
of divine wrath (ira / μήνιο) and hero (uirum / άνδρα) in posing this
question suggest that Vergil proposes to critique the tradition of mytho-
logical epic starting from Homer.
Vergil frames his poem with an answer to this question at its other
end. At 12.831 Iuppiter says (subridens strikes an ironical note): es
germana louis Saturnique altera proles / irarum tantos uoluis sub pectore
fluctos. Here the answer to the question tantaene animis caelestibus irae?
appears to be a resounding 'Yes!' But the matter is hardly so simple.
Vergil obviously intended the opening question to be a point for medi-
tation and study throughout his mythological Eie αγωγή into theology.
Anger of this sort is seen to be a disease endemic in the entire mytho-
logical tradition. This does not of course mean that it is necessarily
wrong (in ethical terms) or unnatural (in psychology), only that it is
inappropriate for a divinity. What marks Aeneas out as h u m a n at the
close of the Aeneid defines true divinity in a way that shows the gods
of the Aeneid to be mere players in a didactic drama. Iuno is as angry as
Iuppiter when he has been deceived. But the vestiges of divine propriety are
maintained when Iuppiter immediately urges Iuno to repress her an-
ger (12.832): uerum age et inceptum frustra submitte furorem. At 12.154-55
Iuturna cries real tears and beats her breasts with her hands like a mor-
tal woman mourning; Iuno for her part upbraids her like a child: "No
time for tears: go see if you can't snatch your brother from death." 4 9

47
Goold's (Loeb) translation "heavenly spirits" neglects the implications for Vergil's
divine psychology of emotions enacted in the Aeneid. The theme of divine theodicy in
mythographic poetry is echoed throughout the poetic tradition: cf. Ovid, Met. 8.279
tangit et ira déos; A u s o n . Epitaph. 27.9; S h a k e s p e a r e , II Henry VI A c t 2 s c e n e 1.
48
Grief and wounding are hardly qualities of numen. This type of theological irony
is ubiquitous in the Aeneid. The exact implications in this case are unclear, but some
possibilities are: (i) Iuno is defective as a goddess if she can suffer in this way, or (ii)
Iuno's concerns are exaggerated if she can not suffer from them, or (iii) the offenses are
excessively great if they can threaten the tranquility even of such a goddess.
49
Cf. 6.173 si credere dignum est, a formulaic comment by the narrator on occasions
where an act ill-befitting a god leads the narrator to express doubts over the validity of
the story.
108 DIRK OBBINK

Such concerns for propriety with respect to the gods Vergil shares
w i t h one branch of the scholia to Homer, in particular the ethical bT
branch, i.e. the ancient comments permed marginally in the Venetus Β
and Townley MSS containing m u c h material compiled in the first cen-
tury BC, which took u p the defense of propriety (το πρέπον) as an ethical
literary critical criterion a n d developed it into a heuristic device for
the grammatikos ('literature tutor') to isolate potential lapses a n d con-
tradictions (προβλήματα) b y a u t h o r s in canonical texts (especially
poetry) a n d to discover their solutions (λιχειχ). Some of the comments
go back to Aristarchus and his pupil Apollodorus of Athens, some even
earlier to the origins of Homeric criticism a m o n g the Sophists. While it
is i m p o r t a n t to distinguish this tradition of ancient scholarship f r o m
Epicurean ideas about the gods, there is overlap. Epicurus is said to
have turned to philosophy because the γραμματικοί could not explain
to h i m the passage about Chaos in Hesiod (D. L. 10.2). Epicureans d r e w
on the Sophistic and pre-Socratic traditions in an attempt to define the
divine by w h a t it is not: it is not only μακάριο«:, it is ά-θάνατοο (Epicurus,
Kuria Doxa 1). Philodemus' concerns with mythological poetry a n d sto-
ries in De pietate show h i m sketching out h o w far one m a y attribute
a n t h r o p o m o r p h i c properties to the gods without violating ethical, psy-
chological, and physical constraints.
Vergil can be seen putting a specifically Epicurean conception of
the gods into Dido's m o u t h w h e n she says of Hermes to Aeneas at 4.379
scilicet superis labor est, ea cura quietos /sollicitât ("Truly, this is w o r k for
the gods, this is care to vex their peace"). Only the Epicureans believed
the gods to live a life so fully at ease that they did not bother to com-
municate w i t h men. Of course, Lucretius can translate Odyssey 6.24-36
at De rerum natura 3.18 to describe h o w u n p e r t u r b e d are the sedes of the
gods (it never snows, nor rains, etc.), b u t it took an Epicurean critic to
select the passage for translation.
Just as Vergil begins the Aeneid by referring to the topic of piety, so
he returns to the topic very near the end of the epic, both in I u t u r n a ' s
speech discussed in this paper, and the h o p e expressed at 12.839 that
Teucrians mixed with Latins will p r o d u c e a race w h i c h supra homines,
supra ire deos pietate uidebis. As I have noted above, the thesis that death
brings a cessation of ills for mortals (the second of the two m a i n points
stressed by Iuturna in her soliloquy) is not specifically Epicurean. But
as a criticism of the gods of traditional poetry a n d myth, it fits well
with w h a t is otherwise a purely Epicurean version of h o w h u m a n s can
achieve a kind of divine immortality: namely by realising that h a p p i -
ness comes in this life f r o m pleasure that comes w i t h the cessation of
pain. Since death brings that cessation, it is not to be feared, a n d m a n
can rival even Zeus in happiness, as Vergil's Iuturna makes a b u n d a n t l y
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 109

clear. A good example of its near-contemporary use m a y be found in a

historical context which shows it invoked at about the s a m e time
Philodemus was writing De pietate by someone who was believed to h a v e
Epicurean leanings and in a context not of poetry and imaginative lit-
erature, nor technical philosophy, but of life and death politics. It w a s
used by Caesar in his arguments for levelling a sentence of life impris-
onment on the Catilinarian conspirators (against Cicero and Cato, w h o
urged the death penalty), on the grounds that since death brings the
cessation of evils, life imprisonment would be the w o r s e punishment:

Sallust, Cat. 51.20-21 (Caesar to Silanus): de poena possum equidem

dicere, id quod res habet, in luctu atque miseriis mortem aerumnarum
requiem, non cruciatum esse; earn cuneta mortalium mala dissoluere;
ultra ñeque curae neque gaudio locum esse.

Sallust, Cat. 52.13 (Cato): bene et composite C. Caesar paulo ante in

hoc ordine de uita et morte disseruit, credo falsa existumans ea, quae
de inferís memorantur: diuorso itinere malos a bonis loca taetra,
inculta, foeda atque formidulosa habere, itaque censuit pecunias
eorum publicandas, ipsos per municipia in custodiis habendos.

Cicero, Catil. 4 . 7 - 8 : alter (viz. Caesar) intellegit mortem a dis

i m m o r t a l i b u s non esse supplici causa c o n s t i t u t a m , sed aut
necessitatem naturae aut laborum ac miseriarum quietem. itaque eam
sapientes numquam inuiti, fortes saepe etiam libenter oppetiuerunt.
uincula uero et ea sempiterna certe ad singularem poenam nefarii
sceleris inuenta sunt, municipiis dispertiri iubet . . . bona praeterea
publicari iubet; uitam solam relinquit nefariis hominibus: quam si
eripuisset, multas uno dolore animi atque corporis [miserias add. Clark:
aerumnas add. Halm] et omnis scelerum poenas ademisset. itaque ut
aliqua in uita formido improbis esset proposita, apud inferos eius modi
quaedam illi antiqui supplicia impiis constituta esse uoluerunt, quod
uidelicet intellegebant his remotis non esse mortem ipsam
pertimescendam.

Cicero responds to Caesar's argumentation when he calls on Iuppiter

in a formal prayer at the end of the first Catilinarian oration (33) to
punish the conspirators both "living and after they are d e a d " (aeternis
suppliciis uiuos mortuosque). Vergil himself reflected this debate and its
philosophical context on Aeneas' shield in Aeneid 8. Here he depicts
Catiline as mythologically punished for eternity in the underworld and
C a t o ' s 5 0 rule over the secreti pii (8.666-70):

hinc procul addit

Tartareas etiam sedes, alta ostia Ditis,

5 0 The identity of the Cato (whether the Elder or Cato Uticensis) is still debated; cf.

the Cato of the Gallus papyrus.

110 DIRK OBBINK

et scelerum poenas, et te, Catilina, minaci

pendentem scopulo Furiarumque ora trementem,
secretosque pios, his dantem iura Catonem.

The converse notion, namely that the pleasures of the eternally divine
are to be sought in this world and that the evils of this world shall be
dispelled in death, is evidenced by an avowedly Epicurean epitaph from
late-republican Campania: 51
Stallius Gaius has sedes Hauranus tuetur,
ex Epicureio gaudiuigente choro.
52 53
Found at Naples, of Republican date and with Greek overtones, it
commemorates someone otherwise known to us not as an Epicurean
but as an entrepreneur (he rebuilt the Odeon of Pericles at Athens after
its destruction by Sulla). There is no sustainable link with the Pisones,
Philodemus, or Lucretius. But as a bit of Epicurean poetry, the distich
dovetails with the flourishing Epicureanism in Campania in the late
Republic, perhaps of the 'voluptuary variety' attacked by Cicero in
Against Piso.54 The epitaph describes the dead Stallius, formerly a mem-
ber of the pleasure-loving Epicurean chorus, guarding his sedes in
death. 55 As an Epicurean, 56 he presumably also watched carefully over
his domain during his life, concerned with how best to administer it.
Now his effigy, as the inscription announces, guards has sedes for all
time. They remain strictly mundane. 57 As an Epicurean he expected no
other, but believed he had attained the kind of timeless ideal of plea-
sure in life proclaimed in his epitaph, as he thought of himself as
watching over it eternally (tuetur).

51 CLE 961 = CIL 10.2971 = ILS 7781. The epitaph w a s brought to m y attention by

Ted Courtney, whose edition of and commentary on it is invaluable: Musa Lapidaria: A

Selection of Latin Verse Inscriptions (Atlanta 1995) 48 (no. 22) and 241 (comm.). Further
discussion in M. Leiwo, Neapolitana: A Study of Population and Language in Graeco-Roman
Naples ( C o m m . H u m a n . Litt. 102, Helsinki 1 9 9 4 ) 1 3 0 - 3 1 , w h o c o m m e n t s on the
Campanian Greek traces in its latinity. The epitaph is not mentioned by M. Gigante,
Civiltà delle forme letterarie nell'antica Pompei (Naples 1979), but see id., "Virgilio all'ombra
del Vesuvio," CErc 31 (2001) (forthcoming).
52 On metrical grounds (scansions Stalliu' and Hauranu').
53 The termination -eius is " p u r e Greek" (Courtney). For the χοριχ of philosophers
see on Philod. De piet. 2491.
5 4 So Courtney: " T h e tone is v e r y m u c h that of Epicuri de grege porcum."
55 Sedes could of course m e a n simply 'environs,' 'situation.' But tuetur suggests
proprietary rights, an ironical topos in monumental epitaphs.
5 6 Actually Epicureius (here transferred poetically to chorus) indicates that Stallius
was no mere Epicurean, but rather an Epicurean philosophus, i.e. teacher. Cf. the other
instances of Epicureius, Stoicus, and philosophus cited in CIL ad loc.; for philosophical
designations in inscriptions and papyri see J. and L. Robert, REG 71 (1958) 1 9 7 - 2 0 0 .
5 7 Perhaps as a sort of guardian deity, continuing to keep a benign w a t c h over the
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 111

The same mixture of concern over the kind of immortality to be

achieved in death is proclaimed in the distich on (ap. Vita Donati
Virgiliana 36) which passed in antiquity as Vergil's epitaph:
Mantua me genuit, Calabri rapuere, tenet nunc
Parthenope; cecini pascua rura duces. 58

The epitaph is semi-mythologised. Places are personified as though

allegorical divinities. Mantua can give Vergil birth, like a mother.
Calabria can steal his affections. Finally, in his shifting and fickle affec-
tions, he can return to Naples, his first love, and rest in her arms forever,
like Ares reclining on Venus' lap in the proem to Lucretius' De rerum
natura. Shifting from myth to history, the epitaph proclaims Vergil's
fasti of accomplishments in the literary sphere. He sang, cecini (he shall
do so no more; cf. Lucr. 5.8 deus illefuit, deus—of Epicurus) of pastures
(i.e. Eclogues), fields (Georgics), kings (Aeneid; cf. Callimachus' Aetia fr.
1.3 βααλ[ήων). The final half-line gives a generic division of Vergil's
oeuvre in a nutshell, his claim to have achieved Callimachean
πολυείδεια. What is emphasised is what he achieved in this life.
Vergil similarly signaled his debt to Naples as a model of Epicu-
rean divine pleasures to be achieved in this life in the Georgics (4.563-64):
ilio Vergilium me tempore dulcís alebat
Parthenope studiis florentem ignobilis oti.

Here Parthenope appears in mythological guise as the Greek name for

Naples, and Vergil incorporates his own name as a sphragis vaunting
his authorship of the poem. 59
The gods of the Aeneid are often perceived as capricious, whimsi-
cal, or upset, as furens, amens, or insanus. Or as suffering. Vergil, like
Philodemus, perceived that the traditional epic pantheon, together with
the gods of Rome (including its current divine rulers), was populated
largely by transgressive figures, criminal gods and their demonic un-
derlings, who violate the very sacred order that they guard, in order to
define and claim and validate their special place in it. Such portrayals

property (see OLD s.v. tueri 2b). Cf. the divine sedes of Lucr. 3.18. The point is m a d e
more bluntly in IGUR 1245 (Rome II/III) in which the wealthy Epicurean M. Antonius
Encolpus grants space in his tomb to his many liberti (except one, who is explicitly ex-
c l u d e d ) , d e c l a r i n g to a n y o n e w h o cares to read that n o w that he is d e a d he c a n
categorically deny the existence of the river of Hades, of Charon, Aiakos and the hound
Kerberos (11. 1 4 - 1 5 ) .
58 Cf. H. Nettleship, Ancient Lives of Virgil (Oxford 1879) 37.
59 Vergil's debt to Naples here is echoed by Ovid in his telling of Aesculapius'
arrival in Italy: Met. 15.711-12 Herculeamque urbem Stabiasque et in otia natam /Parthenopen.
Cf. Stat. Silv. 4 . 4 . 5 2 - 5 5 where Parthenope = Vergil.
112 DIRKOBBINK

(and the doubts expressed at times by the narrator over them) balance
the increasing emphasis on the piety of Aeneas in the epic. He is, for
example, from Book 3 onward shown performing rites that are founda-
tional for Rome, in the sense that they would later have a national
outlook to them. Vergil links his contemporary Rome with Aeneas' time
through aetiological associations. The sacrifices and rites which Aeneas
is shown performing will be later performed in Vergil's Rome,
emphasising the piety which is part of every Roman's blood-line. For
the Aeneid, the history of Rome itself was the proof that the Roman
way of worshipping the gods was the way the gods themselves ap-
proved. What has proved correct is continued habitually and
impersonally. Vergil could be seen as trying to explain the (correct) ori-
gin of these ceremonies, however institutionalised and mechanised they
may have become by his own time, and to re-infuse them with a per-
sonal meaning. The very personal rites at Anchises' tomb clearly suggest
the later Roman Parentalia.
Side by side with historical outcomes, it can be seen that Vergil
uses the gods to highlight personal consequences. According to the
reading popularised by Heinze, the gods of the Aeneid are symbols of
figurative representations of what happens in the hearts and minds of
men. Thus, if someone feels a specific emotion, Vergil often attributes
that feeling to the respective divinity. Because Dido is completely in-
fatuated with Aeneas, Vergil portrays her as possessed by Cupid,
wounded by his arrow and poison, sent by Venus. No doubt this re-
flects a contemporary strategy for reading Homer and traditional myths,
perhaps of the allegorical variety instantiated in the passage of Longinus
discussed above. By this means the gods often become outward per-
sonifications of the inner psychology of the victim. The mortals in the
Aeneid are more often than not victims of the divine, much in the same
way as we might see ourselves as the victims of our own emotions. 60
Vergil is clearly aware of this formulation, but he often expresses it
the other way round. Our emotions and beliefs become themselves gods,
in a way that contrasts with traditional theology. Nisus at 9.184-85 says,
'dine hunc ardorem mentibus addunt, / Euryale, an sua cuique deus fit dira
cupido?' We must be content with suggesting that Vergil gives us a mix-
ture of these two: a natural passion amplified into something which
otherwise would not have occurred, explaining both historical and eth-
nic continuity and accounting for human motivation. More concisely
formulated, the gods in the Aeneid can be seen as the historical work-

6 0 R. O. A. M. Lyne, Words and the Poet: Characteristic Techniques of Style in Vergil's

Aeneid (Oxford 1998), however, prefers to think of the emotions as already present in
the characters, with the gods responsible only for magnifying them.
 VERGIL, PHILODEMUS, AND THE LAMENT OF IUTURNA 113

ing out or projection of an individual's or people's ethical goal. They

are someone's own idea of them.
When Iuturna jumps suicidally into the stream at Aeneid 12.886,
she abandons a divinity that she would have had in a world populated
by Epicurean gods, who neither suffer like humans nor endure that
suffering for all time. A goddess, she buries herself in her own stream:
se fluuio dea condidit alto. Here condidit also suggests founding, in an
aetiological sense, as in the phrase condere urbem. She becomes a spring,
later little known, but commemorated by a cult in the later Roman fo-
rum, resurrected by Vergil for a cameo appearance in an Augustan
mythological epic. In becoming a mere aetiology in Vergil's
Callimachean poetry, her divinity evaporates into the kind of false be-
lief about the gods noted by Philodemus to be held by people who
really do suffer like the gods in myth.

CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD

 T H E A U T H E N T I C I T Y O F A M O R E S 3.5 1

BY J. C. MCKEOWN

"Is there any other point to which you wish to draw my attention?"
"To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time."
"The dog did nothing in the night-time."
"That was the curious incident," remarked Sherlock Holmes. 2

T h e a u t h e n t i c i t y of Amores 3.5, the s o - c a l l e d Somnium, w o u l d s e e m to

h a v e b e e n called into q u e s t i o n as e a r l y a s the 1 4 t h c e n t u r y . 3 T h e g r e a t
m o d e r n e d i t o r s M u n a r i a n d K e n n e y h a v e , respectively, e x p r e s s e d v e r y
strong reservations about Ovidian authorship and categorically denied
it. 4 In r e c e n t y e a r s , its attribution to O v i d h a s b e e n a d v o c a t e d as a s s e r -
t i v e l y b y s o m e s c h o l a r s as it h a s b e e n a t t a c k e d b y o t h e r s , w i t h the
b a l a n c e of o p i n i o n b e i n g m a r k e d l y in f a v o r of a c c e p t i n g it as g e n u i n e . 5
Before p r e s e n t i n g m y o w n s u g g e s t i o n for r e s o l v i n g the p r o b l e m , I shall
e x a m i n e s o m e of the p r i n c i p a l lines of a r g u m e n t w h i c h h a v e b e e n p r o -
p o s e d b o t h for a n d a g a i n s t authenticity, in the h o p e of s h o w i n g w h y it
is that, d e s p i t e the c o n f i d e n c e w h i c h h a s typified s o m a n y c o n t r i b u -
tions to the d e b a t e , n e v e r t h e l e s s adhuc sub iudice lis est.

1 A version of this paper was read at the meeting of the American Philological

Association in Dallas, Texas in December, 1999.1 am very grateful for the comments of
several members of the audience, in particular of Professor Courtney, who encouraged
me to give this problem a broader discussion than I shall be able to provide in my forth-
coming commentary on Amores III.
2 Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of Silver Blaze.
3 See F. Munari, "Sugli Amores di Ovidio," SIFC 23 (1948) 143-44, 149-50.
4 Munari (above η. 3) 143-52, E. J. Kenney, "The Manuscript Tradition of Ovid's

Amores, Ars Amatoria, and Remedia Amoris," CQ n.s. 12 (1962) 11-13 and "On the Somnium
attributed to Ovid," Agon 3 (1969) 1-14.
5 For the attribution to Ovid, see, most recently, F. Bertini, "Amores III 5 e l'elegia

pseudoovidiana De sompnio," in I. Gallo and L. Nicastri, eds., Aetates Ovidianae. Lettori

di Ovidio dall'antichità al rinascimento (Naples 1995) 223-37, F. Navarro Antolín, "Ingenium
dominae lena mouebit anus. La auara puella en los Amores de Ovidio: Am. 1.8, 1.10, III.5,
III.8," in J. L. Arcaz, G. Laguna Mariscal and A. Ramírez de Verger, eds., La obra amatoria
de Ovidio (Madrid 1996) 82-88, N. Holzberg, Ovid: Dichter und Werk. 2 nd ed. (Munich
1998) 69-70, J.-Y. Maleuvre, Jeux de masques dans l'élégie latine (Louvain and Namur 1998)
213-16, G. Tronchet, "La nuit obscure des Amours: La tradition épique et sa traduction
élégiaque," in J. Fabre-Serris and A. Deremetz, eds., Élégie et épopée dans la poésie ovidienne
(Héroïdes et Amours) en hommage à Simone Viarre (Lille 1999) 85-126, G. Bretzigheimer,
Ovids Amores: Poetik in der Erotik (Tübingen 2001: Classica Monacensia 22) 263-72; against,
B. Weinlich, Ovids Amores: Gedichtfolge und Handlungsablauf (Stuttgart and Leipzig 1999)
181-83, 206-213, O. Zwierlein, Die Ovid- und Vergil-Revision in tiberischer Zeit. Vol. 1:
Prolegomena (Berlin and New York 1999) 372-75.
 THE AUTHENTICITY OF AMORES 3.5 115

The Somnium has a uniquely chequered textual history, 6 the sig-

nificance of which is so opaque that, although it is certainly sufficient
to raise suspicions, scholars rightly refrain from passing judgment on
the poem's authenticity solely on the evidence of this tradition. It is
transmitted after 3.4 only by the uetustiores and a limited number of
the recentiores, which may be supposed to be influenced by the same
line of descent as the uetustiores. The other recentiores either transmit it
elsewhere or do not have it at all. It is also found in manuscripts which
do not contain the Amores. This independent tradition may not be sig-
nificant, given the poem's great popularity in the Middle Ages. Other
elegies are similarly found in isolation, but only in late manuscripts,
whereas the Somnium appears already in the miscellany Xb,7 which is
perhaps even older than P, the oldest manuscript to preserve this part
of the Amores. The remarkably confused reporting within the Amores-
tradition may be more suggestive. Kenney interprets this confusion as
being indicative of the Somnium's late entry into the tradition. 8 If the
poem is genuine, how could it have been lost? Lenz 9 seems to suggest
that it was lost when a leaf was accidentally omitted from the manuscript, a
solution subsequently proposed by Luck. 10 As Munari points out, h o w -
ever, it w o u l d be a s t r a n g e coincidence if s u c h d a m a g e n e a t l y
removed this entire poem and nothing else. 11 Bertini suggests that the
presence of the medieval De Sompnio in such manuscripts as F, which
contains almost all of Ovid's genuine works along with others which
are spurious, may have accidentally caused doubt about the status of
the Somnium,12 or that its curious textual history may indicate that it is
a poem from the first edition of the Amores omitted from the second. 1 3
That the Somnium should have a place, however ambiguously, in
the Amores tradition does little to confirm its authenticity. If Ovid is

6
See esp. Munari (above n. 3) 143-52, Kenney (1962; above n. 4) 11-13.
7
For its dating to the second quarter of the 9 t h century, see R. J. Tarrant, "Ovid," in
L. D. Reynolds, ed., Texts and Transmission: A Survey of the Latin Classics (Oxford 1983)
261 n. 11.
8
(1962; above n. 4) 12.
9
F. W. Lenz (= Levy), "Bericht über die Ovid-Literatur v o n 1923-1928," Bursians
Jahresbericht 226 (1930) 113.
10
G. Luck, Untersuchungen zur Textgeschichte Ovids (Heidelberg 1969) 45.
11
(Above η. 3) 149. Strange coincidences are not u n k n o w n in the Amores-tradition.
R stops abruptly at 1.2.50, and Ρ begins at 1.2.51. D. S. McKie, "Ovid's Amores: The
Prime Sources for the Text," CQ n.s. 36 (1986) 219-28, has demonstrated that, despite all
appearances, Ρ is not a direct descendant of the n o w lost part of R.
12
F. Bertini, "La Ringkomposition negli Amores ovidiani e l'autenticità dell'elegia III
5," RCCM 18 (1976) 155.
13
(1995; above η. 5) 227. For this speculation, that the Somnium is a survivor from
the first edition, see also R. P. Oliver, "The Text of Ovid's Amores," in Classical Studies
Presented to Ben Edwin Perry (Urbana 1969: Illinois Studies in Language and Literature
116 J. C. MCKEOWN

not the author, we can only speculate when or why it was written. Per-
haps it was a mere jeu d'esprit, composed with no deceitful aspiration
to adoption as an Amores-elegy. Unlike, however, such miscellaneous
poems as the Haliéutica, the Nux and the Consolatio ad Liuiam, a love-
elegy written in a patently Ovidian manner (see below) must all but
inevitably find a particular Ovidian foster-home, in the Amores. The
burden of proof therefore lies hardly less heavily on those who would
argue for authenticity than on those who would deny it.
The first direct testimony to the Somnium is given by Servius auctus
on Verg. Eel. 6.54. He quotes line 18 with the laconic comment sic
Ouidius.14 Such imitations of the poem in earlier centuries as have been
proposed cannot be regarded as certain. 15 Lack of evidence for a classi-
cal Nachleben is not, per se, an argument against authenticity, since
several undoubtedly genuine Amores-poems are also rarely or never
echoed in later antiquity. On the other hand, it is possibly significant
that, if one may dismiss the commonplace introductory formula Nox
erat et..., Ovid himself does not refer to the Somnium in the prelude to
his account of a nocturnal visitation by Cupid at Pont. 3.3.5-8 nox erat
et bifores intrabat luna fenestras, / mense fere medio quanta nitere solet. /
publica me requies curarum somnus habebat, / fusaque erant toto languida
membra toro. That passage makes ingeniously detailed use of the scene-
setting for Corinna's mid-day epiphany at Amores 1.5.1-8. One might
argue exsilentio that, were Ovid the author of the Somnium, which itself draws
substantially on 1.5 (see below), he would have alluded to it also.
The poem's authenticity has often been defended by appeals to its
supposed relation to other elegies in the collection. It is not disputed
that the Somnium has a considerable affinity with Amores 1.5. The open-
ing, Nox erat et. . . parallels Aestus erat mediamque . . . (1), the dream is

58) 143-45, L. Semmlinger, " Z u r Echtheit der Elegie De Somnio = O v i d , Amores 3,5,"
in U. Kindermann, W. Maaz and F. Wagner, eds., Festschrift für P. Klopsch (Göppingen
1988: Göppinger Arbeiten zur G e r m a n i s t i k 492) 4 7 5 .
1 4 For reservations about the value of this testimony, see Kenney (1962; above n. 4)

13 n. 4.
1 5 Allusions have been detected to line 11 at CE 908.12 candidior niuibus, to 15-20 at

Calp. Sic. 3.15-17 illic requiescere noster / taurus amat gelidaque iacet spatiosus in umbra /et
matutinas reuocat palearibus herbas, to 40 at CE 1178.29 lenaferebat anus, to 42 at Maximianus
1.76 permansi uiduo frigidus usque toro. The last seems the most probable, but is of little
help with dating, since Maximianus seems to post-date Servius auctus. Given the rarity
of ruminare in verse and the unusual passive sense of the ίχπαξ λεγόμενον epasci at [Ον.]
Hal. 119 epastas solus qui ruminât es cas, which has a terminus post quem non in the Flavian
period (see J. A. Richmond, "Doubtful Works ascribed to Ovid," ANRW 2.31.4 [1981]
2756), that line might be supposed to echo Somnium 17-18 lente reuocatas ruminât herbas
/atque iterum pasto pascitur ante cibo. There seems to be no link between the Somnium and
Anth. Lat. 698 Riese (= Petron. frg. 38 Buecheler-Heraeus; the poem is not in Müller's ed.).
 THE AUTHENTICITY OF AMORES 3.5 117

set, as is 1.5, in the heat of mid-day, the arrival of the cow which
symbolises the girl, ecce, petens uariis immixtas floribus herbas, /constitit
ante oculos candida uacca meos (9-10), is very comparable to that of
Corinna, ecce, Corinna uenit tunica uelata recincta, / candida diuidua colla
tegente coma (9-10; cf. also 17 ut stetit ante oculos .. . nostros), and there
is a contrast between the happy love-making in 1.5 and the prediction
of infidelity here. Drawing on this affinity, Della Corte perceives a se-
quence linking 1.5 (first encounter), 2.5 (first betrayal, with Ovid
apparently asleep at a banquet, as the bull sleeps after chewing its cud)
and 3.5 (final desertion). 16 This sequence is neat, but hardly definitive
proof of authenticity. Quite apart from the tradition's lack of unanim-
ity in placing the Somnium after 3.4, such arguments rarely command
universal assent, since they necessarily involve a considerable degree
of subjective interpretation: links which seem self-evident to one reader
may well seem forced and arbitrary to another. 17 Granting that there is
significance in the corresponding positions of 1.5 and the Somnium in
their respective books, can we be sure that it was not a copyist who,
being convinced that the Somnium was not only Ovidian but also an
Amores-elegy, noted the similarity to 1.5 and decided to incorporate it
in the same place in another book? Scribes seem not to have had a par-
ticularly acute awareness of poem-numbering, 18 but it might equally
well be observed that there is an almost total lack of ancient evidence
that Augustan poetry-books were arranged with elaborate symmetry.
Against authenticity, it could also be argued that the Somnium, fore-
shadowing an attempt by a lena to corrupt the poet's mistress, is out of
sequence, since Dipsas' scheming had been reported in 1.8. Moreover,
at 3.4.39-40, Ovid points to the birth of Romulus and Remus as evi-
dence for loose sexual practices in the good old days; such a subversion
of the conventional view, that contemporary immorality is a falling off
from the probity of earlier times, is perhaps the more piquant if the
misadventures of the innocent Ilia are narrated immediately afterwards
in 3.6. 19 It might, however, be as justifiable to argue that Ovid's exhor-
tation to his addressee in 3.4 to be a leno-maritus is nicely followed by

1 6 F. Della Corte, "L'elegia del sogno (Ovid. am. Ill 5 ) , " in Studi classici in onore di

Quintino Cataudella III (Catania 1972) 3 2 9 - 3 0 ( = Opuscula IV [Genoa 1973] 2 7 - 2 8 ) . For

another possible trilogy, 1.5, 2.10, 3.7, see J. C. McKeown, Ovid: Amores. Vol. Ill: Com-
mentary on Book 2 (Leeds 1998: A R C A Vol. 36) 200. (Acceptance of the validity of one of
these sequences would not, of course, require the rejection of the other.)
1 7 See J. C. McKeown, Ovid: Amores. Vol. I: Text and Prolegomena (Liverpool 1987:
A R C A Vol. 20) 9 0 - 1 0 2 , esp. 9 9 - 1 0 0 , where I propose a certain limited s y m m e t r y which
might be detected, if the Somnium is accepted as genuine and correctly placed as 3.5,
between the sequences of elegies 1 . 3 - 8 and 3 . 3 - 8 .
1 8 See McKeown (1987; above n. 17) 101.

1 9 See C. Connors, "Ennius, Ovid and Representations of Ilia," M D 32 (1994) 111-12.

118 J. C. MCKEOWN

an elegy in which he learns that a lena will corrupt his own mistress,
the contrast being pointed by the use of the remarkable (see below)
term adulterium (44) to describe the disruption of their liaison.
Many Augustan poetry books comprise multiples of five poems.
There is, however, no compelling reason to suppose that Ovid was in-
fluenced by such a principle in arranging the second edition of the
Amores.20 Only if it can be established on other grounds that the books
were likely to have contained, respectively, fifteen, twenty and fifteen
poems 2 1 is it justifiable to point to the frequency of multiples of five in
poetry-books of the period as an endorsement of this probable arrange-
ment. We should neither accept nor excise the Somnium on a priori
arithmetical considerations.
At least in general terms, the poem's subject-matter raises no doubts
about Ovidian authorship. Accounts of dreams are frequent in Augustan
elegy; cf. esp. Prop. 2.26.1-20 (Cynthia drowning), 3.3 (Apollo and the
Muses), 22 4.7 (Cynthia's ghost), Lygd. 4 (Apollo, on Neaera's infidel-
ity), Ov. Rem. 555-74 (Cupid), Pont. 3.3 (Cupid). The particular dramatic
situation here is anticipated at Prop. 2.4.15-16 (perhaps drawing on
Theocr. 2.90-91) cui non ego sum fallaci proemia uati?/quae mea non decies
somnia uersat anus?; cf. also 2.29.27-28 ibat (sc. Cynthia) . . . castae
narratum somnia Vestae, / neu sibi neue mihi quae nocitura forent. More-
over, the allegorical nature of the Somnium is paralleled very closely at
Ep. 19.193-204, where Hero writes to Leander that she fears for his life
because she dreamed of a dolphin washed u p dead on the shore. Within
the Amores, one may also note the similarly straightforward use of the
same animal-exemplum at 2.12.25-26 uidi ego pro niuea pugnantes coniuge
tauros: / spectatrix ánimos ipsa iuuenca dabat.
Specific aspects, however, of the content, narrative structure, lan-
guage and style have been, or may be, called into question. 2 3
Lines 3-6 make an effective introduction to the narrative; "that it
(sc. the locus amoenus) should be the scene of such ill-omened happen-
ings is an Ovidian trait." 24 The εκφρασις νάπης (3-6) is typically Ovidian;
in the Amores, note 2.6.49-56, 3.1.1-4, and also 3.13.7-8. Perhaps bear-
ing in mind, however, the strictures made against poets nec ponere lucum

20
See McKeown (1987; above n. 17) 91-92, also (1998; above n. 16) 28-29.
21
By dividing 2.9 and either excising the Somnium and dividing 3.11 or accepting
the Somnium and preserving the unity of 3.11.
22
On that elegy as a dream rather than a vision, see P. Fedeli, Sesto Properzio: Il libro
terzo delle Elegie (Bari 1985) on 1 Visus eram.
23
The following discussion is not exhaustive (for further details, see m y forthcom-
ing commentary), and is premised on the assumption that Naso bonus numquam dormitat,
i.e. that infelicities w o u l d indicate this dream to be unOvidian.
24
E. J. Kenney, Introduction and notes to A. D. Melville, Ovid: The Love Poems (Oxford
 THE AUTHENTICITY OF AMORES 3.5 119

artifices, one might wonder whether Ovid would have admitted yet
another such description here.
It is possibly awkward that the poet should appear in his dream in
propria persona ( 7 - 1 0 ) , and yet also be symbolised by the bull, given
that their circumstances are not, in fact, parallel: the poet is unsuccess-
fully trying to avoid the aestus amoris ( 3 5 - 3 6 ; cf. 7 - 8 ) , whereas the bull
is blissfully ignorant of any such problems (cf. 15 feliciter ille maritus).
In lines 1 3 - 1 4 , the poet describes the cow which appears to him in
his dream as being whiter than fresh sheep's milk. This simile is v e r y
well observed. 2 5 Sheep's milk is particularly white, since, like goats,
but unlike cows, sheep do not transfer to their milk the carotenoid pig-
ments which occur naturally in their feed. 2 6 Might there not, however,
be something slightly gauche about the comparison? Are w e really to
suppose that a poet so shrewdly painstaking as Ovid would describe a
cow as being whiter than sheep's milk? 2 7 Such subjective criticisms,
however, can have little weight in determining authorship. At Met.
4 . 1 2 1 - 2 4 , for example, where the blood spurting from P y r a m u s ' w o u n d
is rather startlingly compared to water jetting out of a burst pipe, the
significance of that undoubtedly genuine simile has been interpreted
by critics in a remarkably wide range of often conflicting w a y s . 2 8
The poem's general structure is typically Ovidian, with the clear
setting of the scene, followed by a narrative account of events. As noted
above, Amores 1.5 is closely comparable. That w e do not learn of the
presence of the interpres until line 31 is, however, without parallel in
the normally very clear narrative technique of the Amores. Arnaldi re-
gards this delay as representing " u n altro passo avanti nella tecnica
alessandrina della narrazione dei sogni: lasciare all' oscuro, non soltanto
sullo scopo del racconto, m a anche su qualsiasi possible addentellato
per l'interpretazione." 2 9 Other critics have found it clumsy, in that it

1990) 204, who compares (Introduction and notes to A. D. Melville, Ovid: The Metamor-
phoses [Oxford 1986] 3 9 3 ) Met. 3 . 1 5 5 - 6 2 (Actaeon) and 4 0 7 - 1 2 (Narcissus); see also
Tronchet (above n. 5) 111.
2 5 Unlike cornigerum terra deposuisse caput (20). Cattle sleep lying d o w n , but not
with their heads on the ground. (The poet is perhaps thinking in h u m a n terms; cf. e.g.
Ovid's [feigned] sleep in Amores 2.5).
2 6 I a m grateful for this information to Professor William L. Wendorff of the Uni-

versity of Wisconsin Department of Food Science.

2 7 The question is raised by R. Ellis, The Amores of Ovid: A Lecture (Oxford 1912) 8.

There is n o such difficulty at e.g. Ars 1.292, where Ovid is not so specific in his descrip-
tion of Pasiphaë's bull: una fuit labes, cetera lactis erant.
2 8 F o r a review of scholarly interpretations of that simile, see U. Schmitzer,

"Meeresstille und Wasserrohrbruch (Met. 4 . 5 5 - 1 1 6 ) , " Gymnasium 99 (1992) 5 2 1 - 2 3 , L.

Galasso, Ovidio: Opere. Vol. II: Le metamorfosi, with an introduction by A. Perutelli, trans-
lation by G. Paduano and notes by L. Galasso (Turin 2000) 920.
2 9 F. Arnaldi, "Sogni ellenistici," SIFC 2 7 - 2 8 (1956) 11. See also Bertini (1976; above
120 J. C. MCKEOWN

serves no obvious artistic p u r p o s e that w e should learn so late that the

poet has been recounting his dream to an interpreter. 3 0 One might con-
trast the efficient w a y in which Amores 1.8.22 me duplices occuluere fores
prepares for the d é n o u e m e n t of that elegy. Marg-Harder compare the
technique in 2.7 and 2.8, 31 but that is a diptych, not a single elegy, and
there it enhances our enjoyment of Ovid's predicament that w e should
not find out until 2.8 that Cypassis h a d been present while he stam-
mered his denial to Corinna in the preceding elegy. In 4.1, Propertius is
interrupted by the soothsayer Horos, b u t there the s u d d e n a n d unher-
alded interruption amusingly deflates his literary ambitions. 3 2
Kenney argues that maritus (15) and, more particularly, adulterii (44)
show u n a m b i g u o u s l y that the narrator is married to the puella, and
that the Somnium therefore violates the conventions of the genre and
cannot be Ovidian. 3 3 Supporters of the p o e m ' s authenticity counter this
potentially d a m n i n g objection by suggesting that the terms are n o t to
be u n d e r s t o o d in their strictly legal sense. 3 4 Even if adulterium is being
used in a loose manner, this is nevertheless still the only passage in the
collection in which the term is used to describe a violation of the poet's
relationship w i t h his mistress.
With the possible exception of adulterii, there seems to be n o pecu-
liarity of style or language which, in and of itself, rules out Ovidian
authorship. One of the main arguments a d d u c e d against authenticity
is the apparently excessive use of stylistic features which are not in
themselves unOvidian or, indeed, are particularly characteristic of Ovid.
Diggle notes that a combination of trochaic verb + et begins four pen-
tameters in the poem, stabat et (4), uenit et (22),fodit et (24),fugit et (46). 35
Such phrasing occurs only eighteen times elsewhere in the Amores. One
might a d d that the word-order in the first half of line 3, colle sub aprico,
n o u n + sub + adjective, is paralleled in the collection only at 1.4.48 ueste
sub iniecta, 1.12.10 melle sub infami, 2.6.49 colle sub Elysio (cf. also Ars
1.684 c. s. Idaeo, 2.420 c. s. umbroso; n o other classical poet constructs

η. 12) 151-52, w h o maintains that, however untypical this narrative technique may be,
it d o e s not throw doubt on Ovid's authorship.
30
See F. Munari, P. Ovidi Nasonis Amores: Testo, introduzione, traduzione e note. 5 th
ed. (Florence 1970) xxiii n. 2, Kenney (1969; above η. 4) 8.
31
W. Marg and R. Harder, Publius Ovidius Naso: Liebesgedichte. 7 th ed. (Munich 1992) 219.
32
The unexpectedness with which Horos begins to speak has led s o m e editors to
begin a n e w elegy at line 71, as is the case here also at line 31 in C and Va (with the title
interpretatio somnii).
33
(1969; above n. 4) 2-3.
34
See Bertini (1976; above n. 12) 158 n. 17, Navarro Antolin (above n. 5) 83 n. 54,
Bretzigheimer (above n. 5) 263-64.
35
A p u d Kenney (1969; above n. 4) 6.
 THE AUTHENTICITY OF AMORES 3.5 121

such a hemistich with collis) and in line 8 of the Somnium, fronde sub
arborea. Such concentrations are not necessarily a symptom of spuri-
ousness. Ovid has the same combination of trochaic verb + et at the
beginning of three pentameters in 2.18 (40 lines), the vocatives docte
Catulle, prodige Galle and culte Tibulle occur in the same position in con-
secutive pentameters at 3.9.62-66 3 0 and, in the space of 18 lines, 3.13
contains three words compounded with prae which Ovid may have
coined (7 praenubilis, 11 praesono, 24 praeuerro).
The repetitions in lines 7 - 8 ipse sub arboreis uitabam frondibus aestum,
/fronde sub arborea sed tarnen aestus erat may not be quite so effective as
Callimachus' marvellous evocation of the mid-day hush at hy. 5.71-74 Υππω
έπί κράνα Έλικωνίδι καλά ρεοίσα / λωντο μεσαμβρινά δ' είχ' ορος άσυχία. /
άμφότεραι λώοντο, μεσαμβριναί δ' εσαν ώραν, /πολλά δ' άσυχία τηνο κατείχεν
ορος (a passage once much suspected on account of its repetitions), 37
but the balance between the two lines of the couplet well suggests the
inescapable heat. Citing Mei. 1.325-26,481-82,3.353-55 and 4.306-309,
Kenney concedes that the style is Ovidian, but he objects that it is ex-
cessive that such repetitions should occur also in 27-28 and 31-33. 3 8
Housman 3 9 selected 13-14 candidior, quod adhuc spumis albentibus
albet / et modo siccatam, lacte, reliquit, ouem, along with Ep. 10.110, Ars
1.399-400, Met. 3.584-85, Fast. 1.263-64, 3.383-84, Ibis 3 - 4 , Tr. 3.5.23-
24, Pont. 1.1.80 and 1.5.79, as being "out of the immense number of
Ovid's hyperbata . . . ten of the most astounding." 4 0 Although such
hyperbata have an unimpeachable Ovidian pedigree, Kenney finds it
suspicious that this example should be followed by another, equally
daring, in line 18, atque iterum pasto pascitur ante cibo.41 Modern doubts
about the poem's authenticity were first influentially articulated by
Lucian Müller. In rejecting the Somnium as spurious, he suggested that
"zunächst geht durch das ganze Gedicht ein so moroser Ernst, eine so
feierliche S t i m m u n g , wie er sowohl mit dem d a r z u s t e l l e n d e n
Gegenstande als mit Ovids allbekanntem Tone seltsam disharmonirt." 42

36 This parallelism is so remarkable that one can hardly suppose it to be uninten-

tional.
3 7 See A. W. Bulloch, Callimachus: The Fifth Hymn (Cambridge 1985: Cambridge Clas-

sical Texts and Commentaries 26) 177 n. 3.

3 8 (1969; above n. 4) 5 - 6 ; see also Munari (1948; above n. 3) 1 4 5 - 4 6 .

3 9 A. E. Housman, "Horatiana III," Journal of Philology 18 (1890) 7 (= The Classical

Papers of A. E. Housman, eds. J. Diggle and F. R. D. Goodyear [Cambridge 1972] 140).
4 0 " O v i d ' s Heroides V," CR 11 (1897) 428 (= [1972] 415). On this mannerism, so fre-

quent in Ovid, but of which M. Platnauer, Latin Elegiac Verse. A Study of the Metrical
Usages of Tibullus, Propertius and Ovid (Cambridge 1951) 1 0 4 - 1 0 8 cites no instances in
Tibullus or Propertius, see also Kenney on Lucr. 3 . 8 4 3 - 4 4 , Börner on Met. 9 . 9 4 - 9 6 .
41 (1969; above n. 4) 6.
42 " Z u r Kritik des ersten Theils der ovidischen Dichtungen," RhM 18 (1863) 81.
122 J. C. MCKEOWN

This verdict, which stands in sharp contrast to the encomia which the
poem has received from some more recent critics, 43 may seem espe-
cially harsh for lines 17-20, in which a uir stultus who falls into a
drunken stupor at a banquet 44 is symbolically portrayed as a bull doz-
ing after chewing its cud. Quite apart from its attribution to Ovid by
Servius auctus, 45 line 18 in particular seems thoroughly Ovidian, with
the bull's rumination playfully suggested by the adventurous use of
language, not least by the witty hyperbaton. Pastus is uncommon, but
not remarkably so, in a passive sense; cf. Prop. 2.33A.12 (of Io) mandasti
<et> stabulis arbuta pasta (if n. pl. acc.) tuis, TLL 10.1.598.16-35, also
Verg. Eel 1.54 and Lucan 9.182 (both depastus), [Ον.] Hal. 119 epastas
solus qui ruminât es cas (where epastas is a ίχπαξ λεγόμενον) 46 The juxta-
position to the deponent pascitur emphasises the declinatio, which is in
the same spirit as that at e.g. Amores 2.16.25-26 Charybdis / fundit et
effusas ore receptat aquas.47 The line is perhaps the more delightful be-
cause it makes no attempt to advance the narrative: Servius auctus
quotes it as a gloss on the same words in Vergil as end the hexameter
here also. Such subordination of the content of the pentameter to that
of the hexameter is characteristically Ovidian. 48
The poem's concluding words, ante oculos nox stetit alta meos, recall
Nox... ocellos in the opening line, with a perhaps deliberate reversal of
the word-order, emphasised by the juxtaposition of oculos nox instead
of the widest possible separation. Verbal ring-composition between the
beginning and end of an elegy is a frequent feature of the Amores.49
Bertini argues that its occurrence here is indicative of the poem's au-
thenticity. 50 It is not, however, a peculiarly Ovidian technique. 5 1
Moreover, one might wonder whether Ovid would have distracted at-
tention from it by constructing this final phrase in a manner more

4 3 E.g. C. Rambaux, Trois analyses de l'amour (Paris 1985) 145, "Elle est l'une des

plus éclairantes [sc. élégies] d u recueil"; Tronchet (above η. 5) 124, "Ainsi la nuit ob-
scure des Amours resplendit-elle souvent de fulgurantes clartés" (on the low estimation
of the Somnium by earlier French scholars, see Kenney [1969; above n. 4] 7); Bretzigheimer
(above n. 5) 265, " 3 . 5 ist eine komplexe Elegie mit nur scheinbar eindimensionaler
A u s s a g e " ; even Kenney (1962; above η. 4) 13, "The Somnium is, in its way, an effective
p o e m , and the work of an accomplished p o e t . "
44 For the type, see M c K e o w n on 1.4.51-54.
45 See above, p. 116.
4 6 See n. 15.

4 7 J. Wills, Repetition in Latin Poetry: Figures of Allusion (Oxford 1996) 248, however,

cites no close parallel.

4 8 See M c K e o w n (1987; above n. 18) 1 0 8 - 1 4 .

4 9 See McKeown on 1.5.26 and 2.8.28.

5 0 (1976; above n. 12) 1 5 6 - 5 7 .

5 1 It occurs also, for example, in the other elegists; see M c K e o w n on 1.5.26.

 THE AUTHENTICITY OF AMORES 3.5 123

strongly reminiscent of line 10 constitit ante oculos candida uacca meos,

with which it has no obviously significant link.
By emphasising in the above discussion the often subjective and
speculative nature of much of the debate on the problem, I hope to
have shown that no definitive solution can be obtained, either for or
against authenticity, by means of such arguments as have yet been ad-
duced. 5 2 Subjectivity is a criticism often levelled at those who question
the poem's authenticity. 53 1 believe, however, that both sides of the de-
bate suffer from a lack of objective criteria. In particular, I would suggest
that our understanding of the principles of poem-arrangement or poem-
numbers in the Amores is too limited to allow us to base an argument
for authenticity on the position of the Somnium as the fifth poem in the
third book, and that suspicions about its content and style are not strong
enough to establish the elegy's spuriousness.
It is not, however, true to suppose that to allay these suspicions
about content and style would be enough to establish authenticity. That
would establish only that the poem was written either by Ovid or by
an imitator more competent at imitation than those who deny authen-
ticity believe him to be. If the Somnium is an Amores-elegy, it will have
been written in conformity with the aims and purposes of the rest of
the collection. The raison d'être of the Amores is to play variations on
the themes and conventions of Augustan love-elegy, their defining char-
acteristic being the creative reworking of Tibullus and Propertius, with
a liberal admixture of allusions to other earlier poetry also. This is de-
monstrably not the case with the Somnium. Even though, as is noted
above, its theme, the erotic dream, is perfectly in accord with Augustan
elegy, it is almost, or perhaps entirely, devoid of such echoes. This cru-
cial difference is, fortunately, rather more objectively quantifiable than
are arguments based on the possible significance of the poem's posi-
tion in the collection or on any perceived stylistic shortcomings, as may
be seen in a comparison with, for example, Amores 3.3 and 3.4, which
both happen to be just one couplet longer than the Somnium.54
In 3.3, Ovid complains that the gods do not punish the perjuries of
beautiful women. In so doing, he makes substantial use of both

5 2 This opinion lays no claim to novelty; F. W. Lenz, Ovid: Die Liebeselegien. 2 n d ed.

(Berlin 1966) 11 states that "Weder der positive noch der negative Beweis lässt sich mit
Sicherheit führen."
5 3 See e.g. Lenz (above η. 52) 11, Rambaux (above η. 43) 145, Semmlinger (above η.

5) 461 and, perhaps most forcefully, Bertini (1995; above n. 5) 226, "I riferimenti interni
addotti dal Kenney, cioè i motivi tematici, formali e linguistico-stilistici, sono tutti
opinabili, ribaltabili e confutabili."
5 4 Since the Amores were probably begun c. 26-25 BC, when Tib. II and Prop. III-IV

had not yet been published (see McKeown [1987; above n. 17] 74-76), one should not
124 J. C. MCKEOWN

Propertius a n d Tibullus. In particular, he contradicts Propertius' un-

conventional opinion, at 2.16.47-56, that violations of the αφροδίσιος
δρκος, especially by w o m e n , do not go u n p u n i s h e d , while Tib. 1.9.5-6
partite, caelestes: aequum est impune licere / numina formosis laedere uestra
semel seems to provide Ovid's p o e m with a pervasive leitmotiv. The
Tibullan couplet is most clearly echoed in lines 43-44 si deus ipseforem,
numen sine fraude liceret //emina, mendaci fallerei ore meum, with numen . . .
falleret . . . meum being equivalent to numina . . . laedere uestra, sine
fraude to impune, and liceret being in the same position as licere. The
same passage m a y also be hinted at three times elsewhere: in lines 3 - 4
capillos / tam longos, postquam numina laesit, habet; in 31 formosas superi
metuunt contemnere laesi, where superi is equivalent to Tibullus' caelestes,
whil e formosas is more specific than formosis, which refers to both m e n
a n d w o m e n ; a n d in 48 oculis certe parce, puella, meis, w i t h parce
emphasising that the girl has greater p o w e r than do the gods. Lines 9 -
10 ocelli,/per quos mentita est perfida saepe mihi rework Prop. 1.15.33-34
ocelli, /per quos saepe mihi eredita perfidia est, w i t h mentiri per... offering
a witty variation on the standard expression turare per.... Lines 11-12
scilicet aeterno falsum iurare puellis / di quoque concedunt c o n t r a d i c t
Propertius' view that non semper placidus periuros ridet amantes/Iuppiter
(2.16.47-48). 55 In lines 35-36 Iuppiter igne suo lucos iaculatur et arces /
missaque periuras tela ferire uetat, Ovid seems again to be contradicting
that same passage of Propertius: nec sic de nihilo fulminis ira cadit; /
periuras tunc ille (sc. Jupiter) solet punire puellas, /deceptus quoniamfleuit
et ipse deus (52-54). There are several further verbal or structural ech-
oes w h i c h , w h i l e a p p a r e n t l y i n c o n s e q u e n t i a l , s h o w c l e a r l y t h e
f u n d a m e n t a l influence of the older elegists on Ovid. One m a y note the
similarity of alterius meriti cur ego damna tuli? (16) to Prop. 2.30.32 com-
munis culpae cur reus unus agor?, of et mecum lusos ridet inulta deos (20)
to Tib. 1.9.53-54 te... /rideat assiduis uxor inulta dolis, of aut, si quis deus
est, teñeras amat ille puellas (25) to Prop. 2.4.17 hostis si quis erit nobis,
amet ille puellas, of et quisquam pia turafocis imponere curat? (33) to Tib.
2.2.3 urantur pia tura focis (see further below), and of et non de tetricis
dicerer esse deus (46) to Prop. 2.24A.6 non ego nequitiae dicerer esse caput.
In Amores 2.19, Ovid h a d argued that his mistress' h u s b a n d should
guard her more closely (since his o w n love-affair w i t h her otherwise
lacks the spice of danger); in 3.4, he goes on to argue the opposite (since
n o w he has no access to her at all). Even though 3.4 d r a w s its p r i m a r y

rule out the possibility of Ovid's influence on the older elegists. It happens, however,
that almost all the passages which I shall adduce here are from Tib. I and Prop. I—II.
55
I shall offer further arguments in favor of aeterno, the reading of the uetustiores,
in m y commentary.
 THE AUTHENTICITY OF AMORES 3.5 125

impetus from another Amores-poem, nevertheless, it also, like 3.3, owes

much to both Tibullus and Propertius. Ovid will conclude that, since
the woman cannot be guarded effectively, and will wish to be unfaith-
ful, her husband should derive what advantage he can for himself from
her infidelity. Apparently innocent echoes of the older elegists at the
beginning of the poem, however, seem to suggest that Ovid will con-
cur with the conventional view that women who are chaste owe their
chastity to their own purity of mind; compare si qua metu dempto casta
est, ea denique casta est (3) with Tib. 1.6.75 nec saeuo sis casta metu, sed
mente fideli, and cui peccare licet, peccat minus (9) with Prop. 2.6.40 quam
peccare pudet, Cynthia, tuta sat est. Obsequio uinces aptius ilia (sc. uitia)
tuo (12) applies the sentiment of Tib. 1.4.40 obsequio plurima uincet amor
to a quite different, and paradoxical, context. Tibullus' Priapus is ad-
vocating the advantages of self-abasement in seruitium amoris, but, since,
in the setting of marriage, obsequium was considered primarily a wifely
virtue, Ovid is foreshadowing the argument in the last six lines of the
poem, that the husband should forego his rights and subordinate him-
self to his unfaithful wife. In 2.23, Propertius had argued that it is
preferable to resort to prostitutes rather than to have an affair with a
married woman; Ovid alludes to that elegy several times in arguing
the opposite case, iuuat inconcessa uoluptas (31) echoes Amores 2.19.24
(of obstacles set up by a mistress) hoc iuuat, haec animi sunt alimenta mei,
52 at mihi concessa finis amoris erit and 59 quin alium, quem tanta iuuet
patientia, quaeris?, while also contradicting Prop. 2.23.12 a pereant, si
quos ianua clausa iuuat! and 21-22 et quas Euphrates et quas mihi misit
Orontes, / me iu[u]erint: nolimfurta pudica tori, sola placet, 'timeo!' dicere
si qua potest (32) is an inversion of Propertius' argument at 2.23.19-20
in favor of resorting to prostitutes: nec dicet: 'Timeo, propera iam surgere,
quaeso: / infelix, hodie uir mihi rure uenit.' Finally, although there are no
strong verbal echoes, it seems reasonable to suppose that notos mores
non satis Vrbis habet (38) is a cynical endorsement of Propertius' com-
plaint at 2.32.43-48 o nimium nostro felicem tempore Romam, / si contra
mores una puella facit! /. . . /qui quaerit Tatios ueteres durosque Sabinos, /
hic posuit nostra nuper in urbe pedem.
For the Somnium, although on a theme which is treated in extenso
three times by Propertius, 56 the harvest of such allusions is extremely
jejune. There is a general similarity between Nox erat et somnus lassos
summisit ocellos (1) and Prop. 1.10.7 quamuis labentis premerei mihi somnus
ocellos and 2.15.7 illa meos somno lapsos patefecit ocellos, between in ramis

5 6 In 2.26, 3.3 and 4.7; see above, p. 118. We should perhaps note also Lygd. 4, of

uncertain date but dealing specifically with a dream concerning the infidelity of the
poet's mistress.
126 J. C. MCKEOWN

multa latebat auis (4) and Prop. 4.9.30 multaque cantantis umbra tegebat
auis, between 11-12 niuibus . . . ¡ in liquidas nondum quas mora uertit
aquas and Tib. 1.9.11-12 deus illa / in cinerem et liquidas muñera uertat
aquas. In no case is it clear that the verbal resemblance is more than
accidental. Perhaps only talia uisa (2) shows a slight, and hardly very
creative, debt to an earlier elegist: that phrase occurs at the conclusion
of an account of a dream at Prop. 2.26.20.
If a specific model is to be sought for talia uisa, one might perhaps
look equally well to Verg. A. 3.172 talibus attonitus uisis (following the
appearance of the Penates to Aeneas in a dream). Allusions to non-
elegiac models would seem, however, to be as sparse in the Somnium
as are echoes of Tibullus and Propertius. The line-ending floribus herbas
(9), if not derived from Ovid himself (Met. 5.266), may draw, inconse-
quentially, on Lucr. 2.33 (= 5.1396). Reuocatas ruminât herbas (17) is
comparable to Verg. Eel. 6.54 (of Pasiphaë's bull) pallentis ruminât herbas.
leuibus comix pinnis delapsa per auras (21) may echo Verg. A. 11.595 (=
Ilias 96) ilia (sc. the n y m p h Opis) leuis caeli delapsa per auras, but such
phrases are common; cf. Ars 1.43, Met. 3.101, 8.51, Sil. 2.542, Ilias 464.
Similarly, die age, nocturnae . . . imaginis augur, / si quid habent ueri (31-
32) seems to recall Verg. A. 7.273 si quid ueri mens augurat, but note also
Tr. 4.10.129 si quid habent. . . uatum praesagia ueri. mobilibus foliis (35) is
possibly d r a w n from Hor. Carm. 1.23.5-6 mobilibus ueris inhorruit /
aduentus foliis, but, again, the borrowing has no apparent consequence,
and its appropriateness has been called into question. 5 7
In 3.3 and 3.4, by contrast, Ovid makes frequent creative use of
earlier non-elegiac poetry. At 3.3.3-10, the idea that the girl's beauty
should have been marred by the gods as a punishment for her perjury
would seem to be a development of Hor. Carm. 2.8.1-4 Vila si iuris tibi
peierati / poena, Barine, nocuisset umquam, I dente si nigrofieres uel uno /
turpior ungui. Whereas Horace's examples of ugliness, the blackening
of a tooth and the deformity of a fingernail, are few in number, small in
scale and easily credible, Ovid's detailed list of ways in which his mis-
tress should have suffered loss of her beauty is distinctly humorous: in
particular, it is bizarre to imagine the girl's hair shortening, or her feet
expanding, or that, instead of being tall and comely, she should be-
come short and ugly. In the Epicurean context of irrational fear of the
gods, stulta populos credulitate mouet (24) has a Lucretian color: stultus is
used thus dismissively by Lucretius at 3.939 and 1023, and populos may
be derived specifically from 5.1218-22 cui non animus formidine diuum /
contrahitur, cui non correpunt membra pauore, /fulminis horribili cum plaga
torrida tellus / contremit et magnum percurrunt murmura caelum? / non

57
See Kenney (1969; above n. 4) 6-7.
 THE AUTHENTICITY OF AMORES 3.5 127

populi gentesque tremunt? In line 33 et quisquam pia tura focis imponere

curat?, the sequence pia tura focis m a y be an u n p o i n t e d reminiscence of
Tib. 2.2.3 urantur pia tura focis (see above), b u t the indignant question
as a whole is a witty reworking of Verg. A. 1.48-49 et quisquam numen
Iunonis adorat /praeterea aut supplex aris imponet honorem? Just as Ovid
claims that the gods are inferior to beautiful w o m e n , so Juno's sense
that her divinity has been diminished lies ultimately w i t h her defeat in
the J u d g m e n t of Paris. Whereas, however, Juno is anxious lest m a n -
kind should cease to honor her, Ovid professes outrage that anyone
should continue to h o n o r the gods in general, luppiter igne suo lucos
iaculatur et arces (35) echoes Hör. Carm. 1.2.2-3 pater... rubente/dextera
sacras iaculatus arces, the only earlier instance of iaculari constructed
w i t h the target as direct object.
Desine, crede mihi, uitia irritare uetando (3.4.11) is a particularly com-
plex line. N o t only does the first hemistich echo Amores 2.2.9-10 (to
Bagoas) si sapis, o custos, odium, mihi crede, mereri I desine, h u m o r o u s l y
anticipating O v i d ' s proposal that the h u s b a n d should debase himself
to the level of a conniving eunuch-chaperon, b u t the second is reworked
at Rem. 133 quin etiam accendas uitia irritesque uetando. In his commen-
tary ad loc., H e n d e r s o n notes the allusion to this line, "which in turn
echoes Virg. Georg. 3.454 alitur vitium vivitque tegendo (about a sheep's
ulcus), itself derived f r o m Lucr. 4.1068 ulcus enim vivescit et inveterasen
58
alendo (the abscess of love)." There seems to be similar latent artistry
in line 18 sic interdictis imminet aeger aquis. The verb imminere, w h i c h
seems a very strong term to use here, occurs elsewhere in Ovid only in
the Metamorphoses (10 times). Met. 4.458-59 tibi, Tantale, nullae /
deprenduntur aquae, quaeque imminet, effugit arbor (cf. also Stat. Theb.
6.280-81 Tantalus . . . qui fallentibus undis / imminet) suggests that Ovid
is here alluding to Lucretius' reference to Tantalus at 4.1100 in medioque
sitit torrenti flumine potans, in his locus classicus for thirst as an image
of frustrated love. O v i d ' s allusion is wittily creative, for he renders the
conceit rather less than romantic by attributing the thirst to illness,
specifically to dropsy, the abnormal accumulation of serous fluid in
cellular tissue or a b o d y cavity. Moreover, the analogy is here craftily

58
In thus bypassing Vergil to return to an amatory context in Lucretius, Ovid af-
fords an example of the sophisticated technique of double allusion, for which see
McKeown (1987; above n. 17) 37-45. (In that discussion, I suggested [p. 43] that, in re-
ferring to Ilia at 3.4.39-40, Ovid is bypassing Prop. 2.23.19-20 to derive that exemplum
from Hor. S. 1.2.125-26. I am now less confident of the validity of that instance of the
technique.) Double allusion, like etymologising (for the play on deus / δέος in 3.3.23 aut
sine re nomen deus est frustraque timetur, see McKeown 48), would seem to be entirely
absent from the Somnium. I should not wish, however, to suggest this as evidence of the
poem's spuriousness. Several Amores-poems are also apparently devoid of these features.
128 J. C. M C K E O W N

inappropriate: whereas he is ostensibly arguing that giving the girl free

rein will reduce her desire for other lovers, drinking water exacerbates
dropsy; cf. Hor. Carm. 2.2.13-14 crescit indulgens s ibi dirus hydrops / nec
sitim pellit, Fast. 1.214-16 (of modern corruption) ipsae uitiis sunt alimenta
uices: / sic, quibus intumuit suffusa uenter ab undo, /quo plus sunt potae,
plus sitiuntur aquae.
It may be that I have unintentionally overstated the significance of
some of the passages adduced as models for Amores 3.3 and 3.4, or that
others will detect allusions in the Somnium which I have not. 5 9 Never-
theless, the general picture should be clear. This marked contrast
between the Somnium and two Amores-poems of much the same length
(but otherwise chosen at random) strongly suggests that, unless we
may suppose that Ovid has quite anomalously abandoned his moti-
vating interest in intertextual allusion when composing on a theme for
which several potential elegiac models were available, then the Somnium
cannot have been written by him. It is universally agreed that the poem
is heavily Ovidian in style (however much some may dispute the suc-
cess of this attempt). I would suggest that it is precisely the author's
effort to show himself to be a poeta Ouidianus which is his downfall. In
focussing his attention on imitating Ovid, not only has he arguably
made overlavish use of Ovidian stylistic traits, but, more importantly,
he has also failed to do what Ovid himself does, namely to imitate other
poets, especially the older elegists.

UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN

5 9 Tronchet (above n. 5) has recently argued for an elaborate nexus of Vergilian and

Homeric echoes pervading the Somnium. If accepted, his thesis would prove that the
poem is more complex than it might otherwise appear, but it would not thereby neces-
sarily establish Ovidian authorship.
 OVID ON THE AUGUSTAN PALATINE (TRISTIA 3.1)

BY JOHN F. MILLER

Eduardo conlegae Ovidiano

The most recent historical novel about Ovid, Jane Alison's The hove Artist
(New York 2001), opens with a scene in which the poet is packing up
for the move to the shores of the Black Sea. Soldiers have unexpectedly
appeared at Ovid's house to execute the sentence of exile and he can
take along whatever he wants. Suddenly breaking into a broad grin,
then laughter, he quips to the centurions, "Does that mean I can bring
Rome?" No response from the soldiers, of course. However, the elegiac
laments which Ovid penned in exile show that he did in his imagina-
tion take along the capital city where he had flourished, the lively
metropolis from which Augustus' decree had torn him. From time to
time readers of the exilic epistles see him making vivid "mind's eye
visits," to use Peter Green's apt phrase. 1 A reverie on Italian spring-
time conjures up the seasonal leisure activities in central Rome—at the
theaters, in Agrippa's grand park in the Campus Martius (Tr. 3.12.17-
26). Another detailed mental ramble includes his own villa just outside
the City near the Milvian Bridge (Pont. 1.8.33-48), which similarly
imaginative archaeologists claim to have found in 1999. In Tristia 4.2
such flights of fancy acquire a panegyrical tinge, while at the same time
broadcasting the exiled poet's independence. He conceives in his mind's
eye a brilliant triumphal pageant for Tiberius, clad in purple and laurel,
thronged by a roaring populace on his way to Capitoline Jupiter. Though
banished from Rome by Tiberius' adoptive father, his own mind, Ovid
adds, can range freely mediam . . . in urbem (Tr. 4.2.61). Elsewhere he
generalizes more poignantly on the power of his memory: "my coun-
try and wife, whatever was dear to me, is present here. I cannot touch
them but must imagine their presence. Before my eyes flit images of
home and city and the city's places, and the events associated with
each place." 2

1 Ovid: The Poems of Exile (London 1994) Index s.v. 'Rome.' See also E. J. Kenney's

remarks in the introduction to Ovid: Sorrows of an Exile, trans. A. D. Melville (Oxford

1992) XV and n. 4.
2 Tr. 3.4b.7-12 at longe patria est, longe carissima coniunx, /quidquid et haec nobis post
duo dulce fuit./sic tarnen haec adsunt, ut quae contingere non est / corpore, sint animo cuncta
videnda meo. / ante oculos errant domus, Vrbsque et forma locorum, / accedunt suis singula
facta locis (Luck's text). Except where otherwise noted, I cite the Tristia from J. B. Hall's
Teubner edition (Stuttgart and Leipzig 1995).
130 JOHN F. MILLER

One place recollected in exile which, not surprisingly, prompts no

such wistful reflections is the Emperor's compound on the Palatine
Hill. We now know through excavations, if still imperfectly, that
Augustus erected a grand building complex on the southwestern cor-
ner of the Palatine, which included (among other things) his residence,
a new temple of Apollo, and a library. With this cluster of new land-
marks more than any other Augustus fixed his personal stamp on the
landscape of central Rome. Augustan poets refer to the temple and its
attendant structures more frequently than to any other monument in
Rome. 3 Virgil imagines Octavian's triple triumph ending there (A. 8.720-
22), others public and private sacrifices (Hor. Carm. 1.31, Saec. 1-12,65;
Prop. 4.6) and a priestly installation (Tib. 2.5). Propertius depicts him-
self sightseeing there (2.31); Ovid more than once in his amatory elegies
singles out the Danaid portico as a meeting place for would-be lovers
(Am. 2.2.3-4, Ars 1.73-74, 3.389-90). From the vantage point of Tomis,
however, Ovid contemplates the Palatine as a frightful symbol of im-
perial power. In the first poem of Tristia 1 he states this outright, warning
his book now heading for Rome to steer clear of Augustus' lofty Pa-
latine compound and its resident deities; from there came crashing
down on his head the thunderbolt of exile (1.1.69-74):

forsitan expectes an in alta Palatia missum

scandere te iubeam Caesareamque domum.
ignoscant augusta mihi loca dique locorum!
venit in hoc illa fulmen ab arce caput,
esse quidem memini mitissima sedibus illis
numina, sed timeo quae nocuere loca.

In the sequel to that elegy, the opening poem of Tristia 3, Ovid imag-
ines his poetic representative narrating its actual arrival in the City.
The personified liber cautiously inquires (3.1.21 furtim lingua titubante
locutus), as if briefed as Tristia 1 had been, where a newcomer like itself
can secure hospitality (3.1.19-20): dicite, lectores, si non grave, qua sit
eundum, / quasque petam sedes hospes in urbe liber. Sadly—ominously—
only one person steps forward to show the way (3.1.22). The first exilic
book was imagined to end up eventually on the bookshelves of Ovid's
house—the book's own house (1.1.106 tuam . . . domum). The third
volume's guide has a different destination in mind, no less than the
Augustan Palatine. Here emerges one of the richest descriptions of the
whole complex, yet one again filtered through Ovid's exilic prism.
Where Tristia 1.1 presented the place briefly in stark terms of raw power,

3 P. White, Promised Verse: Poets in the Society of Augustan Rome (Cambridge, Ma.

1993) 321, n. 89.

 OVID ON THE AUGUSTAN PALATINE 131

essentially casting Palatine Augustus as an angry Capitoline Jupiter,

here Ovid plays more subtle games with his Tomitan book's travel-
ogue, offering a vision of the place by turns playful and grim, spun
from his poetic as well as his experiential memories.
The good Samaritan first gives Ovid's book a tour of Rome's monu-
mental center (3.1.27-32), somewhat in the manner of Propertius 4 and
Ovid's Fasti. Presumably meeting in the Argiletum, which was known
for its book shops,4 they skirt the Forum of Julius Caesar and proceed
through the Forum Romanum along the Sacra Via, taking in the Temple
of Vesta and the Regia before turning right at the gate to the Palatine.
Here the guide gestures toward the Temple of Jupiter Stator and the
alleged spot of Rome's foundation as they start up the so-called clivus
Palatinus. The route is not unlike that taken by a tourist today walking
from the Forum to the Palatine.
Ovid's book neglects to mention that the ascent has taken them
through a residential district.5 The provincial book-visitor registers
general astonishment at the urban sights; at the summit its attention is
arrested by the house-door of Augustus, evidently standing out from
among the rest (3.1.33-34): singula dum miror, video fulgentibus armis /
conspicuos postes tectaque digna deo. The spoils hung on the doors—tra-
ditional for Roman aristocrats6—are gleaming, the teda "worthy of a
god." It is unclear exactly to what the latter phrase refers, whether to
the whole house or to a fastigium suggestive of divinity like that which
ornamented Julius Caesar's residence—literally a tectumJ In any case
the book must be referring to some impressive physical characteristic.
The words therefore carry more than a hint of irony, as Catharine

4 Martial 1.3.1-2, 1.117.9-17; see C. Neumeister, Das antike Rom: Ein literarischer
Stadtführer (Munich 1991) 1 0 6 - 1 0 9 , whose entire discussion of Ovid's p o e m ( 1 0 6 - 2 4 ) is
important. Other reconstructions of the tour: J. H. Bishop, "Palatine Apollo," CQ 6 (1956)
1 8 7 - 9 2 ; G. Lugli, " C o m m e n t o topografico all'Elegia I del III libro dei Tristia," in Atti del
Convegno Internazionale Ovidiano, 2 vols. (Rome 1959) 2 . 3 9 7 - 4 0 3 ; T. P. Wiseman, "Conspicui
postes tectaque digna deo: The Public Image of Aristocratic and Imperial Houses in the
Late Republic and Early E m p i r e , " in L'Urbs: Espace urbain et histoire (Rome 1987) 4 0 3 -
405. See the m a p in the Budé edition of André (which has the pair start in the F o r u m of
Augustus and pass through it and the F o r u m of Caesar) and in Melville (above n. 1).
5 Wiseman (above n. 4) 4 0 4 - 4 0 5 points to the parallel with Met. 1 . 1 6 8 - 7 6 , where the

Palatia caeli has a street leading to Jupiter's palatial house along which were homes " o f
the noble g o d s . "
6 See Wiseman (above n. 4) 3 9 4 - 9 6 , who notes the parallel honors in affixing spolia

to a v i c t o r ' s house and a temple. At Aeneid 8 . 7 2 1 - 2 2 Virgil pictures Octavian trium-

phantly hanging up spoils on postes of the Temple of Apollo next door to his house.
7 1 o w e this point to Stephen Harrison. For Julius C a e s a r ' s pediment, see Cie. Phil.

2.110, Suet. Jul. 81.3, Flor. Epit. 2.13.91, Obsequens 67, Plut. Caes. 63.9; on the symbolism
(divinity or kingship), S. Weinstock, Divus Julius (Oxford 1971) 2 8 0 - 8 1 , w h o , however,
argues against a pediment for Augustus' Palatine house.
132 JOHN F. MILLER

g
Edwards pointed out, in view of their allusion to Aeneid 8.364-65,
where Evander invites Aeneas into his simple dwelling, enjoining his
Trojan guest to "have the courage to scorn wealth and (thereby) make
yourself also (like Hercules) worthy of a god" (aude, hospes, contemnere
opes et te quoque dignum I finge deo). Virgil situates Evander's humble
abode—which the Pallantean king self-ironically calls a regia (Λ. 8.363)—
near the very spot of Augustus' house on the Palatine; 9 the insistence
on simplicity further suggests a parallel with the famously unostenta-
tious living quarters of the princeps. 10 Ovid not only transfers the idea
dignum deo from Virgil's heroic prototype of Augustus to the noble
descendant's own house; he also inverts the context, in a typical bit of
deconstruction, from Evander's poor palace to the splendid imperial
residence in the same neighborhood, thus obliquely calling into ques-
tion the emperor's reputation for humble living. The emerging Ovidian
scenario will deepen the ironic intertextual play. While Ovid's book is
a hospes, as is the hero invited into Evander's home, 1 1 it will be denied
the hospitality that the guide has brought it to the Augustan compound
to seek.
The phrase tectaque digna deo is only the first indication of the di-
vine aura that Ovid depicts surrounding this building-complex. The
book's initial reaction leads it next to wonder which deity inhabits this
place. In the Fasti Ovid spoke of three gods living in the Augustan resi-
dence (4.951-54; cf. Met. 15.864-65): Phoebus Apollo holds part in that
his temple is attached to the imperial residence; a shrine to Vesta was
a d d e d w h e n the princeps became pontifex maximus in 12 BC; a n d
Augustus himself rounds out the divine trio (4.952 quod superest illis,

8
Writing Rome: Textual Approaches to the City (Cambridge 1996) 120.
9
See the careful analysis of G. Binder, Aeneas und Augustus: Interpretationen zum 8.
Buch der Aeneis (Meisenheim am Glan 1971) 137; also K. W. Gransden, Virgil: Aeneid
Book VIII (Cambridge 1976) 30.
10
See Suet. Aug. 72 on the modest size and decorations of Augustus' house, for-
merly the h o u s e of Hortensius. The biographer's assessment is certainly correct in
comparison w i t h the vast palaces of later emperors, but Ovid's description of the exte-
rior implies a grand structure. See F. Castagnoli, "Note sulla topografia del Palatino e
del Foro Romano," ArchCl 16 (1964) 187, η. 58. The excavations reveal variations in el-
egance b e t w e e n the apparently private and public rooms in the H o u s e of A u g u s t u s
(e.g. mosaic vs. marble floors: G. Carettoni, Das Haus des Augustus auf dem Palatin [Mainz
1983] 9), w h i c h perhaps gave rise or contributed to the mythic status of A u g u s t u s ' m o d -
esty in this sphere. It is also possible that Ovid is pointing up the difference in grandeur
b e t w e e n Augustus' Palatine d w e l l i n g in Virgil's day and the rebuilt version after the
fire in 3 AD (Dio 55.12.3-4; Suet. Aug. 57.2): C. N e w l a n d s , "The Role of the Book in
Tristia 3.1," Ramus 26 (1997) 67.
11
A. 8.364. Cf. Tr. 3.1.20 quasque petam sedes hospes in urbe liber, where the hospes is a
'(prospective) guest' as well as a 'stranger.' After his journey, the tired (23 fesso; 26 lassus)
book seeks hospitable lodgings. See N é m e t h y ad loc.
 OVID ON THE AUGUSTAN PALATINE 133

tertius ipse tenet). The Tomitan visitor is concerned with the principal
inhabitant. Adapting a familiar conceit from the exilic elegies, 12 Ovid
has the book ask the guide if the house belongs to Jupiter (3.1.35 'et
Iovis haec' dixi 'domus est?').13 The Jovian color applied to the Augustan
Palatine in Tristia 1.1 lurks in the background but the book's naive query
also continues the text's engagement with the passage from Aeneid 8,
or rather with an issue in interpreting the Virgilian passage. Evander's
injunction to Aeneas was famous in antiquity. It is alluded to by Juvenal
(11.60-63) and quoted twice in Seneca's Moral Epistles (18.12, 31.11).
Modern commentators have debated the precise referent of deo in Aeneid
8.365—a god or the god? Hercules? Jupiter? deity in the abstract?—
and a Servian scholium suggests that this problem arose also in ancient
Virgilian scholarship (D. Serv. ad loc.): sane quidam 'deo'pro inmortalitate
dictum volunt. Quidam clearly implies that alternative views existed. If
we assume that the interpretive tradition on this point stretches back
to Ovid's time, then the book is being particularly bookish, playfully
echoing the scholarly query 1 4 in its reaction to seeing the "dwelling
worthy of a god": "Is this Jupiter's house?" it asks. Ovid hardly in-
tends here to take a position in the critical controversy. The question in
Virgilian scholarship becomes rather an Ovidian game.
A ludic spirit permeates the ensuing comment on Augustus' door-
way (3.1.35-48), ornamented most famously with the oaken corona civica
and twin laurel trees, honorific emblems which the senate awarded to
Octavian in January 27 BC along with the name 'Augustus.' It is the
oak's association with Jupiter which allegedly gave rise to the book's
'idea' (36 augurium, which mischievously evokes the name of the
house's real inhabitant 15 ), although Jupiter Stator's temple seen only
moments before (32) was an additional stimulus. 16 "Does this house
too belong to Jupiter?" When the guide corrects this mistaken impres-
sion by noting that Augustus resides here, the book, schooled in the
idiom of Ovid's exilic poetry, concludes that "this is truly the house of
great Jupiter" (38). The exchange resembles a vaudeville routine ex-

12 For Augustus = Jupiter see Tr. 1 . 1 . 8 1 , 1 . 4 . 2 6 , 1 . 5 . 7 5 - 7 8 , 2 . 3 3 - 4 0 , 2 1 5 - 1 7 , 3 . 5 . 7 , etc.

13 I here follow the text and punctuation of Owen's OCT rather than Luck et 'Iovis
haec' or Hall 'an Iovis haec.'
1 4 For another possible example of Ovid imitating Virgil in the light of the schol-

arly tradition, see C. Connors, "Seeing Cypresses in Virgil," C] 88 (1992) 4 - 1 2 .

1 5 On the etymological connection between augustus and augur(ium) see Ov. Fast.
1.609-11, Ennius fr. 155 Skutsch, Suet. Aug. 7.2, Servius on A. 7.153, Priscian 2.39.7.
1 6 C o m p a r e the directions which Ovid gave to the first book of Tristia at 1 . 6 9 - 7 2

(quoted above), where he speaks of the Palatine Hill in terms of Jupiter's Capitoline.
Was Ovid's conceit equating Jupiter and Augustus stimulated by A u g u s t a n ideology?
The roof of the r a m p between the e m p e r o r ' s house and the temple of Apollo included
thunderbolts among its painted figures (Carettoni, above n. 10, color plate Z).
134 JOHN F. MILLER

ploiting discrepancies between literal and metaphorical speech. Add-

ing the god's customary epithet magnus17 when speaking of Jupiter as
Augustus (38) but not of Jupiter himself three verses earlier could also
be read as drawing a contrast between the two. This is one of those
places in Ovid's poetry from exile when extravagant imperial enco-
mium seems to verge on impious impertinence. 18 Later in the elegy the
liber similarly dispenses with the need to pray to all the gods (77 neque
enim mihi turba rogando est), since Caesar is the greatest of the deities
(78 maxime dive). But any hint of impropriety can be conveniently ex-
cused in the case of this speaker, a rube from the edge of the empire.
To decode an Augustan monument in Rome can be a strenuous
exercise for an alien visitor. No sooner does the book shout that Jupi-
ter-Augustus indeed lives here than it questions its own association of
the house with Jupiter (3.1.39-40): cur tarnen adposita velatur ianua lauro,
/ cingit et augustas arbor opaca fores? Tarnen here has adversative force
rather than simply announcing the next topic. Unlike the oak, the lau-
rels gracing the entranceway do not suggest Jupiter—although they
could do so in a triumphal context (cf. Tr. 4.2.56 et dabitur merito laurea
vota lovi). If the qualification calls an alternative deity to mind, it will
of course be Apollo, to whom the laurel is sacred and whose temple
stands immediately next to the house. The book does not make this
simple observation but rather launches into a series of possible rea-
sons (3.1.41-46)—much as the antiquarian Ovid lists variant aetiologies
in the Fasti—only one of which involves the god. Does the laurel sym-
bolize eternal triumphs or Apollo's undying affection (42 an quia
Leucadio semper amata deo est?) or a festive spirit? Is it a sign of Au-
gustan peace or a mark of the house's perpetual glory? The stranger's
uncertainty unwittingly becomes a multifaceted expression of Augustan
victory and its fruits. 19 And the signal Augustan victory was at Actium,
fought near the shrine of Apollo on Leucas (42 Leucadio . . . deo), actu-
ally won by the god in some accounts. The laurel at these portals
signifies (among other things) this deity's continuous blessing upon
the victor.
If the book gives Apollo no special prominence in its fitful attempts
to decipher the laurel, the god does assert himself, so to speak, through
literary reference, as if to confirm our initial thought when the book

1 7 E.g. Ars 2.540, Fasti 3 . 4 4 8 , 6 . 1 9 6 , Met. 1.748,2.677, etc.; J. B. Carter, Epitheta deorum
quae apud poetas latinos leguntur (Leipzig 1902) 5 2 - 5 3 .
1 8 See, for example, Tr. 4 . 8 . 3 7 - 5 2 with E. J. Kenney, " T h e Poetry of Ovid's Exile,"

PCPS 11 (1965) 44; m y remarks on Pont. 2 . 8 . 9 - 1 0 in CP 82 (1987) 3 7 1 ; R. A. Smith, Poetic

Allusion and Poetic Embrace in Ovid and Virgil (Ann Arbor 1997) 189, on Tr. 1 . 1 . 6 9 - 7 4 .
1 9 Luck on 3.1.41f.: "Die zweifellos richtige Begründimg . . . steht a m Anfang: der

Lorbeer ist Symbol der Siege, die Augustus errungen h a t . " The subsequent causae (ex-
 OVID ON THE AUGUSTAN PALATINE 135

implies (39 tamen) that another deity than Jupiter must account for the
laurel. Commentators fail to note that the book's series of questions
about the Augustan residence's honorific laurels echoes the list of
Daphne's honors at Metamorphoses 1.560-65, which is spoken by none
other than Apollo himself. When he turns his attention to Rome, the
god first mentions laurels at the triumphal procession (Met. 1.560-61),
as will Ovid's exilic liber (Tr. 3.1.41 num quia perpetuos meruit domus ista
triumphos; cf. triumphum at line-end in Mei. 1.560 too). Next Apollo ad-
dresses what will be the very mise en scène in Tristia 3.1, telling Daphne
how she will guard Augustus' house and the oak at the emperor's door-
way (Met. 1.562-63). Both Apollo and the book from Tomis end their
catalogs with a comparison involving the ever-green status of the laurel:

utque meum intonsis caput est iuvenale capillis,

tu quoque perpetuos semper gere frondis honores.
(Met. 1.564-65)
utque viret semper laurus nec fronde caduca
carpitur, aeternum sic habet illa decus?
(Tr. 3.1.45-46)
Verbal and syntactic echoes are strongest here. The imitation also as-
sists the internal closure of the book's tightly-knit list of causae. The
liber's last couplet harks back to the first with the insistence on per-
petual honor: aeternum .. . decus (3.1.46) recalls perpetuos . .. triumphos
(41), while viret semper laurus (45) picks u p verse 42 ( . . . Leucadio semper
amata deo est). At the same time, the concluding phrases distinctly re-
call Apollo's last line to Daphne: Met. 1.565 perpetuos semper... honores.
The eternal glory of Augustus' house is traced back to Apollo's own
words in more ways than one. The query of the puzzled Tomitan book
receives a subtextual answer affirming an Apolline connection with
the house's honorific laurel.
Although the visiting liber itself remains mystified about the laurel's
precise meaning, it does achieve clarity about the oaken crown. In the
next couplet (3.1.47-48) the book notices (in the texts of Luck and Owen)
or (if we follow Hall's punctuation) has it pointed out by the guide
that an accompanying inscription declares this honor to have been
awarded ob cives servatos. Apiece of writing fittingly provides the book
more enlightenment than does visual symbolism. So the oak does not
here symbolize Jupiter after all! After setting u p the idea that the house
belongs to Jupiter-Augustus, Ovid has now dismantled it point by point.

cept perhaps for that concerning festivity, 43) are all associated with A u g u s t a n victory:
Leucadian Apollo at Actium, the peace and personal glory emanating from victory. See
in general A. Alföldi, Die zwei Lorbeerbäume des Augustus (Bonn 1973).
136 JOHN F. MILLER

The book entreats Augustus, then w e find the pair m o v i n g f r o m

the religious atmosphere of the house (e.g. 53 Penates, 57 placata) to the
adjacent dwelling of A u g u s t u s ' patron deity (59-60): inde tenore pari
gradibus sublimia celsis / ducor ad intonsi candida templa dei. The refer-
ence to 'the s a m e direction' (if that is w h a t tenore pari means 2 0 ) is
evidently straight ahead d o w n the slope to the terrace below, the level
of the A u g u s t a n libraries and most probably the Danaid portico—via a
hitherto undiscovered r a m p or stairway—from w h i c h vantage point
one could view the temple on high. 2 1 As at A u g u s t u s ' house, a brilliant
visual effect dazzles the visitor u p o n first reaching Apollo's temple.
Here it is the white marble (candida) on which Propertius (2.31.9) and
Virgil (A. 8.720) also remarked. Ovid identifies the honorandus w i t h ref-
erence to a standard aspect of the god's beauty; the epithet intonsi m a y
be a residual echo of Apollo's closing w o r d s to D a p h n e (Met. 1.564
intonsis . . . capillis; same sedes). What most strikes the Tomitan visitor
is the shrine's impressive, lofty stairway (sublimia celsis; cf. Prop. 2.31.9
surgebat. . . templum), which probably makes the weak-footed elegiac
book even more apprehensive. The p o e m ' s frequent p u n s on the literal
and metrical meanings of pes more than once involve the feebleness of
elegy's alternating feet: its verses are "lame (clauda) . . . either because
this is the nature of the meter (pedis) or the long journey m a d e them
so" (11-12); the book promises to walk (referam . . . pedem) w i t h the
guide even though tired out (lassus) from the lengthy trip (26); its alterni
pedes are wobbly with fear before A u g u s t u s ' house (56). Three verses
later, the liber no doubt experienced the same fright as it stood before
the looming A u g u s t a n temple of Apollo, given the built-in incompat-
ibility between its elegiac self and the shrine's 'epic' grandeur. 2 2 The

20
Luck "in gleicher Richtung"; cf. Wheeler "with e v e n pace"; N e w l a n d s "with e v e n
footing," w h i c h she takes as a reference to epic m e a s u r e (above n. 10, 68).
21
See L. Baiensiefen, " Ü b e r l e g u n g e n z u A u f b a u u n d Lage d e r D a n a i d e n h a l l e auf
d e m Palatin," MDAI(R) 102 (1995) 207-208, w h o s p e c u l a t e s o n s u c h a r a m p paralleling
the Scalae Caci. If I understand her interpretation correctly, h o w e v e r , it strains the m e a n -
i n g of O v i d ' s Latin. Gradibus . . . celsis a p p l y i n g to the s t a i r w a y taken b y the pair to
reach the l o w e r l e v e l — s h e w o u l d h a v e us take the phrase c l o s e l y w i t h ducor—cannot be
d e t a c h e d from sublimia, w h i c h characterizes the t e m p l e ' s a s p e c t f r o m the v a n t a g e p o i n t
of that l o w e r level. The t w o references to h e i g h t w o u l d then be a w k w a r d l y m o v i n g in
o p p o s i t e directions. Compare V. M. Strocka ap. E. Lefèvre, Das Bild-Programm des Apollo-
Tempels auf dem Palatin (Constance 1989) 13 a n d A b b i l d u n g 9 o n the location of the
porticus. The l o n g s t a i r w a y m e n t i o n e d b y O v i d remains a p u z z l e , since it d o e s n o t cor-
r e s p o n d to the archaeological e v i d e n c e . See G. Lugli, Itinerario di Roma antica (Milan
1970) 178 and M. J. Strazzulla, Il principato di Apollo: Mito e propaganda nelle lastre 'Campana'
dal tempio di Apollo Palatino (Rome 1990) 106-107.
22
Cf. the w o r d sublimis u s e d e l s e w h e r e b y O v i d of l o f t y p o e t r y a n d poets: Am.
3.1.39 sublimia carmina (Elegy s p e a k i n g of Tragedy); Am. 1.15.23 sublimis . . . Lucreti. In
 OVID ON THE AUGUSTAN PALATINE 137

same lack of generic fit between the stranger and the Augustan com-
plex is visible in the book's first sighting of Augustus' residence: what
is more stereotypical of epic than the 'gleaming arms' (33) of martial
combat? The line-end fulgentibus armis occurs six times in the Aeneid,
for example at 2.749, where Aeneas plunges back into battle.
After the swift general overview of the central structure, other parts
of the sanctuary unfold with broad strokes thick with literary allusion.
First the celebrated Danaid-portico, a signature feature of the temple
in earlier elegy (3.1.61-62): the statues of the Danaids alternating with
columns of foreign stone, and the barbarian father, with his sword
drawn. Many a literary treatment of visual art is enriched by embed-
ded comparisons with similar artifacts or with other meditations on
the subject. 23 Ovid just described Augustus' house-door echoing Virgil's
allusion to the same building. Now he builds his description of the
portico on those of Propertius and his own Ars amatoria:

signa peregrinis ubi sunt alterna columnis,

Belides et stricto barbarus ense pater.
{Jr. 3.1.61-62)

tantam erat in speciem Poenis digesta columnis,

inter quas Danai femina turba senis.
(Prop. 2.31.3-4)

quaque parare necem miseris patruelibus ausae

Belides et stricto stat ferus ense pater.
(Ars 1.73-74)

In the latter Ovid accentuates the fierce, bold actions of the murderous
Danaids and their father, a characterization which actually undermines
the erotic teacher's instruction of young men—such a place hardly au-
gurs well for successful romance. In Tristia 3.1 Ovid blunts that violence
somewhat by also reflecting the static monumentality of Propertius'
hexameter. Both imitations substitute a key word which glosses the
original—Poenis = peregrinis, ferus = barbarus—but such variation in-
volves more than learned play. Both times the new phrasing reflects
the character of the speaker, a stranger (20 hospes) arrived from a bar-

Tristia 1.1 the v e r y idea of climbing the lofty Palatine (69 alta Palatia) awakened Ovid's
o w n fears (74 timeo quae nocuere loca [MSS deos]).
2 3 See J. Hollander, " T h e Poetics of Ecphrasis," Word & Image 4 (1988) 2 0 9 - 1 9 .

Hollander's o w n poetry provides a fine example: "To the Rokeby Venus," in Harp Lake:
Poems (New York 1988) 43, which alludes to Anth. Pal. 16.168, spoken by Praxiteles'
Aphrodite of Cnidos. For a wide-ranging essay on the whole subject of ecphrastic po-
etry, with bibliography, see Hollander's long introduction to The Gazer's Spirit: Poems
Speaking to Silent Works of Art (Chicago 1995).
138 JOHN F. MILLER

barian land (18 in qua scribebar, barbara terra fuit). The alien visitor reads
the sculptured portico in terms of itself—or rather, a stereotyped ver-
sion of himself.
Rounding out the sketch of the Temple of Apollo—and the entire
tour—is the public library that it contained. Finally emerges the reason
why the guide has brought Ovid's book to the Augustan quarter of the
Palatine. No sooner does the book arrive and begin to hunt for its liter-
ary relatives than it is dismissed from the premises (3.1.63-68):

quaeque viri docto veteres peperere novique

pectore, lecturis inspicienda patent,
quaerebam fratres, exceptis scilicet illis
quos suus optaret non genuisse pater:
quaerentem frustra custos me sedibus illis
praepositus sancto iussit abire loco.

The all-inclusiveness of Augustus' library points up the injustice of the

Ovidian exclusion. Echoing hexameters (quaerebam fratres . . . illis;
quaerentem frustra . . . illis) underscore the book's futile search for its
brethren, who have also been expelled. That the liber had no intention
of fraternizing with politically incorrect relatives like the Ars amatoria
matters not at all. No Ovidian books are allowed. Horace once spoke
of Augustus filling the Palatine library with books (Ep. 2.1.216-17 si
munus Apolline dignum / vis conplere libris), which implies that the em-
peror is himself a kind of literary arbiter. Elsewhere he referred to
Palatine Apollo having "taken in" writings (Ep. 1.3.17 scripta Palatinus
quaecumque recepit Apollo), an image suggesting that the Augustan god
of literature admits books to official or classic status. 24 Ovid's personi-
fied book represents the other side of the temple library's door, the
discard's perspective. In Tristia 1.1 the exile predicted that his depart-
ing liber would be warmly received (105 receptus) among its brothers in
the poet's Roman residence. He urged that book to be satisfied with a
private readership and warned it to beware of ascending the Palatine
Hill—remember Icarus! (89-90)—unless a sponsor could be found to
recommend the book to Augustus personally (69-104, esp. 93-96). Tristia
3.1 does find a benefactor in Rome who escorts it to the Augustan com-
plex on the Palatine, not, however, for a private audience with the
emperor but for the more basic need of lodging. But at the library in
Apollo's sanctuary this volume can neither meet his brothers nor even
gain admittance. The more hopeful vision of the earlier programmatic
elegy becomes bleaker on two counts. Ovid's book suffers the maltreat-

2 4 N. Horsfall, "Empty Shelves on the Palatine," GaR 40 (1993) 58-67. The statues

of writers in the library were images of enshrinement.

 OVID O N THE AUGUSTAN PALATINE 139

ment of another elegiac relative, the exclusus amator routinely turned

away by his girlfriend's custos.25
When it experiences similar rebuffs at Rome's other public librar-
ies (3.1.69-72), the book concludes that Ovid's books, the poet's
"children," suffer the same fate as their father: exile from the place
w h e r e they properly b e l o n g (74 etferimus nati, quant tulit ille, fugarti).
Other fathers can do more: Augustus, pater patriae (49 pater optime),
saved Rome's citizens; even the barbarian pater Danaus (in the temple
portico's statuary) seeks to protect his daughters with his drawn sword.
The book looks wistfully to the day when its parent will have placated
the imperial house (57 nostro placata parenti). For now the exiled poet
has been forced to abandon some of his children (66 quos suus optaret
non genuisse pater; i.e. his b o o k s of Ars amatoria), a n d is p o w e r l e s s to
help the others. Faring for itself, then, Ovid's book turns from the in-
hospitable public libraries in Augustus' Rome to private sources of
support. Apollo's locus sanctus, his sacred space on the Augustan Pa-
latine, is for Ovid's children a protected enclave from which they,
regarded as impious, are mercilessly shut out. 26

UNIVERSITY OF V I R G I N I A

25
N e w l a n d s (above n. 10) 70. See in general N. Holzberg, Ovid: Dichter und Werk
(Munich 1997) 181-202 on Ovid's exilic poems as a "verkehrte elegische Welt."
26
Expulsion from Rome's other libraries is likewise cast in terms of possible reli-
gious violation (3.1.69-72): altera tempia peto . . . haec quoque erant pedibus non adeunda
meis. nec me . . . atria Libertas tangere passa sua est.
 OVID AND AUGUSTUS1

BY D . E. HILL

Much imperial literature includes flattery of the emperor. Modern atti-

tudes to it differ widely depending on the emperor, the author and the
preconceptions of the scholar. If it is a 'good' emperor, such as Augustus,
and a revered poet, such as Horace or Virgil, scholars divide between
those who, by and large, accept the legitimacy of the flattery and those
who find it more or less embarrassing, something to be explained away
or ignored. If it is a 'bad' emperor, especially if it is Nero or Domitian,
a third possibility has been recently much canvassed, the Ahi solution, 2
which suggests that the flattery is couched in such extreme terms that,
though it explicitly flatters the emperor, those in the know will recog-
nize the flattery as thinly disguised mockery. Dewar offers a balanced
account of this issue, with special emphasis on the flattery of Nero by
Lucan. 3 Horace, Virgil, Lucan, and Statius are the authors most com-
monly discussed in this context. The flattery in Ovid's Metamorphoses
has provoked a more muted debate, though it may be unkind to sug-
gest that this is because these other poets placed their flattery at or
near the beginning of their works, while Ovid placed his largely at the
end, and at the end of a very long poem.
Even at the beginning of the Metamorphoses, however, there is al-
ready more than a hint of the flattery to come. At 1.170-76, during an
account of a Council of the gods, we read:
hac iter est superis ad magni tecta Tonantis
regalemque domum. dextra laeuaque deorum
atria nobilium ualuis celebrantur apertis
(plebs habitat diuersa locis); hac parte potentes
caelicoli clarique suos posuere penates,
hic locus est quem, si uerbis audacia detur,
haud timeam magni dixisse Palatia caeli.

1 I should like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to the extraordinary trouble

our honorand went to in assisting me, then a complete stranger, at a critical point in m y
career. I should also record here that this piece has been read to a branch meeting of the
Classical Association in N e w c a s t l e upon Tyne, and to a u d i e n c e s in B o l o g n a and
Mannheim, through the good offices of Professors Calboli and Brodersen respectively.
The final version owes m u c h to the constructive criticism of all three audiences.
2 See, for example, Lucan: An Introduction (Cornell Studies in Classical Philology
39: Ithaca and London 1976) 4 7 - 4 8 .
3 M. Dewar, "Laying it on with a Trowel: The Proem to Lucan and Related Texts/'

CQ 44 (1994) 199-211.
 OVID AND AUGUSTUS 141

Any doubt that this explicit evocation of Rome's geography is not also
designed to remind the reader of Augustus should be resolved by the
end of Jupiter's speech to the Council (1.196-206):
'an satis, o superi, tutos fore creditis illos,
cum mihi, qui fulmen, qui uos habeoque regoque,
struxerit insidias notus feritate Lycaon?'
confremuere omnes studiisque ardentibus ausum
talia deposcunt. sic, cum manus impia saeuit
sanguine Caesareo Romanum exstinguere nomen,
attonitum tanto subitae terrore ruinae
humanum genus est, totusque perhorruit orbis;
nec tibi grata minus pietas, Auguste, tuorum est
quam fuit illa Ioui; qui postquam uoce manuque
murmura compressit, tenuere silentia cuncti.

The simile is clearly Ovid's response to Virgil's famous simile at Aeneid

1.148-52 where the calming of a storm is likened to the calming effect
of a very Augustus-like leader on a rioting populace. It can also not be
doubted that Jupiter's summoning of a council of the gods is reminis-
cent of Augustus' summoning the Senate to meet in his house. In Otis'
words:

This 'house,' at the time of Ovid's writing, was surrounded by the

gleaming marble temple of Apollo and by the mansions of the g r e a t . . . It
was indeed no plebeian quarter. In fact, the Senate at this time often
did meet in the library of Augustus' house: the celsior ipse loco is an
apt description of his exalted position as he presided over the Patres
from his sella curulis between the two consuls. 4

All that is reasonable enough, but I would not go as far as one

scholar who takes the allusion to Lycaon's attempt on Jupiter's life as
an allusion to abortive assassination attempts against Augustus, 5 not
least because, in context, we are so obviously steered towards Julius
Caesar's murder. Furthermore, even Ovid might be thought to have
the wit not to allude to such incidents.
At 1.557-65, Apollo wishes to commemorate forever his abortive
attempt to seduce Daphne:
cui deus, 'at quoniam coniunx mea non potes esse,
arbor eris certe,' dixit, 'mea. semper habebunt
te coma, te citharae, te nostrae, laure, pharetrae.
tu ducibus Latiis aderis, cum laeta Triumphum

4 Brooks Otis, Ovid as an Epic Poet (1966, 2nd ed. Cambridge 1970) 98, alluding to

Suet. Aug. 29.

5 Stephen M. Wheeler, A Discourse of Wonders (Philadelphia 1999) 1 7 5 - 7 7 .
142 D. E. HILL

uox canet et uisent longas Capitolia pompas,

postibus Augustis eadem fidissima custos
ante fores stabis, mediamque tuebere quercum.
utque meum intonsis caput est iuuenale capillis,
tu quoque perpetuos semper gere frondis honores.'

W h a t to m a k e of these A u g u s t a n references a n d their relationship

to the end of the p o e m has excited m u c h scholarly debate. Galinsky 6
reports that:

One of the opinions about the Metamorphoses which, for no particular

reason and despite the widely differing views of the exact structure
of the poem, has tended to become crystallized and been accepted as
something approaching orthodoxy is the presumed 'Augustan culmi-
nation' of the poem. The Augustan passages in book 15, notably the
account of Caesar's apotheosis and the events preceding it (745-851),
the praise of Augustus (825-60), and the prayer for Augustus' health
(861-70) have come to be considered the climax of the poem, the 'end
in view' towards which the Metamorphoses, for all their thematic dis-
continuity, seem to gravitate . . . the cornerstone of the case for the
Augustan culmination is Ovid's programmatic indication that he will
bring the poem ad mea tempora (1.4).

But Galinsky himself continues with a different view: " T h e e u l o g y of

A u g u s t u s and the account of Julius C a e s a r ' s apotheosis are not the or-
ganic end of a persistent thematic d e v e l o p m e n t . "
Others go further and regard Ovid as being too out of s y m p a t h y
with the A u g u s t a n regime for the final section to be taken seriously.
Otis, indeed, regarded Ovid as " f u n d a m e n t a l l y a n t i - A u g u s t a n " (above
n. 4, 339):

The weakness of the man is apparent. He tried, in a rather half-hearted

manner, to play both ends against the middle, to pretend, perhaps
even to himself, that an implicitly anti-Augustan poem was really a
sort of Aeneid, that the eulogy of Augustus with which he concluded
was the result of serious conviction. . . . His exilic poems are both
querulous and sycophantic, the words of a man who has been found
out and tries to pretend that he has only been misunderstood.

Readers will, of course, be a w a r e that in the s e c o n d edition of his book

(Cambridge 1970) Otis presented, in a new version of Chapter 9, a far m o r e
sympathetic picture of Ovid, shed of any taint of s y c o p h a n c y ( 3 6 2 ) :

But despite all this and much else, Ovid did something that was quite
new and original. No such sustained, continuous 'modernization' of
a large body of mythical material, no such extensive parody of epic

6 G. Karl Galinsky, Ovid's Metamorphoses (Oxford 1975) 251.

 OVID AND AUGUSTUS 143

(and Virgilian epic at that), no such audacious treatment of Augustus,

no such grandiose experiment in deflation had ever been attempted...

More recently, Stephen H i n d s has given us a very balanced ac-

count of the issue, so that m y p u r p o s e here is to examine the A u g u s t a n
end and attempt to analyse it in its own right to explore w h e t h e r w e
cannot come to more definite conclusions than H i n d s allows for. I see
the references to Caesar and A u g u s t u s in Book 1 as evidence, b u t I find
it impossible to take the view that, just because the whole p o e m begins
and e n d s with Caesar and Augustus, that they are the essential theme
of the whole poem. From the middle of Book 1 until the m i d d l e of Book
15, Caesar and A u g u s t u s disappear. It is true that Ovid constantly uses
anachronism and Roman allusion deliberately to create h u m o u r by de-
stroying s u s p e n d e d disbelief. A famous example is his likening of the
blood s p u r t i n g u p f r o m P y r a m u s ' fatal self-inflicted w o u n d to water
gushing f r o m a lead pipe (4.122-24). But this p h e n o m e n o n is very com-
m o n t h r o u g h o u t the Metamorphoses; I have collected n u m e r o u s
examples in m y note on 13.197. 8 While these allusions show a constant
preoccupation w i t h Rome, they offer no s u p p o r t at all for the theory
that A u g u s t a n i s m dominates the whole work.
At 15.622-25, Ovid calls u p o n the Muses to help h i m w i t h the next
phase of his poem, a strategy that inevitably marks out w h a t follows as
being especially important:
pandite nunc, Musae, praesentia numina uatum
(scitis enim, nec uos fallit spatiosa uetustas),
unde Coroniden circumflua Thybridis alti
insula Romuleae sacris adlegerit urbis.

Coronides (as w e learnt at 2.600-48) was Aesculapius, and the story of

the passage of his cult f r o m Epidaurus to Rome occupies the next 120
lines of Metamorphoses 15. It does, accordingly, effect a link f r o m Greece,
and f r o m further East still (where most of the action of the w o r k has
hitherto been set), to Rome. 9 Aesculapius' cult w a s established in Rome
in 291 BC so that, even on Ovid's standards, the transition to Caesar,
omitting two and a half centuries, is perfunctory in the extreme (15.745-
46): hie tarnen accessit delubris adueña nostris; /Caesar in urbe sua deus est.

7
Stephen Hinds, "Generalising about Ovid," The Imperial Muse: Ramus Essays on
Roman Literature of the Empire, ed. A. J. Boyle (Berwick, Victoria 1988) 23-29.
8
D. E. Hill, ed. with trans, and comm., Ovid Metamorphoses 13-15 (Warminster 2000).
9
It is true, to be sure, that the stories of Aeneas' journey from Troy to Rome (13.623-
14.608), of Rome's early history—including Numa's exposure to Pythagoreanism—(15.1-481)
and of Hippolytus/Virbius (15.497-546) had all served something of the same function,
but the Aesculapius story has the advantage that his temple on Tiber Island must have
effected a daily familiarity for all in Rome.
144 D. E. HILL

A f t e r w h i c h , a n entirely c o n v e n t i o n a l a c c o u n t of w h y C a e s a r ' s deifica-

t i o n w a s a p p r o p r i a t e c u l m i n a t e s in a v e r y s u r p r i s i n g a r g u m e n t
(15.746-51):
quem Marte togaque
praecipuum non bella magis finita triumphis
resque domi gestae properataque gloria rerum
in sidus uertere nouum stellamque comantem,
quam sua progenies; neque enim de Caesaris actis
ullum maius opus quam quod pater exstitit huius.

T h e n o r m a l L a t i n w o r d for a c o m e t is cometes, a t r a n s l i t e r a t i o n of the

G r e e k w o r d w h o s e p r i m a r y m e a n i n g is ' h a i r y ' ; c o m e t s w e r e t h o u g h t to
r e s e m b l e stars trailing l o n g tresses of hair. In Greek, the m e t a p h o r is
live b u t in Latin, cometes c a n m e a n n o t h i n g o t h e r t h a n ' c o m e t ' a n d the
m e t a p h o r is quite d e a d . W h y t h e n d i d O v i d , w h e n a l l u d i n g to C a e s a r ' s
c o m e t , s u b s t i t u t e stellamque comantem, a u s a g e n o t o t h e r w i s e r e c o r d e d ,
for the n o r m a l w o r d , cometes? E l s e w h e r e , comans is u s e d o n l y to m e a n
' h a i r y ' ( u s u a l l y literally, s o m e t i m e s m e t a p h o r i c a l l y a s of foliage o r the
like), s o that the effect of u s i n g it h e r e is to b r i n g the G r e e k m e t a p h o r
b a c k to life. A t this p o i n t , I a m i n d e b t e d t o P r o f e s s o r C a l b o l i for
r e m i n d i n g m e of C a e s a r ' s f a m o u s b a l d n e s s as a l l u d e d to in a c o u p l e t
r e c o r d e d for u s b y S u e t o n i u s :

urbani, semate uxores: moechum caluom adducimus.

aurum in Gallia effutuisti, hie sumpsisti mutuum. 1 0

T h e inevitable c o n s e q u e n c e of r e v i v i n g the m e t a p h o r of h a i r h e r e is t o
d r a w a t t e n t i o n to C a e s a r ' s b a l d n e s s . 1 1 A n d , as if t o reinforce the point,
w h e n O v i d r e t u r n s to the c o m e t at 1 5 . 8 4 9 , h e o n c e a g a i n m a k e s a n
explicit r e f e r e n c e to h a i r : flammiferumque trahens spatioso limite crinem.12

10 Jul. 51. A little earlier (45), Suetonius reports Caesar's vain attempts to conceal

his baldness and his consequential enthusiasm for the privilege he had been granted of
wearing a laurel wreath on all occasions. Can there be any connection between that and
Ovid's emphasis on Apollo's generous head of hair in his allusion to the creation of the
laurel and its association with Augustus at Met. 1.558-65 quoted above? Peter E. Knox
(Ovid's Metamorphoses and the Traditions of Augustan Poetry [Cambridge 1986] 76) also
notes that "Ovid's use of comans as an epithet for a celestial body is unique," but he
assumes that it is a strategy for "recalling the catasterism of the Coma." He also claims
(82 n. 49) that W. R. Johnson ("Counter-Classical Sensibility and Its Critics," CSCA 3
[1970] 145) "suggests that crinem is an indelicate reference to Caesar's baldness," whereas,
what Johnson actually wrote was: "I suppose it too farfetched to suggest that crinem
might be thought to be indelicate in view of Julius' famous baldness."
11 Observers of British politics in 2001 will need no reminding of how baldness can

play a part in political invective.

12 Virgil, too, had used crinis in connection with a comet (A. 5.528) and it is possible

that Ovid was thinking of that passage. However, in Virgil's case it occurs only in a
simile to illustrate a much earlier comet portent. Though that portent may have impli-
 OVID AND AUGUSTUS 145

Equally striking is that the final extraordinary claim for Caesar, that
his most glorious act was to be father of "this man" (huius)—who is, of
course, Augustus—draws special attention to Caesar as father of
Augustus. If, however, the reader reflects at all on that idea, he is all
too likely to remember that Caesar was only the adoptive father of
Augustus, not his natural father. Many in the audiences for the oral
versions of this piece have expressed the view that Caesar as father of
Augustus was, by the time Ovid was writing, an idea so deeply rooted
in the political culture that no one would have entertained such a train
of thought. All I ask for here, however, is suspension of judgement.
The extravagant flattery continues with yet another emphatic reference
to Caesar as father of Augustus (15.752-59):

scilicet aequoreos plus est domuisse Britannos

perque papyriferi septemflua ilumina Nili
uictrices egisse rates Numidasque rebelles
Cinyphiumque Iubam Mithridateisque tumentem
nominibus Pontum populo adiecisse Quirini
et multos meruisse, aliquos egisse triumphos,
quam tantum genuisse uirum? quo praeside rerum
humano generi, superi, fauistis abunde.

Ovid cannot resist putting into this catalogue of Caesar's undoubted

successes the rather mischievous line 757, "and to have earned many
triumphs, and to have celebrated some," a line that sounds far more
provocative than the facts would warrant; Caesar was awarded six
triumphs and celebrated five. 13
At this point, the argument that fathering Augustus was a more
important task than achieving all these military conquests is reinforced
by a novel argument which, in my view, makes the artificial nature of
Caesar's fathership of Augustus absolutely inescapable (15.760-67):

ne foret hic igitur mortali semine cretus,

ille deus faciendus erat; quod ut aurea uidit
Aeneae genetrix, uidit quoque triste parari
pontifici letum et coniurata arma moueri,
palluit et cunctis, ut cuique erat obuia, diuis

cations for the Augustan age, no one could possibly relate Virgil's crinis with Caesar's
baldness.
13 He was awarded a triumph once in 60 BC over the Lusitani (but eventually turned

it down), four times in 46 BC, over the Gauls (Britons counted as Gauls), over Egypt,
over Pharnaces, and over Africa. In the following year, Caesar celebrated a fifth tri-
umph, over Spain. The problem with the first triumph was that in 61 BC Caesar was
governor of Further Spain and claimed a triumph for his victories over the Lusitani; the
following year, he forfeited that triumph so that he could enter the city and campaign,
successfully, for the consulship.
146 D. E. HILL

'aspice' dicebat 'quanta mihi mole parentur

insidiae quantaque caput cum fraude petatur,
quod de Dardanio solum mihi restât lulo . . . '

Ovid has just rehearsed, at some length and in some detail, Caesar's
case for deification. The effect of lines 760-61 is not just to undermine
that case by apparently subordinating it to the need to provide Augustus
with a divine father, but also, by referring to Caesar's fatherhood with
the word semine, to draw attention to the one feature of Caesar's
fathering of Augustus that is missing. 14 Ovid goes on to allude to Venus'
motherhood of Aeneas with, in the phrase Aeneae genetrix, an
inescapable allusion to the first two words of Lucretius, a poet not in
sympathy with claims to deification. More importantly, she goes on to
remind us that both Caesar and Augustus have claims to come from
divine seed because of the alleged descent of the whole Julian gens,
through Ascanius/lulus, to Aeneas and his mother. These, we might
think, are far better reasons to deify Caesar than any alleged need to
ensure that his status does not demean Augustus.
There follows an imitation of Virgil's account of Juno's assertion
that she is especially hard done by (A. 1.37-49), but this complaint is
put into the mouth of Venus (15.768-78):
solane semper ero iustis exercita curis,
quam modo Tydidae Calydonia uulneret hasta,
nunc male defensae confundant moenia Troiae,
quae uideam natum longis erroribus actum
iactarique freto sedesque intrare silentum
bellaque cum Turno gerere, aut, si uera fatemur,
cum Iunone magis? quid nunc antiqua recordor
damna mei generis? timor hic meminisse priorum
non sinit; en acui sceleratos cernitis enses!
quos prohíbete, precor, facinusque repellite, neue
caede sacerdotis flammas extinguite Vestae.'

But it is all in vain; and Ovid continues with a magnificent account of

the portents associated with Caesar's murder (15.779-98):
talia nequiquam toto Venus anxia caelo
uerba iacit superosque mouet; qui rumpere quamquam
ferrea non possunt ueterum decreta sororum,

14 J. Solodow, The World of Ovid's Metamorphoses (Chapel Hill and L o n d o n 1988)

192, writing of "Jupiter's prophecy of Augustus' deeds and deification" ( 1 5 . 8 2 2 - 4 2 )
and of " O v i d ' s prayer to A u g u s t u s " ( 1 5 . 8 6 1 - 7 0 ) , relates these events to his view that,
for Ovid, apotheosis involves the revelation of an underlying truly divine nature by
the shedding of mortal taint. H e does, however, also claim that "the sophistry and
h u m o r of the passage are obvious."
 OVID AND AUGUSTUS 147

signa tarnen luctus dant haud incerta futuri,

arma ferunt inter nigras crepitantia nubes
terribilesque tubas auditaque cornua caelo
praemonuisse nefas; solis quoque tristis imago
lurida sollicitis praebebat lumina terris;
saepe faces uisae mediis ardere sub astris,
saepe inter nimbos guttae cecidere cruentae;
caerulus et uultum ferrugine Lucifer atra
sparsus erat, sparsi lunares sanguine currus;
tristia mille locis Stygius dedit omina bubo,
mille locis lacrimauit ebur, cantusque feruntur
auditi sanctis et uerba minantia lucis;
uictima nulla litat, magnosque instare tumultus
fibra monet, caesumque caput reperitur in extis;
inque foro circumque domos et templa deorum
nocturnos ululasse canes umbrasque silentum
errauisse ferunt motamque tremoribus Vrbem.

This list of p o r t e n t s is b a s e d on Virgil's a c c o u n t of the p o r t e n t s

associated with Caesar's murder (G. 1. 4 6 6 - 8 8 ) . In view of w h a t will
follow later, it is important to stress here that, in the Georgics, the
portents are all freaks of nature and strongly suggest that the world
order has been severely damaged by this murder. Virgil's explicit reason
for r e p o r t i n g the p o r t e n t s is to confirm the Sun's reliability as a
forecaster (G. 1 . 4 6 3 - 6 6 ) , and there is no hint that the assassination is
anything other than a violent disruption of the natural order. There is
nothing in the Virgilian portents to correspond to Ovid's suggestion
(15.781) that the assassination was fated. Venus makes one final Homeric
attempt to save her Caesar by wrapping him in a mist, as, at Iliad 3 . 3 8 0 -
8 2 , s h e h a d w r a p p e d P a r i s a n d , at Iliad 5 . 3 1 1 - 1 5 , D i o m e d e s 1 5
(15.799-806):

non tarnen insidias uenturaque uincere fata

praemonitus potuere deum, strictique feruntur
in templum gladii; neque enim locus ullus in Vrbe
ad facinus diramque placet nisi Curia caedem.
tum uero Cytherea manu percussit utraque
pectus et Aeneaden molitur condere nube,
qua prius infesto Paris est ereptus Atridae
et Diomedeos Aeneas fugerat enses. 16

15 In the Aeneid too (1.411-13) she had concealed Aeneas in a cloud, but only to

calm his fears, not to save him from imminent death.

16 It should be acknowledged here that at 15.804, by calling Caesar Aeneades in the

context of Venus' concern for Caesar, Ovid does allow the connection between the Julian
gens and Aeneas and Ascanius/Iulus to obtrude, but he makes nothing of it.
148 D. E. HILL

At this point, Jupiter intervenes with a speech reminiscent of Virgil's

account of his declaration and promise to Venus at Aeneid 1.257-96,
where both the suffering and the eventual successes of Romans in
general and of Venus' Julian gens in particular are clearly foreseen. What
is striking, however, is that the Virgilian version stresses the Julian
connection with Aeneas, Ascanius/lulus and Troy as a justification for
the deification of Caesar and/or Augustus 17 and is absolutely silent
about Caesar's murder (A. 1.286-91):

'nascetur pulchra Troianus origine Caesar,

imperium Oceano, famam qui terminet astris,
Iulius, a magno demissum nomen lulo,
haec tu olim caelo spoliis Orientis onustum
accipies secura; uocabitur hie quoque uotis.
aspera tum positis mitescunt saecula bellis.'

The Ovidian version, however, seems to make not just the

deification part of the divine plan, but Caesar's murder too. Given the
very cautious attitude towards that topic to be found in Virgil (either
to present it as a freak of nature, as in the Georgics, or to pass over it in
silence, as in the Aeneid), it is surely legitimate to wonder how tactful
was Ovid's blatant suggestion both here and at 15.781 (discussed above)
that the murder was fated (15.807-17):

talibus hanc genitor: 'sola insuperabile fatum,

nata, mouere paras? intres licet ipsa sororum
tecta trium; cernes illic molimine uasto
ex aere et solido rerum tabularía ferro,
quae ñeque concussum caeli ñeque fulminis iram
nec metuunt ullas tuta atque aeterna ruinas,
inuenies illic incisa adamante perenni
fata tui generis; legi ipse animoque notaui
et referam, ne sis etiamnum ignara futuri,
hic sua compleuit pro quo, Cytherea, laboras
tempora, perfectis quos terrae debuit annis.'

These predictions by Jupiter continue with the clearest suggestion that

Caesar's murder was part of a divinely authorized plan, a plan that
goes on to give the most glorious future to Augustus, a future that
required Caesar's murder (15.818-39).
There is one jarring note in this catalogue (15.834-37):
exemploque suo mores reget inque futuri
temporis aetatem uenturorumque nepotum

17 For our purposes, it does not matter whether Virgil is thinking of Caesar or of

Augustus here.
 OVID AND AUGUSTUS 149

prospiciens prolem sancta de coniuge natam

ferre simul nomenque suum curasque iubebit.

The truth was startlingly different; Augustus married Livia in 38 BC

after she had divorced her previous husband, though she already had
a young son by that husband and was also pregnant by him with another
son. Augustus himself had no children by Livia and only a daughter,
Julia, by his previous wife, Scribonia. As a result, the question of an
heir was always difficult. At first, the plan was to pass the succession
on to Julia's husband, originally, her cousin Marcellus, later Augustus'
firmest ally, Agrippa; but these two husbands died, Marcellus in 23 BC,
Agrippa in 12 BC, as did Agrippa's two eldest sons (Lucius in AD 2 and
Gaius in AD 4). As a result, the only apparent option was to choose
Livia's elder son, Tiberius, who had already (in 11 BC) been, obliged to
divorce his wife, Vipsania Agrippina, so that he could become Julia's
third husband, and was now (AD 4), together with Agrippa's third son,
Agrippa Postumus, formally adopted as Augustus' son and heir. The
'solution' was fraught with problems, not least because Augustus had
never been able to conceal his dislike for Tiberius.18 Furthermore, the
natural interpretation of the words prolem sancta de coniuge natam to
anyone unfamiliar with the facts would be that he was the natural father
of the offspring, Tiberius. But no contemporary reader of the
Metamorphoses could have been unfamiliar with the facts, so that there
is inevitably a jarring note in the contrast between natural sense and
known truth, especially for readers already alerted by Ovid's
immediately previous mischief about Caesar's fatherhood of Augustus.
Finally, after this elaborate prediction for Augustus, Jupiter instructs
Venus to deify Caesar, which she does (15.840-51):
'hanc animam interea caeso de corpore raptam
fac iubar, ut semper Capitolia nostra forumque
Diuus ab excelsa prospectet Iulius aede.'
uixque ea fatus erat, media cum sede senatus
constitit alma Venus nulli cernenda suique
Caesaris eripuit membris nec in aëra solui
passa recentem animam caelestibus intulit astris.
dumque tulit, lumen capere atque ignescere sensit
emisitque sinu; luna uolat altius ilia
flammiferumque trahens spatioso limite crinem
stella micat natique uidens bene facta fatetur
esse suis maiora et uinci gaudet ab ilio.

It is, of course, ridiculous that, at the time of his death, Caesar—or

anyone else for that matter—should have regarded the nineteen-year-

18 Taken from my own note on 15.836-37.

150 D. E. HILL

old Augustus' achievements as greater than his own. With flattery, it is

always difficult to draw a secure line between enthusiastic exaggeration
and covert mockery. What follows, however, is intriguing (15.852-54):

hie sua praeferri quamquam uetat acta paternis,

libera fama tarnen nullisque obnoxia iussis
inuitum praefert unaque in parte répugnât.

So far, I have been unable to find any reference to such an injunction,

and it would certainly be nice to imagine that it is a deliberate Ovidian
fiction. But even if it is genuinely historical, it makes for a striking effect
in context, since, at the time posited, no one would have been tempted
to prefer Augustus' deeds to Caesar's and by the time they might have
been so tempted, the Augustan regime had seen to it that Caesar was
not much talked about at all. Even so, we are not allowed to forget the
theme, as Ovid decorates it with a series of heroic parallels (15.855-61):

sic magnus cedit titulis Agamemnonis Atreus,

Aegea sic Theseus, sic Pelea uicit Achilles;
denique, ut exemplis ipsos aequantibus utar,
sic et Saturnus minor est loue. Iuppiter arces
temperai aetherias et mundi regna triformis,
terra sub Augusto est; pater est et rector uterque.

Suddenly, Augustus is Agamemnon, Theseus, Achilles and (an example

'more equal' to the man himself) Jupiter's vice-regent on earth, while
Caesar is Atreus, Aegeus, Peleus and—again an example 'more equal'
to the man himself—Saturn. Can these comparisons survive any close
examination? That Jupiter is pater... et rector cannot be doubted. In the
case of Augustus, however, one might have thought that the least said
about paternitas the better. 19 No one, surely, would care to be compared
with Atreus, and neither Aegeus nor Peleus could be regarded as
particularly heroic.
We then go straight into Ovid's prayer where, I must confess, I
cannot find "the sophistry and humor" said to be "obvious" by Solodow
(see n. 14). To me at least, it is a fairly standard example of the hope
that the inevitable deification of the monarch will be delayed so that
those on earth can continue to enjoy the benefits of the great leader for
as long as possible. The immediate model is Virgil, Georgics 1.24-42. If
there is a slightly jarring note it can only be the reference in Phoebe
domestice (865) to the temple to Apollo built next to Augustus' house
on the Palatine (15.861-70):

1 9 1 do not believe that a remembrance of his title pater patriae will extinguish our

doubts about his rôle as a natural father, especially when he is being openly c o m p a r e d
to that most fecund of monarchs, Jove himself.
 OVID AND AUGUSTUS 151

di, precor, Aeneae comités, quibus ensis et ignis

cesserunt, dique Indigites genitorque Quirine
Vrbis et inuicti genitor Gradiue Quirini,
Vestaque Caesareos inter sacrata Penates
et cum Caesarea tu, Phoebe domestice, Vesta,
quique tenes altus Tarpeias Iuppiter arces,
quosque alios uati fas appellare piumque est—
tarda sit ilia dies et nostro serior aeuo,
qua caput Augustum, quern temperai, orbe relicto
accédât cáelo faueatque precantibus absens.

What am I saying? It is, I think, that Ovid cannot suppress his doubts
about Augustus, nor his innate mischief. Even as early as Book 1, it
seems provocative to use Caesar's assassination as a simile, or to
associate Augustus' use of laurel with Apollo's failed pursuit of Daphne.
In Book 15, none of the points I raise may seem decisive in itself, but
cumulatively they seem, to me at least, unanswerable. Not, I believe,
that Ovid is deliberately mocking the system in order to make some
political or moral point but rather that his sense of the ridiculous cannot
resist pricking, as I am sure he sees it, the pomposity of Augustus and
his supporters. It has been put to me that no one could reasonably have
supposed that if he wrote as, I assume, Ovid was writing that he would
get away with it. But the one thing we do know is that Ovid did
miscalculate. 20 This is not to suggest that the exile was brought about
directly by the treatment of Caesar and Augustus in the Metamorphoses,
but that that treatment may well have contributed to Augustus' general
irritation with the poet.

UNIVERSITY OF NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE

20 1 know that it has been argued that the exile poems are only a literary conceit and

that Ovid never left Rome; such an idea seems to me to be preposterous.

 (MIS)USES OF MYTHOLOGY IN PETRONIUS 1

BY GARETH SCHMELING

The novel is a large loose baggy monster.

Henry James

When we consider that the most frequently applied adjective to de-

scribe the Satyrica is 'realistic/ it is a little surprising to note the
pervasiveness of mythology in this novel. Though the great size and
episodic structure of the Satyrica surely qualify it to be included among
the large loose baggy monsters, we might consider the regular use of
mythology as one of the elements which unify the novel or give it some
kind of cohesive force. 2
As author of the Satyrica Petronius seems to look to the Odyssey as
the paradigmatic Reiseroman and at intervals to imitate episodes from
the Odyssey so that the reader is forced to keep the epic always in mind.
Petronius also arranges that each of the actors with major speaking
parts (Encolpius, Eumolpus, Trimalchio) gives definition to himself by
his employment of mythology. Each of these four characters (one real,
three fictional), however, uses myth in different ways; in each case the
treatment of myth becomes a hallmark of that character. What all four
have in common is an ability to manipulate, or a turn of mind to be
manipulated by, myth.
In Section 1 we will look at the ways Petronius employs myths to
enhance the story which he wishes to tell and therein provides a gen-
eral backdrop for the Satyrica. These myths never become so intrusive
that the Satyrica becomes anything other than the discrete narrative
which Petronius intends to be novel. In Section 2 we note that Petronius
adopts almost the opposite approach of his use of myth to that em-
ployed in Section 1, as he brings to life his chief character and narrator,
Encolpius. Encolpius does not exploit myth as a point of reference, or
as a source of wisdom from the past: myth takes over Encolpius' life.

1 Ted Courtney has been an inspiration to m a n y people, and I a m one of those in

his debt. This article came into being from ideas engendered by his book on Petronius:
this is all his fault. I would like to thank Dan McGlathery for reading an earlier draft of
this paper and making constructive remarks.
2 On unifying elements cf. T. Hubbard, "The Narrative Architecture of Petronius's

Satyricon," AntCl 55 (1986) 1 9 0 - 2 1 2 . N o other of the ancient novels is so heavily in-

debted to myth.
 (MIS)USES O F M Y T H O L O G Y IN P E T R O N I U S 153

Almost everything Encolpius does or thinks is given a connection

in myth. Encolpius is trapped inside his imagination which is controlled
by mythology, which allows him to escape from the insignificance of
his existence. Encolpius is often unable to differentiate between the
reality around his physical self and the representation of reality
in m y t h into which his mind has fled. In Section 3 we analyze what
Eumolpus says and conclude that by talent he is a raconteur but by
self-assessment a poet. In his Bellum Civile which attracts comparison
with Lucan's Pharsalia, Eumolpus brings back the panoply of myth and
the divine machinery of epic which Lucan had set aside, but neither
addition raises his little epic to the status of a classic; the lack of these
two features in his prose does not hinder him from composing two
jewels of Latin literature. In Section 4 we observe that Trimalchio makes
frequent allusions to popular beliefs because he is superstitious and
not a few references to events in mythology because he is an inveterate
name-dropper. He confuses characters from mythology and muddles
incidents in the same way as he does geographical locations and names.
Myths hold little importance for him beyond their use as a source of
famous names which attract an audience's attention to the real purpose of
his narrative.
For Petronius, who gives every impression of being a conservative
critic, 3 it is natural to follow his predecessors' traditions and take ad-
vantage of mythology for more than just ornamentation in his novel.
Whether we read more or less parody/irony into Petronius' use of myth,
the fact remains that Petronius makes much of mythology, to the point
where it becomes a ready frame of reference. The pathetic actions of
the characters surely have much in common with the fiction of the Greek
novel, 4 but author and actors look back to mythology so frequently
that the attentive reader must keep reminding himself that, even though
the Satyrica ("games satyrs play") is a realistic novel, it is steeped in
mythological allusions.

1. PETRONIUS THE A U T H O R

It has been argued for many years that the whole of the Satyrica might
be interpreted with profit as a general imitation of the Odyssey (plus
the Iliad and Aeneid), and that the anger of Poseidon directed against

3 J. P. Sullivan, The Satyricon of Petronius (London 1968) 89: " H i s tastes in both
Latin and Greek literature are c l a s s i c a l . . . he is an orthodox admirer of Vergil's poetic
practice. His own oeuvre moreover has to be placed firmly in Latin literature." R. Mayer,
"Neronian Classicism," A]Ρ 103 (1982) 3 0 4 - 1 8 .
4 Cf. R. Heinze, "Petron und der griechische R o m a n , " Hermes 34 (1889) 4 9 4 - 5 1 9

and G. B. Conte The Hidden Author (Berkeley 1996) 1 8 - 2 0 , 2 8 - 3 5 , 7 3 - 7 7 .

154 GARETH SCHMELING

Odysseus becomes in Petronius' hands the anger of Priapus for

Encolpius (139.2 gravis ira Priapi as the efficient motif of the novel). 5 As
Poseidon pursued Odysseus around the Mediterranean from Troy to
Ithaca, so Priapus dogs Encolpius (causing impotence and other
troubles) from Massilia to Lampsacus. 6
Allusions to, or imitations of, the Odyssey and Poseidon's anger
which can be attributed to Petronius as author and not to one of his
characters need to be reconstructed in the first place from Fragments 1
and 4 (according to which Encolpius seems to have offended Priapus) 7
and from a lost episode alluded to by the maid of Quartilla (16.3 cuius
vos sacrum ante cryptam turbastis), and then from chapter 126 to the end.
The opening chapters of the Satyrica (1-15) are very fragmentary and
cover several episodes in just a few pages; Quartilla dominates 16-26;
Trimalchio offers a one-man show for 26-78 (his handling of mythol-
ogy is discussed in Section 4). The largest number of allusions to the
Odyssey attributable to Petronius as author are concentrated in the Circe
episode (126-39).
Myths of Odysseus seem for Petronius to be used as a kind of back-
ground music (subliminal suggestions) which is at times so soft that
the reader does not hear it and a few times loud enough for the reader
to see Poseidon behind Priapus. But Petronius also alludes to a whole
range of myths which he places into the mouths of his speakers and
allows them to manipulate according to their own lights and thereby
provide a drumbeat of mythology throughout the Satyrica. Since the
earlier three major literary genres (epic, drama, lyric) depend heavily
on mythology, it is fitting, but also perhaps surprising, that the earliest
example of the fourth major genre, though establishing itself as a novel
entity and thus not dependent upon traditional material, is circum-
scribed by myth. 8
In the Circe episode at Croton there are obvious echoes of the Odys-
sey: Circe is beautiful and bewitches Encolpius, but the affair lasts only
minutes instead of years, when Encolpius twice proves himself impo-
tent and Circe places him in the hands of a real witch. Petronius entices

5 E. Klebs, " Z u r Composition von Petrons Satirae," Philologus 4 7 (1889) 6 2 3 - 3 5 ; for

an agnostic view cf. Β. Baldwin, "Ira Priapi," CP 68 (1973) 2 9 4 - 9 6 . For the Greek novel as
a structural model of the Satyrica, cf. Heinze (above n. 4); Sullivan (above n. 3) 9 3 - 9 5 ; P.
G. Walsh, The Roman Novel (Cambridge 1970) 7.
6 G. Schmeling, " T h e Satyrica of Petronius," in The Novel in the Ancient World, ed.
G. Schmeling (Leiden 1996) 461.
7 C. Cichorius, "Petronius und Massilia," Römische Studien (Leipzig 1922) 4 3 8 - 4 2 .

8 R. Scholes and R. Kellogg, The Nature of Narrative (New York 1966) 1 2 - 1 4 , see the

epic synthesis as a narrative which breaks d o w n into two parts, empirical and fictional.
In their judgment fiction looks back to myth.
 (MIS)USES OF MYTHOLOGY IN PETRONIUS 155

the reader to expect some kind of replay of the Circe episode from the
Odyssey, but he not only surprises the reader,9 he humiliates Circe and
Encolpius with a common male défaillance which in turn almost cer-
tainly imitates Ovid Am. 3.7. Petronius is able to manipulate the scene
and the reader's expectations because he uses myth to prepare his
audience's expectations, which he then disconfirms. Since the Satyrica
is something new, the reader does not know how the plot will proceed.
In fact Petronius relies on the reader's familiarity with the myth to es-
tablish the basis of the episode: it is the incongruity of a particular myth
in a particular episode of the Satyrica which accounts for the startling
nature of the episode. Priapus is not a latter-day Poseidon, but rather a
defrocked deity, an erect post used as a scarecrow, a source of humor.
According to the Priapea his power does not extend beyond his reach—
to say nothing of the length of Italy. Later Petronius startles his reader
when he has Encolpius describe his downcast penis (132.11) in words
lifted from the encounter between Dido and Aeneas in the underworld
(Virgil, A. 6.469-70).
Mythology never becomes the basis of the plot of the Satyrica, as it
does in epic and drama: the novel after all is supposed to be something
new. Petronius employs myth to frustrate the anticipation of the reader:
myths are familiar, comfort-food for readers, but trapdoors in the hands
of Petronius. Almost as soon as Petronius introduces the myth of Circe,
which could serve as a basis for an erotic affair between a woman and
a man, he abandons the myth, mixes in a few literary allusions to Ovid
(Am. 3.7) and produces something new, i.e. Petronius' brand of humor.
Petronius blends an epic story with the worldly good humor of Ovid
and creates the neurotic behavior of the unstable Encolpius: where
Encolpius is frustrated and beaten for his impotence, Ovid remains
detached and amused.
At 105.9-10 Encolpius compares himself (unfavorably in the
reader's eyes, favorably in his own mind) with Odysseus and the scene
in Odyssey 19.467 where Eurycleia identifies Odysseus by running her
hands over an old scar. Lichas, who had lost touch with Encolpius,
identifies him by his genitals. Petronius deliberately sets the fond
memories of Eurycleia against Lichas who continuo ad inguina mea
luminibus deflexis movit officiosam manum. But Lichas is no Eurycleia and
Encolpius no Odysseus, and thus there is only a misshapen parody. It
is likely that Encolpius arrives at the reference to Odysseus because
his impressionable mind had recently been turned to the Odyssey: at
98.5 Giton hides under a mattress as Odysseus had hid in the wool of a

9 G. Schmeling, "The Satyricon: The Sense of an Ending," RhM 134 (1991) 352-77,

examines disconfirmation.
156 GARETH SCHMELING

sheep to escape the Cyclops; at 101.5 Eumolpus (onboard a ship which

will soon sink in an epic storm) refers to Lichas as Cyclops.

2 . ENCOLPIUS THE M Y T H O M A N I A C N A R R A T O R 1 0

As the author of the Satyrica exploits myth in the cause of a good plot,
so Encolpius the character, as we see in the episode with Lichas, is
abused by myth and defined as the actor from myth whom he is con-
sciously imitating at that time.
At 81.2 Encolpius imagines himself as a latter day Achilles: Ascyltus
(as Agamemnon) has taken Giton (Briséis) away from him and left him
like Achilles (Iliad 1 . 3 4 8 - 5 0 ) on the seashore to weep and lament. 11 By
82.2 Encolpius has strengthened (in his own mind only) his association
with Achilles, as he describes himself: nihil aliud quam caedem et
sanguinem cogito frequentiusque manum ad capulum, quem devoveram, refero.
He echoes the murderous thoughts of Achilles toward Agamemnon for
stealing Briséis (Iliad 1 . 1 8 8 - 9 5 ) . In reality Giton had deserted Encolpius
and gone off with Ascyltus, 12 a fact which Encolpius chooses to ignore.
At 129.1 Encolpius claims once to have been Achilles: qua quondam Achil-
les eram. It is a common response of Encolpius to model himself and his
experiences on an epic or dramatic hero's actions: he steps into the role
of the hero of the past and then in his mind becomes that hero. Conte
calls Encolpius an "addict to myth" and adds that for Encolpius "real-
ity and literature are thoroughly confused." 13
To a lesser degree Encolpius' constant companions Giton and
Ascyltus, with whom Encolpius shares a lively imagination, compare
situations in which they find themselves with scenes from the epic past.
Neither, however, like Encolpius surrenders his identity. Giton claims
that when Ascyltus sexually assaulted him, he did so by glossing his
provocative gesture ( 9 . 5 ) : gladium strinxit et 'si Lucretia es' inquit
'Tarquinium invenisti.' Employing the historical myth, Giton can account
for all the actors in this ménage à trois: Ascyltus is Sextus Tarquinius,
Encolpius the wronged husband L. Tarquinius Collatinus, and Giton
(fittingly) the wife Lucretia (Livy 1 . 5 8 . 2 stricto gladio ad dormientem
Lucretiam).u Giton appreciates that Encolpius will immediately find
his role in the myth. In similar fashion at 80.3 Encolpius reports Giton's

1 0 The title for this section is of course taken from Conte (above n. 4) chapter one,

to w h o m this section is m u c h indebted.

11 Walsh (above n. 5) 3 6 - 3 7 .

1 2 Giton likely ran a w a y with Ascyltus because Encolpius was impotent.

1 3 Conte (above n. 4) 24 and 191.

1 4 G. Schmeling, "Confessor Gloriosus: A Role of Encolpius in the Satyrica," Wiirzjbb

20 ( 1 9 9 4 - 9 5 ) 2 1 2 - 1 4 , on the double entendre of the term gladius.
 (MIS)USES OF MYTHOLOGY IN PETRONIUS 157

plea: petebatque suppliciter ne Thebanum par humilis taberna spectaret. Giton

presents the myth so that Encolpius can be either Eteocles or Polyneices
and he can act in the female role of Antigone. In the Theban myth the
brothers (fratres in the Satyrica = homosexual partners) kill each other,
while in the Satyrica all battles, threats, and suicides end in gestures,
words, and without blood.
At 94.12-13 we are witness to another reenactment of a literary
death from the past. Giton slashes at his throat with a (dull) razor and,
apparently dead, collapses on the floor. Without a pause Encolpius grabs
the same razor, slashes at his throat, and collapses on Giton. In his re-
telling of the episode Encolpius borrows the description of the death
of Nisus over his boyfriend Euryalus. The deaths of the lovers in Aeneid
9 become in Encolpius' mind his own death over the body of Giton:
Aeneid 9.424-25 tum vero exterritus, amens, / conclamat Nisus; 9.444-45
tum super exanimum sese proiecit amicum/confossus, placidaque ibi demum
morte quievit ~ 94.13 exclamo ego attonitus, secutusque labentem eodem
ferramento ad mortem viam quaero. Only after Encolpius realizes that he
had not cut his own throat can he compare his apparent death with the
death of Nisus. Since Encolpius cannot live in the heroic age, he writes
himself into it. When he comes later to compose his autobiography,
Encolpius includes those events which can be made interesting by he-
roic comparison and excludes the everyday.
For Encolpius the world of myth is constantly intruding on reality,
but in the Cena Trimalchionis, where the host is firmly in charge of events,
Encolpius is forced to react only to the events before him. When he is
alone or with just a few people and has the opportunity to make of the
situation what he wants, he regularly escapes reality (where he has no
social position, money, or influential friends) and moves into the world
of literature, where he assumes the role of a hero. Unfortunately for
Encolpius there are times when there is no one around to see him in his
heroic guise. At 82.1 Encolpius straps on a sword, haec locutus gladio
latus cingor (as had Aeneas at Aeneid 2.671 hinc ferro accinger rursus),
and goes out in search of Ascyltus: mox in publicum prosilio furentisque
more omnes circumeo porticus. His model now is Aeneas desperately
searching for Creusa as Troy erupts in flames (Aeneid 2.749-73). Of
course he does not long remain Aeneas: he is spotted (because he is
wearing bedroom slippers) by a real soldier w h o strips him of his
sword, 1 5 and he passes into mime.

15
A t 82.4 E n c o l p i u s is despoliatus, t h u s inermis·, 129.1 h e h a s afunerata . . . pars·, 91.8
he is less well armed than Ascyltus. Cf. Ovid Am. 3.7.71, who terms himself inermis
(impotent); Schmeling (above n. 14) 215-17.
158 GARETH SCHMELING

Encolpius can assume any heroic role from literature that he wishes,
but when he takes his mythical character out onto the stage of life, a
real soldier brings him back to reality. Encolpius' split personality would
be more successful, if, when he assumes a role from myth, he would
also create a stage on which he could play out his fantasy. Unlike
Eumolpus or Trimalchio, he does not construct a theater in which the
observers can identify his role-playing and join in the fun.
When Encolpius enters the world of the Aeneid at 132.11, the as-
signment of roles is bewildering: Encolpius addresses his penis and
scolds it for impotence. He apparently has assumed the role of Aeneas,
and we thus find him scolding Dido who plays the part of his impotent
penis—the words used to describe his impotent penis are concocted
from Aeneid 6.469-70 (plus Eel. 5.16 and A. 9.436). Encolpius has be-
come lost in his world of myth and is confused. Lack of commitment
separated Dido and Aeneas. Impotence was never an issue for Aeneas,
but because it is an issue for Encolpius, it is applied backward in time
and becomes an issue for the 'new' Aeneas. In the sexual fantasy world
of Encolpius, the debate with his penis is staged as a debate between
Aeneas and Dido. The use of myth here by Encolpius has taken an in-
teresting turn. He has not entered the mythical world of Aeneas and
Dido; rather, they have been beamed down to his fantasy world. He
does not assume a role from the mythical past; the heroes of the past
now play roles in his world.

3 . E U M O L P U S : EGO POETA SUM

Eumolpus introduces himself with a simple (83.8) ego . . . poeta sum,

and the first poem which he recites is free of myth. Though he claims
to be a poet, he excels as a raconteur, and his prose stories of the
Pergamene Youth (85-87) and the Widow of Ephesus (111-12) are not
only among the jewels of Latin literature, but also almost free of myth.
Using Encolpius' interest in a picture about the Fall of Troy (89),
Eumolpus delivers himself of a 65-line poem about the Trojan Horse
and the night Troy fell. It is not a good poem, and those passing by
who hear the little epic express their judgment about its quality by
throwing stones at the poet. Because of the nature of its subject the
poem is full of mythological allusions, but these are perfunctory, the
kind a poet is taught to use when writing about Troy. Eumolpus does
not assume the frustrating role of Laocoon trying in vain to raise an
alarm about the horse.
On first seeing Giton (92.3) Eumolpus calls him Ganymede with-
out implying that Encolpius is Zeus. When Encolpius loses himself in
myth and imagines himself as Nisus dying over Euryalus, Eumolpus
 (MIS)USES OF MYTHOLOGY IN PETRONIUS 159

sees only the farce of fake death in a mime (94.15 mimicam mortem).
When Giton is detected clinging to a mattress and compared with
Odysseus who had hid under a sheep, Eumolpus picks u p Encolpius'
comparison and a few pages later (101.7) gathers his wits and says some-
thing important about characters from myth entering people's lives:
fingite ... nos antrum Cyclopis intrasse, quaerendum est aliquod effugium,
nisi naufragium ponimus. Eumolpus, unlike Encolpius, does not see him-
self as a character in a myth: he knows w h o he is but also recognizes
the situation in which his new friends find themselves as an opportu-
nity to act as stage director and 'stage' an escape. Where Encolpius
would see himself as Odysseus, Eumolpus appreciates his opportu-
nity to m a n i p u l a t e all concerned parties (117.4): cessamus mimum
componere? facite ergo me dominum.
Eumolpus will conjure up a mental theater in the minds of his au-
dience and delude them into believing that he is rich. His only regret is
(117.2) utinam quidem sufficeret largior scaena. Unlike Encolpius,
E u m o l p u s does not imagine that he is a hero on his o w n stage.
Eumolpus recognizes that he is a bunco artist; his audience thinks that
he is rich and dying. Encolpius thinks that he himself is a hero; the
people around him perceive him to be an impersonator. By his skills as
a director, Eumolpus obscures the line between reality and fiction; as a
bad actor, Encolpius directs everyone's attention to that line. Encolpius
wallows in the sentiment aroused by myth; Eumolpus knows what he must
do to dupe his audience and thus has almost nothing to d o with myth.
Within a few pages of the aforementioned episode Eumolpus puts
on quite a display of the use of myth: the 295-line little epic called the
Bellum Civile. Eumolpus relates the same story as Lucan had in his
Pharsalia, but Eumolpus has returned the machinery of the gods and
mythology to prominence. If by this action Petronius intends to correct
Lucan's apostasy from the faith of Virgil or to show him how to com-
pose a proper epic, Eumolpus produces an uninspired effort. Judging
Petronius from some of his other poems we can say that he could have
produced a more Virgil-like effort. So why does Petronius not have
Eumolpus do better?
The answer is that Eumolpus' epic is not a parody of Lucan.
Petronius is simply showing another way to use mythology—and not a very
productive one at that. Eumolpus is a poet who holds that divine machinery
belongs in an epic; Petronius seems to want to show us that mediocre epics
do not become better by adding divine machinery and also that mediocre
epics would not become better by omitting divine machinery. 17

16
Pace Sullivan (above n. 3) 170-82, et al.
17
Walsh (above n. 5) 49-50.
160 GARETH SCHMELING

4 . TRIMALCHIO THE "MYTHUSVERDERBER"

Trimalchio incorporates into his speeches several incidents f r o m my-

thology b u t has the u n c a n n y knack of comically confusing n a m e s and
events in even the most popular myths. 1 8 Privileged Roman youths
w o u l d have been taught mythology by rote learning (1.1-3; 3-5) until
they knew it without thinking. Other than as a cultural prize, mythol-
ogy h o l d s no special interest for Trimalchio. M y t h s h a v e so m a n y
variants a n d as comprising a system of beliefs are unimpressive. 1 9
Trimalchio has an excellent m e m o r y for things which impress him: in-
terest rates, costs of cargo, costs of shipping, storage and insurance,
value of inheritances. W h e n Trimalchio, a deeply superstitious m a n
(76.10), comments on the zodiac (35, 39), his k n o w l e d g e and m e m o r y
are good because it all is meaningful to him.
Seneca pokes f u n at Calvius Sabinus, w h o cannot remember (or is
rich e n o u g h to ignore) the details of even popular m y t h s (Ep. 27.5):
huic memoria tarn mala erat, ut illi nomen modo Ulixis excideret, modo
Achillis, modo Priami, quos tam bene quam paedagogos nostros novimus.
T h o u g h he stumbles badly w h e n recounting myths, Trimalchio boasts
that he h a d read H o m e r (48.7) and quotes the only Greek in the Satyrica
(48.8); at 48.4 he observes: II bybliothecas habeo, unam Graecam.
Trimalchio takes a considerable interest in Homer. Men n a m e d
A g a m e m n o n a n d Menelaus are frequent guests at his table (27.5), a n d
on the walls of the entrance to his house the visitor sees the Iliada et
Odyssian .. . ac Laenatis gladiatorium munus (29.9). For the o w n e r of the
h o u s e the Iliad and Odyssey represent events every bit as thrilling as
the gladiators of Laenas: myths like muñera are forms of public enter-
tainment. The longest references to mythology occur at 50, 52, 59:
50.5 cum Ilium captum est, Hannibal . . . statuas . . . incendit . . . sic
Corinthea nata sunt.
52.1 Cassandra occidit filios suos.
52.2 Daedalus Niobam in equum Troianum includit.
59.4-7 Diomedes et Ganymedes duo fratres fuerunt. horum soror erat
Helena. Agamemnon illam rapuit et Dianae cervam subiecit.. . inter
se pugnent Troiani et Tarentini. vicit scilicet Iphigeniam, filiam suam,
Achilli dedit uxorem. ob earn rem Aias insanit . . . clamorem

18
Trimalchio cites m y t h s in c. 29 (twice correctly), 39 (correctly), 48, 50, 52, 59 (all
incorrectly), 68, 70, 74 (all correctly); cf. C. d o s Reis G o n ç a l v e s / ' I g n o r â n c i a d o s libertos
e m i t o l o g i a na Cena Trimalchionís," Gallaecia 19 (2000) 269-86. In t o d a y ' s tolerant termi-
n o l o g y Trimalchio w o u l d be listed as culturally challenged.
19
It is clear that there is a license to rewrite history a n d traditional narratives; cf.
G. B o w e r s o c k , Fiction as History: Nero to Julian (Berkeley 1994) 1 - 2 8 ; S. Swain, Hellenism
and Empire: Language, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, AD 50-250 (Oxford 1996) 79.
 (MIS)USES OF MYTHOLOGY IN PETRONIUS 161

Homeristae sustulerant . . . secutus est Aiax strictoque gladio,

tamquam insaniret.

It is likely that Trimalchio learned something about mythology from

his Homeristae (59.6), 20 who provide a carnival atmosphere to the Cena.
The mention of Ajax (59.5) seems to be a cue for the Homeristae and the
entrance of Trimalchio's butcher Ajax. The Homeristae make no attempt
to correct Trimalchio's garbled mythology, and perhaps Petronius inti-
mates that Trimalchio learned his faulty myths from the Homeristae,
who are even more ignorant than their owner.
At 50.5 Trimalchio jumbles mythology, history, and art history in a
hilarious manner. Troy and its destruction have nothing to do with
Hannibal, who has nothing to do with Corinth, and Troy and Hannibal
have nothing to do with Corinthian ware. For Trimalchio the destruc-
tion of Troy represents the destruction of all cities (even Corinth), and
Hannibal represents the sacker of all cities (even Troy). With a logic all
his own Trimalchio derives aes Corintheum from the fires at Ilium (bet-
ter aes Iliacum). We should, however, focus on Trimalchio's aim, which
is to bring up the subject of, and to boast about, his Corinthian ware,
and to this end he drags in famous names like Ilium and Hannibal and
hurls them at his audience in hope of impressing them with the aggregate of
famous names. In a similar way Trimalchio tries to affect the emotions
of diners at his table by a bewildering array of foods with names.
It might be elucidative to examine each of Trimalchio's accounts of
myth in three ways: (1) how exactly does Trimalchio get it wrong; (2)
can we deduce a reason why he gets it wrong; (3) the confusion aside,
what is Trimalchio's purpose in employing scenes from myth?
Trimalchio's confusion about myth is parallel to his jumbled geogra-
phy, the details about the management of his estates, and his ignorance
about the names of those about him. At 48.2 Trimalchio boasts that he
has bought a new estate: dicitur confine esse Tarraciniensibus et Tarentinis.
nunc coniungere agellis Siciliam volo, ut cum Africam libuerit ire, per meos
fines navigem. After claiming that his new estate borders on Tarracina
and Tarentum and thus is 150 miles wide, he expresses a wish to buy
Sicily. The names Tarracina and Tarentum are used simply because both
begin with the letters Tar-, and Sicily is a name known to all. Trimalchio
is throwing out famous names to impress his audience with his wealth,
not with his knowledge of geography: he cultivates sloppiness in re-
membering names. In a semi-conscious effort the rich forget how many
things they own, how much money they have, and thus ignore the trivial
details in myths. Of Trimalchio a fellow freedman says (37.6): ipse nescit

20 R. Starr, "Trimalchio's Homeristae," Latomus 46 (1987) 1 9 9 - 2 0 0 .

162 GARETH SCHMELING

quid habeat, adeo saplutus est. We note at 117.9 the advice given to a m a n
w h o wants to imitate the rich: imperamus Eumolpo . . . quotienscumque
aliquem nostrum vocare temptasset, alium pro alio vocaret, ut facile apparerei
dominum etiam eorum meminisse qui praesentes non essent. At 5 3 . 1 - 1 0 while
listening to the Acta for his estates, Trimalchio feigns anger w h e n he
learns that he owns an estate at Pompeii, and no one told him about it.
In reality Trimalchio remembers almost everything and knows his busi-
ness: at 7 6 . 6 - 7 he remembers exactly what cargo he sent to R o m e and
how he paid for it. H e clearly controls details even w h e n drunk (78.5).
At 52.1 Trimalchio comments that Cassandra (read Medea) killed
her sons. This report is in aid of his boasts about several large wine
cups which are decorated with portrayals of dead boys, done so well
that the viewer will think them to be alive! Commentators note that
Cassandra had no sons to kill and that Trimalchio's appreciation of the
quality of the art work reflects the school of naïve realism. Trimalchio,
however, is not calling attention to his knowledge of myth but using
the famous n a m e of Cassandra to direct attention to his scyphi: the wine
cups are m a d e of silver, the art work is good because it has scenes from
mythology, the cups are thus expensive, and Trimalchio owns them.
But how does Trimalchio come to confuse Cassandra and Medea?
Perhaps Trimalchio is bewildered by the array of conflicting stories
about Medea and the death of her children: (1) Medea kills her sons on
purpose, or (2) by accident; (3) the Corinthians destroy her children;
(4) Hera is responsible for their deaths. Does Trimalchio learn the story
in which Medea is not responsible for the deaths of her children and
then shift the blame to Cassandra (one w o m a n is as bad as another)?
At 52.2 Trimalchio claims that Daedalus shut Niobe up in the Tro-
jan horse: this horse is stuffed with Niobe and her 1 0 - 2 0 children, a
small army. Daedalus is clever and thus associated not only with the
equus Troianus, the w o o d e n horse at Troy, but also with the porcus
Troianus, a dish consisting of a pig stuffed with sausages. At 4 9 . 9 - 1 0
w e see that the clever cook (named Daedalus at 70.2) has prepared a
large porcus whose stomach he cuts open to let out a large n u m b e r of
sausages. This dish is called a porcus Troianus,21 and Trimalchio associ-
ates Daedalus with animals stuffed with something. He sees his cook
n a m e d Daedalus as creator of the porcus Troianus and by extension the
clever creator of the equus Troianus. After the destruction of Troy, which
was brought about by the introduction of the Trojan horse, Achilles
reminds Priam to eat meat; even Niobe, he says, became h u n g r y after
ten days of mourning for her twelve children (Iliad 2 4 . 6 0 1 - 2 0 ) . It is

21 L. Pepe, "Petronio e il porcus Troianus," GIF 1 (1948) 331-36.

 (MIS)USES OF M Y T H O L O G Y IN PETRONIUS 163

possible that Trimalchio identifies delivery of the equus Troianus into

Troy with the entrance of the porcus Troianus into his dining room; Niobe
and her brood of children become the sausages.
Trimalchio's explication of myth at 59.4-6 is fantastic, but the pur-
pose for telling it is probably mundane: to encourage his audience to
think about myths of Troy so that the subject of mad Ajax can be intro-
duced, which in turn will be the cue for Trimalchio's butcher ('a mad
Ajax') to make his entrance. Though very much confused about detail,
Trimalchio conveys to the audience the outline of the start of the Tro-
jan War. The Greek Diomedes has nothing to do with the Trojan
Ganymedes and neither is connected to Helen. The two men are paired
because the endings of the names are the same, and Trimalchio con-
nects them as fratres because neither of them is married. It is possible
that they had been identified as homosexual, then labeled as fratres
(lovers), a term misinterpreted by Trimalchio as fratres = blood rela-
tives. In the end Trimalchio at least credits Helen with the correct
number of brothers.
Agamemnon is credited not with recovering Helen but with carry-
ing her off: it is logical for a man to steal his brother's wife. Paris and
the sacrifice of Iphigenia are omitted from the story, and Iphigenia is
married off to Achilles (she had been promised to Achilles). The Troiani
fight with the Tarentini, it seems, because the names begin with the
letter ' T (a mnemonic device for Trimalchio?). In Trimalchio's mind it
is more logical to conclude that Ajax goes mad because he is not given
Iphigenia for a wife (she goes to Ulysses) than because he is not awarded
Achilles' armor in a shame culture.
Finally we come to the point of the whole exercise, when the flurry
of names from myth attracts the attention of everyone, and Trimalchio
ends w i t h Aiax insanii. This is the cue for (59.7) secutus est Aiax strictoque
gladio, tamquam insaniret. Trimalchio can entertain better than that old
man Homer. While others see Ajax as a character from myth, Trimalchio
sees him as one of his staff. After the death of Homer his stories are
altered, added to, and enhanced in such ways that in Trimalchio's days
there are legions of variants. Trimalchio varies them a little more. Ca-
nonical or apocryphal, myths for Trimalchio are just another form of
entertainment, and the modern reader of the Satyrica, just like
Trimalchio's audience, is more amused by Trimalchio's versions than
by Homer's.
UNIVERSITY OF F L O R I D A
 STRUCTURE AND HISTORY IN THE GERMANIA OF TACITUS

B Y JAMES B . RIVES

Among the minor works of Tacitus, the Germania has in recent decades
undoubtedly been the most minor, at least outside Germany. 1 The rea-
son for this neglect is not entirely clear to me, although I suspect that it
has something to do with the dismissive judgment of Sir Ronald Syme,
the greatest and most influential Tacitean scholar of the twentieth cen-
tury. "The author's defects" in this work, he asserts, "are clear. Faithfully
following his source, he confines his efforts to sharpening and embel-
lishing the style, with a few epigrams added and a few details to bring
the treatise up to date." 2 In the forty-four years since Syme wrote, few
have cared to challenge this assessment. 3 In particular, it seems widely
accepted that the content of the Germania comes almost entirely from
an earlier source and has little relation to the period in which Tacitus
was writing. In this paper I would like to propose a more nuanced read-
ing of the text in relation to its contemporary setting, and to suggest
that in certain respects the Germania actually reflects rather closely the
diplomatic and political context of its day.
Syme evidently had little interest in the Germania: in his eight-hun-
dred-page study of Tacitus, he devotes to it less than four pages. His
chief point is that Tacitus more or less copied the elder Pliny's Wars of
Germania and that, as a result, the work abounds in outdated informa-
tion. Some twenty years after Syme, Ronald Martin, apparently
accepting much of his argument, asked the questions that Syme him-
self did not bother to ask: why would Tacitus have used an out-of-date
source for his monograph? "The almost total exclusion of recent his-
tory," Martin says, "must be the result of deliberate choice on Tacitus'
part. Why should this be?" 4
There is in fact a fairly obvious answer to this question. That the
Germania is an ethnography has long been almost universally acknowl-

1 Until quite recently, that is. 1999 turned out to be something of an annus mirabilis
for English work on the Germania, with the simultaneous publication of m y own trans-
lation with introduction and commentary in the Clarendon Ancient History Series
(Oxford 1999), Herbert Benario's text with introduction, translation and commentary in
the Aris and Phillips series (Warminster 1999), and A. R. Birley's translation with intro-
duction and notes for Oxford World's Classics (Oxford 1999).
2 R. Syme, Tacitus (Oxford 1958) 128.

3 Birley (above n. 1) xxix and xxxii is a welcome exception.

4 R. Martin, Tacitus (Berkeley 1981) 56.

 THE GERMANIA OF TACITUS 165

edged. But as Jacoby pointed out ninety years ago, ethnography was a
descriptive rather than a narrative genre. 5 Although it could often in-
clude historical material, e t h n o g r a p h y w a s in itself ahistorical,
concerned more with capturing the essence of a people than providing
a chronological overview of their deeds. In noting "the almost total
exclusion of recent history" from the Germania, Martin is telling only
half the story: earlier history is excluded as well. Outside the telegraphic
survey of Roman-Germanic relations in chapter 37, Tacitus includes
almost no historical references of any kind. 6 Accordingly, the brevity
of his allusions to the revolt of Civilis and the wars of Domitian (37.5)
seems less significant when we note that he devotes a mere eight words
to the massacre in the Teutoburg forest (37.4 Varum trisque cum eo legiones
edam Caesari abstulerunt).
The ahistorical nature of ethnography has further implications as
well. It is a commonplace that ancient writers, Tacitus among them,
tended to regard human character as fixed; hence Tacitus accounts for
the apparent change in Tiberius' nature by the gradual disappearance
of the restraints that had kept it in check (Ann. 6.51.3). But as with the
character of individuals, so with that of peoples: although some writ-
ers, for example Strabo, would allow that certain peoples could change
by adopting Roman customs, there was a widespread assumption that
ethnic characteristics were inherent and constant. 7 It was for this rea-
son that they could be explained by external factors like the climate
(e.g. Vitr. 6.1.3-11, Sen. Dial. 4.15.5, Plin. Nat. 2.189-90) or the stars (Man.
4.696-817, Ptol. Tetr. 2.3). In ancient opinion, therefore, ethnographic
data did not readily become 'outdated/ since the ethnic essence that
they supposedly revealed was unchanging.
In these circumstances, we might reasonably expect Tacitus to have
included 'out-of-date' information. Yet the case against him is perhaps
less damning than Syme would have us think. Two examples will suf-
fice. 8 The first concerns the opening sentence of the Germania (1.1):

5 F. Jacoby, " Ü b e r die Entwicklung der griechischen Historiographie und den Plan

einer neuen Sammlung der griechischen Historikerfragmente/' in his Abhandlungen zur

griechischen Geschichtschreibung (Leiden 1956) 1 6 - 6 4 at 2 6 - 3 4 ; first published in Klio 9
(1909) 8 0 - 1 2 3 .
6 H e sometimes refers vaguely to the earlier m o v e m e n t s and interactions of par-

ticular tribes (Ger. 2 . 3 , 2 8 . 2 - 4 , 2 9 . 1 , 2 9 . 3 , 3 3 . 1 , 3 6 . 1 - 2 , 4 2 . 1 ) , more occasionally to datable

individuals (Ger. 8.2, 34.2, 42.2).
7 This notion was perhaps developed most fully by Posidonius: see e.g. K. E. Müller,

Geschichte der antiken Ethnographie und ethnologischen Theorienbildung, 2 vols. (Wiesbaden

1 9 7 2 - 8 0 ) 1 . 3 1 0 - 1 7 . For Strabo, see e.g. 3.2.15 with the comments of A. N. Sherwin-White,
Racial Prejudice in Imperial Rome (Cambridge 1967) 1-13; cf. more generally G. Woolf, Becoming
Roman: The Origins of Provincial Civilization in Gaul (Cambridge 1998) 4 8 - 7 6 .
8 We m a y note more briefly two of Syme's other objections (above n. 2, 1 2 7 - 2 8 ) .
166 JAMES Β. RIVES'

Germania omnis a Gallis Raetisque et Pannoniis Rhetio et Danuvio fluminibus,

a Sarmatis Dacisque mutuo metu aut montibus separatur. According to
Syme, Tacitus has here taken over "phraseology about the boundaries
of Germany that seems to have been obsolete even in Pliny's day, be-
ing relevant rather to Augustan times." 9 But what sort of boundaries
did Tacitus have in mind? Syme, although he does not say so explicitly,
was presumably thinking of political boundaries. Certainly the Rhine
and the Danube were no longer the borders of the empire: the Flavians
had extended direct Roman control across the upper Rhine and Danube
to take in a considerable portion of modern Baden-Württemberg. But
as B. Melin cogently argued shortly after the publication of Syme's book,
the boundaries that Tacitus is discussing here are not political nor even
ethnic, but rather geographical. In the geographical tradition, the
boundaries of Germania were conventionally set at the Rhine and the
Danube: the very fact that this was a convention meant that changes in
the political and ethnic situation generally had little effect on it. Con-
sequently, a number of writers both' before and after Tacitus refer to
these rivers without further ado as the borders of Germania. 1 0 What
Tacitus did, then, was to begin by defining the general geographic bor-
ders, as ethnographic convention required, and then in the appropriate
place (Ger. 2 8 - 2 9 ) consider the exceptions and complications. 1 1

First, the "recent discoveries" in the northern seas to which Tacitus refers (Ger. 1.1 nuper
cognitis quibusdam gentibus) must in fact have been made about a century before he wrote;
but nuper can be used relatively of the fairly distant past, and Tacitus himself employs it
with this force in the following chapter (2.3 Germaniae vocabulum recens et nuper addi tum,
referring to a period not much later than Caesar's conquests). Secondly, Tacitus' claim
(41.1) that the Hermunduri are granted non in ripa commercium sed penitus atque in
splendidissima Raetiae provinciae colonia treats the Danube as the border of Roman rule,
which was no longer true. But the vagueness of Tacitus' language here was probably
matched by the fluidity of the border itself during this time, since Domitian's establishment of
a new series of border forts north of the Danube was completed only under Trajan.
9 Syme (above n. 2) 127, citing V. Lundström, "Det första Kapitlet i Tacitus'

Germania," Eranos 25 (1927) 249-64 at 254-55; Lundström's arguments are summarized

by B. Melin, "Zum Eingangskapitel der Germania," Eranos 58 (1960) 112-31 at 121.
10 Melin (above n. 9) 123-25. For the geographical boundaries of Europe, the map

and commentaries of Agrippa seem to have set the standards (see in general C. Nicolet,
Space, Geography, and Politics in the Early Roman Empire [Ann Arbor 1991] 95-122). From
the elder Pliny (Nat. 4.98) and the Dimensuratio Provinciarum (8.19), it appears that
Agrippa associated Raetia and Noricum with Germania, and set as boundaries of the
whole region the Rhine on the west and the Alps and the Danube on the south; for
Germania per se the Danube alone may have been considered the boundary. The Rhine
and Danube are treated as boundaries by Strabo (2.5.30, 7.1.1), Ptolemy (Geog. 2.9.2,
2.11.1-5), Solinus (20.2), the Divisio Orbis Terrarum (11), and Isidore (Etym. 14.4.4); cf.
more generally Philo Leg. 10, Sen. Nat. 1 praef. 9 and 6.7.1, Plin. Pan. 63.4, Josephus BJ
3.107, App. praef. 4, Dio 39.49.
11 Melin (above n. 9) 123-24 rightly notes that phrases like Gallos in Germaniam
 THE GERMANIA OF TACITUS 167

The second example concerns Tacitus' description of the

Marcomanni and Quadi (42.2);

Marcomanis Quadisque usque ad nostram memoriam reges mansere

ex gente ipsorum, nobile Marobodui et Tudri genus: iam et externos
patiuntur. Sed vis et potentia regibus ex auctoritate Romana: raro ar-
mis nostris, saepius pecunia iuvantur; nec minus valent.

Syme considers the description of these tribes as "loyal clients of the

Empire" to be "peculiar" in light of their defection during Domitian's
war with the Dacians. 12 It is undoubtedly the case, although the evi-
dence is sketchy, that Domitian fought a series of wars with the
Marcomanni beginning in 89 CE.13 But the last of these, apparently ini-
tiated by Domitian but brought to completion under Nerva in 97 CE,
may well have altered the situation considerably. It is quite possible
that at that time the Romans installed new kings who conformed much
more closely to their wishes. In fact, Tacitus' pointed notice that iam et
externos patiuntur a n d insistence that the vis et potentia regibus existed
ex auctoritate Romana may well be an oblique reference to a recent settle-
ment of this kind. 14 If so, then his description would actually have been
very up-to-date.
I do not of course intend to argue that Syme was entirely wrong.
There is certainly material in the text that Tacitus has taken over from
earlier sources, and there are certainly passages in which he provides
outdated information. 15 As I have suggested, this is what we would

transgressos (Ger. 28.1) suggest that Tacitus considered the boundaries of Germania as
fixed, regardless of any movements of people across them. On the convention of begin-
ning an ethnography with a discussion of borders, see for example Hdt. 2.5-18, Sal. Jug.
17.4, Tac. Hist. 5.6.1, Arr. Ind. 2.1-3.8.
12 Syme (above n. 2) 128; cf. Dio 67.7.1.
13 For a thorough discussion, see K. Strobel, Die Donaukriege Domitians (Bonn 1989);

cf. Β. W. Jones, The Emperor Domitian (London 1992) 135-43 and 150-55, and P. South-
ern, Domitian: Tragic Tyrant (London 1997) 92-100 and 110-13.
14 The younger Pliny (Pan. 8.2) notes that on the day of Trajan's adoption adlata erat

ex Pannonia laurea to Nerva; cf. CIL 5.7423 = ILS 2720 with T. Mommsen, "Zur
Lebensgeschichte des jüngeren Plinius," Hermes 3 (1868) 31-139 at 116-18 = Historische
Schriften (Berlin 1906) 366-168 at 448-50. See further Strobel (above η. 13) 105-109 and
132-33, who believes that the Germanic allies of the Romans depicted on the Column of
Trajan must be the loyal Marcomanni and Quadi.
15 For example, his assertion at Ger. 23.1 that their food consisted chiefly of agrestia

poma, recens fera aut lac concretum is at odds with the evidence that suggests that the
Germanic diet relied heavily on grains and domesticated animals, a fact that Tacitus
elsewhere (Ger. 5.1 and 26.2-3) implicitly acknowledges. It is, however, in keeping with
the reports of earlier writers, who tended to see the Germani as a nomadic people
(Posidonius F 73 Edelstein-Kidd = Athenaeus Deipn. 4.153e, Caes. Gal. 6.22.1, Mela 3.28;
cf. Strabo 7.1.3).
168 JAMES Β. RIVES

expect in an ethnography. Yet it does not follow that the Germania as a

whole was cribbed from an outdated source, with only the merest sprin-
kling of m o r e recent d a t a . N o r a m I p e r s u a d e d that Tacitus w a s
following a single source. For one thing, it is not as simple to identify
this source with Pliny's Bella Germaniae as Syme and m a n y others have
thought. It is true that w e know very little about w h a t Pliny covered in
this work. Yet w e m a y reasonably suppose that in composing the geo-
graphical sketch of Germania for his Natural History he would have
drawn on the materials that he had already assembled for his history
of the Germanic w a r s . 1 6 If so, the fact that there is so little overlap be-
tween the enumeration and organization of tribes in Tacitus' Germania
and Pliny's Natural History suggests that even if Tacitus took the Bella
Germaniae as his primary source, he supplemented it rather extensively
from a variety of other sources. 1 7
Moreover, the sort of cosmetic reworking that Syme sees in the
Germania is certainly not what the other works of Tacitus would lead
us to expect. Tacitus' care in selecting and shaping the material in his
mature works is well known. 1 8 The Germania is of course one of his
earliest works, but this does not justify the suggestion that it is slapdash.
The Agricola, written shortly before, is carefully crafted and even inno-
vative. 1 9 And neither of these works is actually a youthful experiment:
Tacitus was in his early forties and one of the most renowned orators
20
in Rome when he wrote them. For all these reasons, I find it v e r y

1 6 Pliny dedicated the Natural History to Titus sometime after the latter's sixth con-

sulship on 1 January 77 CE (Nat. praef. 3). In the younger Pliny's chronological list of his
works (Ep. 3.5.1-6), the Bella Germaniae is the third of seven; it was begun while he was
on military service in Germania (46-58 CE) and presumably completed before the last
years of Nero's reign, when he wrote his study of grammatical problems (Ep. 3.5.5).
17 Tacitus records sixty tribal names in the Germania, whereas Pliny mentions only

thirty-two (Nat. 4 . 9 7 , 9 9 - 1 0 1 , 1 0 6 ; 31.20; 37.35). Only seventeen are found in both: Venedi
(Nat. 4.97, if equivalent to the Veneti in Ger. 46.1-2); Vandili (Nat. 4.99; Vandilii in Ger.
2.2); Cimbri and Chauci (Nat. 4.99; Ger. 37.1 and 35); Suebi, Hermunduri, Chatti, Cherusci,
and Peucini (Nat. 4.100; Ger. 38, 41, 3 0 - 3 1 , 3 6 , 4 6 ) ; Batavi and Frisii (Nat. 4.101; Ger. 29.1
and 34.1); Nemetes, Triboci, Vangiones, and Ubii (Nat. 4.106; Ger. 28.4), and Mattiaci
(Mattiacum in Nat. 31.20; Ger. 29.2). The overlap consists chiefly in the best-known names,
attested in a number of sources. Moreover, except in their description of Germanic tribes
on the west bank of the Rhine (Ger. 28.4, Nat. 4.106), the two authors differ strikingly in
their classification of Germanic tribes. To take only the most obvious example, Pliny
favors a five-fold division of Germanic tribes (Nat. 4.99-100), whereas Tacitus prefers a
three-fold division (Ger. 2.2); although he notes alternative proposals, he does not even
mention the scheme endorsed by Pliny. For further discussion of Tacitus' sources, see
Rives (above n. 1) 58-60.
18See for example Syme (above n. 2) 253-321 on the Annales.
19Hence the perennial debate over its generic classification: see e.g. R. M. Ogilvie and I.
Richmond, Cornelii Taciti De Vita Agricolae (Oxford 1967) 11-20 and Martin (above n. 4) 3 9 ^ 9 .
2 0 On Tacitus' life and career, see Syme (above n. 2) 63-72 and Birley (above n. 1) xix-xxiv.
 THE GERMANIA OF TACITUS 169

difficult to believe that the Germania, for all that it undoubtedly con-
tains material taken from earlier sources, is anything other than an
original creation of Tacitus himself.
If we grant that the structure of the Germania was due to Tacitus
and not to some earlier writer, we can make some interesting observa-
tions about its organization. The text falls into two clearly delineated
parts: the first is more properly ethnographic, a description of Ger-
m a n i c society in general (chapters 1-27), and the second is a catalogue
of individual Germanic tribes in the manner of a periegesis (chapters 28-46).
It is on this second part that I will focus in the remainder of this paper.
It is sometimes difficult to see any geographical basis to the order
that Tacitus adopts. Why, for example, does he jump from the Cherusci
to the Cimbri in chapters 36 to 37, and discuss the Anglii, who must
have lived in between, in another place altogether (chapter 40)? Two
considerations are relevant. On the one hand, as I argued above, he
w a s probably compiling information from different sources. Since
Tacitus' grasp of northern geography was inevitably not very strong, it
is likely that at times he simply did not understand the geographical
relation of two tribes mentioned in different sources: this could plausi-
bly explain the arrangement of Cherusci, Cimbri, and Anglii. On the
other hand, he sometimes seems influenced less by geographical than
by rhetorical considerations. So here, for example, he presumably placed
the section on the Cherusci immediately after that on the Chauci in
order to emphasize his moral about the importance of military pre-
paredness: the Chauci, although they do not start wars or engage in
raids, are nevertheless always prepared for them, whereas the Cherusci
nimiam ac marcentem diu pacem inlacessiti nutrierunt and were as a result
overwhelmed by their more disciplined neighbors (chapters 35-36).
Despite these complications in the arrangement of material, a few
things are relatively obvious. First, Tacitus begins and ends with tribes
that straddle the geographic boundaries defined in his opening sen-
tence: in chapter 28 that between Germani and Galli, and in chapter 46
that between Germani and Sarmati. Secondly, the second half of the
text itself falls into two parts. These two parts are sometimes said to
deal with western and eastern tribes respectively, although I will argue that
we can refine that observation. Tacitus marked off the end of the first
of these parts (chapters 29-37) by his survey of Roman-Germanic wars
(37.2-5), and clearly defined the latter (chapters 38^45) by explicit mark-
ers at both the beginning (38.1 nunc de Suebis dicendum est) and the end
(46.1 hie Suebiae finis).
It is in the organization of material within each of these two sec-
tions, I believe, that the text most clearly reflects current political and
diplomatic conditions. In the first section, the Rhine obviously fune-
170 JAMES Β. RIVES

tions as an organizing principle, but exactly how is not immediately

clear. Some commentators, noting that Tacitus begins with the Batavi,
assume that he was following an earlier work that began its list of tribes
at the mouth of the Rhine and then proceeded south along the river. A
comparison of his order of tribes with their probable geographical lo-
cations, however, reveals that this assumption involves many
difficulties. 21 1 would argue instead that chapter 29 is in this respect a
red herring, and that the principle behind it is political rather than geo-
graphical: continuing the theme of betwixt and between that he began
in chapter 28, Tacitus discusses in this chapter three groups that live
east of the Rhine but come under Roman rule. It is thus only in chapter
30 that he begins his enumeration of the independent Germanic tribes
across the Rhine.
Once we set apart chapter 29, the organizing principle in the rest of
this section, chapters 30 through 37, becomes fairly clear: Tacitus pro-
ceeds north along the Rhine to the coast, from the Tencteri to the Frisii,
and then east along the coast to Jutland, from the Chauci to the Cimbri.
There are only two significant exceptions to this pattern: the Chatti in
chapters 30 through 31 and the Cherusci in chapter 36. As I have al-
ready suggested, he has placed the latter as a rhetorical foil to his
description of the Chauci in the previous chapter. But what about the
Chatti? We may note that Tacitus devotes more space to them than any
other individual tribe, and that he singles them out for unmitigated
praise. Only they combine the innate bravery of the Germani with an
almost Roman discipline (30.2):
Multum, ut inter Germanos, rationis ac sollertiae: praeponere electos,
audire praepositos, nosse ordines, intellegere occasiones, differre im-
petus, disponere diem, vallare noctem, fortunam inter dubia, virtutem
inter certa numerare, quodque rarissimum nec nisi Romanae
disciplinae concessum, plus reponere in duce quam in exercitu.

It thus seems likely that Tacitus chose to begin his catalogue with them
because he considered them the leading Germanic tribe across the
Rhine. This opinion undoubtedly reflects the conditions of his own day.
Although there had been periodic clashes with the Chatti throughout
the first century CE, it was only in Domitian's war of 83 to 85 CE that
they became important enemies. 22 Therefore, although Tacitus may well

21 From the Batavi, near the mouth of the Rhine, he proceeds to the Mattiaci, oppo-

site Mainz, and then to the agri decumates, presumably the territory in modern
Baden-Württemberg (chapter 29); but he next deals with the Chatti, in modern Hesse
(chapters 30-31), and the Usipi and Tencteri, presumably on the Rhine between the Lahn
and the Lippe (chapter 32).
2 2 For discussion of these wars, see K. Strobel, "Der Chattenkriege Domitians,"
 THE GERMANIA OF TACITUS 171

have obtained specific information from earlier sources, the decision

to begin his catalogue with this tribe was undoubtedly his own.
Tacitus balances the Chatti at the start of this catalogue with the
Cimbri at its end. This makes sense both geographically and themati-
cally. Geographically, we would probably regard the Cimbri, who lived
in the northern part of Jutland, as neither a western nor an eastern tribe,
but a northern one. The Romans, however, probably did not think of
their location in these terms at all, but rather in relation to the borders
of the empire. They had discovered their homeland in the course of a
naval expedition led by the elder Drusus, which naturally originated
near the mouth of the Rhine; they thus would reasonably enough have
thought of the Cimbri as the furthest of the tribes across the Rhine. 23 In
thematic terms, the Cimbri, as the first Germanic enemy of the Romans,
provide a nice counterweight to the Chatti, the most recent Germanic
enemy across the Rhine. The survey of Roman-Germanic interactions
with which Tacitus ends this section reproduces this balance in chiastic
order, beginning as it does with the Cimbric wars and ending with an
oblique reference to the wars of Domitian. 24
Turning now to the second section, we may first consider Tacitus'
classification of Suebi. Tacitus is the only extant writer to use this term
in quite this way. Most sources deriving from the Caesarian and Au-
gustan periods refer to Suebi in western Germania (e.g. Caes. Gal. 4.19
and 6.10, Suet. Aug. 21.1, Dio 51.21.6). Most post-Augustan references,
in contrast, apply the term 'Suebi' to the Germanic tribes in Bohemia,
Moravia, and regions further north: the Marcomanni and Quadi in par-
ticular, but also the Semnones and Langobardi and sometimes other
tribes as well (e.g. Plin. Nat. 4.81, Tac. Ann. 2.62.3 and 12.29.1). The
explanation for this striking divergence in our evidence is almost cer-
tainly the migration of the Germanic leader M a r o b o d u u s and his
followers from western Germania to Bohemia sometime after 9 BCE.
From this new power base, Maroboduus built u p a far-flung empire
that comprised not only the Marcomanni and Quadi, but also, accord-
ing to our sources, the Langobardi, Semnones, and Lu gii (Strabo 7.1.3,
Tac. Ann. 2.45.1). The Romans, I would argue, w h o no doubt identified

Germania 65 (1987) 423-52, and more briefly Jones (above n. 13) 128-31 and Southern
(above n. 13) 79-91.
23
On the Cimbric expedition, see Aug. RG 26.4 and Plin. Nat. 2.167; although some-
times attributed to Tiberius, it is much more likely to have been carried out under Drusus:
see Suet. CI. 1.2 with the discussions of H. Labuske, "Die Römer am Kimbern Kap," Kl io
71 (1989) 138-45 and Nicolet (above η. 10) 91-94.
24
Ger. 37.5 Nam proximis temporibus triumphati magis quam vieti sunt; for other dis-
paraging references to Domitian's war with the Chatti, see Agr. 39.1, Plin. Pan. 11.4,
16.3, and 82.4-5.
172 JAMES Β. RIVES

the Suebi as one of the tribes who followed Maroboduus to Bohemia,

subsequently applied the name to all the tribes under his rule. Tacitus
has simply extended this usage to its logical extreme, treating 'Suebi'
as a generic name for all tribes perceived as dwelling across the Danube.
But given that the Danube is his point of reference here, and given
that the Marcomanni and Quadi were the tribes most commonly iden-
tified as Suebi, why does he begin with the Semnones, who were neither
near the Danube nor particularly familiar to Roman readers? 2 5 To an-
swer this question, we should note carefully what he says about them.
He begins with the observation that vetustissimos se nobilissimosque
Sueborum Semnones memorant (39.1). He then proceeds to provide evi-
dence for their antiquity by describing a cult celebrated in their territory,
to which <eiusdem> nominis eiusdemque sanguinis populi sent represen-
tatives. He closes by noting that adicit auctoritatem fortuna Semnonum:
centum pagis habitant, magnoque corpore efficitur ut se Sueborum caput
credant (39.3). As Dieter Timpe has cogently argued, this information
suggests a source that adduced both the federal-style cult and the tribe's
large size as proof of its pre-eminent position among the Suebi. We
know that in the early 90s CE Domitian was negotiating with the
Semnones, p r e s u m a b l y in an a t t e m p t to cause trouble for the
Marcomanni, and received an embassy from their king. Tacitus' source
was thus probably a report, perhaps deriving from information pro-
vided by the king himself, that for diplomatic purposes aggrandized
the role of the Semnones among the Suebic tribes. 26 There are thus good
reasons to think that Tacitus gave pride of place to the Semnones among
the trans-Danubian tribes for the same reason that he gave it to the
Chatti among the trans-Rhenane tribes: both were seen as particularly
eminent at the time he was writing.
A careful examination of the way that Tacitus organized his mate-
rial in the second half of the Germania thus suggests that his study
reflects rather closely the informed opinion of his day. He divides his

2 5 References to this tribe are relatively sparse: Aug. RG 26.4, Strabo 7.1.3, Veil.

2.106.2, Tac. Ann. 2.45.1, Ptol. Geog. 2.11.8, Dio 67.5.3 and 71.20.2. Ptolemy locates them
between the middle Elbe and the 'Suebos' (Oder?), which accords well e n o u g h with the
remarks of Velleius and Dio; they perhaps inhabited the region of the Havel.
2 6 D. Timpe, "Tacitus' Germania als religionsgeschichtliche Quelle," in H. Beck, D.

Ellmers, and K. Schier, eds., Germanische Religionsgeschichte: Quellen und Quellensprobleme

(Berlin 1992) 4 3 4 - 8 5 at 4 7 3 - 7 7 . Our knowledge of these negotiations depends on a brief
report of Dio about the embassy of the king (67.5.3) preserved in the Excerpta Ursiniana
de Legationibus; since it survives out of context, it carries no indication of date, al-
though general historical considerations have led most scholars since Boissevain to assign
the e m b a s s y to the y e a r s i m m e d i a t e l y f o l l o w i n g D o m i t i a n ' s first w a r w i t h the
Marcomanni and Quadi in 89 CE: so, e.g., Strobel (above n. 13) 9 9 - 1 0 0 and Jones (above
n. 13) 1 5 1 - 5 2 .
 THE GERMANIA OF TACITUS 173

survey of tribes into two parts, dealing first w i t h those perceived as

lying beyond the Rhine, and secondly with those b e y o n d the Danube.
In each section he begins with the tribes that he regarded as the most
powerful: the Chatti, w h o in the 80s CE h a d proved such formidable
foes for Domitian, and the Semnones, w h o in the early 90s CE h a d been
touted as the leading tribe of the Suebi. In both cases he implicitly d e m -
onstrates knowledge of quite recent military and diplomatic events.
We should not be surprised at this: Tacitus w a s after all a leading sena-
tor d u r i n g the reign of Domitian, a n d as such w a s no d o u b t perfectly
familiar with contemporary developments on the n o r t h e r n borders.
In this context I w o u l d like to v e n t u r e one f u r t h e r suggestion.
Tacitus has sometimes been taxed with poor j u d g e m e n t in his choice of
topic: the presence of Trajan on the Rhine as he began his w o r k led h i m
to focus on the Germani, although in fact military weight w a s already
shifting to the D a n u b i a n border. 2 7 Yet h a d this shift actually escaped
his notice? From the invasion of the Cimbri to the wars of Domitian,
Rome's military encounters with Germani h a d been primarily with the
tribes that he classifies as trans-Rhenane. Tacitus w a s clearly aware of
this fact, and calls attention to it by ending his survey of those tribes
with a compact account of past wars. But w h a t of w a r s to come? Nunc
de Suebis dicendum est. Perhaps this artful arrangement of material w a s
meant to echo the shift of focus in contemporary military policy from
the tribes along the Rhine to those along the Danube.
H o w e v e r that m a y be, the excessive attention given to Tacitus' use
of out-of-date sources, combined with Syme's authoritative dismissal
of the w o r k ' s value, has led m a n y scholars to ignore the equally strong
evidence that the Germania also reflects its contemporary context in
sometimes striking ways. I h o p e that an increased awareness of this
fact will contribute to a wider interest in this fascinating text and a
greater appreciation of its place in the corpus of Tacitus' works.

YORK UNIVERSITY

27
For example Syme (above n. 2) 47-48: Tacitus "implies a hope . . . that Trajan,
being now on the Rhine, will settle the German question . . . . In truth, the Danube had
become the more important frontier; and Trajan soon went there. If Tacitus had com-
posed an ethnographical essay a year later, he would have been tempted, if not
compelled, to write about the peoples beyond the Danube." Cf. Martin (above n. 4) 55:
"What Tacitus speaks of is past history. The truth is that the center of gravity had al-
ready moved in the direction of the Danube."
 THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES, OR,
ON FLATTERY AND ENCOMIUM IN THE SILVAE

BV CYNTHIA DAMON

In the first letter of his ninth book Pliny urges his friend Maximus to
hurry on the publication of a work in which Maximus attacks a certain
Pompeius Planta. Planta has just died, but Pliny maintains that if Maxi-
mus (who has been working on this piece for some time) gets it
published promptly, it will have the same effect as if it had been pub-
lished while its victim was still alive: in defunctum quoque tamquam in
uiuentem adhuc editur, si editur statim (Ep. 9.1.4). This is obviously wishful
thinking, a willful dismissal of a fact of life, or, more precisely, of the
fact of Planta's death. And, be it said, a public display of wishful
thinking on Pliny's part, since he himself selected this letter for his
collection.
Both the publication of Pliny's letter and the envisaged publica-
tion of Maximus' book assume that the book's readers will align
themselves with this mode of thought; will agree, that is, that the dis-
tinction between defunctus and uiuens can be willed away. On the
evidence of the Siluae, written a decade or so earlier, the assumption
was perfectly justified. For these poems everywhere bespeak a taste
for the collective suspension of disbelief and indulge that taste with
paradoxes far bolder than Pliny's.
Thus when Tacitus comes along with his insistence on distinguish-
ing between species and reality and getting behind appearances, he is
rather like the small boy in the story alluded to in my title, the boy
who sees (and says) that the emperor's new clothes aren't new and
don't clothe him. Which, of course, makes the Siluae out to be lavish
descriptions of those non-existent clothes. My first task, then, is to jus-
tify implying in the title that the Siluae are both fanciful and
insubstantial. But my second is to show that Statius means his insub-
stantial fancies seriously.
In order to reduce this topic to a manageable compass I have lim-
ited it in two ways. First, I only treat poems that Statius wrote for
patrons outside of the imperial household (the priuati); and second, I

My thanks go first to audiences at the Statius Conference in Dublin, Brown Uni-

versity, and the University of Arizona, whose questions helped me sharpen my argument.
But foremost to Ted Courtney, under whose tutelage I first read the Siluae.
 THE EMPEROR'S N E W CLOTHES 175

focus on one particularly problematic kind of praise in those poems,

namely, competitive comparisons, or Überbietungen, in which Statius
sets real Romans in competition with mythological Greeks. 1

I . C O M P O N E R E M A G N I S PARVA

Siluae 3.1 provides our first examples. The poem celebrates the con-
struction of a temple to Hercules on the shore of Surrentum by a favorite
priuatus, Pollius Felix. The effort Pollius p u t into the project is twice
declared a Herculean labor, the second time by Hercules himself
(3.1.166-70; 2 cf. 19-22):
' m a c t e a n i m i s o p i b u s q u e meos imitate labores,
qui rígidas rupes infecundaeque p u d e n d a
n a t u r a e d e s e r t a d o m a s et uertis in u s u m
lustra habitata feris f o e d e q u e latentia profers
numina.'

Meos imitate labores, though not precisely a comparison, sounds a com-

petitive note, and the list of Pollius' achievements (domas . . . uertis in
usum . . . profers numina) aligns nicely with the themes of Hercules'
contributions to civilization. Another of Hercules' claims to fame is
evoked earlier in the poem, where the young priest of the temple, prob-
ably Pollius' grandson, is said to resemble Hercules in his youthful
serpent-strangling phase (46-48):
hie templis inscriptus a u o g a u d e n t e sacerdos
p a r u u s a d h u c similisque tui c u m p r i m a n o u e r c a e
monstra m a n u premeres atque exanimata doleres.

Pollius' wife, Polla, has her own connection with the Hercules tale;
besides meriting one of the apples of the Hesperides, the fruit of his
11th labor, she would, were she still young, make Hercules her slave
just as Omphale did (158-62):
si tibi p o m a s u p e r s u n t
Hesperidum, gremio uenerabilis ingere Pollae,

1
E. R. Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. W. R. Trask
(Princeton 1953; G e r m a n e d i t i o n Bern 1948) 162-66. The p o e m s that Statius w r o t e di-
rectly or indirectly to the e m p e r o r ' s a d d r e s s h a v e m a n y Überbietungen of their o w n , of
course. A c c o r d i n g to Siluae 3.4, for e x a m p l e , D o m i t i a n ' s cupbearer Earinus h a s a better
h e a d of hair than N i s u s or A c h i l l e s (3.4.84-85), b o t h of w h o m , a l o n g w i t h A p o l l o , are
the regular m y t h o l o g i c a l exempla for o u t s t a n d i n g hair. But e x a g g e r a t i o n in the praise
of an emperor and his creatures is notoriously difficult to assess: w h e n does it cross over the
line f r o m the merely f u l s o m e to the subversive? This is an important q u e s t i o n , but o n e
that I prefer to approach indirectly, i.e. b y l o o k i n g at Statius' manner in praising priuati.
2
The text u s e d for the Siluae is, of course, our h o n o r a n d ' s 1990 OCT.
176 CYNTHIA D A M O N

n a m capit et tantum non degenerabit honorem.

quodsi dulce d e c u s uiridesque resumeret annos,
(da ueniam, Alcide) fors hic et pensa tulisses.

In these passages the honors are about even; Statius refrains from show-
ing Hercules defeated by the present in a p o e m about his o w n temple.
O t h e r heroic figures, h o w e v e r , are treated less tenderly. T h u s
Pollius' construction project, in addition to being a Herculean labor, is
like A m p h i o n ' s raising the walls of Thebes w i t h his lyre, a n d like the
labor of Apollo and N e p t u n e on the walls of Troy, b u t swifter than ei-
ther: non Amphioniae steterint uelocius arces Pergameusue labor (115-16).
Then the sheer noise of the project requires another double compari-
son (130-33):
non tarn grande sonat motis incudibus A e t n e
c u m Brontes Steropesque ferit, nec maior ab antris
Lemniacis fragor est ubi f l a m m e u s aegida caelat
Mulciber et castis exornat Pallada donis.

A n d a still longer list of comparisons describes the dedication ceremony,

a ceremony worthy of Olympia's Zeus or Delphic Apollo (140-42 nec . . .
aspernetur) and better than those associated with Poseidon and N e m e a n
Zeus: cedat lacrimabilis Isthmos, / cedat atrox Nemee: litat hie felicior infans
(142-43). 3
Turning to the poems for another priuatus, Claudius Etruscus, the
successful son of a successful imperial f r e e d m a n , w e see more compe-
tition with the mythological world. In Siluae 3.3, a p o e m on the d e a t h
of Etruscus' aged parent, the competition comes at the patron's request:
Etruscus h a d asked Statius for a song to surpass the Sirens'song, a la-
m e n t that w o u l d out-swan the s w a n song a n d o u t - m o u r n Procne's
m o u r n i n g for Itys (173-76):
hie maesti pietas m e poscit Etrusci
qualia nec Siculae moderantur carmina r u p e s
nec fati iam certus olor saeuique marita
Tereos.

In the p o e m itself Etruscus' m o u r n i n g is likened to Theseus' grief at

Aegeus' death: haud aliter gemuit per Sunia Theseus / litora, qui falsis
deceperat Aegea uelis (178-79). 4 A n d finally there is Etruscus' boast that

3
Lacrimabilis and atrox refer to the games' foundation stories, each commemorat-
i n g the d e a t h of a c h i l d (see G. L a g u n a , Estado Siluas III: Introducción, edición crítica,
traducción, y comentario [Madrid 1992] ad loc.)· Pollius' games, by contrast, have a happy
occasion (142 nil his triste locis) and a lucky child (143). For cedere in competitive com-
parisons see Laguna ad 142 and Curtius (above n. 1) 162 n. 65.
4
Statius must assume here that his audience will accept the boundaries he sup-
 THE EMPEROR'S N E W CLOTHES 177

he, with his filial affection, had a better claim than Orpheus to retriev-
ing a loved one from the underworld: hoc quanto melius pro patre liceret!
(194). A poem written for the happier occasion of the opening of
Etruscus' baths, sounds a lighter, but still competitive, note. How to
convey the character of the new baths? By saying that Aphrodite would
prefer to have been born here, that Narcissus would see his reflection
more clearly here, that Hecate would wish to bathe here even if she
had to put up with spectators (1.5.54-56).
In poems written for a third priuatus, Atedius Melior, we hear that
his recently deceased puer delicatus Glaucias could have taken
Hyacinthus' place with Apollo, or Hylas' with Hercules (2.1.112-13
Oebaliden ilio praeceps mutaret Apollo, / Alcides pensaret Hylan; cf. 140-
45). And also that Glaucias would have softened the hearts of the
mythological exempla of hard-heartedness towards children (2.1.140-45):
hunc nec saeua uiro potuisset carpere Procne
n e c f e r a c r u d e l e s C o l c h i s d u r a s s e t in i r a s ,
e d i t u s A e o l i a n e c si f o r e t i s t e C r e u s a ;
t o r u u s ab h o c A t h a m a s insanos flecteret arcus;
hunc q u a m q u a m Hectoreos ciñeres Troiamque perosus
t u r r i b u s e Phrygiis flesset m i s s u r u s Vlixes.

In short, Melior's puer was, in life, more desirable that those beloved of
the heroes, and, in death, more pitiable than the child victims of trag-
edy. Melior's parrot, which was also loved and lost, Statius first takes
the measure of by looking at the natural world. It was a creature of
surpassing beauty (2.4.26-28),
q u e m non g e m m a t a u o l u c r i s I u n o n i a c a u d a
uinceret aspectu, gelidi n o n Phasidis ales
nec quas umenti N u m i d a e rapuere sub austro.

But defunct, this parrot received from Melior a pyre that would have
done the dying phoenix proud: senio neçfessus inerti / scandet odoratos
phoenix felicior igne s (36-37).
What is one to make of these comparisons? In his epics Statius shows
himself fond of bold and even paradoxical comparisons, but these seem

plies for the comparison: Etruscus' grief is like that of Theseus, i.e. heroic, but his situ-
ation is quite different. Statius is not, I think, implying that Etruscus, like Theseus, caused
his fond father's death by his o w n carelessness (those mistaken sails). It is useful to
keep this example in mind when looking at the mythological allusions in the p o e m s to
Domitian, which h a v e sometimes been seen as subversive. As, for example, in the com-
parison m a d e at Siluae 1.1.11-16 between the new equestrian statue of Domitian in the
Roman forum and the Trojan horse. When Statius says that neither Aeneas himself nor
great Hector would have been able to drag this horse into Troy he m a y simply be making
a statement about size. Contra, F. M. Ahl, "The Rider and the Horse: Politics and P o w e r in
Roman Poetry from Horace to Statius," in ANRW 2.32.1 (1984) 4 0 - 1 2 4 , esp. 92.
178 CYNTHIA DAMON

positively flippant. When Statius begins to trot out lists of exempla, all
of whom his present laudandus surpasses, one has to feel that he does
not take any of the 'victories' very seriously.5 The figure of emphasis,
or, saying less than you mean, has often been invoked lately to explain
the literature of the empire, but the phenomenon we are examining
would appear to be the opposite of emphasis: Statius makes big claims,
and means very little by them.
A glance at some comparisons that work rather differently will help
show how odd these passages really are. For not all of Statius' com-
parisons involve outdoing, or at least not this sort of easy outdoing;
when the comparison is not mythological but real one finds not facile
victory but rather caution. 6 The challenge that Statius' epics present to
Virgil and Lucan, for example, is either undecided, as in poem 4.7 (25-
28 quippe . . . nostra Thebais . . . temptat audaci fide Mantuanae gaudia
famae), or deferred, as in the preface to Book 2, where Statius says he
avoided writing about Lucan in hexameter: laudes eius (sc. Lucani)
dicturus hexámetros meos timui (25-26). This might be the poet's mod-
esty—though modesty is hardly Statius' signature virtue—but one can
also adduce the precision with which he delimits the terms in which
the current owner of the Hercules statuette described in Siluae 4.6,
Novius Vindex, can compete with its former owners (who were, to be
sure, a hard-to-beat lot; 106-108):

nec te regnator Macetum nec barbarus umquam

Hannibal aut saeui posset uox hórrida Sullae
his celebrare modis.

Hercules will prefer Vindex to Alexander and Hannibal and Sulla be-
cause only Vindex can render his praise in verse, a safe enough
assumption. Finally, the baths of Etruscus. These are compared, not
with mythological baths (which are hard to come by), but with real
baths in Baiae and Rome (1.5.60-63):

5 Thus B. C. Verstraete, "Originality and Mannerism in Statius' Use of Myth in the

Siluae," L'Antiquité classique 52 (1983) 1 9 5 - 2 0 5 , esp. 204 " I n the profusion of mythologi-
cal c o m p a r i s o n s a n d allusions . . . there is relatively little i m a g i n a t i v e force. The
mythological material is not, in general, played off against the realities of the present
and developed as such for its dramatic, psychological, or ironic possibilities, but usu-
ally appears as a conglomeration of bland clichés."
6 These competitive comparisons might also be contrasted with the manner in which

mythological themes are deployed (some decades later) on sarcophagi, where analogy
and allusion seem to be the operative principles, not competition. See for discussion
and bibliography M. Koortbojian, Myth, Meaning, and Memory on Roman Sarcophagi (Ber-
keley 1995); for Hercules in particular see P. F. B. Jongste, The Twelve Labours of Hercules
on Roman Sarcophagi ( R o m e 1992). (My g r a t i t u d e for this suggestion g o e s to Ross
Holloway.)
 THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES 179

nec si Baianis ueniat nouus hospes ab oris

talia despiciet (fas sit componere magnis
parua), Neronea nec qui modo lotus in unda
hie iterum sudare neget.

Etruscus' baths win the competition, it is true, but Statius qualifies the
victory with a disclaimer: fas sit componere magnis parua. Recognizing
that there is something to excuse in such a comparison is precisely what
is lacking in the passages we looked at earlier; with mythological
comparanda there are seemingly no limits.
The most extreme example of boundless praise in the non-
Domitianic poems is perhaps a line from the laudes Crispini, Crispinus
being an ambitious 16-year-old about to enter his public career. Mid-
way through the poem Statius reaches the topic of the boy's physique.
Claiming to have witnessed the boy exercising on the Campus Martius,
he waxes enthusiastic: siqua fides dictis, stupui, Martemque putaui
(5.2.117). An epiphany of Mars on the Campus Martius is bold enough—
the more so because Crispinus is still adolescent and Mars is usually
portrayed in heavy maturity—but this line also seems to contain the
means of its own undoing in the words siqua fides dictis. Does he want
us to trust his words, or does he not?
On this somewhat aporetic (not to say exasperated) note I end part
one, having demonstrated, I hope, that there is something in the Siluae
very much like the enthusiasm of the fairy-tale crowd for the color,
texture, and cut of the emperor's new clothes. Now for part two.

II. FLATTERY AND ENCOMIUM

I'll begin with the proposition that fides, in the expression siqua fides
dictis, though it is Statius' own word, is simply the wrong word for
what Statius wants from his readers. In the Siluae he refuses to allow
readers any comfortable reliance on authorial sincerity.
And yet this is contrary to what one might expect in occasional
poems, which were supposed, after all, to be sincere cliental muñera,
spontaneous demonstrations of the client-poet's personal involvement
in the events of his patron's life. In the miniature debate about this sort
of composition that Statius included in the preface to the fourth book
(and second collection) of the Siluae, the poet's rather hostile interlocu-
tor concedes that one might write light poems of this sort "for private
audiences," i.e. for those whose occasions were their subjects: exerceri
autem ioco non licet? 'secreto' inquit (4 praef. 29-30). On this view a
consolatio, for example, was supposed to console, and a wedding poem
to celebrate; the poems were not supposed to advertise the addressee's
literary taste or the author's skill. And if Martial's 220 or so occasional
poems—the biggest collection we have—give grounds to judge by, the
180 CYNTHIA DAMON

rhetoric, if not the reality, of most such poems remained that of sincer-
ity: t h o u g h published in book form, Martial's epigrams retain their
occasional integrity. That is, they speak to their addressees w i t h o u t
acknowledging the larger readership. 7 As for the Siluae, however, the
p o e t ' s r e s p o n s e to the i n t e r l o c u t o r ' s secreto—sed et sphaeromachia
spectantes et palaris lusio admittit (4 praef. 30-31)—suggests that specta-
tors were envisaged f r o m the beginning of the poetic enterprise.
A passage from Augustine that Michael Dewar cited in an article
on Lucan's over-the-top praise of Nero in the Pharsalia p r o e m is help-
ful here. 8 At Confessions 6.6 Augustine says, of an u p c o m i n g occasion
that w o u l d require him to praise the emperor, that he w o u l d be telling
m a n y a lie (plura mentirer) and would win approval for his lies (mentienti
faueretur) from those w h o knew they were lies (ab scientibus).9 Here it is
clear that there w a s merit in the performance of praise even if n o one
believed its content, and that approval w o u l d be bestowed not (or not
only) by the person praised, here the emperor, b u t (or b u t also) by the
community of listeners. Augustine does not m e a n that w h a t he w o u l d
really like to d o is criticize the emperor, or that he w a n t s his audience
to read criticisms into his praises, b u t simply that his literary form, the
laudatio, has been emptied of real content, or, perhaps, that the f o r m
has become the significant content: a laudatio provides the necessary
verbiage for an occasion that constitutes a declaration of loyalty, an
up-to-the-moment demonstration of the fact that, whatever discontents
might be festering u n d e r the façade of loyalty, the façade is h o l d i n g
u p . This is something that both emperor and audience n e e d e d to see
confirmed periodically. Fides, the term that sent me off on this trail, is
doubly irrelevant: Augustine was not sincere in his praise of the em-
peror, nor did the audience believe the praise. (And in 'audience' here
I am including both the emperor, w h o presumably knew w h a t w a s or
w a s not true, a n d the members of the crowd, in w h o m the occasion
itself blocked belief.) But both parts of the audience f o u n d merit in the
performance: faueretur ab scientibus.
With Statius' Meliors and Polliuses and Crispinuses the double ir-
relevance oí fides is the same: we are no more likely than Crispinus w a s
to believe that he brings Mars to mind or that Statius w a s sincere in
saying it. But the social situation is quite different: it is not clear w h a t

7
In this respect they are comparable to Pliny's Epistulae, w h i c h are also published
versions of private communications and are similarly reticent about their n e w life in
the public's view.
8
"Laying It on with a Trowel: The Proem to Lucan and Related Texts/' CQ 44 (1994)
199-211.
9
Aug. Conf. 6.6 die ilio quo, cum pararem recitare imperatori laudes quibus plura mentirer
et mentienti faueretur ab scientibus.
 THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES 181

the public—and it is publication that makes occasional poems prob-

lematic—stood to gain from Statius' laudatio.
Augustine's audience and Statius' readership differ in this: the
former is a natural community of interest (the emperor and his sub-
jects), the latter is not. With his book Poets, Patrons, and Epideixis in the
Graeco-Roman World Alex Hardie contributed a great deal to our un-
derstanding of the Siluae by showing how much material Statius has
drawn from the public genres of encomium for them, but one thing
that Statius could not transfer from Greek rhetoric to Latin verse, at
least not directly, was the community in which public encomium of
important members had a social function. 10 And to put it bluntly, with-
out the public setting, encomium is just plain flattery, an interpersonal
strategy used for purely personal ends. However, the temper of the
Flavian age was not such as to let a mere gap in nature get in the way
of progress; if Pollius can raise a mountain where a plain used to be (as
Statius says he does at Siluae 2.2.54), perhaps Statius can create a com-
munity in which his flattery counts as encomium.
That such was his aim will, I think, emerge if we pursue the con-
trast with Martial a little further. Each of Martial's occasional poems is
a poem with a job to do: weddings and birthdays are fêted, voyagers
are sped on their way, career milestones are commemorated, people or
things are described and / o r praised, deaths are lamented, and so on.
The poems generally provide no information about the poet/patron
relationship of which the poem is a momentary instantiation. Thus
Martial's poem on the opening of Claudius Etruscus' bathhouse—the
same bathhouse where, according to Statius, Venus would have pre-
ferred to have been born—contains nineteen lines of description of the
water, the atmosphere, the lighting, the decor, the warmth, and so on,
but nothing on how Martial knows Etruscus or why he is writing (6.42).
That was obvious to writer and addressee and irrelevant, according to
the rhetoric of sincerity, to anyone else. As private utterances deliv-
ered in presentation-quality libelli, such poems provided one kind of
'cultural capital' for their addressees: they'd look nicely on bookcases,
for example, or one could casually quote choice bits in conversation, or
even, as Pliny did with the verses Martial wrote for him (and published:
it is Ep. 10.19), transcribe lines into one's letters (Epist. 3.21). 11 Such
poems are aptly imaged in the preface to the ninth book of the Epi-

10 (Liverpool 1983).
11 For bookcases and casual quotation cf. Mart. 6.64.10-11 quas (sc. nugas) et perpeti
dignantur scrinia Silt, / et repetit totiens facundo Regulus ore; for the latter alone cf. Stat.
Stlu. 1 praef. 23-26 Manilius certe Vopiscus, uir eruditissimus et qui praecipue uindicat a situ
litteras paene fugientes, solet ultro quoque nomine meo gloriari uillam Tiburtinam suam
descriptam a nobis uno die.
182 CYNTHIA DAMON

grams, w h e r e w e learn that Stertinius Avitus, consul in 92, displays a

bust of Martial (complete with titulus by Martial) in his private library
(9 praef.y.
hoc tibi sub nostra breue carmen imagine uiuat,
quam non obscuris iungis, Auite, uiris;
'ille ego sum nulli nugarum laude secundus,
quem non miraris sed, puto, lector, amas,
maiores maiora sonent: mihi parua locuto
sufficit in uestras saepe redire manus.'

Avitus clearly wants to say to those w h o visit his library a n d see the
bust "poeta meus!" This physical imago constitutes a more readily dis-
played, b u t still privately displayed affirmation of the relationship
between patron and poet that is attested on the patron's special occa-
sions by the poet's occasional poems.
But Martial's occasional poems were also issued in libri distributed
by booksellers and stowed in the sweaty pockets of the reading classes
of Rome, as Martial p r o u d l y boasts in Epigram 6.60: laudat, amat, cantat
nostros mea Roma libelles. So published, the occasional poems have more
in common with another form of testimonial that Martial offers, namely,
the position of addressee in poems on subjects not directly connected
with the addressee.
Recipients of occasional poems in fact appear frequently in the flat-
tering role of poet's interlocutor in programmatic poems, a n d also, less
frequently, in the satiric epigrams. Aquillius Regulus, for example, is
the addressee of 4 occasional poems and 8 occasionless ones; for other
addressees the proportions vary b u t the practice is the same. Stertinius
Avitus—he of the bust—is n a m e d in two epigrams about the writing of
poetry and in three other occasionless poems. 1 2 The former serve as
testimonials of his literary taste, the latter attest association w i t h a poet,
which is really all that the occasional poems achieve in published form.
In fact, the occasionless addresses m a y have been the more successful
of the two categories, since exposing the muñera of an interpersonal
relationship to the public gaze tended to arouse irritation and inuidia
in readers other than the addressee. 1 3 To develop the m e t a p h o r I used

12
E.g. 1.16 sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura / quae legis hic: aliter
non fit, Auite, liber (cf. 10.96, 10.102,12.24,12.75).
13
Some of what Martial has to say about this is indicated in Epigram 1.40, a com-
ment on a reader's likely reaction to reading 1.39, a poem praising someone called
D e c i a n u s : qui ducis uultus et non legis ista libenter, / omnibus inuideas, liuide, nemo tibi.
And from 10.59, where he abuses the reader who skips the longer poems—and the longer
ones tend to be occasional—it is clear that disinterest is no less to be expected than
envy. Similarly negative reactions are challenged in 5.15 and 10.45.
 THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES 183

earlier, publication of occasional epigrams can be considered equivalent to

opening Avitus' front door so that passers-by can see at a distance the bust of
Martial. Neither strolling past the door nor reading the epigram de-
mands much commitment or community of interest in the viewer/
reader and is as likely to arouse inuidia as admiration, but each activity
may result in some small gain of stature for the poem's addressee.
Statius' occasional poems for private patrons have a fundamen-
tally different relationship with the reading public. They seem rather
to usher the public in, to give it access to an essentially private occa-
sion. For unlike Martial, Statius gives himself a prominent presence on
the occasions that called forth the poems and offers his eyes for the
public to see with.
The contrast emerges clearly from the poems on the wedding of
Arruntius Stella and Violentilla. Where Martial shows the event through
the eyes and words of the goddess of love—his poem, Epigram 6.21,
begins "As joyous Venus was uniting for all time the bride and Stella
the poet she says Ί could not give you more"'—Statius, setting himself
amidst the crowd of clients and friends (and divinities) who help the
couple celebrate the day, describes the festivities through his own eyes
and speaks dum feruent agmine postes (1.2.47). And yet, according to
Peter White, Martial knew Stella far better than Statius did. 14
That opening up his addressee's privacy to public viewing was
Statius' purpose can be demonstrated in more detail from the first poem
in Book 3, the poem that we glanced at earlier for its competitive com-
parisons with Hercules et al. This poem celebrates a public occasion,
the dedication of Pollius' restored temple of Hercules. Statius' poem,
however, treats the private story behind the public event. His is a nar-
rative of Pollius' simple summer picnic, a picnic that was threatened
by stormclouds (Virgilian stormclouds, no less, comparable to those
that bedded Dido and Aeneas: 73-75). Instead of a cave, however,
Pollius' party finds a derelict temple of Hercules to take shelter in. The
proprietary god seizes his chance and appears to Pollius, suggesting
that Pollius replace his rundown shrine with an edifice more worthy of
both of them. And so on. The poem gives an aetion for the public occa-
sion, and does so by describing in detail—and the details are many,
including the food, the wine, and the pillows for Polla—the details of a
day in the life of Pollius as told by a poet who was an intimate of the
household-.facundi... larem Polli non hospes habebam (65). Also included
in the poem is a reprise of Statius' poem on Pollius' Surrentine villa,
Siluae 2.2: lines 93-101 of 3.1 catalog the highlights: hilltop setting,

14 "The Friends of Martial, Statius, and Pliny, and the Dispersal of Patronage," HSCP

79 (1975) 265-300, esp. 267-72.

184 CYNTHIA DAMON

wooded acres, statues in marble and bronze, encaustic paintings, col-

umned portico, bath suite.
Pollius, obviously, did not need to be told any of this. Nor, one
suspects, did his friends. Publication would in fact seem to be the very
raison d'être of Siluae 3.1: it doesn't make sense to write a poem that
ushers in the audience for an audience that would already have access
to the interior, i.e. for Pollius himself and those who, like Statius, enjoy
his hospitality. The question is, is there an audience that would want to
be ushered in by the poet, and would that audience accept the mytho-
logical apparatus of the poem—the competitive comparisons that we
looked at earlier, the Virgilian storm, the divine epiphany—would it
accept all this as encomium?
A full answer to this question goes beyond the scope of the present
paper, but one line of approach draws on the mythological compari-
sons with which we began.
Many of Statius' Überbietungen come from two thematic areas, con-
spicuous consumption and intimate relationships. We have seen Pollius'
temple renovation and celebratory games, Etruscus' pietas and luxuri-
ous baths, two much-indulged favorites of Melior. One might also point
to passages on Arruntius Stella's ardor as a lover, on the villa of Manilius
Vopiscus, on various pueri delicati, and on the virtues of Statius' wife as
both wife and mother. 1 5 Other subjects yielding competitive compari-
sons are poetic virtuosity and sensuous beauty. 16 This is odd, because
both luxuria and emotional excess are frowned upon in Latin literature
of all periods, and commentaries on the Siluae are full of passages from
Horace, Seneca, Petronius, Pliny, and Juvenal that decry precisely the
same luxuries and emotional excesses that Statius celebrates. The other
categories, poetry and sex appeal, while not frowned upon per se, are

1 5 Further competitive comparisons involving conspicuous consumption and inti-

mate relationships from poems for priuati: 1 . 2 . 8 5 - 9 0 (Stella a m o r e ardent lover than
Hippomenes, Leander), 1 . 2 . 1 9 4 - 9 5 (Asterie more intensely loved than Hylas), 1 . 2 . 2 1 3 -
17 (Stella more deeply in love than Paris, Peleus), 1.2.243-46 (Violentilla more appealingly
chaste than Lavinia and Claudia), 1 . 3 . 7 6 - 9 4 (Vopiscus' villa site preferable to a whole
series of hallowed spots, beginning with Egeria's grove and ending with Epicurus' Gar-
den), 2 . 1 . 1 4 0 - 4 5 (Glaucias m o r e pitiable than Itys, M e d e a ' s sons, A t h a m a s ' sons,
Astyanax), 2.1.23 (Melior grieves more than parents), 2 . 6 . 2 5 - 3 3 (Ursus' puer m o r e beau-
tiful than young Theseus, Paris, Achilles, Troilus), 2 . 6 . 5 4 - 5 8 , 8 2 - 8 5 (Ursus' puer more
faithful than Achilles, Theseus, Eumaeus), 3 . 5 . 5 1 - 5 2 (Statius' wife m o r e wifely than
Penelope), 3 . 5 . 5 7 - 5 9 (Statius' wife a more loving mother than Alcyone, Philomela).
1 6 E.g. 1 . 2 . 1 3 0 - 3 1 (Violentilla more lovely than Daphne), 2 . 2 . 3 6 - 4 2 (Pollius' spring

tops list: Helicon, Piplea, Hippocrene, Castalia), 2.2.116 (Pollius' song better than Siren's),
2 . 4 . 9 - 1 0 (Melior's parrot more eloquent than swan), and see references on Violentilla
and Ursus' puer in note above. On miscellaneous topics: 1.4.112-14 (Gallicus' cure quicker
than that of Telephus, Menelaus), 1 . 5 . 2 0 - 3 3 (Roman aqueduct water takes precedence
over Greek springs).
 THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES 185

not exactly what one thinks of as laudatio material either. But in all of
these areas Statius' praise may in fact reflect contemporary reality bet-
ter than the voices of traditional morality do.
Consider Pliny's account of Aquillius Regulus' reaction to the loss
of a son (Ep. 4.2, 4.7). Regulus manifested both intense grief and a de-
sire for display: he gave his son an ostentatious pyre, he had imagines
of the boy rendered in wax, bronze, silver, gold, ivory and marble, he
sent 1000 copies of the laudatio that he read at the boy's funeral to cities
throughout Italy and the provinces together with a request that the
best speaker in each place read it out to the local populace. Pliny, ever
one to play by the rules, has only scorn for what he perceives as Regu-
lus' excess: luget insane (4.2.3), he says, nec dolor erat ille, sed ostentatio
doloris (4.2.4), luget ut nemo (4.7.1), and so on. But even Pliny can see
that the mos maiorum on matters of bereavement was unnecessarily and
perhaps inhumanly restrictive, for when he contemplates the grief of a
father less hateful to him than Regulus was his reaction is rather differ-
ent. When his friend Fundanius, for example, said, in Pliny's hearing,
that he would spend the sum that he had intended for his daughter's
trousseau on her pyre, Pliny remarks that the grieving father's philo-
sophical and moral training appeared to have gone out the
window—expulsis uirtutibus aliis—but also that what remained was a
virtue: pietatis est totus (Ep. 5.16.7-8). That is, Pliny knows that Roman
tradition does not sanction extravagance in mourning, but he never-
theless finds Fundanius' grief understandable and he even urges his
addressee, a mutual friend, to defer to it, at least for a time (5.16.10).
More to the point, the behavior of both fathers shows that grief and
competition can act in tandem in this period, even if Pliny disapproves.
And one only has to turn to Pliny's villa letters to see that con-
spicuous consumption was the decorating rule, not the exception among
priuati.17 All the better, of course, if you can have your villa and adver-
tise it, too, as Manilius Vopiscus, another Statian priuatus, did: solet ultro
quoque nomine meo gloriari uillam Tiburtinam suam descriptam a nobis uno
die (1 praef. 25-26). The poem in question, Siluae 1.3, details the miracula
(1.3.14) that make Vopiscus' estate preferable to Egeria's grove,
Alcinous' orchards, Epicurus' Garden and other lovely spots; it also
makes it possible for even those who cannot visit the villa to see it.
About Pollius, for whom Statius wrote another villa poem (2.2), we
can say even more.
Earlier in life Pollius had cut a figure in the public life of both Naples
and Puteoli (2.2.133-38):

1 7 See Ep. 2 . 1 7 , 3 . 1 9 , 5 . 6 , 9 . 7 as well as 1.3 on his friend Caninius' pinguis secessus (3).

For discussion see Bettina Bergmann, "Visualizing Pliny's Villas," JRA 8 (1995) 4 0 6 - 2 0 .
186 CYNTHIA DAMON

tempus erat cum te geminae suffragia terrae

diriperent celsusque duas ueherere per urbes,
inde Dicarcheis multum uenerande colonis,
hinc adscite meis, pariterque his largus et illis.

As part of that effort he had erected costly buildings in both cities; it is

for this reason that Hercules calls him largitor opum (3.1.91-93):

'tune' inquit 'largitor opum, qui mente profusa

tecta Dicaearchi pariter iuuenemque replesti
Parthenopen?'

But in both 2.2 and 3.1 Statius depicts Pollius as a man who has with-
drawn from the contests and risks of public life. In 2.2 Pollius' public
endeavors are characterized as a youthful enthusiasm and ascribed to
his (former) ignorance of the good (iuuenile calens rectique errore superbus,
2.2.137); the life he chooses now is one of quies (121-25; cf. 3 praef. 1-2
hac cui tamfideliter inhaeres quiete):

uiue, Midae gazis et Lydo ditior auro,

Troica et Euphratae supra diademata felix,
quem non ambigui fasces, non mobile uulgus,
non leges, non castra terent, qui pectore magno
spemque metumque domas uoto sublimior omni.

It is clear that Pollius, comfortable with his millions, does not waste
time on the fasce s or the vulgus or lege s or castra. But quies needn't im-
ply that Pollius is not ambitious for the public eye: at 3.1.106, for
example, Statius' Hercules urges Pollius to compete with his past ef-
forts: da templum dignasque tuis conatibus aras. What is different is the
competitive venue, not the competitiveness itself; Pollius has simply
changed the way he displays himself to the public. And for Pollius'
new endeavors Statius' services were essential: it was the poet who
provided the proper packaging.
What we see in the poems for Pollius is the pinnacle of what a con-
temporary Roman priuatus might achieve with sufficient wealth and
leisure. In raising himself to this pinnacle Pollius was competing in a
field where not even achievement, let alone competition, was sanctioned
by the mos maiorum. And the same might be said of Regulus' ostentatio
doloris. But although neither private luxury nor intimate emotion fig-
ures prominently in Roman models of virtus, the competitions engaged
in by both Pollius and Regulus make it clear that these attainments
had contemporary social value. And Romans who espoused these val-
ues, who surrounded themselves with beauty and cultivated their
emotions, might well constitute a community of interest that would
 THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES 187

value Statius' Siluae. Not, of course, because they believed that Flavius
Ursus' delicatus was more winsome than Paris, or that Vopiscus' villa
was nicer than the Garden, or that Pollius' song was better than the
Siren's—as I suggested in part one, in my view these poems describe
the private equivalent of the emperor's new clothes—but because they
focus the gaze in the right direction, on writing verse, living in a nice
villa, and loving. Statius provides a neat summary of the new values
championed in the Siluae when his Hercules blesses Pollius' spirit and
his wealth: mac te animis opibusque (3.1.166). 18
It is of course no compliment to Statius to cast him as master of
ceremonies in the story about an emperor on parade in his underwear.
But Statius would be the first to admit that his Siluae were a risky propo-
sition. Books 1-3, which were published as a unit a few years before
the single Book 4 and the posthumous Book 5, were in fact criticized
(or so Statius would have us believe); he responded by putting more
poems in his fourth book than in any of the earlier ones so that his
critics would not think him chastened (4 praef. 25-27 ne se putertt aliquid
egisse qui reprehenderunt, ut audio, quod hoc stili genus edidissem). One
might think, given what they praise, animi opesque, that the Siluae herald a
revolution in Roman values. However, no one, to my knowledge, has
argued that Statius is a latter-day Catullus. Largely, I think, because of
how the Siluae praise. The mode of praise that we have been looking
at—setting real Romans in competition with mythological Greeks—is
typical of the riot of fanciful poetic effects that Statius' deploys in de-
scribing the world of Pollius and the other priuati. If you want to see
clothes on the emperor or value in what Statius' patrons compete for,
you are welcome to do so, but Statius won't insist. In fact, he gives us
his response to those who fail to see the value of the poems in the pref-
ace to Siluae 4: quisquís ex meis inuitus aliquid legit, statim se profitetur
aduetsum. ita quare Consilio eius accedami in summam, nempe ego sum qui
traducor; taceat et gaudeat (31-34). He shrugs, and invites the hostile
reader go off and enjoy a snicker by himself. To my mind this shrug is
what makes these poems hard to stomach as poems today. We don't
belong to the community of interest in which Statius' praise could count
as encomium, and therefore to us they seem, too easily, mere flattery. 19

AMHERST COLLEGE

1 8 Cf. 2.2.95-96, also on Pollius: macte animo quod Graia probas, quod Graia frequentas

/ arpa, and 1.3.105-106 on Vopiscus: digne Midae Croesique bonis et Perside gaza, / macte
bonis animi. See Laguna (above n. 3) ad loc. for parallels beyond Statius.
1 9 We do, however, belong to a community in which praise of scholarship and teach-

ing counts as encomium. Ted has always insisted on precision and spoken with authority,
and to show in his honor and with much gratitude how effective his example has been
188 CYNTHIA DAMON

I append here a footnote to a comment of mine found wanting when I gave a paper at
UVA not long ago. At issue is the translation of Josephus, A] 18.54, a passage on the
death of Germanicus: καί γαρ γενόμενος κατά την άνατολήν καί πάντα διορθώσας άνηρέθη
φαρμάκω ύπό Πείσωνος, καθώς έν άλλοις δεδήλωται. Following Feldman's Loeb transla-
tion for καθώς έν άλλοις δεδήλωται "as other writers have explained," I took this to be
direct evidence of the existence in the Flavian period of narratives about the Piso/
Germanicus episode so famously told later by Tacitus in Annals 2 and 3. Ted observed,
however, that the phrase would more naturally mean "as is shown in others (sc. of my
works)." I have since pursued the question. Josephus has two basic cross-reference for-
mulas: the impersonal passive form used here (and at A] 11.305,13.186,13.253, 13.371,
14.98, 14.119, and 14.270) and a first person form that appears in the future tense (A]
1.193 έν άλλοις δηλώσω, referring to a work named and shaped into four books, but
never completed; cf. 3.74, 6.322, 15.372, Αρ. 1.92), in the aorist (Vit. 61 ώς έν άλλοις
έδηλώσαμεν, referring to Β] 2.483), and most commonly in the perfect (A] 7.394 καθώς
καί έν άλλοις δεδηλώκαμεν, referring to BJ 1.61 [and also A} 13.249]; cf. 12.245, 13.37,
13.61,13.108,13.119,13.271,13.347,13.372). The passages referred to by the first person
formulas can generally be located in Josephus' works, but the passive formulas are a
different matter. All are occasioned by topics of Hellenistic and Roman political and
military history; the Roman topics (from A] 14) are Gabinius' restoration of Ptolemy
Auletes, Crassus' Parthian expedition, and the assasination of Julius Caesar. There are
no other discussions of these chestnuts in Josephus, nor is there any call for them. In the
Loeb Josephus at AJ 11.305 Ralph Marcus promises an appendix on "cross-references
not readily identifiable in Josephus' extant writings" for the final volume of the set
(which he did not live to see); none is in fact present. In his note to 13.186 he suggests
that the expression either is taken verbatim from Josephus' source or bears the (some-
what artificial) meaning "in other authors." Given the well-attested status of the subjects
mentioned in these passages (including the death of Germanicus), the latter seems a
reasonable hypothesis. In short, we were both right. But I'm glad I checked.
 PSITTACUS REDUX: IMITATION AND LITERARY POLEMIC
IN STATIUS, SILVAE 2.4 1

BY K . SARA MYERS

Statius' Silvae 2.4 is a poem closely modeled on Ovid, Amores 2.6, a

poem about another dead talking parrot. 2 Statius' poem was written
ostensibly on the occasion of the actual death of his patron Atedius
Melior's parrot; surely a fortuitous, if unhappy, poetic opportunity.
Through their subject matter both Ovid and Statius in their parrot po-
ems broach the issue of poetic imitation. As Ovid at the beginning of
Amores 2.6 signals the imitative nature of his poem by calling the
psittacus an imitatrix ales, so Statius' description of Melior's parrot as
an imitator at the opening of Silvae 2.4 (line 2) draws attention to its
status as an allusion in the first of many Ovidian verbal echoes in the
poem. 3 The beginning of Ovid's Amores 2.6.1-2 Psittacus, Eois imitatrix
ales ab Indis, /occidit, is imitated both in Statius' first two lines Psittace,
dux volucrum, domini facunda voluptas, / humanae sollers imitator, psittace,
linguae and at the beginning of the song within the poem which Statius
says he will teach the birds (another gesture at literary duplication) at
lines 24-25. As Jeff Wills has pointed out, in repeating psittace in the
opening lines of 2.4 Statius also embeds an allusion to Ovid's model,
Catullus 3 . 3 - 4 passer mortuus est meae puellae, / passer, deliciae meae
puellae.4 A number of scholars, myself included, have argued that Ovid's

1 My thanks first of all to the audience at the Statius Conference in Dublin in 1998

(especially Carole Newlands) and to my Statius Seminar, who first listened to and im-
proved the ideas presented here. Above all I thank Ted Courtney for his years of teaching
and guidance at Stanford and for remaining (now as a valued colleague) the foremost
model of scholarly rigor and integrity, always willing to share his immense learning. He will
appreciate the humor and homage intended by this offering, which has its origins in his
Ovid Seminar at Stanford. He cannot be held responsible, however, for these specula-
tions, for he remains convinced, as then, that "sometimes a dead parrot is just a dead parrot."
2 For parallels between Ovid and Statius, see R. E. Colton, "Parrot Poems in Ovid

and Statius," CB 43 (1967) 71-78; F. Vollmer, P. Papinii Statii Silvarum Libri (1898, reprint
Hildesheim 1971); H.-J. van Dam, P. Papinius Statius, Silvae Book II: A Commentary (Leiden
1984) ad loc.
3 S. Hinds, "Generalizing about Ovid," Ramus 16 (1987) 7; idem, Allusion and
Intertext: Dynamics of Appropriation in Roman Poetry (Cambridge 1998) 4 - 5 . All quota-
tions of the Amores are from J. C. McKeown, Ovid, Amores Vol. 1: Text and Prolegomena
(Liverpool 1987); the Silvae, of course, from the Oxford text of E. Courtney, P. Papini
Stati Silvae (1990).
4 Repetition in Latin Poetry: Figures of Allusion (Oxford 1996) 60 n. 27.
190 Κ. SARA MYERS

Amores 2.6 has a self-reflexive literary character, although it has proven

difficult to pinpoint precisely the symbolism of the parrot. 5 This paper
will offer a reading of Silvae 2.4 in the light of its literary background
and its position in the collection of the Silvae, one which suggests that
Statius here, as throughout the Silvae, reflects on the nature and liter-
ary affiliations of his new poetry while performing his task of praise of
a patron. 6 Through his imitation of Ovid's poem Statius underlines the
importance of Ovid as a model for the Silvae, while reflecting on the
creative adaptation involved in literary composition.
Statius dedicated Book 2 of the Silvae to Atedius Melior. Within the
book he included three poems written for this patron (2.1, 2.3, 2.4),
more than for any other private dedicatee. 7 About Melior, a patron of
poetry mentioned also by Martial, we know nothing except what can
be gleaned from the two poets. 8 It is generally agreed that Melior is
represented as a fashionable host (nitidus is the adjective used by both
poets: Silvae 2.3.1, Martial 4.54.8), retired from public affairs, probably
elderly, but, unlike many of Statius' dedicatees, not a literary man him-
self, although in the preface to Book 2 Statius praises Melior's critical
abilities (1-2). 9 It is his own familiaritas (2 praef. 1) with Melior which
Statius prominently advertises in his preface and his poems. Compari-
son of Martial's poems on Glaucias' death (Ep. 6.28,29) with Silvae 2.1
also foregrounds Statius' especially close association with Melior. 10
As has been pointed out, there are a number of interesting features
about the organization of the poems in Book 2. 11 The book as a whole
has been characterized as non-political and personal. Like Silvae 3 it
contains only one Domitianic poem (2.5), while Silvae 1 has two (the

5 For programmatic interpretations of Am. 2.6, see K. S. Myers, " O v i d ' s Teda Ars:
Amores 2.6: Programmatics and the P a r r o t / ' EMC 34 (1990) 3 6 7 - 7 4 (= love p o e t r y / O v i d ) ;
B. W. Boyd, " T h e Death of Corinna's Parrot Reconsidered: Poetry and Ovid's Amores,"
CJ 82 (1987) 1 9 9 - 2 0 7 ; eadem, Ovid's Literary Loves (Ann Arbor 1997) 1 7 0 - 7 9 ( = lover-
poet); U. Schmitzer, "Gallus im Elysium: Ein Versuch über Ovids Trauerelegie auf den
toten Papagei Corinnas (am. 2.6)," Gymnasium 104 (1997) 2 4 5 - 7 0 (= Gallus); N. Holzberg,
Die Römische Liebeselegie (Darmstadt 2001) 123 ( = love elegy).
6 The forthcoming book by C. Newlands on the Silvae makes m a n y convincing ar-

guments for programmatic readings of individual poems.

7 With the exception of Pollius Felix, the dedicatee of Book 3 (and Silvae 2 . 2 , 3 . 1 ) , if

w e include 4.8, addressed to his son-in-law Julius Menecrates.

8 Martial 2 . 6 9 , 4 . 5 4 , 6.28, 29, 8.38; see PIR2 A 1277.

9 See the discussions of v a n D a m (above n. 2) 69, A. Hardie, Statius and the Silvae:

Poets, Patrons and Epideixis in the Graeco-Roman World (Liverpool 1983) 6 6 - 6 7 , and P.
White, " T h e Friends of Martial, Statius, and Pliny, and the Dispersal of P a t r o n a g e , "
HSCP 79 (1975) 2 7 2 - 7 5 .
1 0 F. Grewing, Martial, Buch VI: Ein Kommentar (Göttingen 1997) 211.

11 See v a n D a m (above η. 2) 3; H. Cancik, Untersuchungen zur lyrischen Kunst des P.

Papinius Statius (Hildesheim 1965) 1 7 - 2 1 .
 PSITTACUS REDUX 191

first and last) and Silvae 4 makes a marked imperial gesture with its
three opening poems to Domitian. It has also been observed that mourn-
ing is a predominant theme of Silvae 2, with all poems but 2.2 (on Pollius
Felix's villa) and 2.3 (on the plane tree) dealing with death. 12 The group-
ing together in the three Melior poems of three of his 'possessions'—a
slave boy, a tree, and a parrot—is revealing. Echoes of 2.1 (on Glaucias)
can be found in 2.4 (on the death of Melior's parrot; see van Dam ad
Silv. 2.4. 3, 4, 7-8, 11-15). In Silvae 2.6 Statius makes the brutal reality
explicit in comparing Ursus' lamentations for his slave boy with those
over pets: fidosque canes flevere Molossi / et volucres habuere rogum
cervusque Maronem (19-20).
Silvae 2.4 is linked by Statius in the preface to Book 2 with 2.3, a
poem treating a plane tree in Melior's garden, and 2.5, on the death of
a tame lion in the amphitheater,13 as being leves libelles quasi epigrammatis
loco scriptos (15-16). This statement has been interpreted to refer to the
three poems' subject matter, style, and length.14 Some have considered
it an oblique attack on Martial's self-professed 'lesser' genre of epi-
gram (cf. 12.94.9 quid minus esse potest?),15 but it seems to signal here
rather the Silvae's affinity with the themes and nature of epigram in
these poems in particular as well as throughout the collection, the po-
ems of which are consistently characterized by Statius as written in a
minor genre in comparison with his epics (e.g. 1 praef. 1-15, 1.5.1-14,
2.3.6-7). Poetic epitaphs for dead pets were a stock feature of Greek
epigram (AP 7.191, 199, 202-203 on dead birds), 16 and appear in Mar-
tial (1.109, 11.69 on dogs). Recently Lucius Arruntius Stella, the
dedicatee of Silvae 1 and patron alike of Statius and Martial, had writ-
ten on his puella's deceased dove in imitation of Catullus (presumably
in elegiacs; see Silv. 1.2.102 hie nostrae deflevit fata columbae; Mart. 1.7,
7.14, where Martial's comments suggest an obscene reading, cf. 11.6).
The three poems Silvae 2.3-5 also all describe natural curiosa (illusion-
ist tree, talking bird, tame lion). Statius' Silvae revel in the paradoxical
and marvelous, another feature they share with the epigrammatic tra-
dition.17 The relatively short length of all three poems has been seen to

1 2 D. F. Bright, Elaborate Disarray: The Nature of Statius' Silvae (Meisenheim a m Glan

1980) 5 8 - 6 2 .
13 Silv. 2 praef. 16 eandem exigebat stili facilitatem leo mansuetus.
1 4 Vollmer (above n. 2) 25; v a n D a m (above n. 2) 5 9 , 2 8 2 - 8 3 ; Hardie (above n. 9) 119;

R. G. Tanner, " E p i c Tradition and E p i g r a m in Statius," ANRW 2.32.5 (1986) 3038.

1 5 D. W. T. C. Vessey, "Varia Statiana," CB 46 (1970) 4 9 - 5 5 .

16 AP 7 . 1 8 9 - 9 2 , 194, 1 9 7 - 2 0 9 , 2 1 1 - 1 6 . On the tradition of sepulchral epigrams to

dead pets, see G. Herrlinger, Totenklage um Tiere in der antiken Dichtung (Stuttgart 1930);
v a n D a m (above η. 2) 3 3 7 η. 2 also provides a list of non-literary Latin poems on d e a d
animals (e.g. CIL 6.5.54 on a dead bird).
1 7 Κ. M. Coleman, " T h e Liber spectaculorum: Perpetuating the E p h e m e r a l , " in F.
192 Κ. SARA MYERS

18
contribute to their unity. Silvae 2.3 and 2.4 also notably share an
Ovidian character. Silvae 2.3 relates the erotic story of the pursuit of
the n y m p h Pholoe by Pan and draws on a number of Ovidian stories from
the Fasti and Metamorphoses. The juxtaposition of the two poems sug-
gests an acknowledgement of Ovid's pervasive influence on the Silvae.19
The placement of Statius' poem to Lucan at the end of Book 2 reminds
us that Lucan's work entitled Silvae (Vit. Vacc. 330 [Hosius]) may have
been an important model for the collection and also looks forward, in
Statius' rejection of the contemporary political themes of Lucan's epic
for private themes, to the programmatic announcements in 3. I. 2 0 It is
worth observing also that the vexed relationship between Amores 2.6
and 3.9, on the death of the poet Tibullus, is reflected structurally in
Silvae 1 in the proximity of Silvae 2.4 and 2.7, on the dead Lucan.
A poem on a dead parrot, or parakeet, 2 1 (paired with 2.5 on the
dead lion) in a book full of consolations for real people strikes a note of
self-parody, as many have suggested. 2 2 Statius' hyperbolic and elevated
praise of the bird adds to the tone of mock pathos (1 dux volucrum, 24
aeriae celeberrima gloria gentis; cf. Am. 2.6.20 infelix, avium gloria). Surely
Statius did not mean to undermine his more serious epikedia for dead
people, but rather, like Amores 2.6, the poem represents a parody of the
form of the consolatio.23 Unlike the poems of Catullus, Ovid, and Stella,
Statius' poem is not an amatory poem written to his mistress, but is
rather written for his patron (note the reminder of the earlier tradition

Grewing, ed., Toto Notus in Orbe: Perspektiven der Martial-Interpretation (Stuttgart 1998)
1 5 - 3 6 ; P. Laurens, L'Abeille dans l'ambre (Paris 1989) 29, 51; cf. 130, on the use of collec-
tions of natural marvels in epigram.
1 8 Cancik (above n. 11) 20.

1 9 Ovid's influence on the Silvae deserves further study; see G. Luehr, " D e P. Papinio

Statio in Silvis priorum poetarum R o m a n o r u m imitatore" (Diss. Brunsberg 1880); J. H.

Mozley, "Statius as an Imitator of Vergil and O v i d , " CW T7 (1933) 3 3 - 3 8 ; Hardie (above
n. 9) 152-64. See also S. Hinds, "Do-It-Yourself Literary Tradition: Statius, Martial and
Others," M D 39 (1997) 1 8 7 - 2 0 7 .
2 0 See C. Newlands, "Silvae 3.1 and Statius' Poetic Temple," CQ 41 (1991) 4 3 8 - 5 2 ,

esp. 439, 4 4 1 ; see also Hardie (above n. 9) 1 5 2 - 7 1 , and D. W. T. C. Vessey, "Transience

Preserved: Style and Theme in Statius' Silvae," ANRW 2.32.5 (1986) 2 7 7 2 - 8 3 .
2 1 J. C. McKeown, Ovid, Amores: A Commentary on Book Two (Leeds 1998) ad Am.
2.6.1 convincingly argues that the psittacus is actually an Indian Ringneck Parakeet,
but, for the sake of convention, I will refer to it as a parrot.
2 2 Vollmer (above n. 2) 3 6 0 (he uses the term epikedion), v a n D a m (above n. 2) 339,

Herrlinger (above n. 16) 8 7 - 9 0 . See W. Peek, Griechische Vers-Inschriften I: Grab-Epigramme

(Berlin 1955), for an epitaph for a dog which asks the reader not to laugh (GV 1365);
McKeown (above n. 21) 110.
2 3 Contra F. Cawsey, "Statius, Silv. 2.4: More Than an E x - P a r r o t ? " PACA 17 (1983)

6 9 - 8 4 , who argues that Statius is "consciously undercutting his less personal commis-
sioned p o e m s " (74).
 PSITTACUS REDUX 193

in domini facunda voluptas at 2.4. I). 2 4 In a maneuver typical of the col-

lection as a whole, in which many types of genres (e.g. ekphrasis,
epyllion, aetion) are adapted to private encomiastic ends, Statius ap-
propriates a typically elegiac and amatory theme to his own purposes.
Melior seems to have been a unique patron. He is praised by Statius in
two humorous poems on a tree and a pet bird (in addition to 2.1, on his
boy-favorite), rather than by descriptions of his architectural or artis-
tic possessions (as in Silv. 1.3,5,2.2,3.1,4.6 for other patrons). Although
the description of the parrot's elaborate cage (2.4.11-12), the mention
of the lavish dinner parties (5-7), and the expensive spices for the cre-
mation (34-36) hint at Melior's wealth and generosity, he seems to have
preferred to be honored by literary jeux d'esprit such as 2.3 and 2.4.
The relatively unencomiastic nature of the subject and the long literary
tradition of the dead bird poem suggests that the poem serves other
ends as well (regardless of whether the parrot really existed or not).
The appearance of parrots in a number of other important literary criti-
cal passages in earlier literature, besides Amores 2.6, supports a reading
of Silvae 2.4 in meta-literary terms.
Bird imagery had been used in association with poets and poetry
since the beginnings of Greek poetry, 25 and in Pindar O. 2.86-88 we
already find the use of contrasting birds for literary polemic. 26 Parrots
and other imitative birds such as crows, jackdaws, and magpies ap-
pear in Greek and Latin literary-critical contexts as symbols for the
most part of bad poetry (the swan being of course the most frequent
positive metaphor for a poet). 27 The parrot seems to appear first in such
a context in Callimachus, Iambi II (fr. 192.11 Pf.), in a catalogue of iden-
tifications of animal voices with authors and genres. Unfortunately the
text has lost the human identification of the parrot, but most assume it

2 4 Herrlinger (above n. 16) 89; A. Sauvage, Étude de thèmes animaliers dans la poésie

latine (Brussels 1975) 276. On parallels between mistress and patron, see P. White, Prom-
ised Verse: Poets in the Society of Augustan Rome (Cambridge, Ma. 1993) 4, 8 8 - 9 1 ; B. Gold,
" T h e Master-Mistress of M y Passion: The L a d y as Patron in Ancient and Renaissance
Literature," in M. DeForest, ed., Woman's Power, Man's Game: Essays in Classical Antiq-
uity in Honor of Joy K. King (Wauconda 1993) 2 7 9 - 3 0 4 .
2 5 See E.-R. Schwinge, " H o r a z , Carmen 2 . 2 0 , " Hermes 9 3 (1965) 4 3 8 - 5 9 ; R. G. M.
Nisbet and M. Hubbard, A Commentary on Horace, Odes Book II (Oxford 1978) 342, ad
Hor. Carm. 2.20; Sauvage (above n. 24) 1 0 3 - 2 8 6 .
2 6 Cf. Theoc. 5 . 1 3 6 - 3 7 ; Lucr. 3.6 (see E. J. Kenney, Lucretius, De Rerum Natura Book
III [Cambridge 1971] ad loc.), 4.181; Verg. Ecl. 9.36; Prop. 2.34.84.
2 7 See Nisbet and Hubbard (above η. 25) ad Hor. Carm. 2.20.10; Hor. Carm. 1.6.2,
4.2.25, 4.3.20; Verg. Ecl. 8.55, 9.29. See also F. Ahl, "Amber, Avallon, and Apollo's Sing-
ing Swan," AJP103 (1982) 3 7 3 ^ 1 1 ; S. Hinds, The Metamorphosis of Persephone (Cambridge
1987) 47, 149 n. 65; A. Keith, The Play of Fictions (Ann Arbor 1992) 1 3 7 - 4 6 ; H. Donohue,
The Song of the Swan (Lanham 1993) 1 8 - 2 9 ; cf. Call. Epigr. 2.6 Pf. (nightingales).
194 Κ. SARA MYERS

would be negative, as are all the others, and suggest slavish imitation
or mindless repetition. 28 Persius prol. 8-14 seems to reflect this tradi-
tion. 29 Here the parrot and pica appear along with the corvos poetas et
poetridas picas (13) as birds who are taught by magister artis ingenique
largitor / venter (10-11) and motivated by dolosi spes . . . nummi (12). 30
Although the passage is difficult to interpret, Persius is clearly dissoci-
ating himself from base motivations for poetic composition and from
the thoughtless imitations of these birds. At the same time Persius also
reflects on the mimetic quality of poetry in which "there is, unavoid-
ably, a large element of parroting . . . mechanical repetition (the crow
being a plagiarist in fable) of another's work." 3 1 Persius explores
through the figures of these birds some of the artistic tensions involved
in literary imitation. Catherine Connors has recently drawn attention
to one of the poems in the Latin Anthology attributed to Petronius (fr. 41
Bücheler = AL 691R; E. Courtney, The Poems of Petronius [Atlanta 1991]
67) in which a speaking parrot claims primacy over swans. 3 2 The lack
of context there makes it impossible to determine with any certainty
the tone of the reference, but a literary interpretation is suggested by
the comparison between the birds. 33 Martial in 10.3.1-6 complains that
another poet is publishing offensive poetry under Martial's name:
vernaculorum dicta . . . poeta quidam clancularius spargit / et vult videri
nostra. He then exclaims (6-7) credis hoc, Prisce?/voce ut loquatur psittacus
coturnicis? This is usually understood as a comparison between a good
poet (parrot = Martial) and a bad poet (quail), 34 but it also brings up
the negative idea of merely trying to parrot a better poet. At 1.53 Mar-
tial attacks a plagiarist (3 manifestum furtum) in terms of a contrast
between swans and the raven (corvus), and nightingales and the mag-

2 8 A. Kerkhecker, Callimachus' Book of Iambi (Oxford 1999) 52 " T h e comparisons are

there to offend"; cf. Apul. Fl. 12.45 corvus et psittacus nihil aliud quam quod didicerunt
pronuntiant.
2 9 J. C. Bramble, Persius and the Programmatic Satire ( C a m b r i d g e 1 9 7 4 ) 116; D.
Korzeniewski, "Der Satirenprolog des Persius," RhM 121 (1978) 338.
3 0 Cf. Posidippus 16 Gow-Page on a parasite compared to a gluttonous crow.

3 1 K. J. Reckford, "Studies in Persius," Hermes 90 (1962) 502; D. M. Hooley, The

Knotted Thong: Structures of Mimesis in Persius (Ann Arbor 1997) 232-34. See Hor. Ep. 1 . 3 . 1 8 - 2 0 ,
where the crow stands as warning to Celsus against plagiarism (20 furtivis ... coloribus)
and too great a reliance on literary models (here called the grex avium 19). The tradition
of the animal fable lies behind this p o e m as well as Callimachus' Iambi.
32 Petronius the Poet: Verse and Literary Tradition in the Satyricon (Cambridge 1998)
4 7 - 4 9 , where she suggests that this p o e m m a y reflect Petronius' appropriations of the
epic tradition in his work. Line 4 mutavi Latió barbara verba sono is suggestive of transla-
tion (see M c K e o w n [above n. 21] ad Am. 2.6.18).
3 3 Cf. Theoc. 5 . 1 3 6 - 3 7 , Verg. Eel. 9.36, and Prop. 2 . 3 4 . 8 3 - 8 4 on literary comparisons

between swans and other birds.

3 4 Sauvage (above n. 24) 273; v a n D a m (above n. 2) 342.
 PSITTACUS REDUX 195

oc
pie (10 improba ... pica). Statius' contemporary Pliny the Younger had
characterized his own poetic trifles (some obscene; cf. Ep. 4 . 1 4 , 5 . 3 ) in
avian terms, Ep. 9.25.3 Tu passerculis et columbulis nostris inter aquilas
vestras dabis pennas, with a clear reference to the Catullan tradition. 3 6
This pervasive use of avian imagery as a poetic metaphor and of
parrots and speaking birds in particular for literary polemic and for
reflections on literary imitation provides a context for reading Ovid's
and Statius' poems. 3 7 Statius, like Ovid, stresses the parrot's marvel-
ous ability to imitate the h u m a n voice, and though his terms of
description of the parrot are different, they have some of the same lit-
erary resonances as those of Ovid. 3 8 At 2.4.1 the parrot is characterized
as a facunda voluptas (cf. Am. 2.6.26 garrulus, 37 locjuax). The adjective is
one Statius uses often of his patrons (e.g. 2.2.9, 3.1.65, 1.3.1, 1.4.30). 3 9
Canorus (9) too is a common term of praise for birds and poets alike, 40
while levis (31), facilis (32), and tenues . . . plumae (35, cf. Am. 2.6.60
exiguus, 18 ingeniosa) all have programmatic connotations, indicating
poetry in the lighter genres and reminding us of Statius' description of
2 . 3 , 4 , and 5 in the preface of Book 2, lines 15-16, as leves libelli and as
requiring stili facilitasi If we borrow further from Statius' description
of the parrot's cage, then argutum (13), querulae.. .fores (14, cf. 30 queruli
quondam vice functus amici), and angustus (15) 4 2 may all be understood
as terms relevant to literary criticism, referring especially to elegy. 43

35 See M. Citroni, M. Valerius Martialis Epigrammaton Liber Primus (Florence 1975) ad loc.
36 See V. Buchheit, "Catull, Vergil, Martial und Stella in Plinius Epist. 9.25," SymbOslo
52 (1977) 83-87.
3 7 See also R. B. Egan, "Archias, Meleager, Tymnes: Dead Birds in Context," RhM

141 (1998) 24-30, who suggests that the epigrams on dead birds by Archias (AP 7.191)
and Tymnes (AP 7.199) anticipate Ovid and Statius in using mimetic birds as a figure
for reflecting on poetic mimicry. K. Gutzwiller, Poetic Garlands: Hellenistic Epigrams in
Context (Berkeley 1998) 66-67, offers a similar reading for an epigram on a dead cicada
and grasshopper by Anyte (AP 7.190 = Gow-Page 20).
38 See Myers (above n. 5); Boyd (above n. 5).
3 9 See van Dam (above n. 2) ad 2.2.9-10 on the use of the term to refer to literary

composition and interests.

40 Silv. 1.2.3, 225; 3.5.52; Hor. Carm. 2.20.15-16; Prop. 2.34.83-84; Ov. Fast. 3.17;

Sauvage (above n. 24) 123.

41 See van Dam (above n. 2) 283 on facilitas as a literary critical term; for levis, see

Hinds (above n. 27) 21-22, 141 n. 58; on tenuis as a Callimachean term, see R. G. M.
Nisbet and M. Hubbard, A Commentary on Horace, Odes Book I (Oxford 1970) ad Hor.
Carm. 1.6.9; Verg. Eel. 1.2, 6.8 (with D. O. Ross, Backgrounds to Augustan Poetry: Gallus,
Elegy and Rome [Cambridge 1975] 19); G. 4.6; Hor. Ep. 2.1.225. In two passages in the
Silvae Statius uses tenuis programmatically to define his occasional poetry: 1.4.36 tenuiore
lyra and 4.4.53-54 tenues ignavo pollice chordas / pulso.
4 2 I accept the reading of Courtney against van Dam (above n. 2) ad loc., who ar-

gues for augusti (the reading in M).

43 Argutus: of birds in literary critical contexts, Verg. Eel. 9.36 argutos inter... olores;
196 Κ. SARA MYERS

Statius may hereby be seen to acknowledge Ovid's conceit in his par-

rot poem of identifying the parrot with his poetics, while gesturing
towards his own innovation in using stichic hexameter verse to com-
pose an epikedion, a genre which was associated predominately with
the elegy.44
While both poets underline the parrot's mimicry, Statius seems to
place more emphasis on the merely repetitive nature of his speech. Ovid
praises the parrot's versatility {Am. 2.6.18 vox mutandis ingeniosa sonis)
and attractive speech (23-24 non fuit in terris vocum simulantior ales: /
reddebas blaeso tarn bene verba sono). Statius, however, stresses exclusively
the parrot's imitation: 7-8 adfatus etiam meditata verba / reddideras; 31-
32 monstrataque reddere verba / tamfacilis. The birds who are to gather to
mourn the parrot (although they are doctae aves; cf. Am. 2.6.62 docta)
are similarly characterized in lines 16-20. The starling (sturnus) is de-
scribed at line 18 as auditasque memor penitus demittere voces, similarly
the partridge at 20 iungens iterata vocabula perdix. At Silv. 2.1.74 Statius
had praised Glaucias, Melior's recently deceased puer delicatus, for not
using cheap and rehearsed jokes and quips (composites sales meditataque
verba) to curry favor.45 This verbatim imitation contrasts not only with
poetic originality, but also with the quality most associated with occa-
sional verse, its extempore nature: Silv. 1 praef. 3-4 hos libelles, qui mihi
subito calore et quadam festinandi voluptate fluxerunt (cf. 12-14 gratiam
celer itatis).
At line 23 of Silv. 2.4 Statius introduces a poem within his poem, a
song which he instructs the birds to repeat: hoc cunctae miserandum
addiscite carmen. The talking birds are instructed to mimic Statius' own
composition, while in Am. 2.6.58 it is the parrot that will indoctrinate
the other birds: convertit volucres in sua verba pias. By means of this clever
and tendentious gesture of literary duplication Statius restarts his poem,
and in this embedded song he repeats the structure of Am. 2.6: laudatio,
lamentatio, descriptio funeris. In the first line of Silv. 2.4 Statius had
changed the case of Ovid's first word, psittacus; here at 24-25 he re-

Prop. 1.18.30; Eleg. Maec. 36; of poetry Plin. Ep. 7.9.9; cf. R. F. Thomas, " F r o m Recusatio
to Commitment: The Evolution of the Vergilian P r o g r a m m e / ' PLLS 5 (1986) 66 on the
programmatic implications of A. 7.14 and G. 1.294. On the association of queror and its
cognates with elegy, see Hinds (above n. 27) 1 0 3 - 1 0 4 ; Nisbet-Hubbard (above n. 41) a d
Hor. Carm. 1.33.2; C. O. Brink, Horace on Poetry: The Ars Poetica (Cambridge 1971) 75. For
the C a l l i m a c h e a n associations of angustus, see Prop. 2 . 1 . 4 0 intonet angusto pectore
Callimachus; Verg. G. 3.290 angustis . . . rebus (with Thomas ad loc.).
4 4 See J. Esteve Forriol, Die Trauer und Trostgedichte in der römischen Literatur (Munich

1963) 78; v a n D a m (above η. 2) 67.

4 5 Elsewhere, as at Catullus 62.12 meditata requirunt, the implication of rehearsal is
not negative; see also Plin. E p. 1.16.2 (meditata vs. subita).
 PSITTACUS REDUX 197

tains b o t h psittacus and occidit f r o m Am. 2.6.1-2 (Psittacus, Eois imitatrix

ales ab Indis,/occidit) as the first w o r d s of their lines, b u t reverses O v i d ' s
original order, occidit aeriae celeberrima gloria gentis/psittacus, ille plagae
viridis regnator Eoae,46 as indeed Ovid himself h a d d o n e at lines 37-38
of his p o e m , where w e also see the same pairing of encomiastic apposi-
tional clauses: occidit ille, loquax humanae vocis imago, /psittacus, extremo
munus ab orbe datum.47 This duplication functions, along w i t h the n u -
merous structural and verbal echoes of Amores 2.6, to signal Statius'
o w n creative act of literary imitatio in this poem. Statius, however, also
introduces the idea of rivalry. The story of Phaethon's disastrous ride
and the transformation of his kinsman Cycnus into a swan, a tale treated
by Ovid at Met. 2.367-80, must yield to Statius' o w n song: 2.4.9-10 cedat
Phaethontia vulgi/fabula: non soli celebrant sua fuñera cycni,48 just as the
peacock (cf. Ον. Met. 1.722-23), pheasant, and guinea-fowl m u s t yield
in beauty to the parrot (Silv. 2.4.26-28). Statius acknowledges his debt
to Ovid, b u t signals his o w n originality; he is n o parrot-poet.
Yet in another and different way, Statius p e r h a p s has an affinity
with this performing parrot. Melior's parrot also differs from Corinna's
in his greediness—Silv. 2.4.5-6 dapes moriturus inisti / nobiscum, et gra-
tae carpentem muñera mensae (vs. Am. 2.6.29-30 plenus erat minimo, nec
prae sermonis amore /in multos poteras ora vacare cibos)—and in this m a y
resemble more the client-poet of Statius' o w n day and remind u s of
Persius' complaints about the stomach as the source of poetic inspira-
tion (prol. 10—II).49 Like the client-poet, Melior's parrot enjoyed the
benefits of Melior's generous dinner spread a n d provided entertain-
ment at these events in the form of greetings and recitations. He is
moreover a flatterer: ille salutator regum nomenque locutus / Caesareum
(29-30). O v i d ' s parrot had addressed his Corinna instead (48). Parrots
were traditionally taught to greet the ruler, 50 b u t Statius' mention here
reminds us of the frequent encomiastic function of his o w n (and his
contemporary Martial's) poems, especially those for the Emperor. More-
over, it functions here p e r h a p s to advertise Melior's devotion to the
Imperial house as well. 5 1 The dining scene is suggestive of the m a n y

46
Van D a m (above n. 2) ad loc.
47
See M c K e o w n (above n. 21) ad loc. o n the structure of the lines. For Statius'
attentiveness to s u c h structural allusions, see N e w l a n d s ( a b o v e n. 20).
48
Cf. Silv. 5.3.80-85. For the s u g g e s t i o n of p r e v i o u s literary treatment in the term
vulgi, cf. Verg. G. 3.4 omnia iam vulgata. C o l t o n (above n. 2) 75, o b s e r v e s the a l l u s i o n in
lines 9 - 1 0 to O v i d ' s first m e n t i o n of s w a n s at Met. 2 . 2 5 2 - 5 3 concélébrant circum ripas.
49
Elsewhere in his epikedia Statius praises a s i m p l e diet: Silv. 3.3.107-10 (exiguae
dapes) a n d 5.1.121 (dapes módicas).
50
Cf. Mart. 14.73 Psittacus a vobis aliorum nomina discam / hoc didici per me dicere
'Caesar have'·, Plin. Nat. 10.117; Crinagoras AP 9.562 ( G o w - P a g e 24).
51
Cf. Statius' careful d e l i n e a t i o n of M e l i o r ' s lifestyle at Silv. 2.3.65-71. It has b e e n
198 Κ. SARA MYERS

occasions for dining and "dinner-table dilettantism" mentioned in

Statius (Silv. 1 praef. 30,4.2,4.9) and the epigrams of Martial (1.43,2.69,
9.89.1-2). 5 2 The parrot is an amicus (30; cf. Am. 2.6.12-17) and a conviva
levis (31), two functions also expected of these poets. 53 The scene evokes
the image of the "birdcage of the Muses" (cf. 2.4.14-15 vacat ille beatus /
carcer) used by Timon of Phlius (SH 786) to describe the squabbling
scholars of Alexandria (note the humorous self-deprecation of Statius'
doctae aves [16]; cf. the mourners of his learned father at 5.3.91 doctique
cohors Heliconis Phoebi). Alan Cameron's elucidation of the image as
one whose point is "not the seclusion of these birds as oddities, but
their value as delicacies for the table," has even more piquant associa-
tions for this poem and this frequently dined poet. 54 It is tempting to
suggest that the poem contains within it elements both of poetic po-
lemic and of self-deprecatory commentary on the position of poets at
this time. Melior's parrot has been "stifled" (2.4.3 quis tua tarn subito
praeclusit murmura fato).55 The theme of obstructed speech as a punish-
ment is prominent in the Metamorphoses 56 a point which Statius seems
to acknowledge in his catalogue of doctae aves who will mourn the dead
parrot (16-21) by means of references to specific stories in the epic which
express this theme, such as that of the raven (17 Phoebeius ales) in Met.
2.531-632 (544-45 ales /. . . Phoebeius), punished for his 'tattling/ and
the perdix (20) unjustly punished by Daedalus in Met. 8.236-59. At line
19 Aonio versae certamine picae Statius makes explicit reference to the
picae of Met. 5.294-678, characterized there as imitantes omnia (5.299),
who are punished in another scene of avian literary judgement. 57

suggested, though not universally accepted, that the myth of escape and refuge in Silvae
2.3 reflects Melior's o w n past of political turmoil and his subsequent retreat from the
dangers of public political life; see D. W. T. C. Vessey, " A t e d i u s Melior's Tree: Statius
Silvae 2.3," CP 76 (1981) 4 6 - 5 2 ; White (above n. 9) 2 7 2 - 7 3 .
5 2 P. White, "Amicitia and the Profession of Poetry in Early Imperial R o m e , " JRS 68

(1978) 76; see also K. M. Coleman, Statius, Silvae IV (Oxford 1988) ad 4.6.3; C. Damon,
The Mask of the Parasite: A Pathology of Roman Patronage (Ann Arbor 1 9 9 7 ) 1 6 8 - 6 9 , on the
cena as a poetic opportunity.
5 3 See White (above n. 52); R. Sailer, "Martial on Patronage and Literature," CQ 33

(1983) 2 4 6 - 5 7 .
54 Callimachus and His Critics (Princeton 1995) 32. All the birds mentioned, includ-

ing parrots, were in fact culinary delicacies (cf. Silv. 1.6.75-78). Van D a m (above n. 2) ad
2.4.28 observes, " O n e might almost think that Statius' subconscious association here is
culinary."
5 5 Cf. Met. 2.658 (Ocyroe's punishment for her misuse of speech) me fata, vetorque /

plura loqui, meae vocisque praecluditur usus.

5 6 See Keith (above n. 27).

5 7 Hinds (above n. 27) 130. Other reminiscences include the nightingale at 2.4.21,

referring to the story of Procne and Philomela at Met. 6 . 4 2 4 - 6 7 4 and Am. 2 . 6 . 7 - 1 0 , and
the phoenix of 2 . 4 . 3 6 - 3 7 is d r a w n from both Am. 2.6.54 and Met. 1 5 . 3 9 1 - 4 0 7 ; see Colton
(above n. 2) 77.
 psrrTACus REDUX 199

Identifying a figure behind the parrot of 2.4 is as impossible as it is for

the bird of Am. 2.6 and perhaps as undesirable, but both Statius him-
self and Martial are appealing candidates. The possibility for differences
in understanding would of course vary with the original presentation
of the poems and their published form. 58 Ancient poetry as a whole,
and especially the topical poetry of Statius and Martial constantly teases
us with our loss of contemporary context. Some of the numerous pseud-
onyms of Martial must have meant something to at least some of
Martial's audience. 59 We know that guessing went on; Ovid boasts that
many people had been guessing who Corinna was (Ars 3.538). Thus
while we cannot ever be sure of the primary referent of the parrot, and
perhaps this was part of the point, the figure offered to both Ovid and
Statius a productive and humorous, if not also ironic and self-depreca-
tory, figure for reflection on contemporary poetics and poets, as well
as the poet's own imitative practice.

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

5 8 See Damon in this volume for valuable comments on the importance of consid-

ering the audience for the published Silvae.

5 9 See Grewing (above n. 10) 47
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTIAN SUPER THEBAIDEN

B Y GREGORY H A Y S

I. INTRODUCTION

Paris BN Lat. 3012 preserves a brief treatise on Statius's Thebaid first

published by Rudolf Helm in 1897. 1 The treatise begins with some gen-
eral comments on the theory of allegorical interpretation, followed by
a capsule summary of the epic. The bulk of the text consists of a highly
fanciful allegorical reading of the poem, in which Thebes represents
the human soul, ruled by lust (Oedipus), fought over by avaritia and
luxuria (Polynices and Eteocles) and preyed upon by superbia (Creon).
Theseus stands for God, and the Seven Against Thebes represent the
Seven Liberal Arts. The interpretation is bolstered throughout by ety-
mologizing of a sort uncongenial to modern readers but not unusual in
ancient and medieval literature.
The manuscript ascribes the treatise to "S. Fulgencius Episcopus,"
i.e. to Claudius Gordianus Fulgentius (467-532) the North African theo-
logian and bishop of Ruspe, identified by Helm with Fabius Planciades
Fulgentius ('the Mythographer'), in whose four extant treatises alle-
gory and etymologizing play a conspicuous role. Helm initially leaned
toward accepting the ascription to the composite Fulgentius, but had
come round to a more sceptical position by the following year, when
he published a revised text as part of his edition of the mythographer's
works. 2 Further arguments against authenticity were added by
Bernhard Bischoff and Brian Stock, both of whom were inclined to see
the treatise as a twelfth-century product, a view shared by its most
recent editor, R. D. Sweeney. 3 But the matter does not appear to have

1 R. Helm, "Anecdoton Fulgentianum," RhM 52 (1897) 177-86. A second manu-

script, Bern 141.323, written in the hand of the humanist Pierre Daniel, w a s first
discovered and discussed by R. D. Sweeney, Prolegomena to an Edition of the Scholia to
Statins (Mnemosyne Suppl. 8: Leiden 1969) 9 0 - 9 3 . It has since proved to be an apograph
of Par. lat. 3012; cf. H. Anderson, "Note sur les manuscrits du commentaire de Fulgence
sur la Thébaïde," Révue d'histoire des textes 28 (1988) 2 3 5 - 3 8 .
2 R. Helm, ed., Fabii Planciadis Fulgentii V. C. Opera (Leipzig 1898) 1 8 0 - 8 6 (reprinted

PL Suppl. 3 . 1 4 0 8 - 1 2 ) ; cf. praef. xv.

3 Bernhard Bischoff, " D a s griechische Element in der abendländischen Bildung des

Mittelalters," Byzantinische Zeitschrift 44 (1951) 2 7 - 5 5 at 51 η. 3 [= his Mittelalterliche

Studien II (Stuttgart 1967) 2 4 6 - 7 5 at 271 η. 138]; Β. Stock, " A Note on Thebaid C o m m e n -
taries: Paris B.N. lat. 3 0 1 2 , " Traditio 17 (1971) 4 6 8 - 7 1 ; cf. R. D. Sweeney, ed., Lactantii
Placidi in Statii Thebaida Commentum vol. 1 (Stuttgart and Leipzig 1997) 6 9 4 ; L. G.
 T H E P S E U D O - F U L G E N T I A N SUPER THEBAIDEN 201

been settled to everyone's satisfaction. Reference works—even quite

recent ones—treat the question as still open. 4 Among scholars whose
focus is not specifically on Fulgentius the authenticity of the treatise
tends to be assumed without question (it is, after all, included in the
only m o d e r n edition of his works). 5 A recent survey of medieval
mythography asserts that the work should be accepted as genuine "until
more definite proof has been adduced for . . . a late date." 6
My purpose here is modest: to summarize and assess the arguments
on both sides and to supplement the material so far adduced for dat-
ing and attribution. Although not all the arguments offered by the
sceptics are equally cogent, I shall not conceal my own view that the
evidence against Fulgentian authorship is far stronger than that for
authenticity. I hope that both the investigation and conclusions will
interest a friend and colleague whose own work has been much con-
cerned both with Statius and with problems of attribution. 7

II. EXTERNAL EVIDENCE

A few basic points seem worth making at the outset. The first is simply
the lack of any evidence for the existence of the treatise, whether in the
form of manuscripts or borrowing by other authors, prior to the thir-
teenth century. 8 This is surely a little surprising if the work is authentic,
given Fulgentius's popularity in the early middle ages; the four other
works are represented by manuscripts dating back to the Carolingian
period; three of the four works were familiar to authors ranging from

Whitbread, Fulgentius the Mythographer (Columbus 1971) 235-36.

4
F. Skutsch, RE 7.1 (1910) 215-27 (expressing only slight disquiet; cf. η. 65 below);
M. Schanz, C. Hosius, and G. Krüger, Geschichte der römischen Literatur, 4.2 (Munich
1920) 199-200 (agnostic); P. Langlois, RAC 8 (1972) 637-38 (leaning toward acceptance;
cf. idem, "Les oeuvres de Fulgence le Mythographe et le problème des deux Fulgence,"
JbAC 7 [1964] 94-105 at 100); U. Pizzani, Enciclopedia Dantesca III (Rome 1971) 71 (au-
thentic "per evidenti ragioni di stile, di contenuto e di formazione culturale"); K.
Pollmann, Der Neue Pauly IV (Stuttgart 1998) 699 ("stammt eventuell ebenfalls von F.").
5
E.g. G.-G. Lapeyre, Saint Fulgence de Ruspe (Paris 1929) 25; H. C h a d w i c k , Boethius
(Oxford 1981) 15.
6
Jane Chance, Medieval Mythography. From Roman North Africa to the School of Chartres
A.D. 433-1177 (Gainesville 1994) 523 n.3.
7
Citations of Fulgentius are from Helm, by page and line number, with the works
abbreviated as f o l l o w s : Mit. = Mitologiae·, Cont. = Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae; Serm.
= Expositio Sermonum Antiquorum; Aet = De Aetatibus Mundi et Hominis. I h a v e o c c a s i o n -
ally adjusted punctuation and orthography. Citations of the Super Thebaiden are from
Sweeney's edition: references are to line number in Sweeney followed by ( / ) page and
line number in Helm.
8
Or later, for that matter. The assertion of D. Brumble, Classical Myths and Legends in the
Middle Ages and Renaissance (Westport, CT 1998) 319 that "Fulgentius's commentary was
widely known" in the middle ages does not seem to be supported by any evidence.
202 GREGORY HAYS

T h e o d u l f of O r l é a n s in the n i n t h c e n t u r y ( a s s u m i n g h i m t o b e t h e a u -
t h o r of the Libri Carolini) t o B a u d r i of B o u r g u e i l in the e l e v e n t h , a s w e l l
as the Vatican M y t h o g r a p h e r s a n d the 1 2 t h - c e n t u r y c o m m e n t a r y t r a d i -
tion. 9 B y c o n t r a s t , the m a n u s c r i p t of the Super Thebaiden d a t e s t o the
1 3 t h century, a n d there a r e n o clear i n d i c a t i o n s that its e x e m p l a r w a s
s u b s t a n t i a l l y earlier. 1 0 T h e treatise is n o t m e n t i o n e d b y a n y w r i t e r , e a r -
lier or l a t e r — n o t e v e n the twelfth-century scholar Sigebert of G e m b l o u x ,
w h o s h o w s a c o n s i d e r a b l e familiarity w i t h the F u l g e n t i a n c o r p u s . 1 1
T h e a b s e n c e of e a r l y m a n u s c r i p t s a n d testimonia is of c o u r s e h a r d l y
a d e c i s i v e p o i n t (the u n d o u b t e d l y F u l g e n t i a n De Aetatibus h a d n o m e -
d i e v a l r e c e p t i o n either), a n d the explicit a s c r i p t i o n of the treatise t o
F u l g e n t i u s in P a r i s L a t . 3 0 1 2 m i g h t s e e m t o p u t the b u r d e n of p r o o f o n
t h o s e w h o w o u l d o p p o s e authenticity. In reality, the q u e s t i o n is m o r e
c o m p l i c a t e d . I h a v e a l r e a d y n o t e d that the m a n u s c r i p t a t t r i b u t i o n t o
" S a n c t u s F u l g e n t i u s E p i s c o p u s " p r e s u p p o s e s the identification of the
m y t h o g r a p h e r w i t h the b i s h o p F u l g e n t i u s of R u s p e . This identifica-
tion h a s l o n g b e e n c o n t r o v e r s i a l (it is first f o u n d in the n i n t h c e n t u r y
a n d d o e s n o t b e c o m e w i d e s p r e a d until c o n s i d e r a b l y later), a n d as I
h o p e to s h o w e l s e w h e r e , it is in fact d e m o n s t r a b l y i n c o r r e c t . 1 2 If so,
t h e n it f o l l o w s that the a s c r i p t i o n of the Super Thebaiden to Fulgentius

9 For Theodulf cf. A. Freeman, ed., Opus Caroli Regis contra Synodum (Libri Carolini),

(MGH Cone. II suppl. 1: Hannover 1998) e.g. p. 443.21-445.13 with Freeman's appara-
tus; on the ninth-century reception generally see M. L. W. Laistner, "Fulgentius in the
Carolingian Age," in his Intellectual Heritage of the Early Middle Ages (Ithaca 1957; first
published 1928) 202-15; for Baudri cf. Carm. 154, ed. Κ. Hilbert, Baldricus Burgulianus.
Carmina (Heidelberg 1979) 205, and J.-Y. Tilliette, "Le rhetour du grand Pan," Studi
Medievali 37 (1996) 65-93; Fulgentian influence on the Vatican Mythographers and
twelfth-century commentators can be traced in the notes and apparatus of the relevant
editions, notably G. H. Bode, ed., Scriptores rerum mythicarum Latini tres Romae nuper
reperti (Celle 1834; reprint Hildesheim 1968); P. Kulcsár, ed., Mythographi Vaticani I et II
(Turnhout 1987); J. W. Jones and E. F. Jones, eds., The Commentary on the First Six Books of
the Aeneid of Vergil commonly attributed to Bernardus Sihestris (Lincoln, Neb. 1977); H. J.
Westra, ed., The Commentary on Martianus Capella's De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii at-
tributed to Bernardus Sihestris (Toronto 1986); idem, The Berlin Commentary on Martianus
Capella's De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, Book I (Leiden 1994); for this last cf. my review
at JML 7 (1997) 281-84.
10 That there was an exemplar is clear from an incorporated gloss at 134/184.26.

Sweeney (above n. 1) 93 argued from the correction of filito to filiam in the Bern MS at
120/184.13 that that manuscript was copied from an early Carolingian exemplar that
made use of the so-called 'co' a, but he has since tacitly withdrawn this point (see his
edition of Lactantius Placidus, 694).
11 De Script. Eccl. 28 (PL 160: 553C).
12 "The Date and Identity of the Mythographer Fulgentius" (forthcoming). To an-

ticipate briefly, Fulgentius Mit. 13.9 imitates Corippus, Ioh. 8.279. Corippus's poem was
published no earlier than 548. The Bishop died in 532 (or 533 on some calculations). It
follows that he cannot have read the Iohannis or written the Mitologiae.
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTIAN SUPER THEBAIDEN 203

episcopus cannot be original. Regardless of whether the work itself is

authentic, only a medieval reader would have ascribed to the bishop a
work he imagined to be by the author of the Expositio Virgilianae
Continentiae. Whether the work was transmitted as the work of
'Fulgentius' (with episcopus owed to a copyist) or whether it was trans-
mitted anonymously and the entire attribution is no more than a
copyist's guess we cannot now determine. In any case, it should be
clear that we cannot rely on the attribution found in the manuscript,
especially if it proves inconsistent with the evidence of the treatise itself.

III. INTERNAL EVIDENCE

I begin with a handful of possible anachronisms in the Super Thebaiden

itself—phrasing and allusions that seem to presuppose a medieval
rather than late antique ambience. I then proceed to areas in which the
practice of the Thebaid commentator can be compared to that of
Fulgentius: the preface and mise-en-scène of the two works; the au-
thors' interpretative practices and terminology; their familiarity with
Greek; their citation habits; their linguistic usage and general stylistic
habits (including prose rhythm). Some of the differences observed (no-
tably in sections i, iii and iv) have attracted attention previously, but in
most cases I have been able to add confirmatory evidence.

i. MISCELLANEOUS ANACHRONISMS

At 29/181.9 the author of the Super Thebaiden refers to Statius as

"Papinius Surculus." As Paul von Winterfeld pointed out, the designa-
tion Surculus or Sursulus (standard in the middle ages) derives from
the confusion of the poet P. Papinius Statius with the rhetorician Statius
Ursulus of Toulouse, mentioned in Jerome's translation of Eusebius's
13
Chronicle as active in AD 56. This error does not seem to be attested
elsewhere before the tenth century.14 Helm himself drew the requisite con-
clusion in the preface to his edition: "quod si verum est, certum exstat
argumentum quo a Fulgentio hoc opusculum abiudicari possit" (xv).
The casual use of the term septem artes liberales (125/184.17) is per-
haps not impossible in a genuinely Fulgentian work, but would surely
be more at home at a somewhat later period. 15 To be sure, Fulgentius is
familiar with a seven-part canon of artes, enumerated in the elaborate
discussion at Mit. 77.19, but the term itself is not used there, and

13 Jerome, Chron. a. Abr. 2072 Statius Ursulus Tolosensis celeberrime in Gallia rhetoricam
docet.
14 P. de [sc. von] Winterfeld "Fulgentianum," Philologus 57 (1898) 509.
15 So Whitbread (above n. 3) 236.
204 GREGORY HAYS

Fulgentius's list differs significantly from the familiar version trans-

mitted to the middle ages by Martianus: dialectic and arithmetic are
subsumed under rhetoric and geometry respectively, and their places
occupied instead by medicine and soothsaying. By contrast, the ap-
pearance of the phrase in the Super Thebaiden seems to presuppose a
period when both the term and the canon are perfectly conventional.
Finally, one might note the Thebaid commentator's anxious foot-
note at 131 /184.23 Isis fuit praecipua dea in Egipto, and contrast Mit. 31.22
where Fulgentius takes for granted that his reader knows not only who
Isis is, but also that she is identified with Io.

ii. PREFACE AND MISE-EN-SCÈNE

All four of the mythographer's securely authentic works begin with a

highly stylized dedication/preface including some or all of the follow-
ing elements: dedication to an unnamed dominus (Mit. 3.11,35.9,58.21;
Serm. 111.1; Aet. 130.2); assertion that the author's reluctance to pub-
lish has been overcome only by the addressee's importunate request
{Mit. 3.14, 35.9; Cont. 83.4; Serm. 111.1; Aet. 129.11); proclamation of the
author's own incompetence (Mit. 35.9, 58.16; Aet. 130.16), allusion to
the degeneracy of contemporary society (Mit. 3.4; Cont. 83.1; Aet. 129.1),
metaphorical references to flower-gathering (Cont. 84.19; Aet. 129.13)
and to the burning of midnight oil (Mit. 3.18; Aet. 129.21). Though em-
bellished here by uniquely Fulgentian phraseology, the basic elements
of these topoi are conventional and are plentifully paralleled elsewhere
in classical and late antique literature. 16 Yet none of them is to be dis-
cerned in the Super Thebaiden.
The links between the Mitologiae and the Expositio Virgilianae
Continentiae—the works generically closest to the Super Thebaiden—ex-
tend even further. Both works, in fact, display the same elaborate
mise-en-scène. 17 In each case Fulgentius depicts himself as the recipi-
ent of a visit from a supernatural figure (Calliope and Virgil
respectively), who is evoked by an embedded poem and subsequently
figures as an internal narrator. Both Calliope and Virgil engage in ex-
tensive banter with Fulgentius before (and in Virgil's case intermittently
during) the main body of the work. Such elements are completely ab-
sent from the Super Thebaiden, which opens instead with theoretical
prolegomena of a sort paralleled in twelfth-century works but quite
remote from anything found in Fulgentius.

See T. Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces (Stockholm 1964) 116-54.

16

The parallel structure is clearly laid out by J. Relihan, Ancient Menippean

17 Satire
(Baltimore 1993) 159.
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTIAN SUPER THEBAIDEN 205

iii. ALLEGORESIS AND ALLEGORICAL TERMINOLOGY

It is fair to say that there is little or nothing in the substance of the

author's allegorical interpretation that is incompatible with Fulgentian
authorship, and there are certainly superficial similarities. 1 8 The
allegorization of Oedipus and Eteocles as lust and avarice (87/183.8) recalls
Fulgentius's polemics against both vices. 19 The interpretation of Thebes
quasi 'theosbe' id est 'dei bonum' (52/182.2) has an explicitly Christian
feel unusual in Fulgentius (whose allegoresis is characterized by ge-
neric moralizing rather than a religious message), but it can be
paralleled by the latter's interpretation of Prometheus quasi pronian teu
[i.e. πρόνοιαν θεοΰ] quod nos Latine praevidentiam dei dicimus (Mit. 46.8).
One or two passages might at first suggest a closer connection. In-
terpreting Oedipus as lascivia, the Thebaid commentator notes that hoc
nomen 'Edippus' sumptum est ab hedo, quod animal valde lascivum est (72/
182.21) and cites Ovid (Met. 13.791) in support. In the same way,
Fulgentius interprets the goatlike segment of the Chimera as symbol-
izing lust quod huius generis animal sit in libidine valde proclivum (Mit.
61.7) and cites Virgil (G. 4.10) in support. But it would be a mistake to
make too much of this: goats are proverbially lascivious, so a direct
connection need not be hypothesized. 20 Similarly, we should not be
surprised to find that both authors have a weakness for globalizing
statements. The allegorist's job is to discern universal truths in par-
ticular narratives, and sweeping generalizations are his stock-in-trade.
The similarity between Super Thebaiden 173/186.8 in humilitatis adventu
omnis occasio elationis suffocatur and e.g. Mit. 79.23 veniente bonitate omnis
rapina fugatur may be generic rather than pointing to shared author-
ship.
Both the Thebaid c o m m e n t a r y and the Expositio Virgilianae
Continentae include a bald summary of all or part of their target poem,
and individual phrases of these summaries are then re-used to intro-
duce elements of the interpretation. Thus at 33/181.13 the Thebaid

1 8 Cf. Langlois, " L e s oeuvres" (above η. 4) 100: "Il e s t . . . possible d'effectuer des

rapprochements entre le Super Thebaiden et les Mitologiae, d'une part autour d u m o t

misticus, d'autre part sur le thème des poètes à la fois sérieux et badins, ce thèm étant
précisément chez Stace (Praef. des Silves 1)." But the w o r d misticus hardly constitutes a
close link, while playful contempt for the fictions of the poets is a c o m m o n p l a c e in both
ancient and medieval literature; see M. Dewar, Claudian. Panegyricus de Sexto Consulatu
Honorii Augusti (Oxford 1996) 3 2 5 - 2 6 ; L. Gompf, " F i g m e n t a P o e t a r u m , " in A. Önnerfors
et al., eds., Literatur und Sprache im europäischen Mittelalter (Darmstadt 1973) 5 3 - 6 2 .
1 9 Lust: Mit. 42.2; 43.5; 47.9 etc. Avarice: Mit. 50.5 (Midas); 57.1 (Tantalus); 79.13

(Phineus); Aet. 129.3.

2 0 Cf. e.g. Hör. E pod. 10.23 libidinosus ... caper; Plin. Nat. 8.202 anima his quam ovibus
ardentior calidioresque concubitus.
206 GREGORY HAYS

commentator offers a brief précis of the epic's background and plot:

Laius regnavit Thebis; habuit uxorem Iocastam, ex qua genuit Edippum . . .
etc. Similarly, at Cont. 90.22 Fulgentius has Virgil demand from his in-
terlocutor a s u m m a r y of Aeneid 1: primum Iuno Eolum petit, quo
naufragium Troianis inportet. Dehinc cum septem navibus evadit etc. But
this again is a natural technique in allegorical interpretation and it is
not confined to these two texts. Compare, for example Bernardus
Silvestris's technique at the opening of his commentary on Aeneid 4:
sed prius summatim narrationem, deinde expositionem ponamus. Sepulto patre
venatum vadit. Tempestatibus actus in speluncam cum Didone divertit ibique
adulterium committit (etc.). 2 1
There are also some significant differences. By opening with a highly
theoretical discussion of the poets' use of allegory, the author of the
Super Thebaiden shows an interpretative self-consciousness more typi-
cal of the twelfth century than of Fulgentius, who is nowhere so explicit
about the theoretical presuppositions that underpin his allegoresis.
Brian Stock has drawn attention to specific terminology typical of
twelfth century allegoresis:22 the use of tegumento (= 'allegorical covering')
at 3 / 1 8 0 . 5 ; 2 3 the typically 12th c. distinction between sensus litteralis
and sensus misticus at 1 4 / 1 8 0 . 1 5 ; the programmatic citation of Horace
at 6 / 1 8 0 . 7 (which is found also in the Aeneid commentary ascribed to
Bernardus Silvestris). 24 To these one might add the use oí figura in the
sense 'allegorical meaning, that which is figured' at 9 / 1 8 0 . 1 0 mistica
expositionefigurarum and 17/180.17 utfigurae pateant, quatienda est littera

21 Bern. Silv. in Aen. ed. Jones p. 23.19.

22 Stock (above n. 3).
23 On (in)tegumentum cf. E. Jeauneau, "L'usage de la notion d'integumentum à travers

les Gloses de Guillaume de Conches," Archives d'Histoire Doctrinale et Littéraire du Moyen

Age 32 (1957) 35-100; B. Stock, Myth and Science in the Twelfth Century: A Study of Bernard
Silvester (Princeton 1972) 49-54; W. Wetherbee, Platonism and Poetry in the Twelfth Cen-
tury (Princeton 1972) 36-48; H. Brinkmann, "Verhüllung (Integumentum) als literarische
Darstellungsform im Mittelalter," in A. Zimmermann and G. Vuillemin-Diem, eds., Der
Begriff der Repraesentatio im Mittelalter: Stellvertretung, Symbol, Zeichen, Bild (Berlin and
New York 1971) 314-39; P. Dronke, Fabula (Leiden and Cologne 1974) 48 η. 2; U. Krewitt,
"Allegorese außerchristlicher Texte II," Theologische Realenzykopädie (Berlin and New
York 1977-) 2.284-90 at 285-86; Η. J. Westra, ed., The Commentary on Martianus Capella's
De Nuptiis (above η. 9) 23-33. While there are a handful of ancient examples where the
word edges toward its medieval usage, some of the passages often adduced in this con-
nection are hardly germane. At Cicero, de Orat. 1.161 in oratione Crassi divitias atque
ornamenta eius ingenti per quaedam involucra atque integumenta perspexi, the involucra and
integumenta are purely stylistic: there is no suggestion of allegorical meaning. At Mart.
Cap. Nupt. 5.470 integumentum means no more than 'euphemism.'
2 4 Bern. Silv. in Aen. ed. Jones p. 2.13. The appearance of the same couplet in both

texts can hardly be coincidental, and it seems far more probable that a work likely to be
twelfth-century on other grounds borrowed from 'Bernardus' than that the 'Bernardus'
commentary borrowed from a work of which only one medieval MS survives.
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTIAN SUPER THEBAIDEN 207

... non littera sed figura palato intelligentiae sapit.25 Fulgentius never uses
figura in this sense. Indeed, the closest parallel is Cont. 90.1 sub figuralitatem
[sic] historiae plenum hominis monstravimus statum, where figuralitas
clearly designates the allegorical vehicle, not the allegorized tenor.

iv. KNOWLEDGE OF GREEK

Fulgentius wrote in an age when Greek was still a basic part of an upper-
class education, and the Mitologiae and Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae
are riddled with Greek quotations and etymologies. 2 6 The Thebaid
commentator's penchant for Greek etymology might at first sight seem
compatible with Fulgentian authorship of the treatise. However, the
commentator's claim to any substantial knowledge of Greek has been
doubted, and with good reason. 2 7 He is able to quote words, but not
whole sentences, and as Bischoff pointed out, he does not really seem
at home with Greek morphology. He garbles, invents, or mis-defines a
number of allegedly Greek forms: 8 6 / 1 8 3 . 8 'ocíeos' dicitur 'interitus';
1 0 9 / 1 8 4 . 2 'adrios' . . . Grece 'profunditas'; 1 1 4 / 1 8 4 . 6 'argeos' Grece
'Providentia.' 28 Even more suspicious is 91/183.11: 'nichos' 'victor'; unde
dicitur 'chere Cesar anichos.' The p h r a s e also a p p e a r s in the ninth-
c e n t u r y Scholica of Martin of Laon, who (correctly) translates anichos
as invictissime.29 The author of the Super Thebaiden, however, extracts
from the phrase a non-existent Greek word nichos, which he equates
with the Latin victor. Martin's correct translation can scarcely be derived from
the mistaken interpretation in the Super Thebaiden, but the error in the
latter could easily have arisen from a careless reading of Martin.

v. TREATMENT OF CITATIONS

The Super Thebaiden includes a number of citations of classical authors,

a feature found also in the mythographer. Both writers quote or allude

2 5 For the history and development of this term cf. Ε. Auerbach, '"Figura/" in his

Scenes from the Drama of European Literature (1959; rpt. Minneapolis 1984) 11-76.
2 6 P. Courcelle, Les lettres grecques en occident (Paris 1948) 206-209 is caustic on the

extent of Fulgentius's Greek, but does not deny him familiarity with the rudiments of
the language.
2 7 For the substance of this paragraph cf. Bischoff (above n. 3).

28 Ocíeos may derive from οχλος in the sense 'annoyance.' For the mysterious adrios

Whitbread (above n. 3) 244 n. 33 suggests άδρός (Sweeney notes simply "sensu incerto").
Note, however, that the commentator cites in support the phrase mare Adriaticum .. .id
est profundum; I suspect this derives from a glossary, and that he has mistakenly taken
profundum as glossing the adjective rather than the noun. Argeos is most likely a back-
formation from the name Argus (he of the 100 eyes), rather than having anything to do
with άργός, let alone Άργείος (as Whitbread [above n.3] 244 n. 34 proposes; Sweeney
wisely suspends judgment).
2 9 The echo was first pointed out by Laistner (above n. 9) 205-206. The phrase also
208 GREGORY HAYS

to Virgil, Ovid and Lucan, for example, but since these authors are
hardly obscure the coincidence proves little. There are also some sig-
nificant divergences both in the choice of authors cited and in the
handling of citations that should arouse suspicion. The Super Thebaiden
includes no Greek citations of the sort that the mythographer is so fond
of inserting to confirm etymologies, though in so brief a treatise this
might be merely chance. Nor does it include any of the more recherché
authorities that ornament (or litter) the mythographer's pages:
'Anaximander of Lampsacus,' 'Apollophanes,' 'Diophantus of
Lacedaemon' and the rest of this motley crew.30
On the other hand, the Thebaid commentator shows an interest in
two authors with whom Fulgentius exhibits no familiarity. The first is
Horace, whose familiar tag aut prodesse volunt aut delectare poetae (Ars
Poetica 333-34) is cited at 6/180.7; Horace does not seem to have been
an especially popular author in late antiquity—not as popular, certainly,
as he was in the twelfth century. The second author, significantly
enough, is Statius himself, none of whose works is anywhere cited or
alluded to by Fulgentius. 31
The Horace citation is notable also for the citation format, teste
Horatio, a form found nowhere in the mythographer. The author of the
Super Thebaiden also differs from Fulgentius in his willingness to quote
casually and without giving the author's name, as in the quotations
from the Georgics at 11/180.12, from Ovid at 73/182.23 and 117/184.9,
and from Lucan at 97/183.17. The Fulgentius of the other works is too
eager to show off his reading to risk letting a quotation go unidentified
like this.32 Particularly interesting is the Ovidian citation at 117/184.9,
where the author is identified simply as ipse poeta, a designation that
surely suggests an origin in the aetas Ovidiana of the twelfth and thir-
teenth centuries, rather than the sixth (when the phrase in a Latin
context could hardly have designated anyone but Virgil).
One other point may be briefly mentioned. L. G. Whitbread (above
n. 3,236) has observed that Biblical citations in the Super Thebaiden "are
New Testament, where Fulgentius on Virgil and in his Ages of the World

appears (c. 1200) in Eberhard of Béthune, Grec. 8.89,230 (presumably drawing on Martin).
3 0 Cf. Helm's index auctorum ( 1 8 7 - 8 8 ) ; B. Baldwin "Fulgentius and his Sources,"
Traditio 44 (1988) 3 7 - 5 7 .
31 The apparent exception at Mit. 17.3, where Fulgentius quotes the proverbial primus

in orbe deos fecit timor (Theb. 3.661), in fact proves the rule, for Fulgentius ascribes the
line to Petronius (Anth. Lat. 466 Riese = frg. 27 Bücheler and Müller), from w h o m Statius
apparently lifted it.
3 2 An egregious example is Mit. 10.4 et ut suum me amplius familiarem rescisset, illud
etiam Terentianum adieci. Fulgentius does quote two lines of Virgil without attribution
immediately before this, but this is exceptional and explained by Virgil's special status.
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTIAN SUPER THEBAIDEN 209

prefers the Old." Framed in this way, the argument is a weak one.
Fulgentius is certainly no stranger to the New Testament. The Expositio
Virgilianae Continentiae cites the Psalms twice, but also alludes to Matth.
14:36 (86.12) and I Cor. 1:24 (87.8). The predominance of Old Testament
references in the De Aetatibus is hardly surprising in a work nine of
whose surviving fourteen chapters deal with Old Testament history;
the two chapters devoted to summarizing the Gospels and Acts sug-
gest that Fulgentius was familiar enough with these texts. And while it
is true that New Testament citations (mostly familiar tags) predomi-
nate in the Super Thebaiden,33 the author also alludes to Gen. 1:26 at 5 4 /
182.4 humana anima quam divina benignitas creavit ad imaginem et
similitudinem suam. What is worth noting, by contrast, is (once again) a
significant difference in citation practice between the two authors.
Fulgentius normally signals his scriptural citations explicitly; the
Thebaid commentator weaves his allusions into the text and expects his
reader to pick them up on his own. 34

vi. LINGUISTIC U S A G E

The linguistic evidence can be approached from several directions. One

approach might be to look for linguistic anachronisms in the Super
Thebaiden—words or usages which suggest a medieval, rather than
sixth-century date. Stock, for example, has identified immarcescibilis (2/
180.4) as "a reasonably rare, late Latin term," which may cast light on
the dating. 35 But even if it derived from Mart. Cap. Nupt. 1.2 marcescentes
. . . lucernas, as Stock suggests, this would be no bar to Fulgentian au-
thorship—indeed, quite the contrary. Fulgentius frequently imitates
Martianus, and in this case one might compare Mit. 13.21 marcentia
languore somni . . . lumina. A more serious problem is simply that the
adjective is far more common than Stock's "reasonably rare" suggests
(a search for immarcescib* in the Patrologia Latina Database yields 330

3 3 5 5 / 1 8 2 . 5 immortalem invisibilem (1 Tim. 1:17); 8 9 / 1 8 3 . 1 0 radix omnium malorum (I

Tim. 6:10); 9 8 / 1 8 3 . 1 8 omne regnum in se ipsum divisum desolabitur (Matth. 12:25 a n d / o r

Luke 11:17); 1 3 8 / 1 8 5 . 1 qui enim non credit iam iudicatus est (John 3:18); 1 0 2 / 1 8 3 . 2 2 luxuriöse
viventium . . .; consumpta omni substantia sua (Luke 15:13, the Prodigal Son). 6 8 / 1 8 2 . 1 8
uxor marito subest does not seem distinctive enough to link it directly to any of the pas-
sages cited by Whitbread and Sweeney (Eph. 5:22; Col. 3:18; I Pet. 3:5).
34 Mit. 25.5 Sed et lex divina . . . dicit. . .; 36.6 ut etiam propheta ait-, 39.3 et Salomon;
41.21 sicut lex divina dicit·, Cont. 87.8 divina lex . .. cecinit; 89.4 divina .. . sapientia . .. tale
sumpsit principium dicens . . .; 96.16 salutaris divinaque praeceptio . . . praedicat; 97.19 me
divinae storiae memoria tetigit; Aet. 143.21 sicut Salomon ait.
3 5 Stock (above η. 3) 470. His discussion does not make entirely clear whether at

this point he is arguing for a medieval date against a late-antique one or presuming a
medieval date and arguing for the twelfth century over the thirteenth.
210 GREGORY HAYS

hits), and its presence in the Super Thebaiden proves nothing in particu-
lar. Indeed, I do not myself see any purely linguistic features in the
Super Thebaiden that would either require or exclude a late dating.
M o r e p r o d u c t i v e is a d i r e c t c o m p a r i s o n of t h e Thebaid
commentator's language and style with Fulgentius's. There are, for
example, a small number of phrases or idioms in the Super Thebaiden
which one might expect to be paralleled in Fulgentius, but which the
latter does not in fact use:
1) nec vacai quod a serpente occiditur (139/185.1); non vacat quod
subditur (154/185.17). A phrase of obvious utility to a commentator,
but not one found in Fulgentius.
2) cui nomen hoc 'Adrastus'non incongrue convenit. (108/184.1). There
are no parallels for this formulation in Fulgentius, although he ety-
mologizes proper names on almost every page of the Mitologiae and
Expositio Vergilianae Continentiae and had ample opportunity to use it.
(Compare, however, Bern. Silv. in Aen. ed. Jones p. 71.22 per Herculem
intelligimus sapientem. Unde nomen congruit. . .)
3) hoc nomen 'Edippus' sumptum est ab hedo (71/182.22): Fulgentius
does not elsewhere use the phrase sumptum est (= 'is derived from') in ety-
mologizing, and indeed does not have the simplex form of sumo at all.
4) anima . . . totius scientiae perceptibilitate decorata est (64/182.14).
The v e r b decorare is not attested in Fulgentius, w h o by contrast has a
strong predilection for ornare and its derivatives (26 forms in the cor-
pus).
5) satis evidenter (123/184.15). Fulgentius does not use satis in this
sense (or any other sense—the word is not found in any of the four
authentic works). When he feels the need to qualify or strengthen an
adjective or adverb he generally employs admodum (Mit. 13.22, 32.6,
47.9, Serm. 117.16, Aet. 135.26,161.8, 163.6, 167.16) or valde (Mit. 18.21,
53.10, 61.8, 73.5, Aet. 153.25); the latter is found once in the Super
Thebaiden (72/182.22), the former not at all.
6) tarn Graecorum quam Latinorum poemata (26/181.6). Fulgentius
does have poema once in a self-consciously grandiloquent passage (Mit.
15.2 effectus quos . .. poema ornat), but normally prefers carmen (9x).
By the same token, there are a number of features that show u p in
Fulgentius but not in the Thebaid commentator, and these are no less
significant. Fulgentius's baroque prose style and linguistic inventive-
ness are among his most striking features, and the appearance of any
of his characteristic turns of phrase in the Thebaid commentary would
reinforce claims for its authenticity. By the same token, their absence
tells heavily against his authorship. I give below a select but varied list
of characteristically Fulgentian usages. A few seem to be unique to him
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTI AN SUPER THEBAIDEN 211

(these I have marked with an *). Others are attested elsewhere in late
Latin and it is rather their frequency that marks them as Fulgentian. 36

*1) Dici voluerunt (quasi) in etymologies or allegorical equations,

e.g. Mit. 23.4 Apollinem soletti dici voluerunt; 63.9 Leandrum . . . dici
voluerunt quasi lisin andron37 (the implied subject is normally "the po-
ets" and/or "the Greeks"). This (uniquely Fulgentian?) formulation is
not found in the Thebaid commentator, who uses the normal Grece
dicitur/interpretatur (e.g. 61/182.11) or dicitur quasi (e.g. 52/182.2) when
etymologizing and a simple id est or hoc est for allegorical equations
(e.g. 60/182.10 Laius id est lux sancta, 113/184.6 'Argia' id est 'providentia').
2) Postpositive propter governing a genitive, e.g. Mit. 8.14 itineris
propter.36 This very rare construction seems to be modeled on Greek
usage with ενεκα. It is not found in the Super Thebaidett.
3) Quo used in place of ut, in both consecutive and final senses, e.g.
Mit. 3.19 fabulam... ita sommali figmetito delusam, quo noti poetarti furentem
aspicias, sed onirocretam; Mit. 6.19 arborei beneficium umbraculi praesumens,
quo me erranti foliorum intextu . .. defensaret. The construction is ubiqui-
tous in Fulgentius (Helm's index sermonis s.v. quo lists 18 examples
capped by a passim). There are no examples in the Thebaid commenta-
tor, who exhibits four unexceptionable ut clauses. 39
4) Dum in place of cum temporal, frequently construed with the
subjunctive by analogy, e.g. Mit. 4.7 me . . . dum . . . torpor adstringeret.
The usage is attested elsewhere (see LHS 2.614; TLL 5 1 .2201.40), but is
abnormally common in Fulgentius. 40 There are no instances in the Su-
per Thebaiden (though in fairness it should be noted that there are no

3 6 On Fulgentius's language and style see further M. Zink, Der Mytholog Fulgentius
(Würzburg 1867) 3 7 - 6 2 ; J. Nestler, "Die Latinität des Fulgentius," Jahresbericht des Kais,
königl. Staats-Obergymnasiums in Böhm.-Leipa (1905) 1 - 2 7 and (1906) 1 - 2 7 ; Otto Friebel,
Fulgentius, der Mythograph und Bischof (Paderborn 1911) (valuable mainly as a collection
of material; cf. the review by T. Bogel, Wochenschrift für Klassische Philologie [1915] no.
41, 9 6 5 - 7 0 and no. 42, 9 9 4 - 1 0 0 3 ) . R. H e l m "Einige sprachliche Eigentümlichkeiten des
Mythographen Fulgentius," ALL 11 (1898) 7 1 - 7 9 is illuminating on specific points. The
index sermonis in Helm's edition ( 1 9 7 - 2 1 5 ) remains a valuable resource.
3 7 Sim. Mit. 29.8, 32.3, 32.21, 39.11, 51.11, 55.19, 63.9, 64.14, 66.14, 70.4, Serm. 111.7,

114.6, 115.5, 115.15, 117.13, 118.1, 118.11, 118.19, 119.7, 120.6, 121.1, 123.3. Cf. Cont. 88.8
dici voluimus; Serm. 118.16 dici voluit; and with variation in tense Serm. 117.5 dici volunt.
The phrase (compare Fr. vouloir dire) seems to be a combination of vult/volunt in the
sense 'think, assert' and dici in the sense 'mean, signify.'
3 8 Sim. Mit. 18.4, 20.15, Aet. 130.2; cf. Cassiod. Var. 5.43.3 nostri propter; Marceli,
chron. I I 4 6 2 p. 88.14 sui propter; LHS 2.247.
3 9 1 6 / 1 8 0 . 1 7 ut habeas nucleum, frangendo est testa: ut figurae pateant, quatienda est
littera; 2 7 / 1 8 1 . 7 . quorum summa poscit intentio ut nullos . . . immunes relinquerent; 3 1 /
181.11 ut tegumentum pateat; 1 0 5 / 1 8 3 . 2 4 ut luxuriae iacturam saecularis scientia recompenset.
4 0 Zink (above n. 36) 58 lists 24 examples from Mit. and Cont. alone.
212 GREGORY HAYS

instances of cum temporal either, making a direct comparison impos-

sible).
5) Equivalence of imperfect and pluperfect subjunctive even in par-
allel clauses, e.g. 11.9 ut Psice videndo perderei et Ero non videndo perisse t.41
In some cases this may be determined by rhythmical considerations
(on prose rhythm in Fulgentius see below); in others it may be nothing
more than variatio. In any case, there are no parallels in the Super
Thebaiden (though again, no counterexamples either).

Two peculiarities related to the phrasing of correlative clauses are worth

noting:

*6) Non solum . . . quantum etiam . . ., e.g. Mit. 51.19 'tonos' . . . non
solum 'terra,' quantum etiam 'invidia' dici potest.42 The idiom (apparently
unique to Fulgentius) seems to derive from the contamination of non
solum . . . sed etiam with non tantum . . . quantum. The Thebaid commen-
tator offers a perfectly normal tam . . . quam . . . (25/181.5) and non
magis . . . quam . . . (8/180.9).
7) Quam used without a preceding comparative (equivalent to potius
quam), e.g. Mit. 62.16 curiositas . . . detrimenta . . . novit parturire quam
gaudia43 or following a negative so that non ... quam . . . is equivalent to
non ... sed (potius)..., e.g. Cont. 86.14 non adipata grassedo ingenii quam
temporis formido periculosa reluctat. There are no examples of either con-
struction in the Super Thebaiden.

Because it operates at a largely unconscious level, an author's use of

particles can often be helpful in resolving questions of authenticity.
Like most authors, Fulgentius has certain preferences in this regard:

8) Itaque. 15 of the 41 Fulgentian examples are placed first in their

clause. 44 The eight examples of the word in the Super Thebaiden are all
placed second, as post-Livian classical usage dictates.
9) Penique. Fulgentius has a predilection for this particle (sixty ex-
amples in the corpus, plus two in quotations).45 Particularly noteworthy

41 Sim. Mit. 31.14; Aet. 139.19, 149.18. The same indifference to tense can be ob-

served in other late authors, e.g. Vict. Vit. 1.39 ut primo armis nudaret et itafacilius inermes
. .. captivasset; Drac. Sat. 134; Coripp. loh. 1.458-59 etc. Cf. LHS 2.321; P. Stotz, Handbuch
zur lateinischen Sprache des Mittelalters IV (Munich 1998) 333 (with lit. at η. 200).
4 2 Sim. Mit. 64.4, Cont. 83.2, Aet. 137.19, 154.17,161.15.

4 3 Cf. Mit. 37.18, Cont. 88.1. This construction occurs occasionally in archaic or

archaizing authors; see LHS 2.593-94.

4 4 I leave out of account two instances—both postpositive—within quotations.

4 5 In one case (Serm. 123.11) Fulgentius has interpolated it into Plaut. Mil. 93-94;

the other (121.9) cannot now be checked, but I would be surprised if it belonged to
Fronto rather than to Fulgentius.
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTI AN SUPER THEBAIDEN 213

in this context is its use in the Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae to make

a transition between Virgilian episodes (Denique etiam cum Tritone bucino
atque conca certatur... Denique nauta Corone deportante transit Acherontem . . .
Denique ibi etiam Gigantas videt... Denique Aeneas hoc strepitu terretur... Denique
tunc et uxorem petit Laviniam . . .)· The Super Thebaiden is structured in a
similarly paratactic manner, and one might expect denique to be simi-
larly employed there. Yet it is found nowhere in that treatise.
*10) Nihilominus in the sense of videlicet or scilicet, e.g. Mit. 54.25 ex
hoc ovo generantur . . . Castor, Pollux, Helena, nihilominus seminarium
scandali.*6 (The Thebaid commentator has the normal videlicet—also
found in Fulgentius—at 78/182.27).
11) Nam and namque: Fulgentius has 78 instances of nam and 13 of
namque (roughly one every two pages). Neither word appears in the
eight-page Super Thebaiden.47

The tendency in later Latin for transitive verbs to be used in new in-
transitive senses and vice versa has often been noted. 4 8 In at least two
cases we can compare Fulgentius's practice directly with that of the
Thebaid commentator:
12) Exulare used transitively = 'to exile (someone else)/ a sense
found sporadically in later authors (cf. TLL 52.2108.35). There are eight
examples of this usage in Fulgentius, while the normal intransitive use
(= 'go into exile') is found only twice (Aet. 142.11; 171.12). The Thebaid
commentator uses the verb twice (39/181.19; 102/183.21), in both cases
in the standard, intransitive sense.
13) Minuere used intransitively (Mit. 28.21 luna quae crescit aut
minuit).49 The Thebaid commentator has the normal transitive sense at
130/184.21 saecularis scientiae potus sitim non minuit sed äuget.
Fulgentius relies heavily on a small number of favorite metaphors, of
which two in particular may be singled out:
14) Lust as a fire which burns, boils, scorches etc. (most commonly
expressed by the use of vaporare, fervere, ardere and related forms): Mit.
36.13 vapor libidinis; 47.12 virtus corrupta libidine . . . catenata fervoris
constrictione tenetur; 61.22 dum . . . inmodesta libido ferverei; 63.20 vapore
aetatis extincto libido commoritur; 66.10 amore torretur (sim. Cont. 94.18);

46
Sim. Mit. 3 9 . 2 0 , 4 8 . 1 9 , 5 2 . 1 1 , 5 4 . 2 1 , 5 9 . 2 1 , 6 5 . 1 9 , 7 1 . 1 2 , 7 4 . 1 , Cont. 88.2,97.21,100.13,
106.4, Aet. 156.21.
47
By contrast, both authors use enim about equally. The Super Thebaiden has 15
e x a m p l e s in 8 p a g e s ; Fulgentius 259 (plus 10 e x a m p l e s of etenim) in 170.
48
Cf. L. Feltenius, Intransitivizations in Latin ( U p p s a l a 1977).
49
Cf. TLL 8.1039.53; Feltenius 103.
214 GREGORY HAYS

68.11 amoris torretur affectu; Cont. 94.23 amor contemptus . . . in ciñeres

exustus emigrai·, Aet. 135.22 angelica . .. nequitia luxuriae calore torrefacta
succenditur; 139.22 in luxuriam fervens; 140.4 libidinis ardoribus vaporata;
18 Sameramis totius libidinis ardore torretur, et pueritia luxuriae lampada . . .
vaporatur; 141.1 libidinis amore torretur; 2 aut amando aestuat aut litigio
fermentata vaporai; 164.141Dictanabo vaporante libidinis. The Thebaid com-
mentator, who allegorizes Oedipus as lascivia, surely had ample
opportunity to exploit this metaphor, yet he does not. His discussion
of Jocasta and Oedipus's incest (80/183.1 ipsam matrem suam s ibi earn
subiugando uxorem ducit) is brief and matter-of-fact, displaying none of
the lubricious gusto Fulgentius devotes to the incestuous unions of
Semiramis (Aet. 139.20) or Darius III (Aet. 165.18).
15) So-called "personal metaphors' of the sort that posit a family
relationship between abstract qualities (as in the English "necessity is
the mother of invention"). Fulgentius affects in particular those involv-
ing mothers, sisters and stepmothers, e.g. Mit. 62.16 curiositas semper
periculorum germana; 68.4 curiositatem, suae salutis novercam . . . et .. .
credulitatem, quae semper deceptionum mater est; Aet. 155.28 inobedientia
totius bonitatis noverca. Such formulations go back at least as far as
Theognis (384-85 πενίην / μητέρ' άμηχανίης), and one would have
thought them irresistible to an author allegorizing the notoriously dys-
functional Labdacids. 50 Yet there are no close parallels in the Super
Thebaiden.

The bloated pomposity of Fulgentius's style has often attracted com-

ment. Three features in particular contribute to the effect:

16) The use of redundant adjectives, e.g. Mit. 3.4 aerumnosa miseria.
This phenomenon is regularly found in classical poetry and later prose.
While the Fulgentian examples are numerous, 5 1 1 have found no clear
examples in the Super Thebaiden.
17) The so-called genetivus inhaerentiae. in which a noun governs
another, semantically identical noun in the genitive, e.g. Mit. 4.8 otii
torpor.52 The closest parallels in the Super Thebaiden are 75/182.25

50 E. R. Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, tr. W. Trask (Princeton

1953; German ed. 1948) 131-34.

51 E.g. Mit. 35.10 bifida ambiguitate; 64.4 veternosam anum; Cont. 98.8 propinquior . . .

vicinia; Aet. 140.8 tranquilla et serena quiete; 151.17 sterilitatis aridae. On the phenomenon
in poetry cf. Fordyce on Virg. A. 7.40. For later Latin cf. E. Wölfflin, "Über die Latinität
des Afrikaners Cassius Felix/' Sitz.-Ber. d. k. Bayer. Akad. 1880 p. 429 (= his Ausgewählte
Schriften [Leipzig 1933] 222)
5 2 Cf. Mit. 4.9 calamitatum naufragia; 27.20fervoris incendio; 36.12 furoris insania; 40.3

saturitatis .. . abundantia; 44.11 fervoris aestu; 62.7 necis .. . interitu; 67Λ honoris maiestate;
68.19 seminum germina; Cont. 104.9 utilitatum emolumentis; Aet. 138.22 operis adsumpti
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTIAN SUPER THEBAIDEN 215

corruptionis lasciviam and 3 2 / 1 8 1 . 1 2 historialis ordo seriei (see below).

(At 1 5 8 / 1 8 5 . 2 1 neque . . . se simul patiuntur avaritiae severitas et luxuriae
lascivia, the genitive is one of characteristic).
18) A type of periphrasis in which a noun with a broad semantic
range, most commonly ordo, effectus or ratio, governs a m o r e specific
genitive, e.g. Mit. 11.15 certo s . . . nos rerum praestolamur effectus (= res);
71.14 quod venae quae in talo sunt ad renum et femorum atque virilium
rationem pertineant (= ad renes et femora et virilia)·, Aet. 134.5 quid . . .
mundi principium cum hominis ex utero prodientis concordet effectum [sic]
(= cum homine).53 Again, this is a feature almost entirely absent from
the Super Thebaiden. There are no examples of effectus or ratio in the
treatise. Ordo is found at 3 2 / 1 8 1 . 1 2 historialis ordo seriei praemittendus
est and 5 1 / 1 8 2 . 1 historicae seriei ordine percurso, but in both cases it has
a clear semantic function.

Finally a feature of word order:

19) Hyperbaton at clause- or sentence-end, most commonly in the

forms A B A or AxBA, where Β is normally a verbal form or a genitive
and A represents a noun and the adjective modifying it, e.g. Aet. 147.19
iuvenilis vaporatur alacritas (ABA); 135.9 propitio securus iactatur naufra-
gio ( A x B A ) . 5 4 Both patterns are so c o m m o n in Fulgentius as to become
positively monotonous (I have counted 73 examples of the A B A type
and 4 5 of the A x B A type at sentence-end in the De Aetatibus alone). By
contrast, the Thebaid commentator offers a handful of unimpressive ABA
examples, e.g. 1 6 7 / 1 8 6 . 2 miro diligit affectu. More striking are the missed
opportunities—where slight rearrangement or rewording would have
produced an ornate hyperbaton, but where the c o m m e n t a t o r opts in-
s t e a d for the more natural word order with verb placed last, e.g. 5 8 /
182.8 . . . iure hereditario habitantur et locantur; 1 0 5 / 1 8 3 . 2 5 . . . saecularis
scientia recompenset; 1 0 7 / 1 8 3 . 2 7 . . . cui subest omnis sapientia mundana-,
1 1 2 / 1 8 4 . 5 . . . nullius philosophifunículo umquam attingi potuit; 1 7 4 / 1 8 6 . 8
... omnis occasio elationis suffocatur; 1 7 6 / 1 8 6 . 1 1 . . . dementia subveniente
liberatur.

negotium; 142.10 imperii praeceptione; 147.12 venustate pulchritudinis; 154.28 callositatis

duritia; 159.13 criminum scelera,... transgressionumfacinora. Cf. LHS 2.63-64; Stotz (above
n. 41) 457-58.
5 3 In some cases the abstract noun retains some of its semantic force; in others it

has been almost completely emptied of meaning. I cite a handful of the clearest ex-
amples in addition to the three in the text: Mit. 8.24 Romanus ordo = Romani (sim. Aet.
167.25); 62.23 artis ratio = ars; Cont. 95.14 veritatis ordo = Veritas; Aet. 130.23 nominum ordo
= nomina; note also 146.28 temporis schema = tempus, evidently modelled on the Greek
figure of speech in which e.g. σχήμα δόμων = δόμοι.
54 On the verbal ABA type see J.N. Adams, "A Type of Hyperbaton in Latin Prose,"

PCPhS n.s. 17 (1971) 1-16.

216 GREGORY HAYS

It would be unwise to put too much weight on any one of these items.
The Super Thebaiden is a relatively brief text, and the absence of a given
feature, taken in isolation, is easy enough to explain away. Collectively,
however, the divergences noted above pose a considerable problem for
advocates of authenticity.55 And the doubts that they raise are only con-
firmed by examination of a further feature.

v i i . PROSE R H Y T H M

The absence of hyperbaton in the Super Thebaiden is connected with

another significant difference between the Thebaid commentator and
Fulgentius—the exploitation of prose rhythm.56 It has long been recog-
nized that authors of high-style Roman prose traditionally favored a
limited number of quantitative cadences ('clausulae') at the ends of
sentences and, to some degree, of smaller sense units as well.57 From
about the second century AD this quantitative system began to be re-
placed by a system based on rhythm. For a time some authors seem to
have tried to satisfy the requirements of both systems at once, but by
the early fifth century the purely rhythmical system (the cursus) seems
to have prevailed, and it survived well into the middle ages.58 At the
most basic level the system consists of a preference for three particular
rhythmical patterns: the cursus planus ( ' χ χ χ), the cursus tardus (' χ χ
' χ χ), and the cursus velox ( ' χ χ χ χ ' χ).59
In determining whether or not the cursus is at work in a given text,
one approach is to take a control-text whose author can reasonably be
assumed not to be employing a rhythmical cursus and attempt to deter-
mine the 'default' percentage of the three main forms in normal Latin

55 Helm (above η. 1) 186 suggests that the style of the Super Thebaiden may mark a

development from the early Mitologiae and Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae via the De
Aetatibus. Since there are no grounds for dating the De Aetatibus relative to the Mitologiae
and Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae, or the Super Thebaiden relative to any of the three,
the petitio principii involved here should be obvious.
56 Skutsch (above n. 4) seems to have been the first to recognize the presence of

clausulae in Fulgentius, though both he and Friebel (above n. 36) took it for granted
that they were quantitative and neither made any attempt to analyze the figures sys-
tematically. On the shortcomings of Friebel's treatment see Bogel (above n. 36).
57 For an accessible summary cf. L. P. Wilkinson, Golden Latin Artistry (Cambridge
1963) 135-64.
58 Cf. H. Hagendahl, La prose métrique d'Arnobe (Göteborg 1937); Steven M .
Oberhelman and Ralph G. Hall, " A N e w Statistical Analysis of Accentual Prose Rhythms
in Imperial Latin Authors," CP 79 (1984) 114-30; iidem, "Meter in Accentual Clausulae
of Late Imperial Latin Prose," CP 80 (1985) 214-27. On the survival of prose rhythm in
the middle ages see Tore Janson, Prose Rhythm in Medieval Latin (Stockholm 1975).
59 In the practice of some writers a fourth pattern, the trispondaicus (' χ χ χ ' χ )

seems to play a real but limited role; cf. Steven M. Oberhelman, "The Cursus in Late
Imperial Latin Prose: A Reconsideration of Methodology," CP 83 (1988) 136-49.
 THE PSEUDO-FULGENTIAN SUPER THEBAIDEN 217

prose. This experiment has been performed, both with 'pre-rhythmi-

cal' authors such as Cicero and Livy and with 'post-rhythmical' texts
(i.e. those composed after the cursus fell out of use in the middle ages
and before its rediscovery in the late 19th and early 20th centuries) like
the works of Descartes and Calvin, and the Latin translations in the
Patrologia Graeca. The results suggest that in a non-rhythmical text the
proportion of the three favored endings will hover between 52.5 and
62.9% of the total number of endings. 6 0 When works show a signifi-
cantly higher percentage than this, it is likely that the a u t h o r is
consciously employing the cursus.
The table below compares the results for three of the four authen-
tic Fulgentian works with those for the Super Thebaiden.61 As the raw
material I have taken the words immediately preceding each full stop
in Helm's text, with the exception of words forming part of a quota-
tion. 62 At least for the purposes of rhythm I have assumed hiatus rather
than elision to be the norm. 6 3 All percentages have been rounded to the
nearest 1/10%.
Ρ Τ V P+T+V Misc. Total %
Mit. prol. 15 13 16 44 5 49 89.8
Mit. 1 29 25 19 73 29 102 71.6
Mit. 2 37 49 25 111 46 157 70.7
Mit. 3 34 36 29 99 46 145 68.3
Cont. 33 48 22 103 46 149 69.1
Aet. 131 120 107 358 41 399 89.7
Theb. 15 12 12 39 52 91 42.9

The data clearly indicate that the prologue to the Mitologiae and the De
Aetatibus Mundi et Hominis as a whole are characterized by an inten-
sive striving for rhythm. The somewhat lower figures for the body of

60
So Oberhelman and Hall, "A New Statistical Analysis," (above n. 58) 119. That
the proportion should be so high is not as surprising as it might at first appear; it is
reasonable to suppose that the original system of clausulae, and hence the cursus sys-
tem that developed from it, represents a refinement and development of tendencies
already inherent in the structure of the language itself.
61
1 have excluded the Expositio Sermonum Antiquorum, which is largely composed
of quotations from other authors and seemed unlikely to yield useful results, though it
should be noted that the brief preface includes two examples of the cursus velox
(inoboediéntia putarétur; óperam lucidándis).
62
I began with the intention of using all strong stops (colons, semicolons and full
stops), but concluded that strict adherence to Helm's punctuation (especially with re-
gard to colons) would include too many irrelevant cases, while any conscious selection
on my part risked unconscious manipulation of the results.
63
If the reverse were true the overall results would not, I think, be greatly affected,
though the count for the cursus tardus would go down and that for the cursus planus
rise.
218 GREGORY HAYS

the Mitologiae and the Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae are presumably

to be explained by the more expository tone of those portions (plot
summary, etymologies etc.)· 64 They indicate just as clearly that the Su-
per Thebaiden is not employing the cursus, and that its percentage for
the three main forms is far lower than that of the other Fulgentian works
(indeed, unusually low for any Latin work). 65 Why Fulgentius should
have chosen to employ the cursus in all his other works but not in this
one is a question that advocates of authenticity need to confront. No
good answer presents itself.

IV. C O N C L U S I O N S

Not all of the features noticed above would be probative on their own,
but together they make a compelling case: the Super Thebaiden is most
unlikely to be the work of Fulgentius the mythographer. It should be
emphasized that this does not necessarily make it an intentional forg-
ery. The actual author is quite likely to have been influenced by a
reading of Fulgentius to start with. Once the author's name became
detached from the text, Fulgentius was an obvious candidate for attri-
bution. It would not by any means have been the only work mistakenly
attributed to him by medieval scribes. 66

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

6 4 That the two texts are indeed rhythmical seems to be confirmed by application

of the test devised by M. Winterbottom in his review of Janson (above n. 58), Medium
Aevum 45 (1976) 2 9 8 - 3 0 0 . This so-called 'veiox test' states that if the number of instances
of the cursus velox is higher than that of the more natural trispondaicus, then the text
u n d e r e x a m i n a t i o n is p r o b a b l y r h y t h m i c a l . For Mit. the p r o p o r t i o n of velox to
trispondaicus is 89:16, for Cont. 22:6. The low number of trispondaici also suggests that
the figures are not being thrown off by any use of an expanded cursus system as de-
tailed by Oberhelman (above n. 59).
6 5 S k u t s c h ( a b o v e n. 4) 2 2 1 n o t e s that " a m w e n i g s t e n k o n s e q u e n t in d e r

Rhythmisierung . . . ist die Schrift super Thebaiden." This is obviously something of an

understatement.
6 6 The Ovidian Narrationes of 'Lactantius Placidus' are ascribed to Fulgentius in

London, BM Burney 311. For other examples cf. P. Lehmann, Pseudo-Antike Literatur des
Mittelalters (Studien der Bibliothek Warburg 13: Leipzig 1927) 2 0 - 2 3 .
 AT PLAY WITH ADONIS

BY JAY REED

CLE 1109 = CIL 6.21521 is a post-Flavian grave inscription from Rome

for one M. Lucceius Nepos. Its composition breaks into three parts of 7
elegiac couplets each: an account of the appearance of Nepos to the
grief-worn drowsing speaker (Sex. Onussianus, the relative who dedi-
cated the tomb), the vision's declaration that he has become a god and
is not to be mourned, and the speaker's reflections after Nepos' depar-
ture on his place in heaven. Two couplets on the security of Nepos'
family and the durability of the monument close the poem. At the be-
ginning of the third part (lines 31-32) the speaker imagines Nepos
happily joining the "games of Adonis":

die Nepos, seu tu turba stipatus Amorum

laetus Adoneis lusibus insereris . . . .

The thought continues " . . . or whether you join the Muses or Minerva,
all the immortals will welcome you." We have at the head of this sec-
tion a rare image of Adonis' life after death. Its representation as pure
play among sportive Cupids in heaven recalls the games of Virgil's
Elysium (Aeneid 6.642-59), and is influenced by the epitaphic common-
place of envisioning the deceased among companionable deities;
compare CLE 1233.17-20:

nunc seu te Bromio signatae mystides taisef

florígero in prato congregi in Satyrum.
sive canistriferae poscunt sibi Naides aequ[e
qui ducibus taedis agmina festa trahas. . . -1

The driving idea behind the latter passage, however, is Dionysiac ini-
tiation; in our epitaph the image has motives and effects special to the
poem and to the uses of the myth of Adonis in Rome in this period. 2
In order to clarify the reference, the first thing to understand is
that surviving descriptions of Adonis' afterlife are cursory (perhaps
because it did not matter to the ritual) and offer no single picture of
Adonis' sojourn in heaven or hell. The fuller versions of his myth, first
attested in Greek, suggest two basic underlying scenarios: either an

1 See E. Courtney, Musa Lapidaria: A Selection of Latin Verse Inscriptions (Atlanta

1995) 385-86, whose text (no. 174) I follow.
2 In this paper I hope to answer more fully a question put to me ten years ago.
220 JAY REED

alternation, as in the myth in which Adonis spends part of the year

with Aphrodite and part with Persephone (sometimes because of a judg-
ment by Zeus between the two goddesses); 3 or a seemingly permanent
restoration from among the dead, as in the myth in which Aphrodite
descends into the Underworld after his death (often caused by a boar
he was hunting) and retrieves him from Persephone. 4 The principal
motive behind any myth of his death is to explain the ritual lament at
his festival, the Adonia; but the distance of myth from the (marginal,
mainly female) ritual, and the wide variations in ritual practice from
place to place and period to period, produce an unusual number of
basic variables, subject to the special needs of a given text, and we must
not try to look for a standard myth. In the Greek sphere an extreme
example of this contextuality is PGM 4.2903-15, a spell included in the
great magical papyrus of Paris (4th century AD): should Aphrodite not
grant the imprecator's wish, she will not see Adonis return from Ha-
des, but he will be tortured down there and nevermore return to the
light. This motif is adapted from the threats to gods common in Egyp-
tian magical formulae, and particularly recalls threats concerning
Adonis' counterpart Osiris.5 Of our other, fragmentary glimpses of
Adonis in the Underworld, Euphorion fr. 43 Powell (one very obscure
line) may also attest Egyptian influence6 and Praxilla fr. 747 Page has
in view the season of the ritual (that in the poet's native Sicyon?):

κάλλιστον μεν έγώ [sc. Adonis] λείπω φάος ήελίοιο,

δεύτερον άστρα φαεινά σεληναίης τε πρόσωπον
ήδέ καί ωραίους σικύους και μήλα καί ογχνας.

Thus in assessing the surviving elaborations we profit most if we look not for
agreement on what Adonis did after his "death," but at the circum-
stances and affinities of a given version.

3 The earliest version is Panyassis fr. 27 Bernabé = [Apollod.] Bibl. 3.14.4; cf. Theoc.

1 5 . 1 3 6 - 3 7 , Σ Theoc. 3.48, [Orph.] Hymn 5 6 . 1 0 - 1 1 . W. W. Baudissin ( " A d o n i s in der

Unterwelt," in Α. Deißmann and H. Windisch, eds., Neutestamentliche Studien für Georg
Heinrici [Leipzig 1914] 1 3 - 2 7 ) reviews the attestations of Adonis' sojourn in the Under-
world (he m a y overestimate their consistency and the continuing relevance of Adonis'
origins as a N e a r Eastern god of fertility).
4 This myth first appears in Aristides, Λρο/. 11.3; cf. Cyril Alex. Comm. Is. 2.3 ( 7 0 . 4 4 0 -

41 Migne).
5 See A. H. Gardiner, Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum, 3rd series, 2 vols. (Lon-
don 1935) 1 . 7 2 - 7 4 , C h a e r e m o n fr. 4 van der Horst = FGrHist 6 1 8 F 5. On threats in
Egyptian spells see S. Sauneron, "Aspects et sort d'un thème magique égyptien: Les
menaces incluant les dieux," BSFE 8 (1951) 11-21, and R. K. Ritner, The Mechanics of
Ancient Egyptian Magic (Chicago 1993).
6 J. D. Reed, "Arsinoe's Adonis and the Poetics of Ptolemaic Imperialism," TAPA

130 (2000) 3 1 9 - 5 1 , at 341.

 AT PLAY WITH ADONIS 221

Latin versions of the Adonis myth first emerge in the early 1st cen-
tury BC in one-line fragments by Laevius (fr. 6 Morel) and Varrò {Men.
fr. 540 Astbury), both on the deadly boar. In our longest and most in-
fluential account, Ovid's treatment in Metamorphoses 10, Adonis simply
dies, with no mention of what happens to him afterwards. Our first,
faint reference to his afterlife in Latin is Grattius, Cynegetica 67-68: flet
adhuc et porro flebit Adonin / vieta Venus (a misfortune that Grattius at-
tributes to Adonis' inacquaintance with cynegetic poetry). Vieta, which
has brought critics to perplexity and attempts at emendation, 7 surely
alludes to Venus' literal defeat in the judgment and loss of Adonis to
Persephone, here (in a combination of the two scenarios listed above)
made consequent on his death by the boar; 8 a parallel is Aeneid 1.37
mene incepto desistere victam, where Juno feels herself frustrated by
higher powers. Hyginus, Fabulae 251 mentions Adonis' return from the
Underworld volúntate Veneris, and in De astronomia 2.7.3 gives a ver-
sion of Jupiter's arbitration between Venus and Persephone. Claudian
uses Adonis' return from the Underworld in a series of flattering com-
parisons between Honorius and mythological beauties (Fescennina 1.16):
seeing the imperial bridegroom, Venus reversum spernit Adonidem. The
alternation would be attested (with a seasonal application) in Mariotti's
emendation of Anthologia Latina 61.1 Riese pingitur ora Venus ne ver
contemnat Adonis (for MS ne vel).9 Ausonius, in Epigram 33 Green, a list
of the different identities of Dionysus, calls the god ένί φθιμένοισιν
Άδωνεύς (2); 10 he leaves the alternating sojourn with Aphrodite out of
account in order to make a theological point (Epigram 53—see below—
is similar). His Cupido Cruciatus 57-58 introduces an otherwise unknown
story in cruciaverat illic / spreta olim memorem Veneris Proserpina Adonem;

7 E.g. Adonis /fata; see D. R. Shackleton Bailey, "Notes on Minor Latin Poetry,"
Phoenix 32 (1978) 305-25, at 311-12. C. Formicola (Il Cynegeticon di Grattio [Bologna 1988]
ad loc.) sees here an emotional term (cf. "baffled" in the Duffs' Loeb translation), like
confusa Venus in the same context at Ovid, Am. 3.9.16. [Sen.] Oct. 545 vieta cui cedet Ve-
nus, adduced by commentators, refers to a literal defeat.
8 Cf. Bion Ad. 54-55, where Aphrodite complains of having lost Adonis (killed by

the boar) to the κρέσσων Persephone.

9 In S. Timpanaro, Contributi di filologia e di storia della lingua latina (Rome 1978)
574. The scarcity of other connections between spring and Adonis' return (Theoc. 15.102-
105 is a doubtful case) makes the reference very opaque; Shackleton Bailey (Anthologia
Latina [Stuttgart 1982]) retains the MS reading.
1 0 Not a mistake for Άιδωνεύς; syncretism of Dionysus with Adonis is attested by

[Orph.] Hymn 42.7, 56.3, 6; Plut. Mor. 671b; Socrates, Hist. eccl. 3.23.52. The unusual
form of Adonis' name is also found in Plaut. Men. 144, Catul. 28.8, and Ausonius' simi-
lar Epig. 32.6 Green. I wonder, however, whether a theological pun is implicit; cf.
[Caesarius] Dial. 2.112 (38.993 Migne) καί Σΰροι μεν oi φερώνυμοι συρφετοί τον του άδου
έπώνυμον "Αδωνιν έξεθείασαν κακώς.
222 JAY REED

this provides a precedent for the torture of Cupid and testifies to the
liberties poets took in tailoring this myth to each new context. 11
To understand CLE 1109.31-32 we must grasp both the wider con-
text of Nepos' divinity (in 16-18 he calls himself deus and numina) and
the general significance of the approximation of deceased persons to
Adonis. That the spirit of the dead ascends to heaven and becomes a
god is attested quite casually in CLE 975.4 (Rome) corpore consumpt<o>
viva anima deus sum. In CLE 1508.5-7 a husband, having embalmed his
wife's body, corpus ... ut numen colit anxius merentis. Lattimore 40 and
102 and Courtney 382 give other examples. Nepos says he has been
carried to the stars (15-16 me ad sidera caeli / ablatum), a standard way
of expressing deification in the grand style of poetry. 12 Moreover, the
stellar light with which he shimmers (9 sidereo radiantem lumine formant)
suggests the related belief that the deceased takes his place in heaven
as a star, originally derived from Eastern astral religion and already
attested in Greek in Aristophanes, Peace 832-37 (421 B C ) . 1 3 Compare
the catasterisms of heroes like the Dioscuri and Heracles; Virgil ap-
plies the idea to Octavian (Georgics 1.32-35, followed by Ovid,
Metamorphoses 15.839 cognataque sidera tanget—i.e. his catasterized fore-
bears, Aeneas, Romulus, Julius Caesar). Grave inscriptions attest the
belief for ordinary people. A late 2nd-century inscription from Egypt
has αστήρ ουράνιος ό έπί αστέρι έπανατέλλων έσπάσθη (GVI 2028a.4-5).
One from 1st or 2 n d - c e n t u r y Amorgos unites d e i f i c a t i o n and
catasterization (GVI 1097.5-6):

μήχηρ μή με δάκρυε· τίς ή χάρις; άλλα σεβάζου·

άστήρ γαρ γενόμην θείος άκρεσπέριος.

"Do not weep for me, mother—what good will come of that?—but
worship me, for I have become a divine star of evenfall." This sounds
like Nepos warning his relative (16) desine fiere deum and especially
(25-28) refer matri ne me noctesque diesque / defleat . . . nam me sancta
Venus .. . in caeli lucida templa tulit.
A comparison to Adonis in a grave inscription conveys an immediate
message that the deceased, like the mythological figure, was handsome
and beloved, if not indeed young (as Nepos is). SEG 33.1475 (= 20.771)
describes the felicitously named Hyacinthus, a 17-year-old boy, as ό
ποθητός "Αδωνις. Often Adonis is one of a list of such comparandi. SEG

11 See W. Fauth, "Cupido Cruciatur," GB 2 (1974) 39-60, at 55-60. One is reminded

of the spell in PGM 4.2903-15, a version of which may have been known to Ausonius.
12 Cf. e.g. Aeneid 1.259 feres ad sidera caeli (Aeneas; to be discussed below).

1 3 See F. Cumont, After Life in Roman Paganism (New Haven 1922) 95-96, 104-105;

M. Platnauer, Aristophanes: Peace (Oxford 1964) ad loc.

 AT PLAY W I T H ADONIS 223

17.599.5-6 (= GVI 815.3-4, Pamphylia, 2nd century AD) bids us lament

the emphatically καλός Miletus, eight times victorious in the arena,
[οΐ]Ιον πριν θήραις Κινύρου καλό[ν] I υίόν "Αδωνιν
ή ποτε δισκευθέντα πάϊν καλόν I ώς Ύάκινθον.

GVI 2028a again provides an example:

'Ηρακλείδης ό καλός κειτ' ένθάδε, I ώς "Οσειρις
ή Παφίης ό "Αδωνις I ή Ένδυμίων ό Σελήνης I
ή της 'Αλκμήνης 'Ηρακλής δωδεκάεθλος πάντως . . . ( 1 - 3 )
πενθεί καί μερόπων φΰλ' ώς πάλαι την "Αλκηστιν
κ(λ)είνην ελέησαν ή την Άδώνιδος τελεύτην . . . ( 8 - 9 ) .

Poetry written in commemoration of the death of (the deified) Antinous

likens him to such figures, among them Adonis. 14 Ausonius, Epigram
53.5-8 Green, an epitaph on one Glaucias, is similar to the Nepos epi-
taph in the declared exemption of the deceased from the usual hardships
of the Underworld and in the choice among youthful, beautiful, god-
beloved comparandi:

sed ñeque functorum socius miscebere vulgo

n e c m e t u e s S t y g i o s flebilis u m b r a l a c u s ,
v e r u m a u t P e r s e p h o n a e C i n y r e i u s ibis A d o n i s
a u t I o v i s Elysii t u C a t a m i t u s eris.

Our poem, too, goes on to compare Nepos to other comely divine youths
(35-42: Bacchus, Apollo, Attis, the Dioscuri). In contrast to most of the
sources on Adonis' afterlife (including this epigram of Ausonius) it al-
ludes—surely because of the emphasis on the deification of Nepos—to
the celestial abode of Adonis, not to his stay in the Underworld. "The
Adonean games" take place in heaven in the company of the Amores.
The only real parallel in the extant versions of the Adonis myth is
Theocritus 15.119-30, in which a festival display shows him, during
his stay in the upper world, enjoying the embrace of Aphrodite in a
bower attended by flitting Erotes.
The use of Adonis in grave epigrams is comparable with that on
sarcophagus reliefs, where his myth was a stock subject in the 2nd and
3rd centuries. Typically they depict three episodes, based largely on
Ovid's version of the myth: Adonis takes his leave of the admonitory
Venus, he is wounded by a monstrous boar despite the efforts of the
hounds and his fellow hunters, and finally he languishes in the arms

1 4 See T. B. Mitford, The Inscriptions ofKourion (Philadelphia 1971) no. 104.7-8, with

W. D. Lebek, "Ein Hymnus auf Antinoos (Mitford, The Inscriptions ofKourion No. 104)/'
ZPE 12 (1973) 101-37, and P. Oxy. 4352.Ü.5 with Rea's note. Antinous was also believed
to have become a star: Dio 69.11.4.
224 JAY REED

of the goddess. 15 Koortbojian summarizes the eschatological meaning

Adonis has on Roman sarcophagi as that of
an exemplum virtutis because he represents a challenge to the a w e -
s o m e p o w e r s of ineluctable Fate. Even the desires of the g o d s are
subject to it, as the m y t h so plainly reveals. The valiant d e e d of the
hero—his b o l d acceptance of the deadly challenge of the hunt—is sun-
dered from its specific role in the mythological narrative [that is, the
s e q u e n c e of failures that constitutes the myth], a n d stands as a s i g n
of character. The exemplary nature of the imagery in its sepulchral
context transforms this series of apparent failures into a v e h i c l e of
heroic s y m b o l i s m . In offering a heroic i m a g e of death, the sarcophagi
thus recast the vision of an individual's life. For e v e n Herakles died;
everyone dies. These i m a g e s a c k n o w l e d g e that in m e m o r y it is the
quality of life—and death—that s u r v i v e s and is w o r t h y of c o m m e m o -
ration a n d remembrance. 1 6

The transfiguration of mortal failure into an emblem of heroism recalls

the Pamphylian inscription for Miletus (eight times victorious in the
arena, remember) whom we are to lament "like Adonis in the hunt, or
Hyacinthus, struck by the discus." The fallen Adonis is often shown
raising himself with outstretched hand, making a "last-ditch stand" 17
against the boar. Doomed valor is the point, as in Ovid's version (Meta-
morphoses 10.709): sed stat monitis contraria virtus (against Venus' vain
plea that he avoid fierce beasts and chase only timid ones). The sar-
cophagus reliefs dramatize and tragically enrich the characterization
that is implicit in the comparisons with Adonis in grave inscriptions,
where his beauty and desirability are at the fore.
Two sarcophagi now in Rome, one in the Casino Rospilgiosi and
the other in the Vatican,18 extend this comforting message to beliefs
about a blessed afterlife by replacing or supplementing the standard
final-embrace scene with one in which Adonis, instead of languishing
toward death, is being revived and healed. Koortbojian identifies as
iconographie models for this addition scenes of the healing of Aeneas,
who, like Adonis, was wounded in the thigh and thereupon attended
by Venus (Aeneid 12.398-429).19 Both sarcophagi place this scene promi-

15
M. Koortbojian, Myth, Meaning, and Memory on Roman Sarcophagi (Berkeley 1995)
2 7 - 3 4 , 37-38.
16
Koortbojian (above n. 15) 3 8 - 3 9 ; cf. 3 4 - 3 6 . See also J. A y m a r d , Essai sur les chasses
romaines (Paris 1951) 520-22.
17
Koortbojian (above η. 15) 32, w i t h η. 33.
18
D. Grassinger, Die Antike Sarkophagreliefs. Die Mythogischen Sarkophage, Erster
Teil (Berlin 1999) ( = A S R XII.l) nos. 62 (ca. AD 200) and 65 (early 3rd century). Grassinger's
v o l u m e replaces Carl Robert's ASR III. 1 (Berlin 1897), in w h i c h the relevant n u m b e r s
are 15 and 21.
19
Koortbojian (above n. 15) 49-62.
 AT PLAY WITH ADONIS 225

nently at the center of the relief. The Vatican sarcophagus, which shows
Venus and the upright, alert Adonis enthroned side by side (their por-
trait heads explicitly identify the deceased with the deity), also recalls
the apotheosis of Augustus on the Gemma Augustea. 20 "In this in-
stance," says Koortbojian (52), "the representational formula for the
mythologization of the emperor is 'borrowed/ not only to provoke the
conscious equation of this hero of myth and the hero of state, but to
serve as a visual metaphor that functions here as the signal of Adonis'
new fate." The combination of models here uses a trope from the po-
etic tradition, since both Virgil's and Ovid's treatments of the apotheosis
of Aeneas are closely related to their treatment of that of Augustus.
Recalling the unusual adaptability of poetic uses of Adonis, we must
hesitate to see this addition (the only allusions to Adonis' afterlife on
the sarcophagi) simply as an importation of the myth of his afterlife;
Koortbojian rightly sees here (61) a new myth, created by analogy (con-
tamination?) with the Aeneas story. As our poet more cursorily and
elliptically does, so the Casino Rospigliosi and Vatican sarcophagi in-
volve Adonis in a message against death: revival, exaltation, deification.
Our poet, moreover, conveys his message by the same analogies as
these two sarcophagi. He uses earlier poetry thoughtfully, relying on
his readers' memories to clothe in new meaning the epitaphic
commonplaces he employs.21 The phrase aethere delabi in 10, for instance,
prepares us for Nepos' deification, since Ovid uses this phrase of gods
twice. 22 Roman foundations are important in the subtext of the Nepos
epitaph. The vision itself reworks Aeneid 3.173-75, Aeneas' exegetical
parenthesis on the night-vision in which the gods he has carried from
Troy, reporting the message of Apollo, instruct him to seek Italy and,
with historical revelations about the origins of Dardanus, foretell the
greatness of Rome. Aeneas comments:

nec sopor illud erat, sed coram agnoscere vultus

velatasque comas praesentiaque ora videbar;
tum gelidus toto manabat corpore sudor.

In a careful imitation of these lines Nepos' mourner also says, at the

appearance of Nepos, that this was no dream, but that he recognized
his visitor by his appearance and voice: non fuit illa quies / sed verus
iuveni color et sonus (10—II).23 After Nepos' departure, our mourner like

20 Koortbojian (above n. 15) 5 1 - 5 2 .

21 For parallels and models see E. Lissberger, Das Fortleben der römischen Elegiker in
den Carmina Epigraphica ( T ü b i n g e n 1 9 3 4 ) 9 7 - 9 8 , F. Börner, " D e r K l a s s i k e r O v i d :
Bemerkungen zu CE 1109," AAntHung 30 (1982-84) 275-81, Courtney (above η. 1) 381-84.
22 Met. 1.608 (Juno), 3.101 (Minerva).

2 3 Our poet replaces the Virgilian sopor by a like metonymy, which has a parallel at
226 JAY REED

Aeneas feels a bodily chill: erigor et gélidos horror perfuderat artus (the
coldness of his limbs finds its explanation in the anxious perspiration
w e are to s u p p l y f r o m the Virgilian model).
This reworking likens Nepos to the gods w h o predict R o m a n foun-
dations. O t h e r allusions liken h i m to the deified R o m a n f o u n d e r s
themselves. Coming immediately after the w o r d s vidi sidereo radiantem
lumine formarti, the phrase aethere delabi (10) recalls especially Metamor-
phoses 14.846, which is on a star (ibi sidus ab aethere lapsum) in the context
of the deification of Romulus. When at line 31 the narrator, recovering
himself after N e p o s ' departure, addresses the deceased as die Nepos
(right before the Adonis reference that is our object of study), he is
using an epithet that is especially associated w i t h Ennius' Romulus
(Annales 106 Skutsch Romule Romule die). In Ennius, as Skutsch sees
(210), dius has the sense 'descended f r o m gods'; in using it to m e a n
'divine, deified' our poet achieves a kind of syllepsis that takes in the
deification of Romulus in the Annales, seemingly an Ennian innova-
tion. 2 4 Ilia dia nepos, quas aerumnas tetulisti, E n n i u s h a s Venus say
elsewhere (Annales 60 Skutsch), a phrase most congenial to our poet's
subject, and again associating Nepos with Romulus. A subtler
intertextual p u n , also involving divine grandchildren, lies in line 34
omnis caelicolum te chor[u]s exclipiet, with its verbal echo of Aeneid 6.786-
87 (Anchises on Cybele): laeta deum partu, centum complexa nepotes, /
omnis caelicolas, omnis supera alta tenentis. Although the full phrase omnis
caelicolum chorus is f o u n d elsewhere and m a y have come to our poet
via an intermediary, 2 5 the Virgilian model makes a special point here.
Nepos, in his last w o r d s to the narrator, calls Venus the agent of his
deification (27-28): nam me sancta Venus sedes non nosse silentum / iussit
et in caeli lucida templa tulit.26 The "lucid precincts of h e a v e n " recall
above all Ennius, Annales 54, where Romulus unus erit quem tu tolles in
caerula caeli / templa (the first line of which Ovid reuses in the same
context at Metamorphoses 14.814 and Fasti 2.487; the substitution of lu-
cida in the Ennian phrase was already m a d e by Lucretius, De rerum
natura 1.1014 and 2.1039). In Ennius, tu refers to Romulus' father, Mars.
W h y does Venus, of all deities, carry Nepos to heaven? First, because

Statius, Theb. 10.324 (cf. 205).

24
O. Skutsch, The Annals ofQ. Ennius (Oxford 1985) 205.
25
See M. Guarducci, "Alba Fucens—Graffiti nell'antico tempio sul colle di S.
Pietro," NSA 7 (1953) 117-25 at 123-24 o n a nuptial graffito from Alba Fucens (also in
Année Epigraphique (1953) no. 169D): [Fllavia te decoret una Venus phlaleris, \ te choruís
oìmnis agat, Flavia, caelicolulm.
26
Courtney (above n. 1) 383 compares for the idea GVI 1993.8 (Lydia, ca. l s t - 2 n d
c. AD), where Zeus, making the soul of the deceased immortal, έκόμι[σσ'] I εις ούρανόν
άστεροέντα.
 AT PLAY WITH ADONIS 227

we are to think of him as young and endowed with the charm and
beauty over which Venus has special care (it may even be lines 27-28
that prompt the comparison with Adonis). But also because it is she
who carries Aeneas to heaven, as Virgil's Jupiter reassures her in an
echo of the scene in the Annales (Aeneid 1.257-60):
'parce metu, Cytherea, manent immota tuorum
fata tibi; cernes urbem et promissa Lavini
moenia, sublimemque feres ad sidera caeli
magnanimum Aenean; ñeque me sententia
vertit.'

Remembrance of this prediction of Aeneas' apotheosis, in fact, frames

Nepos' speech: he begins with the words 'adfinis memorande, quid o me
ad sidera caeli / ablatum quereris?' (15-16). Aeneas also lies behind Ne-
pos' last words: caeli lucida templa, in addition to Ennius' Romulus,
recalls Ennius' Aeneas. His daughter Ilia at Annales 48 Skutsch pleads
in her dream-vision that he return to her, stretching her hands ad caeli
caerula templa, where the deified Aeneas presumably dwells. The middle
part of Nepos' speech is occupied by behests not to mourn and denials
that he will have to endure the usual doom of the dead (crossing
Acheron with Charon, suffering the judgment of Minos, wandering in
the dark regions between the rivers); this is what sedes . . . silentum in
27 picks up. It is noteworthy that this phrase is the one Venus uses of
Aeneas' visit to the Underworld at Metamorphoses 15.772 (sedesque intrare
silentum, also at line-end), in a passage on the deification of Julius Caesar.
The latter is said to be deified expressly so that Augustus may have
divine parentage (760-61): Nepos' denial manages to round up by poetic
allusion the apotheoses of Rome's founding heroes, including those of
the house of Caesar.
Adonis in lines 31-32 thus briefly symbolizes the blessed afterlife
that Nepos shares with Aeneas, Romulus, and (by extension) Augustus.
The mention of his "games" is hedged around with references to them
through the poetry in which their stories were elaborated. These are
not just gestures toward Roman imperial ideology, but specifically in-
voke a version of it that has come down from Ennius through Virgil
and Ovid; and the use of Adonis here, a dying god who potentially
symbolizes the passage between mortality and immortality, is not only
appropriate, but should cue us to trace the literary pedigree of this ide-
ology even further back. Our poet has a distant predecessor in
Theocritus, who, drawing syncretistically on Egyptian beliefs about
Osiris in Idyll 15, uses Adonis as a symbol for the apotheosis of the
dead monarch, in this case of Queen Berenice.27 Lines 21-22, on Nepos'

27 Reed (above n. 6) 334-37.

228 JAY REED

avoidance of Charon's ferry:

non ego caeruleam remo pulsabo carinam
nec te terribilem fronte timebo, Charon

strongly recall Theocritus 17.45-50, again on Berenice:

κάλλει άριστεύουσα θεάων πότν' Άφροδίτα,
σοί τήνα μεμέλητο· σέθεν δ' ενεκεν Βερενίκα
εύειδής 'Αχέροντα πολύστονον ούκ έπέρασεν,
άλλά μιν άρπάξασα, πάροιθ' έπ\ νήα κατελθειν
κυανέαν και στυγνόν άεί πορθμήα καμόντων,
ές ναόν κατέθηκας, έάς δ' άπεδάσσαο τιμάς.

Venus is the bearer and bestower of immortality in b o t h cases. The

epitaph's caeruleam carinam and terribilem echo Virgil's caeruleam puppim
and portitor . . . horrendus . . . terribili squalore Charon (Aeneid 6.410 and
298-99), b u t also neatly translate Theocritus' νήα κυανέαν a n d στυγνόν
πορθμήα (where, incidentally, Greek mythology almost overwhelms the
hint of an Osirian funereal voyage); if our poet w a s not thinking spe-
cifically of this Alexandrian poem, he has s o m e h o w absorbed its terms
through Virgil's, and in a revision of Virgil recovered the theme of the
avoidance of the U n d e r w o r l d (which Aeneas will one d a y enjoy too,
w h e n Venus raises him to heaven). 2 8
N e p o s ' star-like shimmer, with its suggestion of catasterism, abets
the same allusive program. In theological terms it comes f r o m Eastern
religion; b u t the specific antecedents for the catasterisms of the R o m a n
f o u n d e r s w h o are N e p o s ' manifest models are to be f o u n d in Egyptian
royal mythology and the Alexandrian encomiastic poetry that a d a p t e d
it; 29 it is n o accident that the motif first a p p e a r s in R o m a n p o e t r y
(Georgics 1.32-35) at the point w h e n Octavian, by conquering Egypt,
h a d ascended the throne of the Ptolemies.
Through verbal echoes of precursors the epitaph places N e p o s in a
line of pharaohs, kings, and Roman f o u n d i n g heroes both legendary
and historical. Moreover, this t h o u g h t f u l and ambitious poet is mak-
ing a statement about his o w n art, pointed u p by the last lines of the
p o e m (43^i6):
sed quicumque deus, quicumque vocaber[is heros,
sit soror et mater, sit puer incolu[mis.

28
The motif of avoidance of Charon's ferry in this topos is f o u n d also at [Sen.] Her.
O. 1963-65, w h i c h also echoes Aeneid 6.410.
29
D. L. Seiden, "Alibis," CA 17 (1998) 289-420, at 340-49, compares and discusses
Egyptian and Greek texts. A product of this tradition is Callimachus' Lock of Berenice,
translated into Latin by Catullus, in which—again—Venus oversees the transformation.
 AT PLAY WITH ADONIS 229

haec dona unguentis et sunt potiora c[orollis

quae non tempus edax, non rapi[t ipse rogus. 30

Courtney, who raises the possibility (comparing CLE 249.21 hoc posui
donum) that haec dona refers to a statue that once adorned the tomb,
alternatively refers it to the poem itself. The wording suggests poetic
immortality: quae non tempus edax sends us back to Horace, Odes 3.30.1-
4 (originally the concluding poem of the Odes):

exegi monumentum aere perennius

regalique situ pyramidum altius,
quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens
possit diruere . . .

Our poet's declaration (nicely balanced by a wish for the continuation

of Nepos' own family line) gains much from its use of the Horatian
passage, which implicitly reprises his appropriation of Augustan
themes (note especially the Egyptian imagery), as does also the remi-
niscence of Odes 1.12.1-3 in 43. Unlike Horace, he puts his faith in the
durability of a stone tomb—his foils must perforce be the ephemeral
grave-offerings—yet in the event neither his faith nor his ambition was
misplaced. He too is in an illustrious line.

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

30 The supplement of Buecheler (in F. Buecheler and E. Lommatzsch, Carmina Latina

Epigraphica, 3 vols. [Leipzig 1895-1926] = CLE).

 STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE*

BY JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS

S o m e t i m e n e a r the e n d of the first c e n t u r y AD, a g r i e v i n g f a t h e r set u p

a f u n e r a r y altar t o his d a u g h t e r , w h o h a d d i e d less t h a n a m o n t h s h o r t
of h e r n i n t h birthday. O n the front of the altar, b e l o w a p o r t r a i t of the
girl c a r v e d w i t h i n a s h e l l - s h a p e d niche, the f o l l o w i n g e p i t a p h w a s in-
scribed:
DIS MANIBVS
IVNIAE M F PROCVLAE VIX ANN VIII M XI D V MISEROS
PATREM ET MATREM IN LVCTV RELIQVID FECIT M IVNIV[s
EVPHROSYNVS SIBI ET [[deleted]]E TV SINE FILIAE ET PARENTIVM
IN V[no ossa
REQVESCANT (sic) QVIDQVID NOBIS FECERIS IDEM TIBI SPERES
MIHI CREDE TV TIBI TESTI [eris

To the divine manes of Junia Procula, daughter of Marcus. She lived

eight years, eleven months, (and) five days. She left her wretched fa-
ther and mother in grief. M. Junius Euphrosynus made (this altar) for
himself and for [name deleted]. You, allow the bones of the daughter
and parents to rest in one (place). Whatever you have done for us,
may you hope for the same for yourself. Believe me, you will be a
witness to yourself. 1

T h e s e n t i m e n t is similar t o that of m a n y o t h e r i n s c r i p t i o n s in w h i c h
p a r e n t s c o m m e m o r a t e the d e a t h of their c h i l d r e n . 2 E u p h r o s y n u s , t h e

* I would like to thank Eric Casey, Chris Faraone, and Susan Treggiari for reading
and commenting on drafts of this paper, especially Chris Faraone, whose observations
and suggestions improved my argument immeasurably. Needless to say, any faults or
errors are my own. It is my hope that the dedicatee of this paper will find this inscrip-
tion as interesting as I did, and will explore its literary and metrical features, which I
have plainly neglected.
1 CIL 6.20905. Photograph and discussion in Diana E. E. Kleiner, Roman Imperial

Funerary Altars with Portraits (Rome 1987) 132-34 and Plate XV. 1-2. See also Guido A.
Mansuelli, Galleria degli Uffizi: Le Sculture. Parte I (Rome 1958) 213-14 with Plate 218 a,
b. I have not seen the altar. The photos in both Kleiner and Mansuelli show only the
front and the right side of the altar; in Kleiner's photo, the back of the altar is against a
wall, which would make it impossible to read the secondary inscription (the curse, see
below). All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.
2 Kleiner (above n. 1) 46-49; Richmond Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epi-

taphs (Urbana 1962) esp. 184-99; Edward Courtney, Musa Lapidaria: A Selection of Latin
Verse Inscriptions (Atlanta 1995) no. 172,178,179,190,191,195,197. The altar with dedi-
cations from parents to child is the most common of the types studied by Kleiner.
 STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE 231

father, set up the altar for his daughter and himself and (apparently)
his wife, the girl's mother. The "you" addressed in the last two lines is
the epitaph's reader, who, as in many funerary monuments, is enjoined
not to disturb the remains of those buried there.3
Surprisingly, the name of Procula's mother and Euphrosynus' wife
has been deleted, with only a final e remaining. Such a damnatio memoriae
is unusual on a private funerary commemoration which makes no ref-
erence to emperors or other public figures who suffered post-mortem
condemnation. But another inscription, on the back of the altar, sug-
gests an explanation for the obliteration of the woman's name:
HIC STIGMATA AETERNA ACTE LIBERTAE SCRIPTA SVNT VENE
NARIAE ET PERFIDAE DOLOSAE DVRI PECTORIS CLAVOM ET RESTEM
SPARTEAM VT SIBI COLLVM ALLIGET ET PICEM CANDENTEM
PECTVS MALVM COMMVRAT (= comburat) SVVM MANVMISSA GRATIS
SECVTA ADVLTERVM PATRONVM CIRCVM SCRIPSIT ET
MINISTROS ANCILLAM ET PVERVM LECTOIACENTI
PATRONO ABDVXIT VT ANIMO DESPONDERET SOLVS
RELICTVS SPOLIATVS SENEX EHYMNO FFADESTIMTA4
SECVTIS
ZOSIMVM

Here the eternal mgrks of infamy have been written for Acte the freed-
woman, the poisoner, faithless and deceitful, hard-hearted. (I bring)
a nail and a rope of broom so that she may bind her own neck, and
burning pitch to consume her evil heart. Manumitted free of charge,
she cheated her patron, following an adulterer, and she stole away
his servants—a slave girl and a boy—while her patron was lying in
bed, so that he pined away, an old man left alone and despoiled. And
the same marks of infamy to Hymnus, and to those who followed
Zosimus.

While we cannot be certain, it is reasonable to assume that the au-

thor of this inscription was Marcus Junius Euphrosynus himself, the
grieving father who had earlier set up the altar to his daughter. But he
was in a rather different mood when he composed these lines, which
apparently were intended as verses in iambic meter.5 This is in fact a
curse, calling down death and torture on Acte, an ungrateful freed-
woman who left her patron (perhaps after poisoning him, or so the

3 See Lattimore (above n. 2) 1 0 6 - 2 5 ; J. H. M. Strubbe, " ' C u r s e d be he that m o v e s m y

b o n e s ' / ' i n C. A. Faraone and Dirk Obbink, eds., Magika Hiera: Ancient Greek Magic and
Religion (Oxford and N e w York 1991) 3 3 - 5 9 , on epitaphs from Asia Minor.
4 Henzen, ad loc. in CIL 6 read the final words as E¡t] Hymno ieiade(m) sti[g]m[a]ta,
secutis Zosimum.
5 So H e n z e n ad loc. in CIL 6.20905. Thus the curse is included by F. Buecheler in

Carmina Latina Epigraphica 1.95 (Leipzig 1895).

232 JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS

inscription implies) and took off with two of his slaves to follow her
lover. Henzen plausibly suggested that Hymnus was the slave boy, and
Zosimus the adulterous lover followed by Acte and the slaves. But who
was Acte? Evidently none other than Euphrosynus' wife and Procula's
mother, the e whose name was obliterated from her daughter's
altar (probably at the same time that the second inscription was added).
I leave discussion of the literary and metrical features of this in-
scription to the dedicatee of this volume. Here I focus on only two
aspects of this interesting text: the legal position of Acte, the slave freed
by her master in order to marry him, and the curse itself.

1. THE MARRIAGE

Marcus Junius Euphrosynus had freed his slavewoman Acte—without

charge, as he says, and had married her. Marriages between a man and
his freedwoman were not uncommon in the social stratum to which
Euphrosynus belonged. To be sure, among the Roman elite, such a match
would not have been socially seemly; as the jurist Ulpian remarked: " . . . it is
more honorable for a patron to have his own freedwoman as a concu-
bine than as a mater familias."6 Indeed, senators and their children and
grandchildren were prohibited from marrying former slaves under the
lex Julia de maritandis ordinibus of the emperor Augustus. 7 But M. Junius
Euphrosynus was assuredly not of senatorial status; his cognomen sug-
gests servile origin, and the altar to Junia Procula is one of many such
funerary monuments which have been identified as deriving from a
freedman milieu. 8 Possibly Euphrosynus and Acte had been fellow
slaves in a contubernium relationship, and Euphrosynus, having been
freed first, had either purchased Acte or been given her by their former
master; he had then freed his contubernalis and made her a legal wife.9
Or (perhaps more likely given his outrage over his abandonment by

6 Digest (hereafter "D") 25.7Λ pr. I a m using Mommsen's Latin text of the Digest,

as found in Alan Watson, ed., The Digest of Justinian (Philadelphia 1985). Here materfa-
milias is used as a synonym for "married wife," though elsewhere in the Digest it can
have the more general meaning of "respectable matron": see T. A. J. McGinn, "Concubi-
nage and the Lex Iulia on Adultery," TAPA 121 (1991) 3 3 5 - 7 5 , at 347^18. Note also the
context of D 25.7.1 pr.: Ulpian feels that since a freedwoman is more appropriately the
concubine of her former master than his wife, so (like libertae-wives) ¡ibertae concubines
should not be able to leave their patrons and marry or become concubine to someone else.
7 D 23.2.44 pr. See Susan Treggiari, Roman Marriage: Iusti Coniuges from the Time of

Cicero to the Time of Ulpian (Oxford 1991) 6 0 - 6 4 .

8 Kleiner (above n. 1) 5 9 - 6 5 .

9 For examples, see Keith R. Bradley, Slaves and Masters in the Roman Empire: A

Study in Social Control (Oxford and New York 1984) 7 7 - 7 8 . On contubernio (generally,
unions in which one or both of the partners were slaves), see Beryl Rawson, " R o m a n
Concubinage and Other de facto Marriages," TAPA 104 (1974) 2 7 9 - 3 0 5 , and Susan
 STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE 233

Acte and the two slaves who went with her), Euphrosynus was a freed-
man or the son of former slaves who had prospered enough to purchase
slaves of his own, among them his future wife. 1 0
Although Euphrosynus does not say explicitly that he freed Acte
in order to marry her, this is the most probable scenario. He makes a
point of noting that he manumitted Acte "free of charge," without re-
quiring any payment in exchange for her freedom. Moreover, Acte's
evident youth makes it likely that she was freed for the purpose of
marriage. Under the lex Aelia Sentía of AD 4, a slave could not be fully
legally manumitted until he or she had reached the age of thirty, but an
exception was made for a woman whose master freed her in order to
marry her. In such cases, however, the master would have to go before
a special consilium made up of five senators and five equestrians on a
day set aside for this purpose. This was clearly less convenient than
manumission of those above thirty, which could be done before a mag-
istrate on his way to the baths or the theater. 11 Acte's daughter, Junia
Procula, was certainly born after her mother's manumission and mar-
riage to Marcus Junius Euphrosynus: the daughter has her father's
nomen, and is styled as the "daughter of Marcus," indicating her free-
born status. It is probable, then, that Acte was under thirty when she
was freed, that her freedom was due to her master's desire to marry
her, and that he had gone to some trouble to manumit her legally.
Acte herself must have agreed to the marriage; " a patron is not
able to marry an unwilling freedwoman," says the jurist Marcianus. 12
Nor could a patron-husband require services (operae) from his freed-
woman wife as he could from other former slaves. As the emperor
Alexander Severus told Laetorius, a patron-husband, "You have in-
creased the rank (dignitas) of your freedwoman by marrying her, and
therefore she should not be forced to offer services to you, since you
can be content by the benefit of the law, because she cannot legally marry
someone else if you are unwilling."13

Treggiari, "Contubernales in CIL 6," Phoenix 35 (1981) 4 2 - 6 9 . Other examples of patron-

liberta marriage in Kleiner (above n. 1): her no. 91 (husband c o m m e m o r a t e s wife), and
no. 7, 20, and 63 (wife commemorates husband).
1 0 So Trimalchio, the fictional freedman who m a d e good (on a m u c h vaster scale),

claims to h a v e raised his wife Fortunata up de machina, " f r o m the p l a t f o r m " on which
slaves for sale stood (Petronius, Satyricon 74). Like Euphrosynus, Trimalchio is incensed
at his freedwoman wife's ingratitude.
11 On the lex Aelia Sentia, see Gaius, Institutes 1 . 1 8 - 2 1 ; Bradley (above n. 9) 8 7 - 1 0 2 ;

Jane Gardner, Being a Roman Citizen (London and N e w York 1993) 3 9 - 5 1 . The same pro-
cedure w a s required when the owner w a s below twenty.
1 2 D 23.2.28. Of course, one wonders h o w m u c h choice a s l a v e w o m a n would h a v e

in the matter. Acte m a y h a v e already been pregnant w h e n she married.

13 Codex Justinianus (hereafter CJ) 6.3.9, dated 20 February, 225. Text used is that
234 JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS

I have emphasized the final phrase of Alexander's rescript to

Laetorius, because it reveals an aspect of patron-liberta marriage which
Acte may not have bargained for when she agreed to marry her master.
Under the marriage legislation of the emperor Augustus, "a
slavewoman manumitted 'for the sake of marriage' is not able to be
married by anyone other than the man by whom she was manumitted,
unless her patron has renounced marriage with her." 14 A freedwoman
could divorce her patron husband, but could not get her dowry back if
she did, nor could she enter into a legal marriage with anyone else
without the consent of the man she had left. As Alexander Severus told
another abandoned husband, "if your freedwoman, who is also your
wife, has left you when you were unwilling, she does not have the right
of marriage with another, if you still want to have her as your wife." 15
Junia Acte, the freedwoman wife, did not have the right available to
virtually all other women under classical Roman law, the right to di-
vorce unilaterally and remarry a man of her choice.16
Freed 'gratis' by her master in order to marry him, Acte had lived
in marriage with her patron for at least nine years and had borne him
at least one child. But the child, Procula, had died before her ninth
birthday, leaving her parents to grieve. Death of a beloved child can
cause stress in any marriage, and the union of Procula's parents may
not have long survived her death. Then Zosimus (a slave? his lack of
nometi suggests it) appeared on the scene. Perhaps Junia Acte fell in
love, perhaps she was just looking for escape from what had become
an intolerable marriage. What could she do? Divorce was possible; re-
marriage was not. Acte not only left her husband; she took some of his
property, a slave girl and boy, with her. Maybe they were her personal
attendants and she thought they belonged to her.17 Whether she also

edited by P. Krueger (Berlin 1967). A patron could not demand operae from any mar-
ried freedwoman if he had consented to her marriage, whether to himself or another:
D 38.1.48 (Hermogenianus); Jane Gardner, Women in Roman Law and Society (London
and Bloomington 1986) 226. Freedwomen in concubinage to their patrons also could
not be required to perform operae·. D 38.1.46 (Valens).
14 D 23.2.51 pr (Licinius Rufinus). D 24.2.11 (Ulpian), quotes the law and does not

explicitly say she had to have been freed for the sake of marriage.
15 C] 5.5.1 to Amphigenes (dated between 222-35). The divorce was not fully legal

under the Augustan marriage legislation, but was still effective. See Gardner (above n.
13) 86-87 and 227-28; Treggiari (above n. 7) 450-51.
1 6 On divorce in Roman law, see Gardner (above n. 13), 81-87; Treggiari (above n.

7) 441-61.
1 7 Roman law tried to keep a wife's property separate from her husband's (except

for the dowry, which was his during the marriage). Gifts between spouses were in-
valid while the marriage lasted. See Treggiari (above n. 7) 365-96. It is unlikely that
Acte, a former slavewoman, had any property of her own; the slaves would have be-
longed to Euphrosynus, but Acte may have had the use of them.
 STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE 235

poisoned Euphrosynus is less certain; the treacherous wife who poi-

sons her husband is a common figure in the Roman imagination, and
the link between adultery and veneficium was so well-known that the
presence of one would imply the other.18
The special nature of the patron-freedwoman marriage not only
restricted Acte's options; it also aggravated Euphrosynus' pain and
resentment when she left him. For he was not merely an abandoned
husband who had lost his wife to another (which would in itself have
been a great blow to his honor and amour-propre). He was also an in-
dulgent master who had raised his slavewoman's status and dignified
her with the title of wife. The ungrateful freedman (or freedwoman)
was a thorn in the side of slave-owning Romans, who could, however,
avail themselves of the lex Aelia Sentía to punish contumelious behav-
ior.19 And just as faithful freedmen and slaves might be rewarded,
ungrateful or malevolent servants might be condemned.
Another Latin inscription exhibits close similarities to Euphrosynus'
curse in both subject matter and wording. In an epitaph from Rome,
the deceased claims to have passed day and night grieving for his dead
daughter, and when he died (of grief? by suicide?), his bones were mixed
in the same altar with those of his daughter. After granting use of his
altar to his freedmen and women and their children so that they may
perform cult to his manes, the inscription concludes: "To my freedman
Atimetus, by whose treachery I lost my daughter, (I leave) rope and a
nail, by which he may bind his neck." This is actually an extract from
the man's will, included on his gravestone, as sometimes was the case. 20
The wording of this inscription is so close to that of the first line of CIL
6.20905 that there must be some connection, though not necessarily a
direct influence of one inscription on the other. Unfortunately there is no in-
dication of date for this testamentary inscription; it could have been
erected before or after the curse of Euphrosynus on his daughter's altar.
It was traditional to wish a rope to those who had behaved badly,
in literature and (as the epitaph above indicates) in real life.21 But

1 8 See C a t h a r i n e E d w a r d s , The Politics of Immorality in Ancient Rome ( C a m b r i d g e

1 9 9 3 ) 5 1 - 5 2 , citing Quintilian, Inst. 5.11.39 o n C a t o the E l d e r ' s e q u a t i o n of a d u l t e r e s s
a n d poisoner. F o r e x a m p l e s , cf. Tacitus, Annales 3 . 2 2 (Aemilia L e p i d a ) ; J u v e n a l , Satires
6 . 1 3 3 - 3 5 ; M a r t i a l 6 . 3 1 ; A p u l e i u s , Metamorphoses 2 . 2 9 ; 9 . 2 9 ; a n d 1 0 . 2 - 1 2 .
1 9 O n the lex Aelia Sentía, see n o t e 11 a b o v e , esp. Gardner, 4 1 - 4 9 . P a t r o n s c o u l d

bring c h a r g e s a g a i n s t their liberti before the u r b a n p r e f e c t (in R o m e ) o r the g o v e r n o r (in

the p r o v i n c e s ) . Penalties often i n v o l v e d flogging w i t h fustes.
20 CIL 6 . 1 2 6 4 9 , a m a r b l e tablet. F o r wills o n f u n e r a r y inscriptions, of w h i c h the so-

called " w i l l of D a s u m i u s " is the m o s t f a m o u s e x a m p l e , see E d w a r d C h a m p l i n , Final

Judgments: Duty and Emotion in Roman Wills 200 BC-AD 250 (Berkeley a n d L o s A n g e l e s
1991) 3 6 - 3 7 .
21 " I n d e e d , there s e e m s to h a v e b e e n a c o m m o n p l a c e that m a l e f a c t o r s in g e n e r a l
236 JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS

Euphrosynus summons up not only a rope and nail for Acte "to bind
her neck" but also "burning pitch to consume her evil heart." These
are instruments of torture used to punish and extract information from
slaves, in criminal investigations and also in private households. 22 Most
telling is the inscription's reference to itself as stigmata aeterna, "eter-
nal marks of infamy." Though here used metaphorically, the stigmata
recall actual stigmata, the marks caused by tattooing upon the servile
or criminal body. 23 In the Roman Empire, offending slaves might be
tattooed to leave a permanent reminder of their delinquency; so famil-
iar a sight was this that Petronius' protagonists mark themselves with
fake stigmata in order to escape recognition. 24 The same lex Aelia Sentía
that normally restricted manumission of a slave until after he or she
turned thirty also forbade slaves "on whom stigmata have been in-
scribed" ever to attain citizenship even after being freed; instead they
were to have the status of peregrini dediticii, foreigners who had surren-
dered to the Roman state. 25 By calling up images of servile tattooing
and implements of servile punishment and torture, Euphrosynus is re-
enslaving the fugitive Acte for her ingratitude and infidelity—in words,
since he cannot do so in reality.26

2. THE CURSE

Cursing was ubiquitous in antiquity, from literary imprecations like

Ovid's Ibis27 to the hundreds of lead tablets found throughout the Greco-
Roman world. Most known non-literary curses from antiquity are
inscribed on small metal tablets, though some, like ours, are found on
funerary monuments. Usually (though not exclusively) made of lead,

should receive as a bequest a rope (with or without a nail) to hang themselves": Champlin
(above n. 20) 16, w h o cites only Martial 4.70, CIL 6.12649, and 2 0 9 0 5 (which he notes is
not a will). Cf. also Plautus, Poenulus 396 (spoken by a slave to a prostitute-slave) and
Persa 815 (spoken by a slave to a pimp), both cited by Bjorck (below n. 30) 32. In the
Martial epigram, it is actually the son who has been left a d r y rope in his father's will.
In Martial and Plautus, only a rope is mentioned, not a nail; only CIL 6.20905 and 12649
mention nails. Burning pitch is found only in CIL 6.20905.
2 2 On torture of slaves, see Keith Bradley, Slavery and Society at Rome (Cambridge

1994) 1 6 5 - 7 0 ; cf. Richard Sailer, "Corporal Punishment, Authority, and Obedience in

the R o m a n H o u s e h o l d , " in B. Rawson, ed., Marriage, Divorce, and Children in Ancient
Rome (Oxford 1991) 1 4 4 - 6 5 , esp. 158-60.
2 3 See C. P. Jones, "Stigma: Tattooing and Branding in G r a e c o - R o m a n Antiquity,"

JRS 77 (1987) 1 3 9 - 5 5 ; and W. Mark Gustafson, "Inscripta in fronte: Penal Tattooing in

Late Antiquity," CSCA 16 (1997) 7 9 - 1 0 5 .
24 Satyricon 103, cited by Jones (above n. 23) 138-39.

2 5 Gaius, Institutes 1.13, cited by Gustafson (above n. 23) 86.

2 6 I o w e this observation to Christopher Faraone.

2 7 For literary curses, see Lindsay Watson, Arae: The Curse Poetry of Antiquity (Leeds 1991).
 STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE 237

they were inscribed with the names of those the curser wished to con-
demn, rolled up and often transfixed by a nail, and deposited in graves,
sanctuaries (primarily of chthonic deities like Demeter and Persephone),
wells, or other bodies of water. 2 8
Various situations or misfortunes could inspire curses. Sometimes
the target was a rival, either in business, at law or in love; or an athlete,
such as the charioteer of a team opposing that of the person commis-
sioning the curse. These are 'binding spells' which seek to inhibit or
'bind down' the object of the curse. 2 9 Other curses are reactions to
wrongs done to the curser: the theft of clothes, jewelry, or money, or
false accusations made by an enemy. This second type of curse, which
usually invokes a divine power and seeks restoration of something
which has been taken rather than help in overcoming a rival, has been
described as a 'prayer for justice.' Unlike binding spells, which are usu-
ally written on lead tablets and buried or otherwise hidden, 'prayers
for justice' are often openly displayed. 3 0 Euphrosynus' curse of his
unfaithful freedwoman wife can best be understood as a 'prayer for
justice,' as comparison with some well-known examples of the genre
will show.
Many 'prayers for justice' appeal to divinities to avenge wrongs
done to the subject by those closest to them—family members, slaves,
and former slaves. An early and famous example is the curse of Arte-
misia found on papyrus in the Serapeum in Memphis and dating to the
fourth century BC. Artemisia prays to Oserapis for vengeance against
the father of her deceased daughter, who had robbed his own child of
her burial gifts and her tomb. 3 1 Artemisia's prayer is couched in the
terminology of a petition for justice from a higher authority. It was in-
tended to be read by all who came to the temple of Oserapis. 3 2
A lead tablet in Greek from the island of Amorgos, variously dated
anywhere from the second century BC to the second century AD, records

2 8 Curse tablets (especially Greek) have engendered considerable scholarship in

recent years. See A. Audollent, Defixionum Tabellae (Paris 1904); Christopher A. Faraone,
"The Agonistic Context of Early Greek Binding Spells," in Faraone and Obbink (above
n. 3) 3 - 3 2 ; John G. Gager, Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World (Oxford
and New York 1992); Fritz Graf, Magic in the Ancient World, trans. F. Philip (Cambridge,
Ma. 1997) 119-74; David R. Jordan, "A Survey of Greek Defixiones Not Included in the
Special Corpora," GRBS 26 (1985) 151-97.
2 9 See Faraone (above n. 28) on such 'agonistic' binding curses, also called defixiones.

Gager (above n. 28) translates many examples.

3 0 See especially H. S. Versnel, "Beyond Cursing: The Appeal to Justice in Judicial

Prayers," in Faraone and Obbink (above n. 3) 60-106; also Gudmund Bjorck, Der Fluch
des Christen Sabinus (Uppsala 1938); Gager (above n. 28) 175-99.
31 Text in Bjorck (above n. 30) 130-31; see Versnel (above n. 30) 68-69.

3 2 Versnel (above n. 30) 81.

238 JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS

the prayer of a man to Demeter for vengeance upon a certain

Epaphrodeitos.33 The aptly named Epaphrodeitos34 had seduced the
man's slavegirl in order to marry her ("against my will," the tablet
claims), and had induced her and his other slaves to flee, leaving the
master "desolate" (eremos). Like Acte the faithless freedwoman, the
slavegirl in question may have been more to her master than simply a
servant, 35 although the reverse of the Amorgos tablet mentions that
not only the inscriber but also his wife Epiktesis have suffered from
the malevolent Epaphrodeitos and the treacherous slaves.
The tablet was dug up in a field on Amorgos and had holes indi-
cating that it had originally been pierced through with nails, as was
usual with curse tablets; presumably it had been deposited either in a
grave or a sanctuary to Demeter. Unlike Artemisia's petition to Oserapis,
the tablet may not have been meant for public display; however, simi-
lar curses, found on tombstones, certainly were. 36 An epitaph from
Mopsuestia in Cilicia records that Mouseos was deceived and cheated
by his brother, Tryphon, deprived even of daily sustenance, and so
abused that he died. The deceased calls on the heavenly and under-
world gods to punish Tryphon and his children. 37 On another grave
from Alexandria in the Troad, elegiac couplets proclaim the fate of the
young Aphrodisius, killed in his twentieth year by his accursed wife's
lover, who threw him over a cliff like a discus.38 In both these inscrip-
tions the deceased speaks in the first person; the tombstone itself must
have been set up by someone else, as was an altar erected in Lambaesis,
(Numidia) for Ennia Fructuosa, who had died the victim of a curse,

3 3 Text in Théophile Homolle, "Inscriptions d'Amorgos," BCH 25 (1901) 412-56, at

413-30. See Gager (above n. 28) 165-67; and H. S. Versnel, '"May he not be able to sacri-
fice . . .': Concerning a Curious Formula in Greek and Latin Curses," ZPE 58 (1985)
247-69, esp. 252-55 and idem, '"Punish those who rejoice in our misery': On Curse Texts
and Schadenfreude," in D. R. Jordan, H. Montgomery, and E. Thomassen, eds., The World
of Ancient Magic (Bergen 1999) 125-29.
3 4 "Mr. Charming," as Faraone translates in C. A. Faraone, Ancient Greek Love Magic

(Cambridge, Ma. 1999) 87. As Faraone notes, Epaphrodeitos had used love magic to
win the slavegirl (or so claims the author of the lead tablet).
3 5 So conjectures Homolle (above n. 33) 419 n. 2.

3 6 1 mention here only those epitaphs that curse family members (including slaves

and former slaves). There are many other 'prayers for justice' on tombstones that decry
injury done to the deceased by non-family members. Bjorck (above n. 30) provides many
examples (including CIL 6.20905), both pre-Christian and Christian; cf. also Versnel
(above n. 30).
3 7 Text in V. W. Yorke, "Inscriptions from Eastern Asia Minor," JHS 18 (1898) 3 0 6 -

27, at 307-308. See Versnel (1985; above n. 33) 248-49 (who says it is "possibly third
century"); Bjorck (above n. 30) 31.
3 8 G. Kaibel, ed., Epigrammata Graeca (Berlin 1878) no. 336. See Lattimore (above n.

2) 118 (who describes it as "late"); cf. Bjorck (above n. 30) 32.

 STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE 239

carminibus defixa. In his dedication, Ennia's husband declares that she

will be avenged by her manes or by the di caelestes.39
From a much later period (sixth century ad) come two related pa-
pyri from Panopolis in Egypt. One is a curse, in both prose and
hexameters, the prayer to God by the Christian Sabinus for vengeance
on his daughter and a man (who was probably her husband) who had
persecuted and dishonored him. This was probably buried with Sabinus
in his grave.40 The second papyrus begins, "This is the stele of the terrible-
fated, much suffering Sabinus, who endured many evils for the sake of
his only daughter." Then follows another prayer for vengeance. 41
Clearly this curse was intended to be inscribed on Sabinus' tomb, like
those of Aphrodisius and Mouseos.
Not all curses fit neatly into one category or another. Some com-
bine expressions of aggression against the victim with declarations of
unjustified suffering and pleas for aid from divine powers. An example
of such a 'mixed curse' is found in a recently published lead tablet from
Pella in Macedonia which dates to the fourth century BC. Although pri-
marily an erotic spell by a woman who wants to prevent the marriage
of Dionysophon to a particular woman (or to any woman at all), the
tablet ends with an emotional appeal to the powers of the dead to whom
the spell is addressed42 to "have pity for [Phila?], dear daimones, [for I
am indeed bereft?] of all my dear ones and abandoned."43 The deposi-
tor of the tablet describes herself as "abandoned" (erema), just as the
author of the Amorgos tablet was left "desolate" (eremos) by the loss of
his slavegirl to the seducer Epaphrodeitos, and just as Acte left
Euphrosynus lying alone in bed, "so that he pined away" (animo
desponderet).Ai
Euphrosynus' condemnation of Acte can also be seen as a 'mixed
curse.' Although primarily a 'prayer for justice,' in its invocation of

39 CIL 7.2756; see Graf (above n. 28) 163. For claims that the deceased died by m a g i c /

poisoning, see H. Versnel (above n. 33) 1 3 0 - 3 6 . Cf. CIL 6.19747 on a boy who apparently
died by " a witch's h a n d , " in Courtney (above n. 2) no. 165.
4 0 R. W. Daniel and Fr. Maltomini, eds., Supplementum Magicum (Suppl. PGM)
(Opladen 1992) col. II, no. 59, pp. 4 9 - 5 1 ; thoroughly discussed by Bjorck (above n. 30).
41 Suppl. PGM vol. II (above n. 40), no. 60, p. 52.
42 The spirit (daimon) of Macron, presumably the corpse with w h o m the tablet w a s
deposited, and the spirits of the deceased. See below on depositing of curse tablets in
the graves of those w h o had died untimely or by violence.
4 3 See E m m a n u e l Voutiras, Dionysophontos Gamoi: Marital Life and Magic in Fourth
Century Pella (Amsterdam 1998). Translation is by Voutiras, 1 5 - 1 6 , who conjectures that
the n a m e of the depositer of the tablet was Phila, and points out that the text combines
aspects of an erotic binding spell and a prayer for justice.
4 4 "[I]t is remarkable h o w often the authors of judicial prayers refer to their o w n

desolated positions with terms like ' p o o r / 'bereft' . . .": Versnel (above n. 33) 140.
240 JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS

implements of torture for the perfidious Acte it employs images more

often found on erotic binding spells designed to force the curse's vic-
tim to suffer physical torments until she or he submits to the desires of
the curser. 45 Erotic magical papyri frequently speak of burning or melt-
ing the object of desire: "Make her cease from her arrogance, calculation,
and her shamefulness, and attract her to me, beneath my feet, melting
with passionate desire . . . until she is scourged by you and comes de-
siring me"; "Aye, lord daimon, attract, inflame, destroy, burn, cause
her to swoon from love as she is being burnt, inflamed. Sting the tor-
tured soul, the heart, of Karosa. . . ." 4 6 Sometimes small images of the
victim would be burned or pierced with nails or needles in parts of the
body which the performer of the spell wished to be affected. 47 It has
already been noted that the punishments Euphrosynus wishes upon
Acte are those commonly meted out to slaves, and invocation of physi-
cal torments in erotic papyri likewise signify a desire by the persons
commissioning the spell to subjugate their victims and force them into
sexual submission. 48 Indeed, it would not be surprising if the aban-
doned patron-husband was trying not only to invoke divine
punishment on the faithless Acte, but to bring her back, to re-enslave
her as both lover and servant. 49
Unlike most curses known from Greco-Roman antiquity,
Euphrosynus' denunciation of Acte is found on a funeral stele. In this,
it resembles the epitaphs of Mouseos and Aphrodisius (and the intended
epitaph of Sabinus) discussed above. Was Euphrosynus, like Mouseos
and Aphrodisius, already dead when his curse was inscribed on his
daughter's altar (which Euphrosynus originally had intended eventu-
ally to hold his own ashes and those of Acte)? Though this is possible,

4 5 I o w e this observation to C. A. Faraone. On torture in erotic spells, see Faraone

(above n. 34) esp. 5 0 - 5 5 ; idem, " T h e Wheel, the Whip and other Implements of Torture:
Erotic Magic in Pindar Pythian 4 . 2 1 3 . 1 9 , " CJ 89 (1993) 1 - 1 9 .
46 PGM (= Papyri Graecae Magicae) 1 7 a . 1 - 2 5 and 1 9 a . 1 - 5 4 , translated in H a n s Dieter

Betz, ed., The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation (Chicago 1986) pp. 253 and 257 respec-
tively. Greek texts in K. Preisendanz and A. Henrichs, eds., Papyri Graecae Magicae: Die
griechischen Zauberpapyri, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart 1973-74).
4 7 Faraone (above η. 34) 4 1 - 4 3 ; idem, "Binding and Burying the Forces of Evil: The

Defensive Use of 'Voodoo Dolls' in Ancient Greece," CSCA 10 (1991) 1 6 5 - 2 0 5 , which

includes an " A p p e n d i x " of all such figures found. Note especially no. 12 (from Delos),
two male figures pierced with nails and two female figures having necks bound " w i t h
thick collars"; no. 21 and 22 (from Rome); no. 27 (Egypt). Perhaps Euphrosynus sub-
jected an 'Acte figurine' to nailing and binding with rope while performing the curse?
Faraone (above n. 34) 68.
48

V e r s n e l ( 1 9 9 9 ; a b o v e n. 3 3 ) 1 2 7 r e m a r k s t h a t t h e G r e e k c u r s e a g a i n s t
49

Epaphrodeitos, who seduced the curser's slave-girl and suborned her and other ser-
vants to run away, is the only curse known to him directed against escaped slaves.
Perhaps CIL 6.20905 should be seen as another.
 STIGMATA AETERNA: A HUSBAND'S CURSE 241

it is more likely that he had the secondary inscription put on the back
of the altar while he was still alive. Rather than the epitaph of a dead
man, this is the curse of one who is still alive and very angry. Indeed,
Euphrosynus had good reason to have his curse inscribed on the back
of the funerary altar of their daughter Procula. To understand this we
must look again at curse tablets and how they were believed to work. 5 0
Curse tablets are often found within tombs, because the curser was
invoking the supernatural power of the dead person to bring down
divine wrath upon the victim. Those who had died young or by vio-
lence were thought to be particularly efficacious in carrying out curses,
since their spirits would be restless and angry for having left the world
of the living before their time. Thus curse tablets dating to shortly after
430 BC have been excavated in the Kerameikos, the cemetery of classi-
cal Athens, which had been planted in the graves of two young boys.
"[T]heir ghosts would, in the popular view, remain animate and avail-
able for magical services for presumably at least a generation or so after
the boys' deaths," since they would not be able to rest in peace until
their full life span had run. 51 Burial of a curse tablet in a grave would
mean disturbing the already buried body—a desecration strongly op-
posed by law and society. It appears that usually, the depositor of a
curse tablet in a grave was not aware of the identity of the deceased,
beyond perhaps knowing that it was an aoros, one who had died before
his or her time. Indeed, relatives of the deceased, particularly parents,
would have been greatly distressed to learn that the spirit of their loved
one had been used as the means of delivering a curse. 52
Euphrosynus did not use a lead tablet to curse Acte. Burial of such
a tablet would have meant disturbing the grave of his daughter. But by
inscribing his 'prayer for vengeance' on the back of Procula's monu-
ment, Euphrosynus was tapping into the same divine powers as those
who buried curse tablets in graves. Junia Procula was an aoros, one

5 0 Although almost all of the curses I have cited are from the Greek East, m a n y

curse tablets are also found in western Europe and N o r t h Africa, and a special genre of
'prayers for vengeance' are known from lead tablets from the temple of Sulis Minerva
in Bath, on which see Versnel (above n. 30) 8 1 - 9 0 . Moreover, Marcus Junius Euphrosynus'
Greek c o g n o m e n and probable freed status suggest that he may originally have been
from the Greek East and brought to Rome as a slave. In regard to 'prayers for justice'
Versnel suggests influence and borrowing between Greek and Latin traditions, but is
uncertain h o w such borrowing occurred, and indeed who influenced w h o m . See Versnel
(1985; above n. 33) 2 6 8 - 6 9 and Versnel (above n. 30) 9 0 - 9 3 .
5 1 D. R. Jordan, " N e w Archaeological Evidence for the Practice of Magic in Classi-

cal Athens," in Praktika ton XII diethnous synedriou klassikes archaiologias (Athens 1988)
2 7 3 - 7 7 , at 275. See Sarah I. Johnston, Restless Dead: Encounters between the Living and
Dead in Ancient Greece (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1999) esp. 7 1 - 8 1 .
5 2 Johnston (above n. 51) 75.
242 JUDITH EVANS GRUBBS

who had died untimely, having not even reached her ninth birthday.
As such, her spirit would have been particularly suitable for carrying
out a curse. Moreover, Procula was, in a sense, divine herself; in Ro-
man funerary commemorations of the early Empire there is often a
'divinization' or 'apotheosis' of the deceased, especially children. 53
What more appropriate a place to curse a faithless wife than at her
own daughter's grave?
Essentially, then, Euphrosynus is invoking the spirit of his daugh-
ter in order to carry out vengeance upon his wife, her own mother.
Procula was not only, as an aoros, particularly suitable as the conductor
of a curse, but she might be expected to share her father's outrage at
his dishonor and abandonment by his mother. We might recall another,
famous occasion in literature when family members called upon a de-
ceased relative's spirit to take vengeance on a faithless wife: Electra
and Orestes invoke the spirit of the murdered Agamemnon to avenge
his own death. 54 Here the situation is reversed: the father calls upon
his child's spirit for an avenger against the wife and mother who, like
Clytemnestra, had forsaken her marriage and taken a lover. Forbidden
by law to marry her new man, Acte was also to be punished by curses
carried out by her own daughter's manes.

SWEET BRIAR COLLEGE

5 3 See Lattimore (above n. 2) 1 0 0 - 1 0 6 ; Kleiner (above n. 1) 8 6 - 8 8 ; Natalie B. Kampen,

"Biographical Narration and Funerary A r t , " AJA 8 5 (1991) 4 7 - 5 8 , at 55. Such private
deifications seem to be particularly characteristic of the funerary monuments of freed-
men (cf. η. 8 above) commemorating children. A particularly extravagant account of
such an apotheosis is found in CIL 6.21521, where the deceased (a young m a n praematura
raptum . . . morte) appears to his grieving kinsman; on this inscription see Courtney
(above n. 2) no. 183 and Jay Reed, " A t Play with Adonis," in this volume.
5 4 Aeschylus, Choephoroi 3 1 5 - 5 0 9 . Of course, A g a m e m n o n is asked to avenge his

own death and dishonor; Procula did not die at Acte's hand. But her father would still
h a v e found her ghost to be a more effective avenger than that of an a n o n y m o u s d e a d
person.
 CAUGHT IN THE ACT:
IN FILIA DEPREHENDERE
IN THE LEX IULIA DE ADULTERIIS

BY S U S A N TREGGIARI

President Clinton in 1998 brought the question of what constitutes adul-

tery to public attention. It delights ancient historians w h e n their work
suddenly appears relevant to modern concerns. The seminal discus-
sions for this essay (begun in 1995 at latest) are not President Clinton's
epistemological efforts, but Latin juristic texts, learned work by Daube,
Honoré and others, and a novel by David Lodge, in which he recreates
the social and theological context in which the courtship of Roman
Catholic students took place in London in the 1950s, the one with the
poignant title How Far Can You Go? (1980). The immediate motive for
offering this piece in celebration of Ted Courtney is that I have f u d g e d
a translation: he demands that I correct the error. 1
The Augustan adultery law began in the conventional manner by
specifying the offences it covered (Digest of Justinian [= D] 48.5.13 [12],
Ulpianus, i de adulteriis. Capital letters indicate supposed direct quota-
tion from the statute.):
NE QUIS POSTHAC STUPRUM ADULTERIUM FACITO SCIENS
DOLO MALO

LET N O - O N E H E R E A F T E R C O M M I T F O R N I C A T I O N [OR] A D U L -
TERY K N O W I N G L Y [OR] W I T H M A L I C I O U S INTENT.

The references we have to the content of the law presuppose that we

know what sexual acts are implied. The sexual activity which the law
prohibited, adulterium and stuprum, was defined in relation to the mari-
tal and social status of the person with whom it was committed. Certain
categories of 'passive' partner were surely never intended to be cov-
ered by the law: a slave or a prostitute, for instance, was exempt, and
so was the person who committed a sexual act with such a person. The
law was aimed at citizens of respectable status. Adulterium was a sexual
act with a married woman, stuprum with a free male or unmarried

1
Roman Marriage: Iusti Coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian (Oxford
1991) 282. Thanks are due to those w h o participated in seminars which included this
material at the Universities of Oxford (1995), Exeter, Notre Dame, Victoria, and Wash-
ington (1996); All Souls College (1996); McMaster University (1998).
244 SUSAN TREGGIARI

w o m a n , whether a girl w h o had not yet married, a w i d o w or a divor-

cee. (We hear so little of the latter that I shall write here as if only
adulterium were in question.) Prosecutions under the Law were brought
either on suspicion that adultery had taken place (ex suspicione) or be-
cause of ocular evidence. 2 Jurists refer in general to wives or couples
caught or found in adultery (in adulterio deprehensae/i or inventae/i).3
The search for more precision about the act begins in the striking
provisions of the Augustan law on justified killing of adulterers (Coll.
4.2.3, Paul libro singulari de adulteriis.4 Emphasis mine.):

Secundo vero capite permittit PATRI, <SI IN> [omitted in MSS] FILIA
SUA, QUAM IN POTESTATE HABET, AUT IN EA, QUAE <EO> [omit-
ted in MSS] AUCTORE, CUM IN POTESTATE ESSET, VIRO IN
MANUM CONVENERIT, ADULTERUM DOMI SUAE GENERIVE SUI
DEPREHENDERIT ISVE [Mommsen's correction for MSS in quem]
IN EAM REM S O C E R U M ADHIBUERIT, UT IS PATER EUM
ADULTERUM SINE FRAUDE <SUA> [omitted in MSS] OCCIDAT,
ITA UT FILIAM IN CONTINENTI OCCIDAT.

And in the second chapter, it allows A FATHER IF IN HIS DAUGH-

TER, WHOM HE HAS IN HIS POWER, OR IN ONE WHO WITH HIS
AUTHORITY WHEN SHE WAS IN HIS POWER HAS COME INTO
THE CONTROL OF HER HUSBAND, HE CATCHES AN ADULTERER
IN HIS HOUSE OR THE HOUSE OF HIS SON-IN-LAW, OR THE
LATTER CALLS IN HIS FATHER-IN-LAW, THAT THE FATHER MAY
WITHOUT RISK TO HIMSELF KILL THAT ADULTERER, PROVIDED
THAT HE KILL THE DAUGHTER IMMEDIATELY.

The wording of this clause is reflected in the following extracts from

the same source:

In sui iuris autem filia qui adulterum deprehensum occiderit et in

continenti filiam . . . (Coll. 4.2.4, Paul sg. de adult.)

He who kills an adulterer caught in a daughter of independent status

and (kills) the daughter immediately . . .

2 Thomas A. J. McGinn, Prostitution, Sexuality and the Law in Ancient Rome (New
York 1998) 117. For exempt categories see McGinn 1 9 4 - 2 0 2 .
3 D 23.2.43.12, Ulp.; 29.5.3.3, Ulp.; 48.5.2.6, Ulp.; 48.5.25 [24], Macer; 48.5.39 [38].8,

Papinianus; Codex Justinianus (= CJ) 9.9.2, AD 199; Mosaicarum et Romanarum legum Col-
latio (= Coll.) 4.12.6, cf. Gel. 17.18 (on Sallust); Calp. Deel. 11,17. Giunio Rizzelli, "Stuprum
e adulterium nella cultura augustea e la lex Iulia de adulteriis (Pap. 1 adult. D 48, 5, 6 , 1 e
Mod. 9 dig. D 5 0 , 1 6 , 1 0 1 pr.)," BIDR 90 (1987) 3 5 5 - 8 8 at 368, points out that adulterium
here is t h e / a n individual sexual act.
4 = S. Riccobono, Acta Divi Augusti (Rome 1 9 4 5 - ) 14, 1 . 1 1 3 - 1 4 , M. H. Crawford,
Roman Statutes, 2 vols. (London 1996) 60,2.781-86 at 785. Words in capitals are attributed to
the original statute by Biondi in Riccobono; Crawford regards only in filia adulterum
deprehenderit and in continenti filiam (D 48.5.24 [23] pr., 4, Ulp.) as secure quotation.
 CAUGHT IN THE ACT 245

Auctoritate quoque <legis> patrem posse interficere vel consularem

virum vel patronum suum, <si eum> in filia adulterum deprehenderit,
eodem libro Marcellus probat. (Coll. 4.2.5, Paul sg. de adult.)

Marcellus in the same book holds that by authority [of the law] a fa-
ther can also kill a man of consular rank or his own patron, [if] he
catches [him] as an adulterer in his daughter.

But in other extant juristic writings only Ulpian comments on the in-
terpretation to be given to in filia (D 48.5.24 [23] pr., Ulp. i de adult.):
Quod ait lex IN FILIA ADULTERUM DEPREHENDERIT, non otiosum
videtur: voluit enim ita demum hanc potestatem patri competere, si
in ipsa turpitudine 5 filiam de adulterio deprehendat. Labeo quoque
ita probat, et Pomponius scripsit in ipsis rebus Veneris 6 deprehensum
occidi: et hoc est quod Solo et Draco dicunt έν εργφ.7

The phrase in the law "IF IN HIS DAUGHTER HE CATCHES AN

ADULTERER" does not seem otiose: it meant that the father only en-
joys this power, if in actual shamefulness he catches his daughter in
reference to adultery. Labeo too approves this, and Pomponius wrote
that he is killed when caught in the very acts of Venus: and this is
what Solon and Draco call "in the act."

To Ulpian, and apparently to Antistius Labeo (who must have com-

mented soon after the law was passed) and to the Hadrianic Pomponius,
it was clear that a father was only able to claim justifiable homicide if
he had caught the lover inside his daughter's body. The evidence of
adultery had to be irrefutable. The Latin in filia is locative (and is so
taken by the Philadelphia translation). 8 This makes the clause, with all
its qualifications including the other locative, domi, difficult to trans-
late into accurate and natural English. But Ulpian's firm statement
makes it inaccurate to render in filia by a looser phrase such as "in the

5 Cf. D 48.5.30 [29] pr.

6 Cf., for the phrase, Lucr. 2.173, 5.848; Ovid, Rem. 431.
7 For ergon and its Latin equivalents, see J. N. A d a m s , The Latin Sexual Vocabulary
(London 1982) 156-57. Ergon is distinguished from foreplay (ta paignia, toyings: scratch-
ing, kissing, talk etc.) by the second-century AD epigrammatist Strato, in a p o e m to a
boy (AP 12.209.3-4).
8 Cf. Ovid, Ars 2 . 7 0 7 - 1 1 inventent digiti quodagant in partibus Ulis, /in quibus occulte
spicula tingit Amor, / fecit in Andromache prius hoc fortissimus Hector / . . . fecit et in capta
Lyrneside magnus Achilles .. ., a reference I o w e to Stephen Hinds. The reader might take
in Andromache and in . . . Lyrneside as 'denoting point of reference' (OLD 41), meaning
simply 'in respect of' (as in Ovid, Am. 1.9.33 ardet in abducta Briseide . . . Achilles), or,
more likely, with fecit, as 'when dealing with' (OLD 42), but the m e m o r y of in partibus
and the whole sustained send-up of epic (Vergil often, naturally, ends a h e x a m e t e r with
the same great names, frequently with a preceding adjective) confirms the naughtier
locative sense.
246 SUSAN TREGGIARI

c a s e of, in the m a t t e r of, in relation t o . " 9 T h a t u s a g e of in u n d e n i a b l y

o c c u r s in juristic w r i t i n g . B u t it is a s s o c i a t e d w i t h w o r d s d e s c r i b i n g
the a p p l i c a t i o n of law, n o t w i t h s i m p l e d e s c r i p t i v e v e r b s like ' c a t c h ' :
F o r i n s t a n c e , L a b e o u s e s it (D 3 2 . 2 9 pr., L a b . ti posteriorum a Iavoleno
epitomatorum)·.

Labeo id non probat, quia in eiusmodi legato non ius u x o r i u m

sequendum, sed verborum interpretatio esset facienda idemque vel
in filia vel in qualibet alia persona iuris esset.

Labeo does not agree with this, on the grounds that in a bequest of
this type one should not follow the rules which apply to wives, but
interpret the words, and the same rule applies to a daughter or any
other person.

U l p i a n also u s e s s u c h a c o n s t r u c t i o n : . . . in concubina dici (D 4 8 . 5 . 1 4 . 6 )

a n d s o d o e s I a v o l e n u s P r i s c u s (cos. a d 9 0 ) : ea sententia P. Mucii est: nam
is in Licinnia Gracchi uxore statuit... (D 2 4 . 3 . 6 6 p r . ) . 1 0
To justify the father in killing the a d u l t e r e r s , h e h a d t o c a t c h t h e m
in a p a r t i c u l a r h o u s e a n d the d a u g h t e r h a d to b e l o n g t o a r e s t r i c t e d
c a t e g o r y . T h e y also h a d to b e at a carefully d e f i n e d s t a g e of s e x u a l in-
t e r c o u r s e . T h e l a w r e q u i r e d h i m , if h e killed a n y o n e at all, t o a t t e m p t
to kill b o t h at once, in continenti (D 4 8 . 5 . 2 4 [23].4, U l p . i de adult.; Coll.
4 . 2 . 3 - 4 , cf. 7) a n d , a c c o r d i n g to U l p i a n , at o n e b l o w a n d in o n e o n -
s l a u g h t (ib., cf. D 4 8 . 5 . 3 3 [32] pr., M a c e r i de publicis iudiciis). C l e a r l y
the task of killing t w o at o n e b l o w w o u l d be m u c h facilitated if the
b o d i e s w e r e in the closest possible c o n t a c t . 1 1
T h e definition of a n a d u l t e r o u s a c t s e e m s t o h a v e b e e n the s a m e in
the s e c t i o n w h i c h dealt w i t h the h u s b a n d ' s right t o kill c e r t a i n m e n

9 For the locative in a sexual sense, cf. Mart. 11.43.1 deprensum in puero. Note that

Paul, Sententiae 2.26.1-3 chooses to use vaguer phrases: adulterum cum filia . . .
deprehensum;. .. sifiliam in adulterio deprehenderit, etc. So does the principal Digest text
on the husband's rights, 48.5.25 [24] pr., Macer i publicorum, and Coll. 4.3.1-3, Paul sg. de
adult. S. Braund points out to me that it is significant that the commentators avoid the
franker language of the statute.
10 Further examples: D 15.1.11.2, 23.2.14.2, 32.29 pr., 36.1.38.1, 38.1.25.2, 49.15.5.3.

For the sense of 'in the matter of, when dealing with (a person or thing)' in non-juristic
writing see OLD 42. For 'in respect of' see OLD 41d: D. Silanus in nepti Augusti adulter
(Tac. Ann. 3.24.3) etc.
11 In a painting by Ary Scheffer (1795-1858) now in the Wallace Collection, the

bodies of Francesca and Paolo show the mark of stabbing drilled through her left back
and his right breast. Claudius' son-in-law, Pompeius Magnus, was said to have been
transfixed in the act (but we are not told that the lover was killed simultaneously) (Suet.
CI. 29.2 Pompeius in concubitu dilecti adulescentuli confossus est.) Cf. Renzo Lambertini,
Dum utrumque occidat, Lex Iulia e uccisione in continenti degli adulteri iure patris (Bologna
1992) 19: "freddare la coppia di amanti uno ictu già non è un'impresa agevole in teoria,
a un'epoca che non conosce le armi di fuoco e il loro relativo potenziale." Professor
 CAUGHT IN THE ACT 247

taken in the act with his wife. (In no circumstances was he permitted to
kill his wife.) Ulpian words it as follows (D 48.5.26 [25] pr., Ulp. ii ad
legem Iuliam de adulteris12):

Capite quinto legis Iuliae ita cavetur UT VIRO ADULTERUM IN

UXORE SUA DEPREHENSUM, QUEM AUT NOLIT AUT NON
LICEAT OCCIDERE, RETIÑERE HORAS DIURNAS
NOCTURNASQUE CONTINUAS NON PLUS QUAM VIGINTI
TESTANDAE EIUS REI CAUSA SINE FRAUDE SUA IURE LICEAT.

In chapter 5 of the Julian law it is prescribed THAT IT BE RIGHT-

FULLY ALLOWED TO THE HUSBAND WITHOUT RISK TO
HIMSELF TO DETAIN FOR NOT MORE THAN 20 SUCCESSIVE
HOURS OF THE DAY OR NIGHT AN ADULTERER CAUGHT IN HIS
WIFE, WHOM HE EITHER DOES NOT WISH OR IS NOT ALLOWED
TO KILL, FOR THE PURPOSE OF ATTESTING THAT FACT.

It was when the husband witnessed the act that he was compelled to
divorce his wife. 1 3
For a father or husband to be able to plead justifiable homicide, he
had to witness penetration. Does this information also give us a defini-
tion of the offence? If the preamble to the law defined the act which
constituted adultery, it was perhaps along the lines of that posited by
Quintilian: coire14 may have been used, an appropriate word for full
genital intercourse (Quint. Inst. 7.3.10, cf. 7.3.9):

Adulterium (sc. est) cum aliena uxore domi coire: an et <in> lupanari?

It is adultery to have intercourse with another man's wife in a house:

is it also adultery to have intercourse with her in a brothel?

Athenian law on justifiable homicide and perhaps (this is contro-

versial) on adultery forms an important part of the background. Draco
and Solon would be seen as among the precursors of Augustus the law-
giver. The relationship of the killer to the adulteress mattered, so did
catching her in the act. Demosthenes refers to the adulterer found έπί
the woman (in the dative: 23.53; cf. 55). The preposition έπί is also at-
tested in this context by pseudo-Demosthenes (59.65) and Lysias (1.30).

Michael Ierardi has d r a w n m y attention to Numbers 25.8 perfodit. . . ambos simul in locis
genitalibus in the Vulgate.
1 2 = Riccobono (above n. 4) ADA 1 4 , 1 . 1 1 6 , Crawford (above n. 4) 60, 2 . 7 8 2 - 8 3 .

1 3 D 48.5.30 [29] pr., Ulp. iv de adulteriis. Cf. ht 2 . 2 , 2 . 6 ; Coll. 4.12.7, Paul sg. de adult.;

CJ 9.9.2, Severus and Caracalla, AD 199; ht 17.1, Valerian and Gallienus AD 257. Cf. D
48.5.39 [38],8-9, ht 25 [24] pr.; Coll. 4 . 3 . 1 - 3 , 4 . 1 0 . 1 , 4 . 1 2 . 3 - 4 , for the husband catching the
wife. In Athens the complacent husband was punished by atimia.
1 4 A d a m s (above n. 7) 1 7 8 - 7 9 : "the verbal euphemism par excellence for copula-
tion." First attested in Lucr. 4.1055.
248 SUSAN TREGGIARI

Eratosthenes is able only to claim that he and some of his witnesses

saw the man lying in bed beside his wife, while those who came in last
saw him standing up on the bed with no clothes on (Lys. 1.24). Lucian's
taunt against Favorinus 15 is relevant to our topic, since he is appar-
ently referring to Draco's law:

H e w a s o n c e c a u g h t in a d u l t e r y , a s t h e axon (the w o o d e n tablets of

the law, s u s p e n d e d o n a n axle) says, h a v i n g [his] p a r t s (arthra) inside
[ h e r ] p a r t s . ( L u c í a n , Eunuchus 10)16

The έν εργω quoted by Ulpian presumably also occurred in traditional

copies of the law.
In canon law, the commission of adultery by either partner was
grounds for separation. The criterion is in theory more demanding than
those considered so far. According to most canonists, intercourse which
was attempted or started but not completed, that is, penetration with-
out emission of semen, was insufficient, but in practice it was held that
emission would take place, so that the beginning of intercourse would
suffice: practice sufficit copula inchoata, etiam sine seminis effusione.17
In modern Italian law, when adultery by married women was, down
to 1968, a crime (as in the Augustan law), "the husband who wanted to
prove his wife's infidelity had to find her in the exact moment when
she had sexual intercourse, neither a moment earlier nor a moment
later." 18
In English law, where adultery has not been a crime but has needed
to be proved in divorce cases, definitions of sexual intercourse vary
according to context. To define a sexual encounter as adultery (or a
sexual assault as rape) even a slight genital penetration suffices:
A h u s b a n d o r w i f e c o m m i t s a d u l t e r y if h e o r s h e v o l u n t a r i l y h a s s e x u a l
intercourse d u r i n g m a r r i a g e w i t h a p e r s o n of the o p p o s i t e sex other

1 5 See M a u d W. Gleason, Making Men: Sophists and Self-presentation in Ancient Rome

(Princeton 1995) 1 3 2 - 3 8 .
16 Arthra, 'joints or parts of the b o d y ' is the equivalent of Latin membra, on which

see A d a m s (above n. 7) 46. Note also inire (Suet. Aug. 69.2), inruere (e.g. Pl. Cas. 891),
and cf. A d a m s 1 9 0 - 9 1 .
1 7 William J. Doheny, Canonical Procedure in Matrimonial Cases (Milwaukee 1 9 3 8 - 4 4 )

2 . 6 2 0 - 2 2 (quotation at 622) and authorities there quoted. The insistence on a completed

act which could lead to conception is consistent with the doctrine on sexuality in mar-
riage: m a n and w o m a n become one flesh by each sharing his or her b o d y with the other
and by emission of semen in the "right vessel."
1 8 E. Cantarella, "Moicheia: Reconsidering a Problem," in M. Gagarin, ed., Symposion

1990: Vorträge zur griechischen und hellenistischen Rechtsgeschichte (Pacific Grove, Cali-
fornia, 2 4 - 2 6 Sept. 1990) Akten der Gesellschaft für griechische und hellenistische
Rechtsgeschichte 8 (Cologne 1991) 2 8 9 - 9 6 at 291.
 CAUGHT IN THE ACT 249

than his or her spouse. Sexual intercourse for purposes of adultery is

defined in the same way as for rape. Some penetration by the man's
penis of the woman's vagina is required . . . 1 9

For proof of adultery in the context of a civil action for divorce, the
lawyers of other Commonwealth countries and of the U. S. A. adopt
similar criteria. 20
Roman definitions were on the same lines as those of Greek, canon
and common law. All are preoccupied with male penetration of the
female. In their efforts to sort out perceived human problems, lawyers
from various cultures have taken a definable and definite biological
moment as their criterion. President Clinton adheres to the tradition in
which he was trained.

STANFORD UNIVERSITY

19 T. Honoré, Sex Law (London 1978) 27. "The offence consists in the violation of

the woman, not the satisfaction of the man" (60). Again, the standards for marital con-
summation are more stringent: a more sustained penetration, but not necessarily orgasm
(17). Similarly, in ancient Jewish law, when it was theoretically possible to initiate a
marriage by sexual intercourse, rabbis had to establish at what point the woman be-
came legally a wife. When was the transaction perfected: when intercourse started or
on ejaculation? The moment of penetration was seen as the beginning of the intercourse:
"Anyone who takes a husband's part, his mind is set on completion of the intercourse."
See David Daube, "Historical Aspects of Informal Marriage," RIDA 25 (1978) 95-107 at
102-103.
2 0 In Australia and New Zealand, "While it is not necessary to show a complete act

of intercourse, some penetration of the woman by the man must be found to have taken
place" (Percy Ernest Joske, Joske's Law of Marriage and Divorce, 4 th ed., 2 vols. [Sydney
1961-63] 1.252). In the USA: "Emission is not necessary to make the act of adultery
complete; penetration is sufficient" (Frank H. Keezer, Keezer On the Law of Marriage and
Divorce, 3rd ed. by John W. Morland [Indianapolis 1946] para. 295, citing Common-
wealth v. Hussey, 157 Mass. 415,32 N.E. 362). For details and cases see William Rayden,
Rayden's Law and Practice in Divorce and Family Matters in All Courts, 13th ed., Joseph
Jackson, editor-in-chief, 2 vols. (London 1979) 1.196-99.
 THE DAIMON OF EUDAIMONIA

B Y JON D . M I K A L S O N

Τίς ευδαίμων; ό το μεν σώμα υγιής, την δε ψυχήν εύπορος,

την δε φύσιν εύπαίδευτος. (Thaies, Α Ι . 3 7 D - K )

On the occasion of his retirement, I would like to bid, as Admetus did

Heracles (E. Ale. 1137), a hearty εύδαιμονοίης to Ted Courtney, my val-
ued colleague at the University of Virginia. 1 By that I wish him all the
goods that attend ευδαιμονία: the lasting enjoyment of a good mar-
riage, successful children, good friends, health, wealth, good fortune,
fame, and a city of good repute to live in. 2 I wish him 'happiness' too,
even 'true happiness,' but I resist this banal and virtually universal
translation of the rich term ευδαιμονία.
A person who is ευδαίμων has a 'good daimon' and hence the enjoy-
ment of the good things in life that such a 'good daimon' was thought
to provide. The possession of a good daimon and the goods enjoyed as
a result are, of course, intimately related, but they are also separate
matters, and there may be some benefit to thinking of them separately.
Hitherto interest in eudaimonia has been almost exclusively centered
on the resulting goods. LSJ define eudaimon and its cognates almost
solely on the basis of the 'goods enjoyed/ viz. 'happiness' or 'true hap-
piness' as they have it. De Heer and McDonald—to whom I owe
much—in their full investigations of fifth-century and earlier uses of
eudaimon terms both recognize the etymological meaning ('possessing
a good daimon'), but devote most of their efforts to specifying the pre-
cise 'good' being enjoyed in each of the many passages they survey. 3
For them, as for LSJ, it is as though that 'good' were itself the defini-
tion of eudaimonia.'1 But, because what is 'good' or, better, 'what is good

1 Further instances of εύδαιμονοίης, but less intertextually suited to this occasion,

are E. Hipp. 105, El. 231, Ph. 1086, and Hyps. frag. 64.69-70 Bond. On the phrase see P. T.
Stevens, Colloquial Expressions in Euripides, Hermes Einzelschriften 38 (Wiesbaden 1976)
13-14 and G. W. Bond, Euripides: Hypsipyle (Oxford 1963) 127.1 should like to thank my
colleague David Kovacs for his helpful comments on this paper.
2 These 'goods' from eudaimonia may be found throughout Greek literature and
are conveniently collected in Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. For the last and least com-
mon, "a city of good repute to live in," see Plutarch, Dem. 1.1.
3 C. de Heer, ΜΑΚΑΡ-ΕΥΔΑΙΜΟΝ-ΟΛΒΙΟΣ-ΕΥΤΥΧΗΣ: A Study of the Semantic Field
Denoting Happiness in Ancient Greek to the End of the 5th Century BC (Amsterdam 1969)
and M. McDonald, Terms for Happiness in Euripides, Hypomnemata 54 (Göttingen 1978).
4 Such an approach to defining eudaimonia is, of course, reasonable, supported
 THE DAIMON OF EUDA1M0NIA 251

in human life' varies significantly from period to period, from one au-
thor to another, and even within the corpus of writings of one author,
any definition of eudaimon terms based on the resulting 'goods' becomes
unmanageably complex and cumbersome, so much so, in fact, that
Wilamowitz despaired of finding any suitable translation for them. 5
I would like to direct some attention back to the daitnon of the
eudaimon terms, from, as it were, the attendant circumstances of
eudaimonia to its literal definition. The Greeks so commonly, in prose
and especially in poetry, wrote of daimon and daimones in their discus-
sions of the supernatural that what they meant is an issue of major
significance for Greek religious history, but one largely unstudied since
Wilamowitz's valuable but all too brief survey. 6 A proper survey of
daimon and its cognate terms in all Greek religious language would
require a book-length study, but here I will focus on one aspect of it,
the δαίμων of ευδαιμονία.
We begin with some examples in which the daimon of eudaimonia is
unmistakeably a specific, identified Olympian god. Most obvious is
Dionysos of Euripides' Bacchae. In the opening lines Dionysos an-
nounces who he is, ηκω Διός παις (1) and why he has come, ϊν' εϊην
έμφανής δαίμων βροτοίς (22). Dionysos is the daimon of this play (cf.
4 1 7 ) / and other characters are eudaimon or not based on their relation-
ship to him. Pentheus, for obvious reasons, is δυσδαίμων (1126, 1292),
the poetic antonymn of ευδαίμων,8 and the chorus of Bacchae, for
equally obvious reasons, identifies with the near divinity (μάκαρ)9 of
the ευδαίμων person who knows and practices the Bacchic rites, keeps
a pure life, and "serves Dionysos" (Διόνυσον θεραπεύει, 72-82). Cadmos
recognizes in Agave carrying the head of Pentheus an οψιν οΰκ

explicitly by texts such as Plato, Ale. 1116b: Socrates, Oi δ' εύ πράττοντες οΰκ εύδαίμονες;
Alcibiades, Πώς γαρ οΰ; Socrates, Ούκοΰν εύδαίμονες δι' αγαθών κτήσιν; Cf. Smp. 205a.
5 U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Euripides Herakles2 (Darmstadt 1959) 3.107-
109. See, for example, the eleven components of eudaimonia that de Heer isolates, the
whole complex of which, he insists, must at all times be thought to be present in the
users' minds (pp. 57 and 64).
6 U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Der Glaube der Hellenen3 (Darmstadt 1959)
1.356-64. For Wilamowitz δαίμων is a word "das man wegen der Fülle von Bedeutungen,
die es bis heute angenommen hat, ein dämonisches Wort nennen kann" (352).
7 McDonald 252: "The Bacchae is a δαίμων play where a δαίμων is important and

ευδαίμων terms predominate. Ευδαίμων terms occur more frequently in this play than
in any other of Euripides' extant plays." For her discussion of the Bacchae in these terms,
see pp. 252-71, esp. 252-65.
8 δυσδαίμων is the usual antonym of ευδαίμων in poetry, κακοδαίμων and its cog-

nates in prose and comedy, especially Aristophanes. Notable exceptions are E. Hipp.
1362, on which see Stevens (above n. 1) 14-15 and W. S. Barrett, Euripides: Hippolytus
(Oxford 1964), and Andocides 2.7 and 9.
9 On this force of μάκαρ, see de Heer and McDonald passim.
252 JON D. MIKALSON

εύδαίμονα (1232), but the crazed Agave still thinks herself εύδαιμόνα
(1257-58). Dionysos himself completes the motif and offers a virtual
definition of literal eudaimonia when he tells Cadmos and Agave (1341-43),
εί δέ σωφρονείν
εγνωθ', οτ' ούκ ήθέλετε, τον Διός γόνον
ηϋδαιμονεΐτ' αν σύμμαχον κεκτημένοι.

Pentheus, Cadmos, and Agave in the course of the Bacchae also lose
all the 'goods' commonly associated with eudaimonia and were no doubt
'unhappy' as well. I don't mean to deny these elements to the eudaimon
/ dusdaimon terms here or anywhere, but only to urge that in many in-
stances the daimon of eudaimonia is strongly present and should always
be looked for. It is certainly not everywhere, however, even in this play.
Arabia is ευδαίμων, perhaps because it has embraced Dionysos' cult
(16; McDonald 255), but there is no apparent Dionysiac reason for the
river Lydias' eudaimonia-granting powers (572). The magnificent epode
of 902-11 (ευδαίμων μεν ος . . .) ponders and defines the nature of the
life of the εύδαίμονες, but there is nothing patently Dionysiac. If it ex-
isted as a fragment, there would be no reason to think of the god. We
do know the context, however, and it is sung by Bacchae, and many
have reasonably seen it as a commentary on one aspect of the
Dionysiac. 10 In short, there are many instances in Greek literature of
eudaimon terms that offer no indication or suggestion of the daimon,
but the daimon is always potentially there, and it is the occasional actu-
alization of that potential that we are investigating.
Dionysos of the Bacchae is certainly the prize example of the speci-
fied daimon of eudaimonia, but we may also see the phenomenon, though in
less developed form, in other tragedies. In Euripides' Suppliants Aethra, at
Eleusis, opens the play with a prayer to Eleusinian Demeter for eudaimonia
for herself, her son Theseus, and for Athens (1-4). In this cult setting
we may assume that Aethra is asking Demeter to be, in essence, their
αγαθός δαίμων (McDonald 100). In Hippolytus 105 the servant, after
Hippolytus' disparagement of Aphrodite, vainly wishes him eudaimonia.
The context sets Aphrodite as the daimon here, and it is because of her that
Hippolytus is literally dusdaimon and kakodaimon (1362,1373-75,1388). 1 1
In Alcestis 1136-38 Zeus would appear to be Heracles' wished for αγαθός
δαίμων when Admetus bids him eudaimonia (McDonald 41):

1 0 E.g. McDonald 2 5 8 - 6 2 ; R. P. Winnington-Ingram, Euripides and Dionysus (Ox-

ford 1948) 1 1 4 - 1 5 ; and C. Segal, "Chorus and C o m m u n i t y in Euripides' Bacchae," 7 3 - 7 4
in L. E d m u n d s and R. W. Wallace, eds., Poets, Public, and Performance in Ancient Greece
(Baltimore 1997).
11 McDonald 68-69. Aphrodite may well also be the δαίμονα στυγνόν of Hipp. 772.
 THE DAIMON OF EUDAIMONIA 253

ώ του μεγίστου Ζηνός ευγενές τέκνον,

εύδαιμονοίης καί σ' ό φιτύσας πατήρ
σφζοι.

Zeus is here imagined the good father, but if w e take εύδαιμονεΐ liter-
ally in the chorus' laments of Helen 220-21, he is subtly criticized: δίδυμα
τε Διός ούκ εύδαιμονεΐ τέκεα φίλα. Only Hera can be the divine cause of
H e r a c l e s b e i n g t e r m e d δυσδαίμων in the Heracles (1195; cf. 1189;
McDonald 139). The dream images in Prometheus 645-56 called Ιο μέγ'
εΰδαιμον κόρη because of Zeus' passion for her, whatever Io might think
of the situation (de Heer 60). And in Aeschylus' Agamemnon 1303 w e
are probably justified in seeing a reference to Cassandra's fractured
r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h A p o l l o in h e r l a m e n t , ουδείς ακούει τ α ύ τ α των
εύδαιμόνων (cf. 1256-76). We might introduce other less obvious cases,
as, for example, w h e n in Iphigeneia among the Taurians Orestes calls
Iphigeneia's service to the human-sacrifice d e m a n d i n g Artemis ούκ
εύδαίμονα (619; McDonald 160) or, at the end of this play, because of
their rescue by Athena, the brother and sister are εύδαίμονες (1490-
96), 12 b u t the examples offered are sufficient to show cases of eudaimon
/ dusdaimon terms referring to specific gods in tragedy.
Two clear examples of our p h e n o m e n o n h a v e escaped detection in
well-trodden passages of Herodotus. When Cyrus h a d rescued Croesus
from the pyre, he asked him, "What m a n p e r s u a d e d you to campaign
against m y land?" Croesus replied, ώ βασιλεύ, έγώ ταΰτα έπρηξα τη ση
μεν εύδαιμονίη, τη έμεωυτοΰ δε κακοδαιμονίη (1.87.3). The translations
offered have been uncommonly unsatisfactory: Rawlinson, "What I did,
O King, w a s to thy advantage and to m y o w n loss;" Sélincourt, " ' M y
Lord,' Croesus replied, 'the luck w a s yours w h e n I did it, a n d the loss
was mine';" Greene, "My Lord, I myself did—to your good f o r t u n e
and to m y ill fortune." What Croesus actually meant he revealed in his
next sentence: αίτιος δε τούτων έγένετο ò 'Ελλήνων θεός έπάρας έμέ
στρατεύεσθαι. N o man convinced him to m a k e the expedition. It w a s
Croesus' κακοδαιμονίη, and it w a s literal κακοδαιμονίη a n d his κακός
δαίμων w a s Apollo of the Greeks. Similarly, w h e n Croesus asked Solon
w h o m he judged to be όλβιώτατος, Solon told him of the Athenian Tellos.
To w h o m w e n t second prize? To Cleobis and Biton, of course. But sec-
o n d p r i z e for w h a t ? N o t for δλβος, as w e w o u l d expect, b u t , as
H e r o d o t u s summarizes Solon's story (1.32.1), for εύδαιμονίη. W h y the
change? What is the difference between the two stories? It is the reli-
gious setting of the Cleobis a n d Biton story, i n c l u d i n g the Argive
Heraion, the festival, filial piety, and such matters, b u t in particular

12
McDonald 159 and 162; de Heer 90-91.
254 JON D. MIKALSON

the role of "the g o d " w h o gave Cleobis and Biton their great b u t poi-
gnant reward. "The god," probably Argive Hera, is the αγαθός δαίμων
of the twins' eudaimonia.13
Eudaimonia m a y also refer to the favor of the gods in general, w i t h
an allusion to the gods essentially defining a eudaimon term, as in the
closing lines of Hesiod's Works and Days (826-28), the first occurrence
of ευδαίμων in Greek literature:
τάων ευδαίμων τε καί δλβιος, ος τάδε πάντα
είδώς έργάζηται αναίτιος άθανάτοισιν,
όρνιθας κρίνων καί ύπερβασίας άλεείνων. 1 4

or in Theognis 653, ευδαίμων εϊην καν θεοις φίλος άθανάτοισιν. 1 5 In these

terms the wise ghost Dareios defines the eudaimonia of his ancestor
Cyrus in Aeschylus' Persae (768-72):
Κΰρος, ευδαίμων άνήρ,
αρξας εθηκε πάσιν είρήνην φίλοις,
φρένες γαρ αύτοΰ θυμόν φακοστρόφουν·
Λυδών δε λαόν καί Φρυγών έκτήσατο
Ίωνίαν τε πάσαν ήλασεν βία·
θεός γαρ ούκ ήχθηρεν, ώς εΰφρων εφυ. 16

Conversely, a eudaimon term m a y r o u n d off a discussion of the gods'

role in life, as in Bacchylides 5.50-55 (de Heer 50-51):
όλβιος ω τινι θεός
μοίράν τε καλών επορεν συν τ' έπιζήλψ τύχα
άφνεόν βιοτάν διάγειν · ού γάρ τις έπιχθονίων
πάντα γ' ευδαίμων εφυ.

or in Euripides' Heraclidae 608-14:

οϋτινά φημι θεών άτερ ολβιον, ού βαρύποτμον,
άνδρα γενέσθαι,
ούδέ τον αύτον άεί 'μβεβάναι δόμον
ευτυχία - παρά δ' άλλαν αλλα
μοίρα διώκει.

13
The prayer that Cleobis and Biton receive "what is best" w a s m a d e to Argive
Hera in her sanctuary, and w e w o u l d expect that she granted and accomplished this
request. But in 1.31.3 Herodotus says ό θεός is responsible. This may very well be a
copyist's error for ή θεός. If not, one might think of Apollo, because the statues of Cleobis
and Biton were erected as dedications at Delphi, and Apollo is often, t h o u g h always
more obviously, ό θεός in the Histories, or perhaps of ό θεός as a generalizing term for
"the gods" in Solon's generalizing interpretation of the incident.
14
de Heer 23-25; M. L.West, Hesiod: Works and Days (Oxford 1978) ad loc.
15
McDonald 18; de Heer 39-40.
16
McDonald 24; de Heer 60.
 THE DAIMON OF EUDAIMONIA 255

τον μεν άφ' υψηλών βραχύν ώκισε,

τον δ' ΐ ά λ ή τ α ν ί εύδαίμονα τεύχει. 1 7

Cities and countries, like h u m a n s , m a y also enjoy eudaimonia.18

Cyrene in P i n d a r ' s Pythian 4.276 is surely ευδαίμων because of Apollo's
patronage. 1 9 In Athenian tragedy Athens is, naturally, the city most of-
ten designated ευδαίμων, usually by foreigners, and offers the richest
material for study. The Trojan w o m e n (E. Tr. 208-209) h o p e their desti-
nation will be Athens, τάν κλεινόν εϊθ' ελθοιμεν / Θησέως εύδαίμονα
χώραν, a land which is, as they restate their preference (218-19), ίεράν
and ζαθέαν (McDonald 124-25). In Euripides' Electra 1288-91 Castor,
deus ex machina, o r d e r s O r e s t e s προς οχθον Κεκροπίας ε ύ δ α ί μ ο ν α ,
a ό σ ί α ν πόλιν as h e later p u t s it (1319-20; M c D o n a l d 174-75). In
Euripides' Suppliants 577 Theseus claims that his city πόλλ' εύδαιμονεΐ
because it "labors m u c h , " and by those labors he means preserving the
νόμος παλαιός δαιμόνων (563), in this case securing the burial of the
Argive w a r dead at Thebes (McDonald 102-103). In s u m , Athens is
eudaimon by preserving the ancient laws of the daimones; or, p u t an-
other way, Athens is 'god-favored' because it defends the ancient laws
of the gods.
This link between the eudaimonia of Athens, its piety, a n d the re-
sulting divine favor is even more apparent in Sophocles' Oedipus at
Colonus. O e d i p u s knows that 'Αθήνας φασί θεοσεβέστας είναι (260-61).
He w a r n s the Athenians to practice their famed piety (277-81):
καί μη θεούς τιμώντες είτα τους θεούς
ποιείσθ' άμαυρούς μηδαμώς· ήγείσθε δε
βλέπειν μεν αυτούς προς τον ευσεβή βροτών,
βλέπειν δέ προς τούς δυσσεβείς, φυγήν δέ του
μήπω γενέσθαι φωτός άνοσίου ποτέ.

He concludes this warning with a reference to Athens' eudaimonia (282-83):

ξύν οίς σύ μη κάλυπτε τας εΰδαίμονας
εργοις 'Αθήνας άνοσίοις υπηρετών,

and, m u c h later, w h e n these Athenians have piously given h i m the help

he requested, he wishes Theseus and them eudaimonia (1552-54):

17
McDonald 62; de Heer 92. For similar plays on eudaimon terms and the gods,
see E. Andr. 750-51, El. 198-199, Ba. 72-73, Hyps. frag. 64.70-71 Bond.
18
Cf. Antiphon 5.79. For examples of cities and countries termed ευδαίμων, but
with no apparent reference to a divinity involved, see S. Aj. 596-97 and E. Heraclid. 759-
62, Andr. 871-73, and Hec. 443. On the similarity of the eudaimonia of a city and an indi-
vidual, see Arist. Pol. 7.1324a5-14.
19
McDonald 19; de Heer 44.
256 JON D. MIKALSON

άλλά, φίλτατε ξένων,

αύτόςτεχώραθ' ήδεπρόσπολοί τε σοί
εύδοίμονες γένοισθε . . .

There is throughout here an unmistakable bond between piety, respect

for the gods, divine favor, and the eudaimonia of the city Athens, all not
surprising in this homage to Athens by its aged tragedian. 2 0
Not all Greeks, of course, were so admiring of Athens, and the
Andrians played on literal eudaimonia in their riposte to Themistocles'
demand in 479 BC for money as reparations for medizing (Hdt. 8.111.2):
πρώτοι γαρ "Ανδριοι νησιωτέων αιτηθέντες προς Θεμιστοκλέος χρήματα
ούκ εδοσαν, ά λ λ α προϊσχομένου Θεμιστοκλέους λόγον τόνδε, ώς ήκοιεν
'Αθηναίοι περί έωυτούς εχοντες δύο θεούς μεγάλους, Πειθώ τε καί
Άναγκαίην, οΰτω τέ σφι κάρτα δοτέα είναι χρήματα, ύπεκρίναντο προς
ταύτα λέγοντες ώς κατά λόγον ήσαν άρα αί 'Αθήναι μεγάλαι τε καί
εύδαίμονες, ( αϊ ) καί θεών χρηστών ήκοιεν εϋ.

If, as has been argued, there is a 'god' behind eudaimonia, then it

would follow that only a god can grant it. Humans may call one an-
other ευδαίμων and wish it for one another, but to acquire it they pray
to a god. We have already seen Aethra, in E. Suppl. 1-4, praying for it
to Demeter. Pindar, in Nemean 7.98-101, directs a prayer-like wish to
the divine Heracles to make Sogenes of Aegina εύδαίμονα, and Alcestis
(E. Ale. 163-69) prays to Hestia that her children be εύδαίμονας. And
the chorus later imagines a visitor to Alcestis' tomb asking her, now a
μάκαιρα δαίμων, that she "give what is good" (εΰ δε δοίης, 1003-04).
For the traveler she is to be his αγαθός δαίμων. And only gods, ex
machina, can promise eudaimonia, as Apollo to Pylades (E. Or. 1658-59),
Athena for Ion and Creusa (Ion 1604-05), and Thetis for the future kings
of Molossia (Andr. 1247-49).
Hesiod's men of the Golden Age, after a godlike life free from toil,
misery, old age, and after a peaceful death in sleep, became δαίμονες
who were πλουτοδόται (Op. 121-26; text of M. L. West):
αύτάρ έπεί δή τούτο γένος κατά γαία κάλυψε,
τοί μεν δαίμονές είσι Διός μεγάλου δια βούλας

20
One may see, perhaps too fancifully, examples of literal eudaimonia also in 1) E.
Ph. 531-34, where the κάκιστη δαιμόνων, Φιλοτιμία, wreaks havoc on cities previously
εύδαίμονας (McDonald 221); 2) E. Hipp. 1092-97, where it may be the φιλτάτη . . . δαιμόνων
Λητούς κόρη w h o causes Hippolytus to say of. the plain of Troizen, ώς έγκαθηβάν πόλλ'
εχεις εύδαίμονα; 3) E. IT 1082-88 where Iphigenie, in inviting Artemis to Athens, a πόλιν
εύδαίμονα, m a y be suggesting the g o d d e s s will have more suitable 'divine company'
there; 4) IT 1475-85, where Thoas, to Athena deus ex machina, agrees to send the w o m e n
of the chorus Έ λ λ ά δ ' εις εύδαίμονα, a country where both the g o d d e s s he addresses
and a rehabilitated Artemis will be residing (cf. McDonald 158-59).
 THE DAIMON OF EUDAIMONIA 257

έσθλοί, έπιχθόνιοι, φύλακες θνητών ανθρώπων,

[οϊ ρα φυλάσσουσίν τε δίκας καί σχέτλια εργα
ήέρα έσσάμενοι πάντη φοιτώντες έπ' αίαν,]
πλουτοδόται· και τοΰτο γέρας βασιλήιον εσχον.

These enduring spirits of the Golden Age would seem strong and col-
orful candidates for the daimones of eudaimonia, even though Hesiod
does not expressly link them with it. But Hesiod's conception of
δαίμονες έπιχθόνιοι as the active deceased of the Golden Age remains
quite isolated in the tradition, largely a Hesiodic idiosyncracy. 21
Heraclitus' famous dictum (B 119 D-K), ήθος άνθρώπω δαίμων, leads
in a different direction, that man's own character is his daimon, sug-
gesting that, to rephrase this in our terms, man's own behavior
determines his eudaimonia or kakodaimonia. Democritus made explicit
this internalization of eudaimonia. In Β 171 D - K he locates the residence
of the daimon of eudaimonia in each man's soul (ψυχή), and in Β 40 D - K
claims that men acquire eudaimonia by moral and intellectual effort:
οΰτε σώμασι οΰτε χρήμασι εύδαιμονοΰσι άνθρωποι, άλλ' όρθοσύνη καί
πολυφροσύντι.22Τ1ιΪ5 is the beginning of the philosophical examination
of eudaimonia—in these contexts best translated not as 'happiness' but
as 'the good life' 23 —acquired through personal moral and intellectual
pursuit of virtue. There are allusions to it, of course, in Plato, but it
reaches its culmination in Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. But what, in
the philosophical reshaping of eudaimonia, has become of our daimon?
Plato, for whom true eudaimonia is associated with virtue (αρετή) and
justice (δικαιοσύνη), 24 in his numerous treatments of the eudaimonia of
cities and individuals seemingly never alludes to the 'divine' aspect of
it. 25 For his Phaedo even Socrates, who went to Hades μήδ' άνευ θείας

2 1 Plato takes up parts of Hesiod's daimones in that in the Republic he explicitly

likens good guardians who have perished in battle to Hesiod's Golden Age daimones
and would have them (5.468e3-469a6), his philosopher kings (7.540c), and other excep-
tionally good individuals (5.469a8-b3) all honored as daimones after their deaths (cf.
Cra. 397d9-398c6). Plato in these passages gives no indication that these daimones were
to be active powers, but in Lg. 4.713a6-714bl he has daimones ruling in the age of Kronos.
22 Cf. Β 170 and 191 D - K . See de Heer 79.
23 See, for example, Plato, R. 1.354a ö γε εύ ζών μακάριος τε καί ευδαίμων and
Aristotle, EN 1.1095al9-20 το δ' εύ ζην καί το ευ πράττειν ταύτόν ύπολαμβάνουσι τω
εύδαιμονεΐν. The unsuitability of 'happiness' as a translation for eudaimonia is generally
recognized (e.g. R. Crisp, Aristotle: Nicomachean Ethics [Cambridge 2000] 206; for a good
discussion see M. Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness [Cambridge 1986] 6), but usually
only parenthetically and with insufficient concern to motivate finding an alternative or,
best, to use a transliteration.
2 4 E.g. R. 3.392b, 9.580b; Tht. 175c; Grg. 470d-471a; Ale. 1135b.

2 5 Tellingly, Plato's antonymn to ευδαιμονία is άθλιότης. E.g. R. 3.392b and 9.576d,

577b, 580b-c; Grg. 470d, 471c, 496b; Tht. 175c. See, for Plato's rare use of κακοδαίμων,
Men. 78a, Smp. 173d, and R. 4.440a, and for his only use of δυσδαίμων, Lg. 10.905e.
258 J O N D. MIKALSON

μοίρας, was ευδαίμων not for this but because of his "character" and
"words" (του τρόπου καί των λόγων, Phd. 58e; cf. Cr. 43b).
For Aristotle eudaimonia is the τέλος των ανθρωπίνων (EN 10.1176a31-
32), a 'good' sought only for its own sake (1.1097a34-b6), and it passes
his test for 'self-sufficiency,' i.e. by itself it makes life desirable and in
need of nothing more (1.1097bl4-21 and 10.1176b5-6,1178b33-1179al6).
It is "the best, finest, and most pleasurable thing" (άριστον άρα καν
κάλλνστον και ήδιστον ή ευδαιμονία, 1.1099a24-25). But Aristotle's
eudaimonia, even of the contemplative, philosophical life, is not, as
Plato's seems to be, solely determined by the individual's efforts. It
still requires at least some of the 'external goods,' and these are pass-
ably good looks, decent family background, and children and friends
who are not πάγκακοι (1.1099a31-b8). 26 For Aristotle this raises the pos-
sibility that eudaimonia is κατά τινα θείαν μοίραν, and even if that is not
simply the case, there remains something θείον about eudaimonia
(1.1099bll-18): 27
εί μεν ούν καί άλλο τί έσχι θεών δώρημα άνθρώποις, εΰλογον και την
ε ύ δ α ι μ ο ν ί α ν θ ε ό σ δ ο τ ο ν ε ί ν α ι , καί μ ά λ ι σ τ α των α ν θ ρ ω π ί ν ω ν οσω
βέλτιστον. ά λ λ α τοΰτο μεν ϊσως άλλης σκέψεως οίκειότερον, φαίνεται
δε καν εί μη θεόπεμπός έστι ά λ λ α δι' άρετήν καί τινα μάθησιν ή άσκησιν
παραγίγνεται, τών θειοτάτων είναι, το γαρ της άρετής άθλον καί τέλος
άριστον είναι φαίνεται καί θείον τι καί μακάριον.

And so, even in the most elaborate, abstract philosophical discussion

of eudaimonia, the daimon has its place, as it did in poetic literature of
the preceding centuries. Often, too, of course, eudaimonia appears with-
out a hint of 'divine favor,' but even my eclectic survey suggests that
the daimon of eudaimonia lurks, as yet undiscovered, in many texts, and
that, for many Greeks, 'divine favor' was a major contributor to 'the
good life.'

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

26
Cf. 1.1101a6-21, 7.1153bl7-25, and 10.1178a23-b7. The relative importance for
Aristotle of such 'external goods' to the pursuit of eudaimonia and how they relate to
'practised virtue' in this regard is, of course, a major topic of philosophic study. See,
e.g., the recent analysis by S. A. White, Sovereign Virtue (Stanford 1992) esp. 68-136.
27
For the εύδαιμονέστατος person being θεοφιλέστατος, and why, see EN 10.1079a22-32.
 A DRINK FROM THE DAUGHTERS OF MNEMOSYNE:
POETRY, ESCHATOLOGY AND MEMORY
AT THE END OF PINDAR'S ISTHMIAN 6

B Y CHRISTOPHER A . F A R A O N E

For Ted Courtney

Ναξίαν πέτραις έν άλλαις άκόναν

At the end of his sixth Isthmian ode Pindar offers a special drink of
sacred water: "I shall offer them/him (σφε) a drink of Dirke's sacred
water, which the deep-bosomed daughters of golden-robed Mnemosyne
made to surge by the well-walled gates of Kadmos" (74-75). Scholars
and translators have long struggled with the identity of the person(s)
indicated by the enclitic pronoun σφε. Since this pronoun is usually
plural, the ancient scholiasts understandably took it to refer to both
Lampón (the father of the laudandus) and his sons (including the
laudandus), and most nineteenth and twentieth scholars have followed
suit.1 This pronoun can, however, sometimes refer to a single person,
and a good number of scholars and translators have opted to render it
as "him," since the most natural antecedent would be Lampón, who
alone is described in great detail in the previous lines.2 Modern léxica,
too, are split between the singular and the plural, 3 and there has been a
curious lack of focused discussion on the problem, presumably because
most readers feel that the difference between the singular and plural
has little effect on our reading of the poem and can therefore be over-
looked.4 In this essay, however, I argue that a singular makes the best

1 For example, J. B. Bury, The Isthmian Odes of Pindar (London 1892), L. R. Farnell,

The Works of Pindar (London 1930), C. M. Bowra, The Odes of Pindar (Harmondsworth
1969), R. Lattimore, The Odes of Pindar, 2nd ed. (Chicago 1976), G. Kirkwood, Selections
from Pindar (Chico 1982) 297, D. S. Carne-Ross, Pindar (New Haven 1985) 48, and W. H.
Race, Pindar (Cambridge, Ma. 1997).
2 F o r e x a m p l e , E. M y e r s , The Extant Odes of Pindar ( L o n d o n 1 8 9 2 ) , U . v o n
Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, "Erklärungen Pindarischer Gedichte," Sitzungsberichte der
preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaft (June 1909) 820, F. J. Nisetich, Pindar's Victory Songs
(Baltimore 1980), T. Cole, Pindar's Feast or the Muse of Power (Rome 1992) 64, and G. S.
Conway and R. Stoneman, Pindar: The Odes and Selected Fragments (London 1997).
3 LS] s.v. σφείς (Β-Π) list this passage as an example of the singular use of the enclitic σφε,

an opinion that has persisted in all of the editions and in the most recent Revised Supple-
ment (1997), whereas J. Rumpel, Lexicon Pindaricum (1883; reprint Hildesheim 1961) and
W. J. Slater, Lexicon to Pindar (Berlin 1969) s.v. insist that the plural is meant.
4 All of the scholars cited in notes 1 and 2 offer their translations of the pronoun

without comment and without any indication of the alternate interpretation.

260 CHRISTOPHERA. FARAONE

sense of these final verses, which as m a n y have seen take the form of a
sphragis or 'seal' that identifies Pindar as a Theban poet. N o one to m y
knowledge has noticed, however, that these lines also echo the p r o m -
ise f o u n d on the so-called 'Orphic Gold Leaves' and thereby boast
Pindar to be a specially gifted poet, whose verses, like certain kinds of
initiatory rites and passwords, guarantee that the father of the victor
will remember the glorious deeds of his son even after he has died a n d
that he will, as a result, experience the special bliss in the u n d e r w o r l d
that is traditionally reserved for the initiates of special mystery cults, a
theme that is raised earlier in the p o e m with reference to the father
alone.

1. LIBATIONS AND TOASTS

This short ode has a very simple triadic structure. 5 The long mythical
portion about the great deeds of the Aiacidae (lines 19-56) is flanked
by a two-strophe introduction and a two-strophe conclusion, in both
of which Lampón, the father of the victor, is exceptionally prominent.
Indeed, Pindar, after a self-consciously laconic mention of L a m p o n ' s
sons and a quick enumeration of their victories (58-66) e n d s the p o e m
w i t h lavish praise for the father alone (lines 66-75) 6 :

Λάμπων δέ μελέταν
εργοις όπάζων 'Ησιό-
δου μάλα τιμά τοΰτ' επος,
υίοΐσί τε φράζων παραινεί,
ξυνόν αστει κόσμον έφ προσάγων ·
καί ξένων εύεργεσίαις άγαπαχαι,
μέτρα μεν γνώμα διώκων, μέτρα δέ καί κατέχων
γλώσσα δ' ούκ εξω φρενών· φαί-
ης κέ νιν ανδρ' έν άεθληταισιν εμμεν
Ναξίαν πέτραις έν άλλαις
χαλκοδάμαντ'άκόναν.
πίσω σφε Δίρκας άγνόν ΰ-
δωρ, τό βαθύζωνοι κόραι
χρυσοπέπλου Μναμοσΰνας άνέτει-
λαν παρ' εύτειχέσιν Κάδμου πύλαις.

In d e v o t i n g industry
to his d e e d s , Lampón h o l d s in particular
honor that saying of Hesiod, 7

5
C. Greengard, The Structure of Pindar's Epitiician Odes ( A m s t e r d a m 1980) 83.
6
Text a n d translation of Race (above n. 1) w i t h o n e exception: I render σφε (dis-
c u s s e d in the first paragraph of this e s s a y ) as "him."
7
Op. 412 μελέτη δέ τοι έργον όφέλλει.
 A DRINK FROM THE DAUGHTERS OF MNEMOSYNE 261

which he quotes and recommends to his sons,

as he brings to his own city an adornment all share
and is beloved for his acts of kindness to foreigners,
pursuing due measure in judgment and holding fast to it;
his tongue does not stray from his thoughts; you would
say that among athletes the man is a bronze-taming
whetstone from Naxos compared to other stones.
I shall offer him a drink of Dirke's sacred water,
which the deep-bosomed daughters
of golden-robed Mnemosyne made to surge
by the well-walled gates of Kadmos.

S c h o l a r s f r o m a n c i e n t times h a v e n o t e d h o w the final s e n t e n c e of the

Q

p o e m s e r v e s as a kind of sphragis, w h i c h in this i n s t a n c e identifies the

p o e t ' s h o m e l a n d b y e q u a t i n g the o d e at h a n d t o a d r a u g h t of w a t e r
f r o m a w e l l - k n o w n T h e b a n s p r i n g . 9 S u c h sphragides, h o w e v e r , s o m e -
times also b o a s t the p o e t ' s special skill in a p a r t i c u l a r p o e t i c g e n r e , 1 0
a n d i n d e e d I shall a r g u e b e l o w that P i n d a r closes this p o e m w i t h a
p r o g r a m m a t i c s t a t e m e n t of sorts w h i c h b o a s t s his e x p e r t i s e in e n c o m i -
astic p o e t r y b y a l l u d i n g to the initiate's t r a d i t i o n a l r e q u e s t — f o u n d in
the ' O r p h i c G o l d L e a v e s ' — t o drink the special w a t e r s of M n e m o s y n e
f r o m a p o o l or s p r i n g in the u n d e r w o r l d .
This p r o g r a m m a t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the drink of " h o l y w a t e r " at
the e n d of the p o e m is s t r e n g t h e n e d b y the fact that it c u l m i n a t e s a
s e q u e n c e of i m a g e s of libations, toasts, a n d life-giving w a t e r s , m o s t of
w h i c h a r e also o b v i o u s references to e p i n i c i a n v e r s e . 1 1 T h e p o e m b e -
gins w i t h a n e l a b o r a t e a n d v e r y beautiful i m a g e of P i n d a r ' s v i c t o r y

8 The sphragis is similar in intent to, e.g., the passing reference at the end of

Bacchylides 3 to "a Cean nightingale," but seems to have been a bit more formal; see,
e.g., the Homeric Hymn to Apollo 171-73; Timotheus, Persians 229-35; Nicander, Theriaca
957-58; and AP 7.718 (Nossis). For discussion see U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff,
Sappho und Simonides (Berlin 1913) 296-99; M. Gabathuler, Hellenistische Epigramme auf
Dichter (diss. Basel 1937) 47-49 and 55-56; E. Fraenkel, "Carattere della poesia augustea,"
Maia 1 (1948) 249-50; and I. Rutherford, "Odes and Ends: Closure in Greek Lyric," in D.
H. Roberts et al., eds., Classical Closure: Reading the End in Greek and Latin Literature
(Princeton 1997) 46-48.
9 E.g. the scholiast ad loc., G. Norwood, Pindar (Berkeley 1945) 98, E. Thummer,

Pindar: Die Isthmiaschen Gedichte (Heidelberg 1968) ad loc., and M. S. Silk, Interaction in
Poetic Imagery: With Specific Reference to Early Greek Poetry (Cambridge 1974) 135. The
future tense here is a 'voluntative' or 'performative' future which refers to a present
action, i.e. the singing of the poem. See E. Bundy, Studia Pindarica (Berkeley 1986) 20-
22, and W. J. Slater, "Futures in Pindar," CQ 19 (1969) 86-94.
10 See Fraenkel (above n. 8), C. A. Faraone, "Callimachus, Epigram 29.5-6 Gow-

Page," ZPE 63 (1986) 56 and the final paragraph of this essay.

11 See Norwood (above n. 9) 118, Thummer (above n. 9) ad loc., J. K. Newman and

F. S. Newman, Pindar's Art: Its Traditions and Aims (Hildesheim 1984) 119-26, and Carne-
Ross (above n. 1) 40-50.
262 CHRISTOPHERA. FARAONE

poems for Lampon's sons as a series of after-dinner libations from "the

mixing-bowl of the Muses' songs"; a previous ode celebrating the
victory of his older brother Pytheas at Nemea is likened to the tradi-
tional first 'toast' to Zeus; the present Isthmian ode is assimilated to
the second libation to the Heroes and the Earth; and a third victory
song in the future to celebrate a victory at Olympia will match the usual
final offering to Zeus Soter (lines 1-9). The poet reiterates these images
in the mythic portion of the ode, where Heracles offers a toast and a
flattering prophecy about Telamon's unborn child Aias (lines 37-51).
Finally, in the closing strophes of the poem Pindar uses an agricultural
metaphor to describe how Lampón and his family nurture the Aeginetan
people "with the finest dew of the Graces" (63-64 Χαρίτων . . . καλλίστα
δρόσω), a reference to his family's victories, to be sure, but the context
suggests that the "dew of the Graces" also refers to the encomiastic
poems that result from the victories. 12
On a formal or structural level, then, the final drink offered at the
very end of the poem neatly brings to a close this series of images with
yet another self-conscious allusion to the poem at hand, reminding us
of the libations-as-poems at the beginning. But there seems to be more
going on in the final image. Why does Pindar make the Theban spring
the source of "holy water" (άγνόν ϋδωρ)? If he is invoking here the wide-
spread connection between the Muses and watery sources of poetic
and prophetic inspiration, 13 why is the laudandus to drink the water
and not the poet himself? Why are the Muses identified as the "daugh-
ters of Memory of the golden peplos"? And finally why does he go out
of his way to emphasize Lampón by focusing on him at the end of the
poem? Some scholars argue that the unconventional prominence of the
father indicates that he was very closely involved in his son's career,
i.e. as trainer or supporter, while others prefer to attribute it to a stipu-
lation in the commission. 14 I suggest, however, that Lampón is singled
out here because Pindar wishes to bring yet another theme to closure,
the discussion of death and happiness, which earlier in the poem is
directed toward Lampón alone and not his sons.

1 2 This line comes directly after a list of the family's three victories in the pankration,

which are said to have created such a great "portion of hymns" (62-63).
1 3 B. Gentili, "La veneranda Saffo," QUCC 2 (1966) 40-41, and D. Steiner, The Crown

of Song: Metaphor in Pindar (New York 1986) 44-45. A similar image appears in a frag-
ment of Simonides (fr. 577 Page = Plut. Mor. 402c): ενθα χερνίβεσσιν άρύεται το Μοισάν
/ καλλικόμων ύπένερθεν άγνόν ϋδωρ. Plutarch quotes these lines in connection with the
spring of the Muses at Delphi.
1 4 Thummer (above n. 9) 1.49-54, discusses the praise of the father in detail; from

the mention of the "Naxian whetstone" at line 73 most commentators plausibly infer
that Lampón was actively involved as his son's trainer; e.g. W. H. Race, Pindar (Boston
1986) 94-95.
 A DRINK FROM THE DAUGHTERS OF MNEMOSYNE 263

2 . EPINICI A N A N D ESCHATOLOGY

After dedicating the poem in the opening line to "Lampon's prize-win-

ning offspring," Pindar devotes a rather long passage to a flattering
portrait of the man himself, marking it off with a notable 'crescendo of
praise': 15
εί γάρ τις ανθρώπων δαπάνα τε χαρείς
καν πόνψ πράσσει θεοδμάτους άρετάς
σύν τέ οί δαίμων φυτεύει δόξαν έπήρατον, έ-
σχατιαΐς ήδη προς ολβου
βαλλετ' αγκυραν θεότιμος έών.
τοίαισιν όργαις εύχεται
άντιάσαις Άίδαν γηράς τε δέξασθαι πολιόν
ό Κλεονίκου παις· έγώ δ' ύψίθρονον
Κλωθώ κασιγνήτας τε προσ-
εννέπω έσπέσθαι κλυταΐς
ανδρός φίλου Μοίρας έφετμαΐς.

For if a man delighting in expenditure and hard work

accomplishes divinely fashioned deeds of excellence,
and in addition fortune plants lovely fame for him,
at the limits of happiness he has already
cast his anchor as one honored by the gods.
The son of Kleonikos (i.e. Lampón) prays
that with feelings such as these he may meet Hades
and welcome gray old age, and I myself call upon
Klotho enthroned on high and her sister Fates
to attend to the noble
prayers of the man who is my friend.

Like the previously discussed lines at the end of the poem, this pas-
sage is notable for its curious emphasis on Lampón, the father of the
victor, and for its play with eschatological ideas. The nautical meta-
phor of casting one's anchor near the "farthest shores of happiness"
(12 έσχατιαίς . . . προς δλβου) is most assuredly meant to recall the Greek
'Isles of the Blest/ which lay at the very edge of the known world. 16
The mention of Hades and the invocation of the Fates clearly points in
the same direction, but we need not, of course, insist that Lampón is

1 5 Lines 1 0 - 1 8 . I give the translation of Race (above n. 1) with one change: in the

final line I translate έσπέσθαι. . . έφετμαΐς as "to attend to the p r a y e r s " not "to follow
the c o m m a n d s , " since it clearly refers back to the verb of praying (εΰχεται) in line 14.
Pindar often combines a conditional sentence ("For if a man . . . " ) with a categorical
vaunt as a device to mark off a new 'crescendo of praise'; see Bundy (above n. 9) 5 4 - 6 3 .
16 For a detailed discussion, see E. Rohde, Psyche: The Cult of the Soul and the Belief

in Immortality among the Greeks, trans. W. B. Hillis (London 1925) 4 1 6 - 1 7 .

264 CHRISTOPHERA. FARAONE

old or sickly; the point here is not that the father is close to death, but
rather that he wishes to be as happy on the day he dies (whenever that
may be) as he is on the day of his son's victory and its subsequent
celebration. 17
This idea that the moment of victory with its attendant praise is
the height of human happiness for the father of the victor is, in fact,
attested elsewhere. Cicero, for example, reports a curious anecdote
(Tusc. 1.111) about the famed Rhodian victor Diagoras (a boxer like
Lampon's son): after Diagoras saw two of his sons win Olympic victo-
ries on the same day, a Spartan in the crowd congratulated him by
saying: "Die, Diagoras, for you are not destined to ascend to heaven"
('morere, Diagora . . . non enim in caelum ascensurus es'). C i c e r o ' s c o m -
ments at this point are well worth quoting:
Such achievements the Greeks think glorious—too much so perhaps—
or rather thought so in that day, and he who spoke in this way to
Diagoras considered it very glorious for three Olympic victors to come
from one home, and judged it inexpedient for the father to linger
longer in life exposed to the buffets of fortune.

Although here he talks only of glory, Cicero introduces the story as an

example to the peculiar Greek appreciation of death in the midst of joy
and prosperity, "for no accumulation of successes can be as delightful
(1.110 cumulus . . . iucundus) as their diminution is annoying."
Indeed, it is clear that he refers to the archaic Greek idea that is
perhaps best illustrated by Solon's conversation with Croesus regard-
ing who of men is or was the happiest (olbiôtatos). And as it turns out,
the story of Cleobis and Biton (Hdt. 1.31), the most famous of Solon's
three examples, provides an excellent parallel to the story of Diagoras,
because it too is clearly embedded in the context of an athletic victory:
Herodotus describes the two young men as "winners of prizes at the
games," 18 and the scene he paints at the Argive Heraeum, with all of
the Argive men surrounding the youths after their performance and
marveling at their strength (ρομή), has all of the elements of a victory
celebration. 19 Herodotus, moreover, tells us quite explicitly that the

17
D. Young, Pindar Isthmian 7: Myth and Exempla, M n e m o s y n e S u p p l e m e n t u m 15
(Leiden 1971) 1 2 - 1 4 and 4 0 - 4 4 , d i s c u s s e s this p a s s a g e a n d several others like it that
h a v e b e e n r e p e a t e d l y cited as e v i d e n c e for the a d v a n c e d o l d a g e of either the p o e t or
the laudandus. H i s specific c o m m e n t s o n I. 6 . 1 4 - 1 5 are w o r t h q u o t i n g (p. 14): " L a m p ó n
m a y w e l l h a v e b e e n m i d d l e - a g e d w h e n he s p e a k s the prayer that Pindar attributes to
h i m , but w e h a v e n o right to regard h i m as senile or s o a d v a n c e d in a g e that h e rumi-
n a t e s o n an i m m i n e n t death."
18
See J. E. P o w e l l , Λ Lexicon to Herodotus, 2 n d ed. (Cambridge 1938) s.v. άεθλοφόροι.
19
S u c h hints are more clearly d e v e l o p e d if o n e accepts the e m e n d a t i o n s of W. E.
 A DRINK FROM THE DAUGHTERS OF MNEMOSYNE 265

mother was overjoyed (pericharês) at both their deed and the reaction
of the Argive men. It would seem, in short, that there existed a tradi-
tional strain of epinician that emphasized the happiness of the parent
who witnesses both the victory and the public praise of a son. In Isth-
mian 6 Pindar clearly focuses on the happiness of a man who, like
Diagoras, was the patriarch of a family of multiple victors, but his ap-
proach is understandably more subtle and gracious than that of the
anonymous Spartan. Nonetheless, when Pindar has Lampón pray "that
with feelings such as these he may meet Hades and welcome gray old
age," he similarly captures the idea that the father will probably never
experience the same enormous joy again and he will be lucky if he can
go to his grave in so happy a state.
This special emphasis on the joy or happiness of the father, rather
than on the glory or fame of the victorious son, may seem odd in a
poetic genre dedicated to praising the victor, but it is, in fact, a repeated
theme in Pindar's poetry and one that is often interlaced (as it is here)
with references to oncoming old age and death. In Olympian 8, for in-
stance, Pindar claims that the grandfather of the victor can ignore his
old age and Hades because of the deeds of his grandson (70-73); the
poet then goes on to boast that his song by awakening memory
(mnemosyne) can even reach the dead themselves and ensure that "dust
does not bury the delight (charis) of his dead father and uncle" (78-
84). 20 Olympian 14 similarly ends with a plea to Echo to bring news of
the victor's triumph to his dead father in the "black-walled house of
Persephone," and toward the end of Pythian 5 we find the poet specu-
lating that the victor's dead ancestors, who are buried in the agora of
Cyrene and presumably within earshot of the chorus, might upon hear-
ing Pindar's song share in the happiness (olbos) and delight (charis) of their
victorious kinsman. It would seem, then, that Pindar at the end of some

Blake, "Cicero's Text of Herodotus 1.31," AJP 65 (1944) 1 6 7 - 6 9 , w h o revives the con-
cerns of Bonhier and Valckenaer that Cicero at Tusc. 1.113, while narrating the story of
Cleobis and Biton Herodoto auctore, describes two details that are not found in our MSS
of Herodotus: Oeste posita corpora oleo perunxerunt. N u d i t y and the anointing with oil
are, of course, well attested for athletic competitions in the Greek world. Although Blake's
restorations and rearrangements of the text are too adventuresome for m o d e r n editors,
they probably d o approximate the text that Cicero was remembering (e.g. R. A. McNeal,
Herodotus: Book 1 [Boston 1986] 120) or perhaps some other equally famous, but now
lost, version—a version that seems to underscore the agonistic and encomiastic setting
of the story. For a more recent discussion, see D. Sansone, "Cleobis and Biton in Delphi,"
Nikephoros: Zeitschrift für Sport und Kultur in Altertum 4 (1991) 1 2 3 - 2 5 .
2 0 Pindar first says that the victor "inspires" his grandfather with strength (menos)
that is a match (antipalon) for his old age, and that a m a n who makes suitable achieve-
ments can forget about Hades. He then goes on to boast that " d u s t does not bury the
delight (charis)."
266 CHRISTOPHER A. F A R A O N E

of his epinicians repeats this theme of the happiness of the victor's father,
a joy that will either conquer the fear of death or death itself. Thus
epinician poetry by ensuring post mortem recollection of a victory or by
piercing the walls of Hades itself grants eternal joy to the father and
the rest of his older male relatives.

3. THE HOLY WATER OF MEMORY

Pindar, then, in his treatment of Lampón at the beginning and end of

this ode neatly weaves together two discrete themes: the image of
epinician poems as satisfying drinks offered to the laudandus and his
family, and the idea that praise poetry can also provide the father
Lampón with a special kind of happiness that can persist even in the
underworld. This theme is especially prominent in the final sentence
of the poem, which is the focus of this study. On one level, as we saw,
Pindar, by offering the final drink of water, is referring back to the liba-
tion mentioned at the very beginning of the poem. I suggest, however,
that Pindar is also making a veiled reference to beliefs about a special
drink of water in the underworld, 2 1 because his words call to mind the
key request in the so-called 'Orphic' or 'Dionysiac' tablets, which have
been discovered in increasing numbers in southern Italy, Thessaly, Crete
and elsewhere. 2 2 These texts, inscribed in archaic hexameters on thin
sheets of gold leaf, tell us what we should do after we die and descend
to the underworld: 2 3

Further on y o u will find chill water f l o w i n g from the p o o l of M e m o r y ;

over this s t a n d g u a r d i a n s . They will a s k y o u with keen m i n d w h a t is
your quest in the gloom of (?)deadly Hades. They will ask you for w h a t
reason y o u h a v e come. Tell them the whole truth straight out. S a y :
"I a m the child of Earth a n d starry H e a v e n , but of H e a v e n is m y
birth: this y o u know y o u r s e l v e s . I a m p a r c h e d with thirst a n d

21 For discussion and bibliography, see C. A. Faraone, "The Mystodokos and the

Dark-Eyed Maidens: Multicultural Influences on a Late-Hellenistic Incantation," in M.

Meyer and P. Mirecki, eds., Ancient Magic and Ritual Power (Leiden 1995) 297-333.
22 G . Z u n t z , Persephone: Three Essays on Religion and Thought in Magna Graecia (Ox-
ford 1971) 277-86; M. L. West, "Zum neuen Goldblättchen aus Hipponion," ZPE 18 (1975)
229-236; and R. Janko, "Forgetfulness in the Golden Tablets of Memory," CQ 34 (1984)
89-100. For a review of recent work see F. Graf, "Dionysus and Orphic Eschatology:
New Texts and Old Problems," in T. H. Carpenter and C. A. Faraone, eds., Masks of
Dionysus (Ithaca 1993) 239-58.
23 I give Janko's translation (above n. 22) of the text of his composite fifth-century

BCE archetype Ω, which is based on five different texts dating between 400 and 240 BCE.
The indented portion of the translation, which contains the actual request made to the
guardians, seems to have been the most important, as it appears on all of the abbrevi-
ated versions of this text (i.e. from Petelia and Pharsalos) and stands alone on the six
tablets discovered in Crete.
 A DRINK FROM THE DAUGHTERS OF MNEMOSYNE 267

perishing: give me quickly the chill water flowing from the pool
of Memory" (άλλα δότ' ώκα / ψυχρόν ϋδωρ προρέον της
Μνημοσΰνας άπο λίμνης).
Assuredly the kings of the underworld take pity on you, and will them-
selves allow you to drink from the spring divine (σοι δώσουσι πιείν
θείης από κρήνης); then you, when you have drunk, traverse the holy
path which the other initiates and bacchants tread in glory. After this
you will rule among the other heroes.

As we can see, Memory (Mnemosyne) plays an important role here:

the dead persons who drink from the pool or spring of Memory are
able to recall their past life or lives and are therefore permitted by the
guardian to proceed to a special part of the underworld reserved for
initiates and bacchants, who have also memorized the passwords and
persuaded the guardians to grant them a drink. And indeed, since we
know from many other texts that initiates were thought to enjoy a spe-
cial bliss after death, there must be some connection between the act of
remembering and this happy state. 24
There is, finally, a clear connection between the water drunk from
the pool or spring of Memory and these poetic verses, a connection
that is made explicit in the first two lines:25
Μνημοσύνηςτόδε(?)θρΐον· έπείάν μέλλησι θανεΐσθαι
[έν πίνακι χρυσέω] τόδε γρα[ψάτω ήδε φορείτω].

This is the (?)leaf of Memory. Whenever he (i.e. the initiate) is about

to die, let him write this [on a golden tablet and carry it].

Regardless of the actual reading of the problematic third word (θρίον),

it is clear from the repeated deictic pronoun τόδε that this rubric refers
to Memory as the original owner, author or source of these hexam-
eters.26 Thus it would appear that both the cool water in the underworld
and the hexametrical passwords used to procure it are provided by
Mnemosyne. Both, moreover, are necessary to ensure the post mortem
bliss of the initiate. I would suggest therefore that Pindar, when he
speaks at the end of Isthmian 6 of the άγνόν ϋδωρ of Dirke, which the
"daughters of golden-robed Memory (Μναμοσύνας)" cause to spring

24
H. Lloyd-Jones, "Pindar and the Afterlife," in Pindare, Fondation Hardt, Entretiens
sur l'antiquité classique 17 (Geneva 1985) 255-57.
25
These verses appear only on the two longest versions. I give the text and transla-
tion of Janko (above n. 22), with the addition of the supplements to the second line by
West (above n. 22).
26
The Hipponion text has εριον and a much later Roman version has Μνημοσύνης
τόδε δώρον. For rubrics of this sort, see C. A. Faraone, "Taking the Nestor's Cup Inscrip-
tion Seriously: Conditional Curses and Erotic Magic in the Earliest Greek Hexameters,"
ClAnt 15 (1996) 77-112.
268 CHRISTOPHER A. FARAONE

up near Thebes, is echoing or alluding to the water from the pool or

spring of Memory found in these golden tablets and to the implicit
equation or connection between the poetic verses on the tablet and the
water that the initiate drinks. 27
Pindar's offer of the water/poetry of Memory makes far more sense,
of course, if we understand the pronoun σφε to refer to Lampón alone
in the singular, for it brings to perfect closure the eschatological themes
and allusions at the beginning of the poem which are used to describe
the father alone, for example his prayer to encounter Hades with the
same joy that he presently feels at the victory celebration for his son.
According to this more focused reading, Pindar is claiming that with
the help of this poem (= a draught of the water of Memory) Lampón
will be reminded continually of his son's achievements and thereby
spend eternity (even after death) in a blissful state. In the text of the
gold tablets, the drink from the pool of Memory similarly ensures that
the initiates will be able to remember past lives and thus gain eternal
happiness. This complex of ideas—the poet as one who recalls heroic
deeds and his song as monument that ensures immortal fame—is, in
fact, common to much of the poetry of the archaic age. 28 But here, I
would argue, we find a very different emphasis: Pindar seems to as-
similate himself to the guardian of the spring of Memory, who by
granting Lampón a drink from the holy water of epinician poetry iden-
tifies him as an ideal candidate for a happier place in the underworld,
a place usually reserved for heroes and initiates. This is precisely why
we cannot interpret the holy water of Dirke as a source of watery in-
spiration for the poet, but must insist on the obvious: that the water
represents the poem itself which stimulates memory of the glorious
deeds of the past—a memory that in turn can provide the dead with
eternal bliss.

27
The password itself includes the words: άλλα δότ' ώκα / ψυχρόν ϋδωρ προρέον
της Μνημοσύνας άπό λίμνης. In the fuller versions of the text, the water source is later
(line 17) called a "divine spring" (θείης . . . κρήνης)—wording that is a bit closer to
Pindar's "sacred water" of Dirke. There may have been variant versions of the text that
had even closer affinities to Pindar's text. For example, in the most abbreviated ver-
sions found on several Hellenistic tablets from Crete and one fourth-century BCE example
from Thessaly (Zuntz' texts B3-B9; above n. 22), the request is worded as follows: "But
give me a drink from the ever-flowing spring" (άλλα πιεμ μοι / κράνης αίειρόω [or
αίενάω]).
28
J. Α. Notopoulos, "Mnemosyne in Oral Literature," TAPA 69 (1938) 465-93; Β.
Snell, "Mnemosyne in der frühgriechischen Dichtimg," Archiv für Begriffsgeschichte 9
(1964) 19-21; and W. Moran, "Μιμνήσκομαι and 'Remembering' Epic Stories in Homer
and the Hymns," QUCC 20 (1975) 195-211. For the role of Memory in encomiastic po-
etry, see C. Segal, "Myth, Cult, and Memory in Pindar's Third and Fourth Isthmian
Odes," Ramus 110 (1981) 82-84.
 A DRINK FROM THE DAUGHTERS OF M N E M O S Y N E 269

One might argue, of course, that Pindar could have made this ref-
erence clearer, but we know from other poems in the corpus that the
poet sometimes imagines two very different audiences for his poems:
a general public audience and another, smaller circle of listeners, usu-
ally assumed to be the laudandus and his circle. The most famous
example is, of course, the enigmatic description of the underworld at
Olympian 2.56-86, from which the poet breaks off by saying that his
words speak to "those who understand" and that such verses are in
need of interpretation—comments that remind us of similar formulae
used in mystery cults. 29 In that poem Pindar then goes on to praise
Theron in great detail and although he avoids any direct claim that
Theron will share the same kind of bliss in the underworld after he
dies, "the whole burden of the song suggests that after many hard-
ships of a noble and generous life, he is worthy to be granted no
ordinary reward." 3 0 1 would suggest that here, as in the case of Olym-
pian 2, the poet's reticence is a sign of the restraint or decorum that is
typical of the genre, in which one must always avoid the envy of oth-
ers by discreetly limiting one's explicit praise or predictions of great
success. The allusiveness of the reference to the underworld draught
may, moreover, imply—as it does in Olympian 2—a double audience
for the poem: an internal one of knowing or initiated insiders and an
external, public audience of unknowing outsiders.

4 . CONCLUSION

When Pindar closes his sixth Isthmian ode, his words do triple duty: 1)
they serve a sphragis, identifying the poet by his Theban birthplace; 2)
they bring to closure an elaborate series of images which liken epinician
odes to libations and other drink offerings; and 3) they round out the
special treatment of the victor's father, Lampón, by echoing language
associated with mystery cults, in which a privileged and blissful after-
life is triggered by drinking a special draught of water. I suggested
above that this last layer of meaning may simply be an allusion for the
knowing insider to recognize, but it is perhaps more complicated and
interesting than that. A sphragis, in addition to mentioning the poet's
name and hometown, sometimes alludes to the poet's area of exper-
tise. Thus at the end of his Epigram 29 Callimachus gives his name and
city and quotes his famous Aetia, and in a similar manner Vergil men-
tions his name and home at the end of the Fourth Geòrgie and then
paraphrases the first line of his well-known Eclogues. In this way both

29 Lloyd-Jones (above n. 24) 259.

30 Ibid. 2 7 7 - 7 8 .
270 CHRISTOPHERA. FARAONE

poets can boast about their expertise and fame in a particular genre or
type of poetry. 31 1 would suggest, in fact, that Pindar is probably mak-
ing a similar claim at the end of Isthmian 6, when he assimilates his
own epinician poem with the drink from the spring of Mnemosyne in
the underworld, a drink which guarantees the eternal happiness of the
laudandus' father. This Theban water, in short, refers to a genre of po-
etry that—like the hexametrical verses on the gold tablets—overcomes
the usual gloomy fate that awaits one in Hades by allowing the drinker
to remember the past: in this case the glorious deeds of his sons. 3 2

UNIVERSITY OF C H I C A G O

See above n. 10.

31

It is a great pleasure to dedicate this essay to one of the most rigorous and learned
32

teachers I have ever had the pleasure to study with. This paper was originally pre-
sented as a talk entitled "Memory, Mystery, and the End of Pindar's Sixth isthmian" at
the annual meeting of C A M W S in April 1989 in Lexington, Kentucky. I a m thankful for
the perceptive criticism of the audience there and grateful to Mark E d w a r d s , Dirk
Obbink, and William Race for their comments on a much earlier written draft. All of the
blemishes that remain, of course, are mine alone.
 ROWING FOR ATHENS

B Y J E N N Y STRAUSS C L A Y

I first met Ted Courtney when he spoke about a boat, more specifically,
about Catullus' phasellus ille} At a certain point he displayed a piece of
boxwood and thus demonstrated how knowledge of hard-core Realien
can combine with interpretive wit and erudition. In that spirit I offer
my own little maritime nugae.
In discussions of the Frogs, the central issue has always been the
unity and coherence of the play, both in respect to its plot and its char-
acters—that is, if one believes that it make sense to seek unity and
coherence in Aristophanic comedy in the first place. But if one grants
the possibility of such unity, we must ask some old and very basic ques-
tions: How do the two halves of the play, that is, Dionysos' katabasis
and the contest between Euripides and Aeschylus in the second half
hang together? The answer clearly revolves around the character of
the central figure and protagonist, Dionysos, who dominates both
halves. But that only raises a further question: How does the effete in-
tellectual Dionysos of the play's opening, who has a pothos for Euripides,
turn into the responsible, albeit still comic, judge of the poetic contest
between the two tragedians? And why despite his earlier longing for
Euripides does he finally choose to bring Aeschylus back for the salva-
tion of Athens? How can we account for the change from frivolous
aesthete to responsible member of the community dedicated to the com-
mon weal? Many critics have traced the transformation in Dionysos'
character to certain ritual and initiatory motifs in the play; like the
Mystae, the god first loses his identity and then attains a new existence
and regains his divinity in the course of the catabasis.2 The change in
Dionysos' status may be not only religious, but also political.
While keeping the question of Dionysos' transformation and the
unity of the play in mind, let us turn to another problem whose an-
swer, I believe, may be relevant to the first. The play is called the Frogs,
and one might wonder why. The amphibian chorus performs once at
the beginning of the play and then disappears. During its brief role, it

1 "Catullus' Yacht (Or Was It?)," C] 92 (1997) 113-22.

2 See C. P. Segal, "The Character of Dionysus and the Unity of the Frogs," HSCP 55
(1961) 2 0 7 - 3 0 ; cf. also C. H. Whitman's chapter on the Frogs in Aristophanes and the Comic
Hero (Cambridge, Ma. 1964); and most recently, I. Lada-Richards, Initiating Dionysus:
Ritual and Theatre in Aristophanes' Frogs (Oxford 1999) passim.
272 JENNY STRAUSS CLAY

performs none of the normal activities characteristic of the comic cho-

rus, i.e. parados, parabasis, and agon, with the result that a completely
different chorus must be introduced. Moreover, the function of the
scene, which gives the play its name, and the point of the exchange
between Dionysos and the frogs are by no means clear—although it
may have been inspired in part by Eupolis' Taxiarchoi.3 Most critics be-
lieve that the god and the marsh-dwelling frogs enact a contest of some
sort, whether of rowing, singing, shouting or perhaps, as Gary Wills
has suggested, farting. 4 But others have pointed out that, although
Dionysos seems to declare himself the winner, the would-be contest
simply comes to an end when the god reaches his destination and the
frogs disappear. 5 Others have argued that the frogs' song parodies the
New Music or, on the contrary, that the amphibious chorus stands as
an emblem of Old Comedy. 6 For Lada-Richards the scene between the
god and the frogs constitutes a parody of initiatory ritual. 7 1 shall ar-
gue that the scene between Dionysos and the frogs, which gives the
drama its name, forms a critical element in the transformation of the
god's original intentions to bring back Euripides on purely aesthetic
grounds to his ultimate decision in favor of Aeschylus on the basis of
more sober political and moral criteria.
Produced in 405, the Frogs frequently alludes to the recent battle of
Arginousae, where the exhausted Athenians managed by heroic efforts
to man 600 ships by offering slaves that were willing to participate in
rowing their freedom. In the parabasis—which supposedly earned the
play the signal honor of a second performance the following year—
Aristophanes commends the Athenians for doing so (693-96). But there
are several earlier references to the battle in the first half of the play.
Right from the start, Dionysos, an alazon to be sure, boasts that he sank 12 or

3 Cf. N. Wilson, " A Eupolidean Precedent for the Rowing Scene in Aristophanes' Frogs ? "

CQ 24 (1974) 250-52; and E. W. Handley, "Aristophanes' Rivals," ProcClasAs 79 (1982) 2 3 - 2 4 .

4 G. Wills, " W h y are the Frogs in the Frogs?" Hermes 97 (1969) 3 0 6 - 1 7 also reviews

earlier opinions. G. Sifakis, Parabasis and Animal Choruses (London 1971) 96 calls it a
" c o n t e s t of cries and other n o i s e s " and " a c o m i c agon in an e m b r y o n i c f o r m . " B.
Z i m m e r m a n n , Untersuchungen zur Form und dramatischen Technik der aristophanischen
Komödien 1 (Königstein 1985) speaks of the frogs' " W e t t g e s a n g " and their ultimate
"Niederlage." Similarly, T. K. Hubbard, The Mask of Comedy (Ithaca 1991) 202: "Dionysus'
contest with the F r o g s , " w h o m he sees " a s symbols of Old C o m e d y . " Cf. Κ. J. Reckford,
Aristophanes' Old and New Comedy 1 (Chapel Hill 1987) 4 1 0 - 1 3 . K. J. Dover, Aristophanes
Frogs (Oxford 1993) 2 2 2 - 2 3 describes it as " a shouting m a t c h , " and " a competition to
see who can last longer . . . blended with the motif of competition in singing."
5 D. Del Corno, Le Rane (Milan 1985) 170: "In reality, the frogs fall silent, because

the boat has arrived at the shore."

6 Cf. J. Defradas, " L e Chant des Grenouilles," REA 71 (1969) 23-37; Hubbard (above

η. 3) 202; and Reckford (above η. 3) 4 1 0 - 1 3 .

7 Lada-Richards (above η. 1) 118-19.
 ROWING FOR ATHENS 273

13 of the enemy ships—which his brother Heracles greets with incredulity

(48-51). There it was, on b o a r d ship at Arginousae, while r e a d i n g
Euripides' Andromeda, that Dionysos conceived a passion for Euripides, a
passion that could only be satisfied by bringing back the d e a d poet
(52-54). Subsequently, w e learn that Xanthias his slave did not partici-
pate in the naval battle because of an eye-infection, evidently a common
d r a f t - d o d g e r ' s excuse, and hence did not w i n his f r e e d o m (191-92).
Xanthias' slave status will require him to walk around the Acherousian
lake, since Charon refuses to take a slave on board. While the slave
turns out to be truthful, the god cheerfully lies about his maritime ex-
periences. For in the scene w i t h C h a r o n , it b e c o m e s o b v i o u s that
Dionysos h a d never even been close to a ship. 8 W h e n Charon h a n d s
h i m an oar, the god proceeds to sit on it rather than at it (197-99). W h e n
Dionysos complains that he doesn't know h o w to row, being "unskilled,
unsead, unsalamized," the old f e r r y m a n explains that he will hear the
beautiful songs of the swan-frogs (203-207). Dionysos responds: "Give
me the stroke," to which Charon replies: ω δπ δπ, ω δπ δπ. As Dover
explains: "ώ m u s t go w i t h the pulling of the oar through the water, the
first δπ with the raising of the blade at the end of the stroke, and the
second δπ with the recovery for the next catch." 9 There is also a reference
later in the play where the sailors' shout is represented as ρυππαπαΐ
(1073), an analogous rhythm. 1 0 The frogs then take u p w i t h a variant of
the same basic rhythm: brekekekeks, koax, koax, that is, a long stroke fol-
lowed by two shorter intervals for the raising and recovery of the oar. 11
The frogs' singing as κελευσταί was presumably accompanied b y the
aulos, as indeed w e k n o w were the rowers on an Athenian trireme. As
Dover notes in his commentary (p. 222), "It is therefore a reasonable
assumption that there w a s some relation between the g o d ' s rowing and
the frogs' song"; he then adds: "unfortunately, metrical analysis, which is all
w e have to go on, tells us nothing about tempo." Zielinski h a d sug-
gested that the tempo of Dionysos' rowing is set by the frogs' singing,
and that the speed of their song causes the god's distress. 12 Wilamowitz'
earlier analysis of the text and meter supports this suggestion. 1 3

8
Cf. L. Radermacher, Frösche (Vienna 1954) 161: " D i o n y s o s b e n i m m t sich i m Boot
so unbeholfen, daß man sieht, er war nie auf See. Z u m Rudern angestellt, gibt er das auch z u . "
9
D o v e r (above η. 3) 218.
10
Cf. Knights 602 w h e r e the s a m e cry is represented b y ϊππαπαΐ.
11
The r h y t h m w o u l d appear to resemble 3 / 4 or w a l t z time. In fact, the frogs' croak
can b e s u n g to "The Blue D a n u b e Waltz."
12
"Brekekekex," Eos 37 (1936) 105-108. Cf. W. B. Stanford, Aristophanes: Frogs (London
1958) 92: "we may surmise that the speed and loudness rose to a climax round about 242ff."
13
Griechische Verskunst (Berlin 1921) 5 9 2 - 9 4 , w h o s e e s the contest in terms of iam-
b i c v e r s u s trochaic rhythm. Cf. Z i m m e r m a n n (above η. 3) 1.156-67.
274 JENNY STRAUSS CLAY

Let me offer a brief review. After the initial brekekekex koax koax, the
frogs launch into a generally iambic rhythm (lines 211-15). In lines 2 1 6 -
19, the rhythm changes to one marked by double shorts, which, I
suggest, may signify a quickening of the pace (although the frogs do
not yet notice Dionysos), followed by a return of the refrain (220). Re-
sponding in normal speaking iambics, Dionysos complains about his
aching rump (221-22). Now, we know that the trireme rowers had a
cushion as part of their personal equipment. 14 These pads were neces-
sary because the oarsmen slid back and forth as they rowed, thereby
gaining maximum advantage from their leg muscles. 1 5 In setting out
on his mission, Dionysos, we imagine, while outfitting himself with a
Heraclean club, did not anticipate the need for rowing and hence came
unequipped with a cushion. What's more, we can well imagine that
the god is woefully out of shape; Wilamowitz refers to him as "der
Dicke" or Fatso. 1 6
At any rate, the frogs at this point ignore the god's distress. Only
after Dionysos curses them and their croaking roundly—again in iam-
bics (226-27)—do they take notice and respond to his insults: the Muses,
Pan, and Apollo, at least, enjoy their songs (228-35). Clearly the frog
chorus has not recognized Dionysos, even though they sang at his fes-
tival and at his sanctuary. Their response is marked by a trochaic
rhythm, which repeats a characteristic sequence of triple shorts also
found in brekekekex and culminates in string of 15 short syllables that
might well represent an increase in tempo (233-34). The god, at least,
complains iambically even more bitterly of his blisters, not, as one might
expect, on his hands, 1 7 but on his backside, which is soon going to speak.
Brekekekex koax koax, the frogs interrupt with their refrain, paying not
the least attention to the poor divinity in distress.
Dionysos now seems to adopt a different, gentler tack, this time
complimenting the frogs as a φιλωδόν γένος but still pleading with them
to desist (240-41). The frogs will have none of it: they insist in continu-
ing—in a generally trochaic rhythm (241b-49), marked, however, by
those triple shorts and, in line 244a, four consecutive shorts. At this
point, it seems to me that Dionysos decides, if you can't beat 'em, join
'em, as he brekekkekexes for the first time (250) and iambically declares

14 Cf. Knights 7 8 3 - 8 5 , where chafing of the backside is also mentioned.

15 Cf. J. H. Hale, "The Lost Technology of Ancient Greek R o w i n g , " Scientific Ameri-
can (May 1996) 8 2 - 8 5 . For rowing during the sea trials of the reconstructed Olympias,
see J. S. Morrison, J. E. Coates, and N. B. Rankov, The Athenian Trireme2 (Cambridge
2000) 2 3 6 - 5 6 .
16 Wilamowitz (above n. 12) 593. Cf. line 200 where Charon calls the out-of-shape

Dionysos γάστρων.
17 As the scholiast ad loc. surmises.
 ROWING FOR ATHENS 275

his intention of taking their song from them. The frogs are trochaically
appalled; and now, offering direct competition, Dionysos takes up their
δεινά by δεινότερα, for the first time using a trochaic meter—and four
shorts. The frogs only repeat their refrain. Then to Dionysos' iambics—
probably spoken—they threaten to continue with their trochaic
croaking. Again mimicking the frogs' chant, the god asserts that they
will not win "in this" τούτω: what is this τούτω? I suggest that it repre-
sents not the volume of their croak but its tempo, which has increased
perceptibly in the course of the scene and which sets the pace of the
god's rowing. The question, then, is whether Dionysos can maintain
the rhythm dictated by the frogs. If Dionysos refuses to give up, and
they refuse to admit defeat, it implies that the god has succeeded in
keeping up with their beat—as he says, even for days if necessary. In-
deed, the rhythm of his final words indicate the god's success: he has
adopted the trochaics that he had earlier threatened "to take" from the
singing frogs (262). As Dionysos arrives at the shore, the frogs fall si-
lent. Neither wins what might be called a contest, but Dionysos has
managed to keep up with the amphibians' tempo.
Assuming this analysis to be persuasive, we might well ask: so
what? And return to our original question concerning the bearing of
the frog scene on the play as a whol¿. In this episode, the god Dionysos
has learned to row. Now, Victor Ehrenberg noted that: "in comedy none
of the leading characters were metics or foreigners . . . all were citi-
zens." 1 8 In this most Athenian of all underworlds—the frogs are after
all from the sanctuary of Dionysos έν λίμναις and refer to an Athenian festi-
val and Athenian topography (216)—the god, who like a slave is by
definition apolis, acquires—in a comic fashion to be sure—Athenian
citizenship; that is, he becomes a full-fledged member of the Athenian
community and hence involved in its well-being and a participant in
promoting its welfare. Dionysos' newfound commitment to Athens is
a precondition for his role in the second half of the play as the judge of
the contest between Euripides and Aeschylus. Whereas formerly the god cared
only for Euripides' "art" and sophisticated cleverness, he now must make
his judgment on the basis of the city's moral and political salvation.
Like the slaves at Arginousae, by manning the oar and rowing on behalf of
Athens, the god is enfranchised; and by joining the rolls of Athenian
citizens, he becomes a responsible member of the community.
After Dionysos has registered his decision for Aeschylus, the Cho-
rus sings a makarismos of the winner; its meter—and, we may speculate,
perhaps its melody—is reminiscent of the frogs' brekekekex koax koax

18 The People of Aristophanes (New York 1962) 119.

276 J E N N Y STRAUSS C L A Y

(1482-99). Might Aristophanes wish to remind us at the end of the play

of the earlier amphibian croaking? At any rate, the episode of the frogs,
which gives the play its name, turns out to be a pivotal moment in the
play's structure and a crucial element in its unity. 19

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

19 I would like to thank J. E. Lendon for his help in navigation matters.

 RATIONALISM, NAIVE AND MALIGN,
IN EURIPIDES' ORESTES

BY DAVID KOVACS

This essay on the occasion of Ted Courtney's retirement comes with

expressions of warm affection for the honorand and for his wife Brenda,
gratitude for what both have done for classics at the University of Vir-
ginia, and every good wish for their health and happiness in the years
to come. It also comes with a sense that essay and honorand are not a
perfect fit: grisly Erinyes, madness, doom-laden families—this is not
the stuff to offer the genial editor of Ovid, Juvenal, Valerius, and Statius,
a man compounded of equal parts of good sense and good cheer. But
Orestes is what I am working on at the moment. Then, too, Ted always
enjoys a textual problem to gnaw on, and it is with one of these that
my essay begins. So, as the fellow once said to the other fellow, Ί, decus,
i, nostrum!'1
* * * * * * * * *

What kind of play is Orestes, and what could Euripides have meant by
its strange plot, the betrayal of Orestes and Electra by Menelaus, the
attempt to murder Helen, the taking of Hermione as hostage, the ap-
pearance of Apollo on the mecharte and his bizarre order that Orestes
should marry Hermione, at whose throat he is holding a sword? For
some scholars the play is mere excitement, contrived to keep the spec-
tators on the edge of their seats. Others have seen it as a starkly realistic
drama, designed to paint in unflattering colors one of the best-known
mythic paradigms, to show that the hero Orestes was nothing more
than a sociopath. To others it has seemed that Euripides was depicting
a morally bankrupt world, where violence and treachery rule and where
the gods, so far from bringing order, contribute to the disorder, a com-
ment, perhaps, on the poet's own times. Others have seen it as a
meditation in modern form on a traditional theme, the weakness and
fallibility of mortal men contrasted with the power and knowledge of
the gods.
It is hard to prove any of these competing views decisively wrong:
there is evidence in the play to back up all of them. But one important

1 Do not, gentle reader, press the analogy too hard: I am not suggesting—far from

it—that our colleague, like Aeneas, is leaving Hell!

278 DAVID KOVACS

piece of e v i d e n c e , neglected b y all but a f e w scholars, is a q u e s t i o n of

stage business: has Orestes received a b o w f r o m A p o l l o and d o e s he
frighten off the Erinyes w i t h it? This question can be a n s w e r e d o n l y
after a careful consideration of the text, i n c l u d i n g a p o s s i b l e deletion,
together w i t h any other stage directions this scene implies. O n c e w e
h a v e obtained the a n s w e r the text s e e m s to m a k e m o s t likely, w e can
w o r k out its implications for the s e n s e of the p l a y as a w h o l e . It w i l l
e m e r g e that Orestes is i n d e e d a play about the fallibility of the mortal
condition, t h o u g h this, so to say, 'metaphysical' w e a k n e s s is a u g m e n t e d
b y the moral w e a k n e s s of the principal characters in w a y s scholars h a v e
not noticed.
The text in question, cited from D i g g l e ' s OCT, is as f o l l o w s :

Or. ω μήτερ, ικετεύω σε, μη 'πίσειέ μοι 255

τάς αίματωπούς και δρακοντώδεις κόρας,
αύται γαρ αύται πλησίον θρφσκουσ' έμοΰ.
HI. μεν', ώ ταλαίπωρ', άτρέμα σοίς έν δεμνίοις·
όρας γαρ ούδεν ών δοκείς σάφ' είδέναι.
Or. ώ Φοιβ', άποκτενοΰσί μ' αί κυνώπιδες 260
γοργώπες, ένέρων ίέρεαι, δειναί θεαί.
HI. οϋτοι μεθήσω· χείρα δ' έμπλέξασ' έμήν
σχήσω σε πηδάν δυστυχή πηδήματα.
Or. μέθες· μί' ούσα των έμών Έρινύων
μέσον μ' όχμάζεις, ώς βάλης ές Τάρταρον. 265
HI. οΐ 'γώ τάλαινα, τίν' έπικουρίαν λάβω,
έπεί το θείον δυσμενές κεκτήμεθα;
Or. δός τόξα μοι κερουλκά, δώρα Λοξίου,
οίς μ' ειπ' 'Απόλλων έξαμύνεσθαι θεάς,
εϊ μ' έκφοβοιεν μανιάσιν λυσσήμασιν. 270
βεβλήσεταί τις θεών βροτησία χερί,
εϊ μη 'ξαμείψει χωρίς ομμάτων έμών.
ούκ είσακούετ'; οϋχ όράθ' έκηβόλων
τόξων πτερωτός γλυφίδας έξορμωμένας;
ά ά-
τι δήτα μέλλετ'; έξακρίζετ' αιθέρα 275
πτεροις· τα Φοίβου δ' αίτιάσθε θέσφατα.

S o m e of the difficulties of these lines are d i s c u s s e d b y M. Cropp,

Phoenix 36 (1982) 209-14, w h o argues that 2 6 8 - 7 0 are interpolated. His
starting point is the s c h o l i u m on 268:

Στησιχόρφ επόμενος τόξα φησίν αυτόν είληφέναι παρά 'Απόλλωνος, εδει

ούν τον ύποκριτήν τόξα λαβόντα τοξεύειν. οί δε νυν ύποκρινόμενοι τον
ήρωα αίτοΰσι μεν τα τόξα, μη δεχόμενοι δε σχηματίζονται τοξεύειν. εί
δέ καί μαινόμενος έπ' ένίων υγιαίνει, μη θαυμάσωμεν. ή γαρ νόσος
ποικίλη τών μεμηνότων· ώς κάν ταΐς Τρωάσιν ή Κασσάνδρα [369]·
'τοσόνδε δ' έκτος στήσομαι βακχευμάτων.'
 RATIONALISM, NAIVE A N D MALIGN 279

[Euripides] follows Stesichorus in claiming that [Orestes] has received

a b o w from Apollo. Accordingly, the actor ought to take u p the b o w
and shoot. But actors today w h o play the hero ask for the b o w but
don't receive it and only pretend to shoot. Let us not be surprised
that though m a d he is sane in s o m e respects, for m a d n e s s is a varie-
gated thing: c o m p a r e C a s s a n d r a in Troades: " t o this extent I will step
aside from m y frenzy."

The scholiast says that although actors in his own day mime the shoot-
ing with an imaginary bow, they ought to use a real bow, implying that
one was used in the play's first production. This statement, according
to Cropp and others, is an inference from the text, an incorrect infer-
ence. But, Cropp argues, whether Orestes has a bow or not, 268-70 make
no dramatic sense: they must be deleted.
If there is a real bow, Orestes could make use of it against the Erinyes
by picking it up at 271. (The reference to arrows being shot from the
bow in 273-74 need not disturb us since Orestes could mime the shoot-
ing with a real bow in such a way as to suggest arrows that were real
for the drama though not physically represented.) But, says Cropp, it
would make no sense for him to ask anyone for it: no servant is avail-
able, and he cannot very well ask Electra since in 264-65 he takes her
for an Erinys. It is no good saying, with the scholiast, that during 268-
70 Orestes is having a lucid interval in his madness since nothing else
in the text suggests this. The same objection holds if the bow is a fig-
ment of his imagination: why appeal to Electra if he thinks she is an
Erinys? Or, if he is lucid enough to know that she is not, why does he
not see that he is not receiving a bow?
Cropp's arguments are not negligible, but there are weighty grounds
for believing in the genuineness of 268-70, and accordingly we are
forced to reexamine the premises that led to a finding of spuriousness.
First, the lines themselves, apart from the difficulties of staging Cropp
cites, contain quite a bit that suggests genuineness. Cropp himself ad-
mits there is nothing in them that is demonstrably un-Euripidean. 2 He
tentatively cites the asyndeton at 271 against them, but given the ex-
citement of the passage this is not surprising. Against deletion I would
adduce the generally impressive tragic diction: κερουλκά (a rarity no
interpolator is likely to have used), μαννάσιν used with a neuter (see
Willink's note for Euripidean examples of adjectives in -άς modifying
non-feminine nouns), and λυσσήμαση», a ίχπαξ that smacks of Euripides
more than of an interpolator. Furthermore, we know that Stesichorus
made his Apollo give Orestes a similar bow for the same purpose, and

2 I do not know what Cropp means by "a general air of laboriousness," the only

thing about the lines he is prepared to press.

280 DAVID KOVACS

it seems more probable that it was the poet, not an actor or an ancient
'editor' (Cropp's hypothesis) who made the allusion. We should proceed on
the assumption that the lines are genuine and reexamine the staging.
We should note first a possibility accepted by scholars but omitted
by Cropp: Orestes could speak 268-70 not to Electra but to an imagi-
nary servant. This is the view of West and (implicitly) of Willink, and it
is the chief alternative to the view I am championing here. I will argue,
however, that on Euripides' properties list in 408 BC stood the words
"one horn-tipped bow with quiver." Cropp has performed a service in
making it plain that Orestes could have threatened the Erinyes with an
actual bow.
Consider by themselves 268-70. These lines would seem to refer to
something real. (1) There would be little point in having Orestes
deludedly imagine such a gift and such instructions. Such a procedure
would be mystifying, but the mystery would never be dispelled. The
lines speak of a particular bow, with particular characteristics, given
by Apollo to Orestes on a particular occasion with instructions to use it
against the goddesses if they should attack him. This suggests a real,
not an imaginary, object. 3 (2) The most obvious interpretation of the
scene is that Orestes' words and gesticulations are effective in fright-
ening off the Erinyes. (The alternative is to suppose that the end of
Orestes' distress just happens to coincide with the threat.) But an imagi-
nary bow would not have that effect. (3) The lines embody an allusion
to Stesichorus, for whom the bow was a real gift from Apollo. That
allusion would only contribute puzzlement if in Euripides the bow is
imaginary. (4) A divinely potent bow figured in the previous year's
production of Sophocles' Philoctetes, and Euripides had used a bow in
his Ion. Some objections raised by Willink and others will be answered
in what follows. Provisionally we may draw the conclusion the evi-
dence suggests: Orestes has such a bow, given tò him on a particular
occasion by Apollo. And so in response to Electra's cry "What help can
I get since I have heaven against me?" Orestes asks for this Apolline
bow. Electra gives it to him, he threatens the Erinyes with it, and they,
as Apollo had foretold, are chased off.
But what of Cropp's argument that Orestes cannot ask for the bow
from Electra since he imagines her to be an Erinys, nor she give it to
him since it would be dangerous to give a bow to a madman? The truth
is that Orestes is not mad but is having a veridical, though unshared,
perception, seeing the Erinyes, who are normally invisible to mortal
eyes. I suggest that 264-65 do not mean that Orestes imagines Electra

3 In theory the bow might be real but elsewhere, e.g. in the palace. But if that were

the case, it would be remarkable that it was efficacious on the Erinyes.

 RATIONALISM, NAIVE AND MALIGN 281

is an Erinys. To express that we would expect him to say "Ah, one of

my Erinyes is grasping me about the waist to throw me into Tartarus,"
not "Let me go: you are one of my Erinyes and are grasping me about
the waist." The latter expression seems to show that Orestes is aware
that he is addressing Electra but makes clear to her, in highly emo-
tional language appropriate to the scene, that he regards her grasping
of him as a hostile act. (Just why this is so will be made clear later.)
Provisionally, then, I suggest the following stage directions: at 262
Electra, who had been trying to persuade Orestes to stay quiet in his
bed, twines her arms about him to hold him; at 264 Orestes commands
her to desist, and at 266 she does so in a spirit of resignation; at 268
Orestes, in a tone that brooks no refusal, demands the Apolline bow,
and at or around 271 Electra gives it to him, then underlines her own
helplessness and resignation by covering her head in her garments (see
280). Orestes then shoots with the bow (the arrows, as Cropp points
out, need not be real props, though they are dramatically real), and the
Erinyes vanish, leaving him out of breath and disoriented.
How does this help to clarify the play? For several decades there
reigned in Euripidean scholarship the view that Euripides' purpose in
Orestes was to unmask Orestes, Electra, and Pylades as sociopaths. 4
The ending on this view is merely absurd, a piece of conventionality
tacked onto an otherwise brutally realistic play. This reading has been
replaced in recent years by a more benign view of the principals, in
which the surprising ending of the play brings illumination, not absur-
dity. Yet this view also has problems. In other plays, such as Ion, where
divine aid is delayed until the end, the spectator has the feeling that
evidence of divine guidance of affairs was there all along if anyone
had had the wit to see it. In several plays of Euripides characters pro-
ceed on the assumption that no gods are at work in the world—that a
perfectly naturalistic explanation of everything is possible—when in
fact there is evidence to the contrary before their eyes. I will argue that
part of the dynamic of this play is that most of the characters, most of
the time, refuse to take the divine dimension seriously, like Pentheus
in the nearly contemporary Bacchae. The neglect of the divine pervades
the whole play and envelops not only the principals but also their rela-
tives, their Argive enemies, and the whole Argive assembly. The bow
is tangible evidence that this is a mistake.
Let us begin with the so-called 'mad scene.' This is a misnomer
since, as argued above, Orestes is not mad. During this scene it is Electra,
not Orestes, whose grasp of reality is faulty. In 259 she tells Orestes

4 The head and font of this view was A. W. Verrall, Four Plays of Euripides (Cam-

bridge 1905) 199-264.

282 DAVID KOVACS

that what he sees is merely his imagination: όράς γαρ ούδέν ών δοκείς
σάφ' εΐδέναι. Her comments in 311-15 are in the same tenor: as she
leaves the stage she tells Orestes to lie in bed and to "try not to be too
receptive to the panic that frightens you from your couch," as if his
experience of the Erinyes was merely the result of assenting to certain
frightening thoughts in his head. At certain times she speaks as if the
Erinyes had an objective existence (cf. 237-38 and the textually inse-
cure 37-38), but 259 and 311-15 are striking evidence of what might be
called a 'subjectivist' view of these (for the play) very real goddesses.
By contrast, Orestes in this scene sees clearly that his sister is mistaken.
That, I suggest, is the meaning.of their interchange in 262-65. Electra
tries to restrain Orestes, grasping him about the waist, and she says
οΰτοι μεθήσω. Scholars have seen in these words a reference to
Aeschylus, Eumenides 64 (cf. also Ch. 269) where Apollo says οΰτοι
προδώσω. Electra is claiming that she is Orestes' defender, arrogating
to herself both the role and the language of Apollo. Orestes replies that
she is no such thing but in fact one of the forces that threaten to drag
him into the underworld.
The scene with the Erinyes, then, is not a mad scene but a lucid
interval. Elsewhere Orestes holds the same deluded views as his sister.
In his stichomythia with Menelaus he claims that his problem is σύνεσις
(intellect, understanding of what he has done), λύπη, and μανίαι (396-
400). He accepts Menelaus' suggestion that his plight is the result of
mere visions (408 φαντασμάτων) by saying that he fancied (409 εδοξ')
that he saw Erinyes.
The most disastrous consequence of this outlook emerges, almost
unnoticeably, as the stichomythia proceeds, and it lends significance
to the most salient difference in mythical action between this play and
all other treatments of the Orestes story, the fact that Orestes, instead
of leaving for Delphi to be purified after the murder, remained in Argos.
This, of course, is what makes his situation intolerable: the citizens have
ringed his house about and now won't let him escape. In other ver-
sions of the story Orestes, set upon by the Erinyes after the murder,
does not stay in Argos but flees to Apollo. Why does this Orestes not
do so? Consider the following interchange (401-406):
Me. ήρξω δε λύσσης πότε; τίς ήμερα τότ' ήν;
Or. έν fi τάλαινον μητέρ' έξώγκουν τάφψ.
Me. πότερα κατ' οίκους ή προσεδρεύων πυρά;
Or. έκτός, φυλάσσων όστέων άναίρεσιν.
Me. παρήν τις άλλος, δς σον ώρθευεν δέμας; 405
Or. Πυλάδης γ', ό συνδρών αίμα και μητρός φόνον.

Two things would have struck an ancient Athenian audience, sensitive

to religious proprieties. The first is that in literature and in many cases
 RATIONALISM, NAIVE AND MALIGN 283

in real life someone who has committed homicide is expected to seek

purification by going into exile and becoming the suppliant of a for-
eign host. 5 Though no one in the play explicitly comments on Orestes'
failure to carry out proper form on this point, it would have been no-
ticeable. The second is that Orestes describes the attack of the Erinyes
as happening "while I was laying my poor mother in her grave" (400)
in company with "Pylades, who shared in the blood and murder of my
mother" (406). 6 What would have been the reaction in the theater of
Dionysus to these two lines? I suggest it was a sharp intake of breath
from thousands of spectators at once. For it is certainly a spectacular
violation of the proprieties for the two murderers to take part in the
funeral of their victim. 7 This is insensitivity on a grand scale, and it is
the consequence, it would seem, of Orestes' and Electra's view that the
Erinyes are merely a subjective illusion. Only in the scene with the bow,
the 'mad' scene, does Orestes take the view (sane in the play's terms)
that they are real.
Orestes' plight therefore—his being at the mercy of a hostile Argive
population, unable to escape and unable to receive ritual purification—
is the direct result of failure to take seriously the religious sanctities.
He has not been abandoned by Apollo, as he claims to Menelaus. Apollo
gave him a bow, expecting him to make his way to Delphi with its aid.
He is now using it, apparently, for the first time. The scene with the
bow makes plain what could have happened had Orestes not had such
a bad case of what Horace calls insaniens sapiential
Rationalism that is not naive but malign is visible elsewhere in the
play, I will argue, in the figures of Menelaus and Tyndareus. The moti-

5 Homer, as is well known, says very little about pollution, but the number of per-

sons mentioned in the Iliad and Odyssey who go into exile is large: see, e.g., Iliad 2.661-70
(Tlepolemus), 23.85-90 (Patroclus), 24.480-83 (anonymous killer, mentioned in a simile,
seeking refuge with a rich man), Odyssey 15.271-82 (Theoclymenus) and 13.258-73
(Odysseus' lying tale about himself as a Cretan). For exile as purification—or the first
step in purification—in tragedy see Aeschylus A. 1419-20, Ch. 1038-39, Euripides HF
1322-25, and in Herodotus see 1.35 (Adrastus). See the full discussion in R. Parker, Mi-
asma (Oxford 1993) ch. 4.
6 It is theoretically possible to regard έξόγκουν in 401 as third-person plural, though

the context makes somewhat against this. As the stichomythia proceeds, though, it is
plain that Orestes and Pylades were both present during the burning of Clytaemestra's
body, the collection of her bones, and their interment.
7 For participation by the killer in his victim's funeral as forbidden cf. E. Ale. 730

and HF 1359-61.
8 In her prologue Electra drew an implicit comparison between Tantalus and Orestes,

one she does not develop since she does not fully understand the connection. Both men
are in a situation of fear, with threats hanging over their heads. Both are in this situa-
tion because of their own actions, treating the gods with less than full respect. For further
discussion of the parallel see M. J. O'Brien, "Tantalus in Euripides' Orestes," RhM 131
(1988) 30-45.
284 DAVID KOVACS

vations of these two characters have not been adequately treated in the
literature on the play in spite of a valuable hint in Aristotle's Poetics. I
begin with Menelaus.
Aristotle criticized our play (Poetics 1454a28-29 and 1461bl9-21)
on the grounds that the character of Menelaus was baser than the plot
required. Commentators on the Poetics have found this judgment hard
to explain: after all, Menelaus' desertion of Orestes and Electra is the
principal reason for the attack on Helen and Hermione, and so if
Menelaus had not been cowardly in defense of his nephew and niece,
this element of the plot would have lacked motivation. What can
Aristotle have meant? Did he perhaps have a different understanding
of Menelaus' role? Orestes says after the event (1058-59) that his uncle
deliberately did not intervene because he had his eye on the kingship
(cf. also 1108, 1146-47, and 1596). Could Aristotle have thought that
Menelaus was not merely a coward but also deviously plotting to rule
Argos as well as Sparta, taking over the house of Agamemnon when
Orestes died? Is this what he meant by baseness unnecessary to the
plot? Can this view of the play be sustained?
From the scenes where Menelaus' and Orestes' discussion is inter-
rupted by Tyndareus we might form a rather different view of his
motives from the one taken later in the play by Orestes. But hypocriti-
cal sympathy with those in distress masking sinister intentions can also
be seen in the Orestes we see in Andromache, who arrives, as he says,
merely to pay a visit to Hermione, whom he never sees but who later
reveals his plot to kill Neoptolemus and marry his cousin. There is, to
be sure, no startling revelation at scene-end in Orestes like that in
Andromache. But later in the play Orestes says four times (1058-59,1108,
1146-47, and 1596) that Menelaus and Helen are planning to take over
the palace. In the last passage Orestes makes the charge to Menelaus
himself. This all leaves a strong impression, strong enough to make the
audience reconsider the first Menelaus scene.
It is by no means impossible that Menelaus should have been hypo-
critical on his first entrance. His first speech is not, in spite of its
apparent form, the monologue of a man who thinks he is alone and
whose utterances therefore may not be suspected of hypocrisy. For he
is aware of the Chorus: 375 is not a sudden realization that he is not
alone but shows he was aware all along of an audience. In view of this
one is entitled to suggest that there is some self-excuse in the speech.
He begins by saying that he heard that Agamemnon was dead: 9 the
seagod Glaucus, he says, told him that Agamemnon had received his
last bath from his wife. It was only after he had reached Nauplia and

9 We must adopt, as Diggle does, Dindorf's deletion of 361.

 RATIONALISM, NAIVE AND MALIGN 285

had sent Helen on to Argos (expecting all to be well there) 10 that he

learned of "the unholy murder of Tyndareus' daughter." The implica-
tion is that had he known the facts, delicacy would have prevented his
arrival in Argos, where the throne was de facto vacant. In retrospect
one is entitled to suspect his bona fides on these points. And it is en-
tirely possible that the actor who played Menelaus was instructed by
Euripides to deliver his lines in a way that suggested insincere self-
excuse, as indeed he must do at 682-716, and that the audience could
tell at once that he was up to no good. In the course of their conversa-
tion he learns useful information: that Orestes, six days after the murder,
is still in Argos, plagued by apparitions of Erinyes, and that the people
of Argos have deposed him from the throne.
Tyndareus' role raises similar doubts. His motive in opposing help
to Orestes could have been, as Pylades guesses it to be (751), anger at
the death of his daughter, and Euripides could have written a speech
in which this motive was made clear. Instead, the Spartan vituperates
Clytaemestra as strongly as anyone in the play and says she has merely
received her just deserts. He objects only to the fact that it was Orestes
who killed her. He gives a principled-sounding explanation, claiming
that killing people who have killed others leads to endless vendettas,
and that in the good old days people were exiled, never put to death.
But public execution is just what he threatens Orestes with (and ends
up proposing, by proxy, in the assembly) and just what he says his
daughter deserved. It is possible to argue that Euripides did not wish
us to concentrate on this contradiction, that it is excusable in an iras-
cible old man. But there is more of the sophist about him than the
laudator temporis acti se puero. His suggestion that Orestes should have
proceeded at law against his mother, though it sounds like a good point,
is absurd, and not merely because courts are presumed to be alien to
the heroic age (there is one, after all, on the shield of Achilles). Aegisthus
and Clytaemestra enjoyed royal power, and Orestes was their enemy.
No court could have nullified this advantage or prevented Orestes from
being killed. In view of this we may be meant to find what Tyndareus
explicitly says so puzzling that we look for some hidden purpose. His
threat that Menelaus, if he helps Orestes, will never again be allowed
to tread Spartan soil (625-26) and his arranging for someone to speak
against Orestes in the assembly (915) bespeak a more powerful moti-
vation than his professed one of defending the rule of law and the
practice of the good old days. The question of his motivation, unlike
that of Menelaus, is not revisited later in the play, so perhaps it is un-
necessary to spell it out explicitly, but if Menelaus can be justly

10 I see no reason for Willink's deletion of 370, adopted by Diggle.

286 DAVID KOVACS

suspected of designs on the throne of Argos, Tyndareus must surely

count as a plausible cooperater in this design.
In pursuit of their goals, however they are defined, both Menelaus
and Tyndareus are impatient with talk of divinity. Neither Menelaus
nor Tyndareus is receptive to the idea that Apollo's command justified
Orestes' action. Menelaus calls the god "ignorant of decency and jus-
tice" (417), and there is an implication (cf. the κατα in 419) that Apollo
did not give such a command. When Orestes, addressing Tyndareus,
says that he had to obey Apollo and that the god is responsible for the
murder, Tyndareus does not accord this a single word of reply.
Orestes, then, is a play that portrays a situation that arises because
of the naive rationalism of the hero and his sister, his failure to leave
Argos for purification, to honor the proprieties of a funeral, to take the
power of the Erinyes seriously, or to avail himself of the powerful help
that his divine patron put at his disposal. This has exposed him to the
malign rationalism of his enemies, among whom are his uncle and his
grandfather. It also determines him to take matters into his own hands
by murdering Helen, taking Hermione hostage, and burning down his
ancestral palace if he cannot force Menelaus to help him. It is surely
significant that the first command Apollo gives, after he has ordered
everyone to stop what they are doing, is to Orestes: he must leave Argos,
the very thing he has left undone for six days now.
At the end of the play it is appropriate that the audience should
see the characters put Apollo's instructions into operation. In the stage
directions of my forthcoming Loeb edition I have all the characters on
the roof descend after 1681 and emerge from the skene. After Apollo's
speech, as Apollo and Helen are carried away to Olympus on the
mechane, Pylades and Electra, who are to marry, leave by the eisodos by
which Pylades had arrived, the one that leads out of town by way of
the agora. Orestes and Hermione together with her father must leave
by the other eisodos, the one by which Menelaus entered to begin with. 11
It would not be amiss if Orestes were to pick up the bow, which, if I am
right, has been lying on the ground near his bed since line 276. Thus
the story finally gets back on the religious and mythical rails on which
it was meant to run.

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

11 I discuss the use of the eisodoi in m y forthcoming Euripidea Tertia.