And with the Teian lyre imitate Anacreon: The reception of Anacreon and the Carmina Anacreontea in Horace's lyric and iambic poetry [1 ed.] 9783666311512, 9783525311516

Citation preview

Veronika Lütkenhaus

And with the Teian lyre imitate Anacreon The reception of Anacreon and the Carmina Anacreontea in Horace‘s lyric and iambic poetry

Hypomnemata Untersuchungen zur Antike und zu ihrem Nachleben

Herausgegeben von Friedemann Buddensiek, Sabine Föllinger, Hans-Joachim Gehrke, Karla Pollmann, Christiane Reitz, Christoph Riedweg, Tanja Scheer, Benedikt Strobel Band 216

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

Veronika Lütkenhaus

And with the Teian lyre imitate Anacreon The reception of Anacreon and the Carmina Anacreontea in Horace’s lyric and iambic poetry

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

Dissertationsschrift zur Erlangung des Doktorgrades der Philosophie an der Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main, 2022 Sigelziffer D.30 Responsible editor: Sabine Föllinger

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek: The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data available online: https://dnb.de. © 2023 by Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Robert-Bosch-Breite 10, 37079 Göttingen, Germany, an imprint of the Brill-Group (Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands; Brill USA Inc., Boston MA, USA; Brill Asia Pte Ltd, Singapore; Brill Deutschland GmbH, Paderborn, Germany¸ Brill Österreich GmbH, Vienna, Austria) Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau, V&R unipress and Wageningen Academic. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher. Cover image: Red-figured neck-amphora, Attic period (440BC–430BC), Attica. © The British Museum Typesetting: Reemers Publishing Services, Krefeld Cover design: SchwabScantechnik, Göttingen Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht Verlage | www.vandenhoeck-ruprecht-verlage.com ISSN 2197-3407 ISBN 978-3-666-31151-2

For Joseph Nec si quid olim lusit Horatius deleuit aetas: spirat adhuc amor uiuuntque commissi calores Ausonii fidibus poetae.

Contents

Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 1.1 State of Research and Objective of this Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 1.1.1 Horace and archaic Greek lyric . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 1.1.2 Anacreon: an underrepresented predecessor in Horatian scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 1.1.3 The significance of the Carmina Anacreontea . . . . . . . . 20 1.2 Conceptual Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 1.2.1 Imitatio, aemulatio, influence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 1.2.2 Allusion, reference, intertextuality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 1.2.3 Reception . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 1.3 Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 1.3.1 Poetry as a serious occupation in the Augustan era . . . . . . 39 1.3.2 Horace’s reflection on the profession of poets in the Epistles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 1.3.3 The role of the Greeks for Horace’s poetry and life choice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 1.3.4 The Horatian life choice in the Odes and its sources . . . . . 47 2. And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace . . . . . . . 59 2.1 Wine and Inebriation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 2.1.1 Odes 1.27 and PMG 356b: restrained partying . . . . . . . . . 59 2.1.2 Odes 2.7 and PMG 356a: madness through inebriation . . . . 61 2.1.3 Deducing Zeus in PMG 362 and Epodes 13 . . . . . . . . . . . 67 2.1.4 Odes 1.36: Bassus, βασσαρεῖν and drunk Damalis . . . . . . 71 2.2 Love and Domination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 2.2.1 Odes 1.36 and PMG 357: Δαμάλης Ἔρως and beloved Damalis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation . . . . . . . . . . 80 2.2.3 Odes 1.23 and PMG 408: fearful fawns . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 2.2.4 Floating hair and bisexuality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 2.2.5 Love reloaded: Odes 4.1 and the erotic δηὖτε motif . . . . . . 101

8

Inhalt

2.3 Satire and Seniority . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 2.3.1 Anacreon’s influence as an iambic poet . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 2.3.2 Epodes 14 and Anacreon’s Palinode . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 2.3.3 Horace’s Artemon in Epodes 4 and 15 (PMG 388 and 372) . . 127 2.3.4 Aeschrology: beastly women in Epodes 12 and PMG 424, 432, and 437 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 2.3.5 Lalage, Lyce, and PMG 427: garrulous birds . . . . . . . . . . 139 2.3.6 Horace’s Baubo and Anacreon’s Eubuleus: poetological allusions? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 3. Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea . . . . . 157 3.1 Introductory Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 3.1.1 Dating the Anacreontea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 3.1.2 Character of the anthology and significance for Horace . . . 160 3.2 Horace’s Latin Anacreontea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 3.2.1 CA 60: questions of unity and dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 3.2.2 Odes 1.17 and CA 60b: Horace and the Anacreontean Dog Star . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 3.2.3 Insanire iuuat: welcome mania through drinking . . . . . . . 172 3.2.4 Eros and the pouring puer: Anacreontean and Anacreontic wine and love . . . . . . . . . 175 3.2.5 CA 18: Bathyllus, Phyllis, and shadowing hair . . . . . . . . . 179 3.2.6 From Anacreon through the CA to Horace: literature at the third degree . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 4. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 4.1 The Conceptual Approach Revisited . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 4.2 Wine and Inebriation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 4.3 Love and Domination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 4.4 Satire and Seniority . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 4.5 And Horace with the Teian lyre imitates Anacreon . . . . . . . . . 195 5. Works Cited . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199 Index of Passages Discussed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211

Preface

The first seeds of this monograph were planted in 2014 during the Latin Summer School of the Accademia Vivarium Novum near Rome, where almost every evening Horace’s odes and epodes were sung to vivid melodies in the ancient metre. From that time on, Horatian poetry kept a special place in my mind and heart. Over a year later, upon beginning the Classics Master of Studies at Oxford in 2015, my supervisor Prof. Dr. Gregory Hutchinson further kindled my interest in Anacreon and his particular influence on Horace. It thus became the focus of my master’s thesis, in the course of which I realized soon that ‘one could write a whole doctoral dissertation on this topic’. That ‘one’ later turned out to be me, and in September 2021, an earlier version of this book was handed in as a doctoral thesis at my first alma mater, the Goethe University in Frankfurt. I owe the greatest gratitude to my Ph.D. supervisor, Prof. Dr. Hans Bernsdorff, who with untiring energy and patience read and commented chapter after chapter and provided support with literature and pre-launch documents of his Anacreon edition and commentary. In early 2020, during a three-month research visit to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Prof. Dr. Patricia Rosenmeyer joined Prof. Bernsdorff in supervising my work; what started as fortnightly meetings with very fruitful outcomes resulted in her being my second super­ visor, for which I am deeply grateful. Heartfelt thanks are due to my siblings and my parents, who often endured my laments in crisis and shared my joys in progress. Thanks are also due to all my dear colleagues in Frankfurt and “doctoral siblings”, as I like to call them, for discussion and critical questions, especially Dr. Timo Christian, Dr. Anja Glaab, Mattis Heyne, and Dr. Iris Sticker. In addition, I received invaluable moral and scholarly support from friends and from colleagues in academia. I thank first and foremost Dr. Nikolas van Essenberg; not to forget Dr. Johannes Isépy, Frouzan Benedicta Moshaver for her effective coaching, and Dr. Annika Seifert for many hours of highly productive work in our shared home office. For reading the whole thesis and polishing my English, I warmly thank the professional proofreader Dr. Jonathan Griffiths (all remaining errors are my own), and for some additional help, Durk and Nancy Steed. Yet the greatest of all helpers prefers to remain hidden. Last but not least, I most cordially thank the Maria Engelport monastery near the Moselle for providing a precious, peaceful refuge several times, especially during the intense last year of writing. Some of the passages deemed best by my supervisors were written in the monastery’s inspiring atmosphere.

10

Preface

Now, in remembrance of Horace’s famous wish in his very first ode, quod si me lyricis uatibus inseres, and with reference to the artful adaptation and ambiguous imitation of the nine Greek lyric personae in his Odes and Epodes, I step back, and, emulating the last stanza of his ode 2.5, showcase the Ausonian poet: Quem si poetarum insereres choro, mire sagacis falleret hospites discrimen obscurum aemulatis uersibus ambiguaque lingua.

1. Introduction

1.1 State of Research and Objective of this Study 1.1.1 Horace and archaic Greek lyric Quod si me lyricis uatibus inseres, sublimi feriam sidera uertice.

These are Horace’s concluding words in Odes 1.1.35f., the opening poem of the collection. The Latin poet’s hope to be accepted among the lyrici vates, the nine canonical Greek lyricists,1 is a major aspiration for his books of Odes and at the same time indicates their main source of inspiration. In a quite recent and comprehensive contribution to the growing literature on Greek lyric reception in the classical Roman period, Felix Mundt’s Römische Klassik und griechische Lyrik (2018), the imitatio veterum is, perhaps surprisingly, identified as a conditio sine qua non for poetic originality in the Augustan era.2 Why is imitatio original? How can an appeal back to one’s predecessors be inventive? I venture to address this question by means of a brief comparison: in a certain way, for creative writing, science and academic writing can be an illuminating example of the same phenomenon. The best academic work is surely not one that invents theories offhand, without foundation or legitimation, or without any contact to an existing scholarly tradition. Imitatio veterum in the scientific sense means availing oneself of precious earlier findings, quoting them, appropriating them, and then carrying out well-grounded original research. The more solid the foundations, the more convincing the new discoveries. In a similar sense, art is, like science, bound to the reception of earlier writing. The more consciously it deals and plays with predecessors, in terms of genre, topoi, motifs, imagery, and language, the more substance and depth it acquires and the more inventive it becomes. Of course the comparison has its constraints, because unlike scientific writing, poetic writing does not strive for knowledge and insight, and therefore is not bound to building on any available facts and 1 The canon formation started already in Hellenistic Alexandria. It includes: Alcman th th (7  cent.), Sappho, Alcaeus, Anacreon, Stesichorus and Ibycus (all 6 cent.), Simonides, Pinth dar, and Bacchylides (5 cent.). For a thorough analysis of the phenomenon of canonization, see the monograph by Hadjimichael 2019: ‘The emergence of the lyric canon’. Cf. also Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 15 s.v. lyricis. 2 Cf. Mundt 2018, 19f.

12

Introduction

research results. Today, in a postmodern deconstructivist context, originality is indeed often decoupled from influence and any kind of tradition. But in Augustan times, poetry ‘without any contact to an existing poetic tradition’ may have run the risk of appearing childishly uninformed and arbitrary. Creative acknowledgement and the inventive revolution of tradition was far more appreciated than its wilful ignorance.3 Mundt reports an idea which was expressed as early as 1920 by George Fiske (in A Study in the Classical Theory of Imitation), namely that the Augustan reception of the Archaic period is comparable to the Renaissance reception of antiquity ‘in its entirety’.4 The question of ‘receiving the whole Greek period in its entirety’ versus ‘receiving individual components of it’ with respect to historical development within the received period is more intricate. For instance, in Horace’s literary Epistles, Citroni observes that the whole of Greek poetry “non è vista da Orazio nel suo sviluppo storico, ma in un tempo fermo, che è al tempo stesso remoto e attuale”,5 that is, as one undifferentiated block of literature, or, in Mundt’s words, a “zeitloser Monolith”.6 Whilst this may be plausible and justified for the specific scope of Horace’s theoretical observations on Greek literature in the Epistles (which I will consider in 1.3.2 Horace’s reflection on the profession of poets in the Epistles), it is not adequate for his practical use of Greek poetry in his iambic and lyric oeuvre,7 where he is apparently very much aware of the literary and historical distance between, say, Pindar and Callimachus. Yet, a too sharp scholarly dichotomy or segmentation of archaic traces, on the one hand, and Hellenistic reminiscences, on the other, does not apply to Horace’s oeuvre either. Denis Feeney has found a helpful coinage for the technique of interweaving two (or more) distinguishable threads (predominantly archaic and Hellenistic) into a multicoloured, but not blurred, ‘carpet of allusions’, calling it a “twin inheritance”:8 in a sense, like monozygotic twins, it is neither separable nor miscible. Throughout this book, the pattern of Horace’s consciously entangled reception will be examined with regard to Anacreon and his later tradition, especially the Carmina Anacreontea. 3 The Augustan poets did not know ‘the anxiety of influence’, to quote the title of ­Harold Bloom’s influential monograph. In the new preface to his 1997 edition, he criticises the rejection of literary tradition with respect to Shakespeare’s unmeasurable literary footprints: “Resenters of canonical literature are nothing more or less than deniers of Shakespeare. They are not social revolutionaries or even cultural rebels. They are sufferers of the anxieties of Shakespeare’s influence” (Bloom 1997, xix). 4 Cf. Fiske 1920, 30. 5 Citroni 2005, 137. 6 Cf. Mundt 2018, 20, who cites mainly Ovidian examples that support this impression to a certain degree (n.22). 7 Cf. Mundt 2018, 20 n.22. 8 Feeney 1993, 44.

State of Research and Objective of this Study

13

But to return to the initially quoted lines from Horace’s opening ode: What precisely does it mean to ask, as a young Roman rising star, to ‘be inserted’ into a closed canon of grand Greek poets? In Denis Feeney’s words, “the audacity is marvellous”.9 However, Matthew Leigh (2010) gives a very convincing account of an alternative meaning of line 35. Instead of considering inserere as a translation of the Greek technical term for inclusion into a poetic canon by qualified judgment (ἐγκρίνειν), and instead of assuming that Horace actually wants to enter the canon of the Nine Lyric Poets as a tenth member, he argues that we should stick to the proper meaning of inserere as an equivalent of the Greek ἐμπλέκειν which was used in Meleager’s proem for his technique of collecting several poems, alias flowers, for his anthology or στέφανος.10 Maecenas after all, the addressee of Odes 1.1 and its lofty wish in the final lines, does not have the competence to create a new lyric canon that includes Horace as a tenth member. But he does have the competence to edit a personal garland of great poems by the greatest and most famous Greek lyric poets, within which Horace’s poems are entwined. By means of imitatio and aemulatio11 of the Greek lyricists, Horace will thus try to justify his position within their circle. Towards the end of his career, in the Epistles, the poet states the success of this programme (cf. Epistles 1.19.21– 34). He explicitly names Sappho and Alcaeus (l. 28f.), and highlights his own achievement in making Alcaeus accessible for a Latin audience (l. 32f.): Hunc ego, non alio dictum prius ore, Latinus | uolgaui fidicen. Beyond the lyric circle, he names the iambographer Archilochus (ll. 23–25)12 as a further particular paradigm of his poetry. 9 Feeney 1993, 41; he continues (41f.): “Horace will vault across that divide [between Greek and Latin literature] to become number ten in a Greek list of poets organised by the criteria of Greek scholarship”. The double meaning of uates as ‘seer’ and ‘poet’ in combination with the future verb forms gives the lines considerable weight. Analysing the function of the future tense in Horace’s (love) poetry, Rumpf 2017, 105 describes it as more than a verb tense, namely a “’Redemodus’ von starkem Signalcharakter …, durch den sich eine bestimmte Form der Sprecherautorität konstituiert”. 10 Cf. Leigh 2010. 11 For my understanding of these terms cf. 1.2.1 Imitatio, aemulatio, influence. For the discussion about imitations and comparisons cf. e.g. Barchiesi 2000: ‘Rituals in ink. Horace on the Greek lyric tradition’. 12 Parios ego primus iambos | ostendi Latio, numeros animosque secutus | Archilochi, non res et agentia uerba Lycamben. These quotations show a high degree of identity between Horace’s persona and the actual historical author. Here the persona identifies with the author expressis verbis. The licence that scholarship has consequently had to draw cautious conclusions about Horace’s biography is not uncontroversial, but far more accepted than for many other poets who identify much less with their lyric persona. Doblhofer 1992, 7 alerts to the general “autobiographical fallacy” of accepting the persona’s words too naïvely at face value, but in ‘Horazens tria nomina als autobiographische Zeugnisse’, he underlines that “die persona, der sich der Dichter zuweilen nähere, von dem Menschen nicht zu trennen sei; der

14

Introduction

The paradigmatic character of some of these predecessors has already been explored intensely in past scholarship. In comparative works on Horace and his Greek sources, we often encounter Archilochus and Hipponax13 (iambus) as well as Pindar, Stesichorus, and Ibycus (choral lyric). Sappho and Alcaeus, however, are even more relevant for the Augustan monodic poet than the choral vates. In the scholarly literature on Horace, their omnipresence is not least due to the fact that they are mentioned in the Odes fairly often by name or by unmistakable allusions.14

1.1.2 Anacreon: an underrepresented predecessor in Horatian scholarship Compared to the scholarly tracing of the Lesbian poets in Horace’s oeuvre, the research on the third influential monodic lyric paradigm, Anacreon, turns out to be rather scanty. No monograph currently exists in any language and there are hardly any articles that deal specifically with Anacreontic15 allusions in Horace more than in bits and pieces. Scholarship is largely based upon scattered observations from earlier centuries and is mainly limited to passing mentions of

Lebenswirklichkeit und dem autobiographischen Element, dem eigenen ‚Gesicht‘ des Autors (…) sein Vorrecht vor der ‚Maske‘ gewahrt bleiben müsse” (Doblhofer 1993, 132). I agree with David West’s balanced judgment (commenting on the discussion about the degree of Horace’s literary trimming versus historical authenticity of the scenes in Odes 3.15) that “[the] historicity of his assertions cannot be established, nor can it be refuted. Literature imitates life, and life imitates literature. At this range the demarcation line cannot be drawn. To say such poetry is autobiographical would be wrong. It would be equally wrong to say that it is not” (West 2002, 138). 13 Cf. the allusions to both in Epodes 6.13f.: qualis Lycambae spretus infido gener | aut acer hostis Bupalo. Especially Archilochus is commonly judged as the essential source for Horace’s Epodes. See e.g. chapters 8 and 9 in Cavarzere et al. 2001: Iambic Ideas, and Johnson 2012: Horace’s Iambic Criticism. 14 Cf. e.g. Odes 1.32.5 (Lesbio … ciui); Odes 2.13.24–27 (Aeoliis fidibus querentem | Sappho … | et te sonantem plenius aureo, | Alcaee); Odes 3.30.13f. (Aeolium carmen); Odes 4.9.7 (Alcaei minaces) and 4.9.12 (Aeoliae … puellae); not least two of the most important Horatian stanzas (Sapphic and Alcaic) stem from them. A bibliographical overview of relevant scholarship at this point would be either randomly selective or overwhelmingly long, since almost any essay or chapter on Horace’s Greek predecessors mentions the Lesbians. A good insight into this huge area is given in Strauss Clay 2010: ‘Horace and Lesbian Lyric’. 15 Concerning Anacreon, I will use the following vocabulary: ‘Anacreontic’ as an adjective for something inspired by the original Anacreon or, in the broader sense, something ‘Anacreon-like’; ‘Anacreontean’ only for characteristics of the Carmina Anacreontea; ‘Anacreontics’ (mostly plural) for the poets of the Anacreontea.

State of Research and Objective of this Study

15

parallels, comparisons of reused metaphors and naming of more or less obvious imitations in the context of broader investigations.16 Recently, the study of Anacreon has received a considerable boost through Bernsdorff’s new Anacreon edition with translation and commentary (2020). Numerous mentions of Horatian reception scattered through the commentaries on Anacreon’s pieces as well as a thorough introductory chapter section on his presence in Horace17 invite deeper exploration. Who was this ancestor to whom Horace alludes? In antiquity, the life of Anac­ reon was constantly studied and depicted by biographers, scholiasts, sculptors, and vase painters, and he became a highly influential model. Anacreon has often been portrayed as the harmless wine-drinking older lover, a smooth and charming character.18 This image is conveyed mainly through the Carmina Anacreontea, which focus only on these aspects, but it already developed in th the 5 century BC. As Patricia Rosenmeyer puts it in The Poetics of Imitation, “a certain nostalgia already seems to have smoothed out the rough edges”.19 The gradual reducing and stereotyping of what Rosenmeyer calls “an elaborate biographical fiction in antiquity”20 begins. When it comes to Anacreon, people tend to overemphasise certain aspects and to underestimate others, thus creating a caricature which they then reapply in the interpretation of the texts as a circular argument. This is not unusual: Rosenmeyer ascribes to ancient biographers “the tendency to create a type for each ancient poet”, which in turn leads to

16 The longest article (31 pages) with an old, but still worthwhile, list of allusions is th from the late 19 century: Campe 1872: Horaz und Anakreon. There is also one four-page article from the 1980s that is dedicated specifically to the relation of “Horace and Anacreon” (Campbell 1985). Some examples from more recent monographs and essay collections are the following: in Cavarzere et al. 2001 (Iambic Ideas), chapter 10, Anacreon forms a small part of the interpretation; in Harrison 2007, he is referred to occasionally (mainly in chapter 1.3: ‘Horace and archaic Greek poetry’ = Hutchinson 2007); Breuer 2008 (Der Mythos in den Oden des Horaz) mentions him three times, but only once a bit more in detail (156f.); Holzberg 2009 has a chapter “Von Anakreon zu Tibull” (126–131), but only on p. 127 does he briefly report on Anacreon’s all too familiar filly metaphor. In Houghton and Wyke 2009 (Perceptions of Horace), Anacreon’s name alone occurs three times; in the whole of Johnson 2012 (Horace’s Iambic Criticism), he receives passing mention without further analysis only twice. Many similar instances could be added, most of which only rehash the previously noted connections. 17 See Bernsdorff 2020, 40–4. The chapter ends in the words: “The preceding survey is by no means exhaustive, and future investigations will certainly detect more aspects of Horatian obligation to Anacreon and even to the Anacreontea”. 18 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 11: “It is well-known that the reception of Anacreon’s poetry can be characterized as a reduction to the stereotype of the wine-drinking poet who sings about his love affairs with beautiful boys and girls”. 19 Rosenmeyer 1992, 17. 20 Rosenmeyer 1992, 20.

16

Introduction

“the crystallisation of a persona”21 that is not really representative of their actual (historical) character. However, alongside this process of reduction, we also encounter an opposite movement: a restoration and preservation of individual variety. Not only do some ancient authors try to save Anacreon from crass stereotypes, as in Athenaeus’ explicit differentiation between the poet himself and his persona in terms of their drunkenness;22 the fragments of an ancient Anacreon commentary from nd the 2 cent. AD (P.Oxy. 3722) also show a thematic focus on wine and love, and the inclusion of satiric aspects23 also suggests that the commentator incorporated more parts of Anacreon’s multifaceted persona. Looking further beyond literature, traces of a more varied image can be found. Several statues and vase paintings as well as descriptions of items that are not preserved reveal a wide variety of personality-traits, ranging from the typical drunk singer to an earnest sober poet.24 A mosaic pictures him surrounded by two of his fragments which describe symposium scenes with violence: PMG 396, starting off with the preparation of a symposium and then suddenly veering towards a (metaphorical) fight (l. 3f.): ὡς μὴ πρὸς Ἔρωτα πυκταλίζω,25 and PMG 429 (ὁ μὲν θέλων μάχεσθαι, πάρεστι γάρ, μαχέσθω). Rosenmeyer concludes: “In spite of attempts to categorize and canonize Anacreon, he continually breaks out of the sympotic-erotic mold to experiment with iambics, epitaphs, or choral song”.26 The meagre presence of Anacreon in Horatian scholarship can be illustrated by one especially striking example. In the passage on “The big Nine” in his article ‘Lyric in Rome’ (2009: The Cambridge Companion to Greek Lyric),27 Barchiesi treats the canon of Greek lyricists in Horace at length, even speaking 21 Rosenmeyer 1992, 20. 22 Cf. Ath. 10.429b: ἄτοπος δὲ ὁ Ἀνακρέων ὁ πᾶσαν αὑτοῦ τὴν ποίησιν ἐξαρτήσας μέθης· τῇ γὰρ μαλακίᾳ καὶ τῇ τρυφῇ ἐπιδοὺς ἑαυτὸν ἐν τοῖς ποιήμασι διαβέβληται, οὐκ εἰδότων τῶν πολλῶν ὅτι νήφων ἐν τῷ γράφειν καὶ ἀγαθὸς ὢν προσποιεῖται μεθύειν οὐκ οὔσης ἀνάγκης. ‘Anacreon, who connected all his poetry to drunkenness, is an unusual case; he is maligned for surrendering himself to effeminate luxury in his poetry, but most people are unaware that he was sober when he composed, and merely pretended to be drunk, despite being a decent person, when there was no need to do so.’ Surprisingly, it is Alcaeus, in contrast, who is described as drunk while composing just a couple of sentences earlier (10.429a): καὶ Ἀλκαῖος δὲ ὁ μελοποιὸς καὶ Ἀριστοφάνης ὁ κωμῳδιοποιὸς μεθύοντες ἔγραφον τὰ ποιήματα. ‘The lyric poet Alcaeus and the comic poet Aristophanes also produced their poetry while drunk’. 23 Bernsdorff 2020, 262 points out that in this commentary, “the comic–satirical aspect, which plays a less important role in the known fragments and is downplayed in the reception of the poet, seems to be present, too”. 24 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 22ff. 25 On the abundantly discussed precise shape and meaning of these lines cf. 2.1.2 Odes 2.7 and PMG 356a: madness through inebriation and a new argument in 3.2.4 Eros and the pouring puer: Anacreontean and Anacreontic wine and love. 26 Rosenmeyer 1992, 36. 27 Barchiesi 2009, 323f.

State of Research and Objective of this Study

17

about ‘outsiders’ such as Archilochus and Corinna, and notes that in Horace’s poems “Alcman is the only one of the nine not to be mentioned by name”.28 I should say that astonishingly, in Barchiesi’s whole passage, Anacreon is ‘the only one of the nine not to be mentioned by name’.29 The fact alone that Anacreon is named explicitly three times throughout Horace’s Epodes and Odes invites the thought that he, too, might to some degree be a model and a source of inspiration for Horace. The first mention30 is as early as Epodes 14.9–11: Non aliter Samio dicunt arsisse Bathyllo Anacreonta Teium, qui persaepe caua testudine fleuit amorem

Not differently, they say, did Anacreon the Teian, who most often bewailed love on the curved cithara, burn for the Samian Bathyllus.31 Anacreon’s instrument and native city are mentioned again in Odes 1.17.17–19: […] Et fide Teia dices laborantis in uno Penelopen uitreamque Circen; And with the Teian lyre you will sing about Penelope and opalescent Circe, who exerted themselves for one and the same man,

Anacreon’s name again appears in Odes 4.9.9f.: Nec si quid olim lusit Anacreon, deleuit aetas. Nor, whenever Anacreon once played something, has age wiped it out. 28 Barchiesi 2009, 324. 29 A similar illustration of Anacreon’s lack of coverage in Horatian lyric is Lyne 2005a: ‘Horace Odes Book 1 and the Alexandrian edition of Alcaeus’. Describing the first 9 odes of book 1, the so-called ‘Parade Odes’, Lyne observes that “[w]e are waiting for a firm alignment with a Greek poet, the poet who will provide his new image, as well as a basis for his text: what Theocritus had been to Virgil, and Archilochus and Hipponax to the younger Horace”; then he asks “A new Alcaeus? Sappho?” (p. 545) Anacreon is again so underexposed that he does not appear anywhere in the main text of Lyne’s article. 30 Note that, disregarding some initial insinuations conveyed by the adjective Lesbius, the first explicit name-dropping of Sappho and Alcaeus in Horace’s oeuvre is not before Odes 2.13. 31 Bold type in the Latin and Greek quotations is always mine. Unless otherwise indicated, translations of Latin are mine, especially wherever a precise understanding is needed and my interpretation differs from others. Where the translation shall only ease the access to a Latin passage and precision of wording is less crucial for the argument, I often provide the LCL translation Rudd 2004). I generally took the following editions as a textual basis: Horace: Shackleton Bailey 2008, in alignment with Kießling and Heinze 1984 (where Shackleton Bailey seemed too imaginative); Anacreon (including most translations, if not otherwise indicated): Bernsdorff 2020; Carmina Anacreontea: West 1984a.

18

Introduction

In addition to these three explicit instances, numerous intertextual references prove the dependence. The most prominent among them are the following: the description of a symposium on the verge of violence (this literary reference was already explicated in antiquity);32 Horace’s handling of the Anacreontic filly- and fawn-metaphors for innocent playful girls, and connected to these the topos of erotic reining and taming;33 and the disprized nouveau-riche character, deriving from Anacreon’s satiric attack of Artemon.34 These three examples outline the basic structure of my study and its core chapters in the second section 2. And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace. The symposium is discussed in 2.1 Wine and Inebriation; both the passive and the active erotic reining and taming in 2.2 Love and Domination; and the satiric kinship of the two poets and their mockery of old age in 2.3 Satire and Seniority. Sometimes, tell-tale personal names, pseudonyms, and the names of places and regions will be particularly focused on, since “Horace was inordinately fond of redende Namen”.35 Occasionally, allusions to Anacreon can be hidden or overlain by more obvious allusions to other predecessors, and scholarship has sometimes contented itself too quickly with giving one explanation for a poetic image, and with one clear attribution, without asking if there could be a second or third source. In other words, to re-use the carpet allegory, sometimes only one thread of Horace’s poetic carpet pattern has been singled out, whilst others are ignored. An illustrative example for newly emerging colours in the carpet is Phillips’ 2014 detection of a ‘New Sapphic Intertext’ following Alcaic allusions in one of Horace’s most renowned and most studied poems, the Soracte Ode 1.9.36 This new intertextual layer was based upon the discovery and publication of the now famous papyrus fragment containing Sappho’s Brothers Poem; in 2021, Heyne argued for a further case of additional allusion to this Sapphic poem in the otherwise very Alcaic ode 1.14.37 32 Anacreon PMG 356b and Hor. Odes 1.27. 33 Anacreon PMG 346 (fr. 1); 360; 408; 417 and Hor. Odes 1.23; 2.5; 3.11. 34 Anacreon PMG 388 and Hor. Epodes 4 and 15. 35 See Watson 1995, 188 n.3, commenting on Horace’s own ironic self-incrimination nam si quid in Flacco uiri est (Epodes 15.12). The term ‘redende Namen’ stems from the homony­ mous short article by Vogel 1918: ‘Redende Namen bei Horaz’. For names in the context of passing time and death cf. Paschalis 1995: ‘Names and Death in Horace’s “Odes”’. What he says about death-related appellations in my view also applies to other naming: “[T]hese names by means of their etymology condense or encapsulate themes and ideas of the Odes” (p. 181). This is also true for Horatian names and pseudonyms like Lalage, Thressa Chloe, Lyce, fides Teia, Tyndaris, Phyllis, and many others. 36 Cf. Phillips 2014. In an appendix to this article, Hutchinson concludes (p. 289): “The ode had seemed to be a notable example of Horace beginning with a conspicuous gesture to archaic lyric and then wandering away. The whole poem now seems to join archaic lyric poems and poets into a form which expresses plurality and change”. 37 See Heyne 2021: ‘Sappho’s gloom in Horace’s Ship Ode’.

State of Research and Objective of this Study

19

How consciously interwoven these threads are can be shown in Odes 4.9 and its long list of Greek idols. Horace pointedly unites Anacreon and Sappho at the beginning and end of one chiastic stanza with centered pivot lines that could belong to both poets: in 4.9.10–11 spirat adhuc amor | vivuntque commissi calores the reader could initially refer this description back to Anacreon (l. 9) before he comes to l. 12 and the mention of the Aeolian girl. Now it is suddenly unclear which of these elements, amor and calores, belongs to Anacreon above and which to Sappho below; do perhaps both even refer to Sappho or both to both? This play with attributions mirrors in an explicit way the many implicit allusions to both Anacreon and Sappho, allusions that are sometimes just as difficult to trace back to one of them distinctively as in the case of Odes 4.9. This also means that sometimes it is not enough to content oneself with a Sapphic allusion as a sufficient explanation for a passage, since, perhaps in doing so, we overlook a simultaneous Anacreontic allusion.38 This is all the more likely since the tradition of referring to Anacreon and Sappho as a pair is clearly older than Horace and was already well established by his time.39 In the above-mentioned example of the discovery of new intertextual layers thanks to papyrus finds, a general difficulty reveals itself: the extremely fragmentary transmission of the archaic Greek poets. Feeney claims that “[w]e have lost Greek lyric almost in its entirety” and illustrates this impressively by calculating in OCT (Oxford Classical Texts) volumes the supposed amount of poetry Horace had at hand, comparing this to our existing few OCT volumes.40 Only in part can we claim that the most significant lines of poets are preserved: the more famous a poem, the more it was copied, quoted, imitated, and the higher was the probability that it would survive. However, transmission can occur in many different forms. On the one hand, there is the sometimes random preservation of rather marginal works on papyri (which is less significant in the case of Anacreon, of whose lines hardly anything is transmitted in primary sources), whereas, on the other hand, there are numerous ‘random’ quotations (which is especially relevant in the case of Anacreon), such as in Athenaeus, that are not due to a poem’s (or just a line’s) poetic renown or significance, but that only serve 38 On the phenomenon of ‘paired reception’ in Horace and beyond cf. Heyne 2021, 17 who speaks of “Horace’s frequent practice of imitating Sappho and Alcaeus not on their own, but as a pair. The phenomenon of a ‘paired reception’ seems to become especially popular in Hellenistic poetry and is carried on in Rome”. Heyne is preparing a monograph on this phenomenon. 39 Cf. Acosta-Hughes 2010, 145f. with several examples from ancient literature in n.17. 40 Cf. Feeney 1993, 42: “Horace had it all, roll upon roll of it, catalogued ‒ commentaries and all ‒ in Pollio’s library in the temple of Libertas, or, after 28 BC, in the porticoes of Augustus’ Apollo Palatinus”. Pindar is mentioned there, among others, as one of the best transmitted poets, but “[a]t the very roughest calculation, then, Horace had four times as much Pindar as we have got”.

20

Introduction

as examples for the use of images or vocabulary in very specific contexts or are only given for metrical reasons. Almost everywhere, the reader may object with the argument that this or that peculiarity in Horace could have been much more influenced by one of the countless lost poems by Sappho, Alcaeus, or anyone else, than by the proposed existing sources from Anacreon. Of course no one can reject this possibility. Yet such speculations are not really illuminating, and if we do find several very clear sources of Horatian imitations among the existing Anacreontic fragments, then even though they may not have been the only influential models, but were perhaps flanked by lost poems from other authors, this would not eliminate Anacreon’s significance. In contrast, already finding so many Horatian references to such a tiny fraction of the Anacreontic corpus rather suggests that there are many more undetected references to lost poems of Anacreon himself. In this study, separate references between Horace and Anacreon will not only be collected, newly evaluated, complemented, and set into a wider web of relations in the Odes and Epodes. The number of references and their markedly artful and allusive nature justify a progression towards investigating a possibly deeper Anacreontic inspiration of the whole Horatian persona which straddles the individual cases.41 Topics such as song, love, symposium, and satire, and motifs such as erotic taming, identities shifting between male and female, homo- and bisexual tendencies, and old age in both men and women are not coincidental connectors between the two monodic poets. As Hutchinson puts it, “Anacreon is in fact a much more significant model than Alcaeus or Sappho for the Horatian narrator, and his age and tone”.42 This is one of the book’s purposes: it sets out to prove the hitherto unexploited depth of Anacreon’s presence in Horace’s Odes and Epodes.43

1.1.3 The significance of the Carmina Anacreontea Horace’s notable affinity with Anacreon will be highlighted by a further aspect in the third main section of this book, chapter 3. Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea. Already in antiquity, Anacreon met with an intense and very specific reception which stands in a parallel to no other ancient 41 In this endeavour, I embrace Mundt’s objective to consider the countless references of Roman poetry to Greek lyric to be more than individual and incoherent aesthetic decisions of the authors (cf. Mundt 2018, 21). 42 Hutchinson 2002, 530. 43 Of course my research is to be understood only alongside, and entangled with, Horace’s comprehensive reception of other literary predecessors in lyric, iambus, epos, and so on (i.e. without pretending that the poems contain an exclusively Anacreontic context). Yet the primary focus throughout will be given to Anacreon.

State of Research and Objective of this Study

21

poet (as far as we can judge from the extant material): the Carmina Anacreontea (henceforth CA).44 This collection of about sixty poems was written in the style nd st of Anacreon by several anonymous authors between the 2 or 1 cent. BC and th the 6 cent. AD, and is transmitted mainly as an appendix to the Anthologia th Palatina in the cod. Paris. Suppl. gr. 384 dating to the 10 cent.45 The copyist (there is only one hand identifiable for the main text of the CA) entitled the collection Ἀνακρέοντος Τηίου συμποσιακά ἡμιάμβια and concluded it by the words τέλος τῶν Ἀνακρέοντος συμποσιακῶν. The beginnings and endings of the poems are marked by asterisks, but in some cases there are reasonable doubts on the division. Since Henricus Stephanus’ editio princeps of this collection in 1554, which excluded some poems that explicitly state a dependence on Anacreon (as opposed to claiming his authorship), and up to the mid-1800s, the CA were generally thought to be Anacreon’s genuine archaic lyric. Then, when research on vocabulary, syntax, and metre proved beyond reasonable doubt the derivative nature and younger date of the collection (Johannes de Pauw first expressed enormous doubts as early as 1732 in the praefatio to his Anacreontis Teii Odae et Fragmenta), this was attended by a depreciation of the poetry as merely bad imitations.46 More recent scholarship has concentrated on the questions of authorship, dating, and textual issues,47 and, for a while, barely any attempt was made at a literary appreciation and research of the collection’s position in, and interaction with, ancient literature, apart from some essays on individual poems.48 A scholarly edition with Spanish translation by Brioso Sánchez,49 the critical 2 Teubner edition by West 1984 (corr. 1993, accompanied by an article with ex 44 They are such a peculiar corpus and have found so many followers throughout literary history up to present times that they have even been given their own generic category. See e.g. Danielewicz 1986: ‘Anacreontics as a literary genre’. 45 Only a few of the poems are also transmitted elsewhere, e.g. poem 4 in Gellius NA th 19.9.6, while a table of contents from the 11 cent. mentions 14 poems of the CA. For an overview of the history of the codex cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 3 n.4, and West 1984a, V−IX. For a general overview on transmission, dating, and scholarly discussion since Henricus Stephanus, cf. Campbell 1988, 4–18. 46 The influential words of Wilamowitz-Moellendorf are numerously quoted (Wilamo­ witz-Moellendorff 1995, 44): “[W]em diese matte Limonade nicht unausstehlich ist, der soll nicht nach dem hellenischen Weine greifen”. Rosenmeyer 1992, 1–11 gives a useful summary of the history of editions and research on the CA as well as the development of their estimation, and concludes: “We need to free ourselves from the prejudices accumulated during a long and tedious debate on authenticity which never should have begun” (p. 9). 47 Thus e.g. the debate about strophic division in the CA: Brioso Sánchez 1972 ‘Las Anacreónticas y su division estrófica’. 48 See, for instance, the short article by Dihle 1967 who discusses ‘The poem on the cicada’, answered by Brioso Sánchez 1970b: ‘Estoicos y Anacreónticas’. Brioso Sánchez 1970a, 8 th n.3 lists some more articles of this kind from the early 20 cent. 49 Brioso Sánchez 1981.

22

Introduction

planations of his critical decisions)50 and the subsequent edition with English translation in the Loeb Classical Library by Campbell 1988 are all representative of a newly rising interest in the CA, which led to more publications and several monographs and miscellanies dedicated (almost) solely to the collection. These publications include the following: Rosenmeyer 1992: The Poetics of Imitation; Lambin 2002: Anacréon, fragments et imitations; Müller 2010: Die Carmina Anacreontea und Anakreon. Ein literarisches Generationenverhältnis; and lately the commentary by Zotou 2014: Carmina Anacreontea 1‒34 and the miscellany by Baumbach/Dümmler 2014: Imitate Anacreon! Mimesis, Poiesis and the Poetic Inspiration in the Carmina Anacreontea.51 The request in the closing poem of the anthology, CA 60b, l. 7, τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ (addressed to the persona’s own θυμός, but also indirectly to the reader) can be considered as programmatic for the whole collection. The existence of this anthology in the tradition of Anacreon, which partly dates back to the Hellenistic era, illustrates his popularity in Horace’s times. Irrespective of how appropriate the imparted image of Anacreon is, it concentrates very selectively on the themes of love, wine, and song, and it ignores the satiric-aggressive aspects of these themes in Anacreon’s own poetry.52 The procedure and characteristics of imitatio or μίμησις in the Anacreontea are subjects of extensive current scholarship in the above-mentioned publications. In the course of this newly arisen interest, we can not only identify connections to the oldest Anacreontea in Horace’s oeuvre,53 but we can also transfer fruitfully some of the approaches and questions of the Anacreontea scholarship to Horace. More pointedly, we may ask: To what degree is Horace a Latin Anacreontic? Can we establish a triangular relation between Horace and Anacreon on a first and a second level (directly versus mediated by the Anacreontea)? In order to advance the efforts of contemporary scholarship in revising and relativising some of the stereotypes about Anacreon54 in favour of his iambic-sa 50 Cf. West 1984b: ‘Problems in the Anacreontea’. 51 In her dissertation, Weiss 1989, 6–45 gives a very detailed account of the collection’s text-critical history and the character of the editions from the Palatinus up to her time. 52 Robbins 2002 s.v. Anacreon (B): Poetry specifies violence, obsession, lack of self-control, dread of old age and death in the authentic fragments, then declares: “All these characteristics stand in clear contrast to the impression of introspective sensuality and mild decency, which are transmitted to us by the tradition and the Anacreontea”. The invective nature of the Artemon poem PMG 388 “stands in the best tradition of an Archilochus and the Ionian Iambus”. 53 In this area some research has already been done; c.f. e.g. Robbins 2002 s.v. Anacreon (C): Influence (on Horace’s mention of Anacreon’s love for Bathyllus). 54 On the development of stereotyping and its criticism cf. the first chapters of Rosenmeyer 1992: The Poetics of Imitation (esp. chapter 1 “Origins: the role of Anacreon as model”, 12–49). In ch. 2 (“Anacreontic imitators: the model revised”, 50–73), Rosenmeyer asks at the beginning (referring to the Anacreontics): “[W]hich of these multiple ‘Anacreons’ the imi-

Conceptual Approach

23

tiric facets, we can even ask to what extent Horace is a more suitable Anacreontic poet, a more adequate ‘new Anacreon’ than the authors of the Carmina Anacreontea, since he also demonstrably borrows satiric parts from Anacreon’s own poetry in his Epodes and beyond.

1.2 Conceptual Approach In a study on Horace’s allusive imitation of, and intertextual relations with, Anacreon (and the Anacreontic tradition), as well as the influence of the latter on the former or the reception of the latter by the former, it is of course necessary to deal with the theoretical background of the terms introduced above and to take a stand before the study can be carried out. Imitatio, aemulatio, influence; allusion and intertext; reception: These words are not empty in meaning, but heavily laden with scholarly discussion. I will comment on them in a somewhat chronological order, which will also mark a progression from the concrete towards the more abstract.55

1.2.1 Imitatio, aemulatio, influence Imitatio and aemulatio are themselves ancient terms that have undergone a development as long and manifold as literary history itself. The ancient imitatio should not be misunderstood through the bias of neo-classicism as “an implicit or open devaluation of the imitators as epigones”.56 For Hellenistic poetry, Giangrande states that “plain echoing of the model was, of course, felt as far too rudimentary by the Alexandrian poet”;57 this applies to the highly erudite Augustan and later Latin poetry as well. Originally, and still in Horace’s times, the terms imitatio and aemulatio were used synonymously, and it went without saying that the one included the notion of the other. Only as soon as a proper rhetorical terminological system developed (in Augustan Rome through Dionysius of Halicarnassus), the term aemulatio started to serve for distinguishing bad imitatio (blunt copying) from good imitatio (zealous competition).58 The tators chose to copy: the lover, the wine drinker, the joker, the satirist, or all of the above?” (p. 50). Was Horace the first poet to opt consciously for the last (“all of the above”)? 55 The following is, of course, not an attempt to recapitulate this vast and ever ongoing discussion in any remotely comprehensive manner, but rather aims at an outline of discussion and my thoughts on it. For a succinct overview of critical theories cf. Rosenmeyer 1988: Deina ta Polla: A Classicist’s Checklist of Twenty Literary-Critical Positions. 56 Bendlin 2002, s.v. intertextuality (C): Aesthetic potential of production and reception. 57 Giangrande 1970, 46. 58 Cf. Bauer 1992, s.v. Aemulatio (B): Geschichte (I): Antike.

24

Introduction

ancient understanding of these processes shall be illustrated from a brief anthology of ancient quotes on the issue.59 At first sight, some assessments sound quite contradictory. In Suasoriae 3.7, Seneca the Elder explains that Ovid often imitates words or verses from Vergil non subripiendi causa, sed palam mutuandi, hoc animo ut vellet agnosci: “not in order to purloin them, but to borrow them openly, with the intention that he wanted them to be recognised”. This could be understood as a rudimentary ‘plain echoing of the model’. But in fact, Seneca just wants to free Ovid from the charge of plagiarism, and the agnosci does not imply clumsy platitude but rather a less sophisticated, plain allusion. st In the influential treatise On the Sublime (probably 1 cent. AD), Pseudo-Longinus deals with “the imitation and emulation of earlier great writers and poets” (13.2: ἡ τῶν ἔμπροσθεν μεγάλων συγγραφέων καὶ ποιητῶν μίμησίς τε καὶ ζήλωσις) as a way to literary sublimity (τὰ ὑψηλὰ) and describes it as follows: πολλοὶ γὰρ ἀλλοτρίῳ θεοφοροῦνται πνεύματι (…). οὕτως ἀπὸ τῆς τῶν ἀρχαίων μεγαλοφυΐας εἰς τὰς τῶν ζηλούντων ἐκείνους ψυχὰς ὡς ἀπὸ ἱερῶν στομίων ἀπόρροιαί τινες φέρονται.60 Many are inspired by a foreign spirit (…). Thus some currents flow like from holy streams from the grandeur of the ancients into the souls of those who emulate them.

Then, in 13.4, he clearly states: ἔστι δ̓ οὐ κλοπὴ τὸ πρᾶγμα, ἀλλ̓ ὡς ἀπὸ καλῶν εἰδῶν ἢ πλασμάτων ἢ δημιουργημάτων ἀποτύπωσις. “This process is not a theft, but, as it were, the replica of beautiful ideas or figures or artworks”. Pseudo-Longinus’ sublimation of aemulatio as an almost mystical process of inspiration gives the term a new quality, and he is the first to combine the rather technical-rhetorical understanding of literary imitation with its poetic-philosophic background from Plato and Aristotle.61 th Much later, in the 5 cent. AD, Macrobius writes in Saturnalia 5.16.12 about Vergil’s technique of imitation:62 interdum sic auctorem suum dissimulanter ­imitatur, ut … faciat uelut aliud uideri, and later (5.16.14): hoc quoque dissimulanter subripuit. In both cases, the dissimulanter has a reproachful tone, and subripere marks the kind of accusation of plagiarism that Seneca the Elder had objected to in Ovid’s case (see above). However, Macrobius himself later uses the same dissimulanter for a positive account of Vergil’s imitations, now characterised as sophisticated skills that can only be recognised by erudite readers 59 For more material, cf. Russell and Winterbottom 1972, esp. chapter 6 “Latin Criticism of Poetry” (265‒299). 60 Text taken from Russell 1982. 61 Cf. Bauer 1992, s.v. Aemulatio (B): Geschichte (I): Antike. 62 The choice of passages is taken from Hinds 1998, 23f.

Conceptual Approach

25

(5.18.1): fuit enim hic poeta … dissimulanter et quasi clanculo doctus, ut multa transtulerit quae unde translata sint difficile sit cognitu. Let us now turn to Horace himself, whose take on the matter is naturally of greatest interest. In Epistles 2.2.91–101, Horace describes a poetic competition and subliminally derides his anonymous rival (probably Propertius), who claims to be the ‘Roman Callimachus’, for his boastful attitude. Horace bridles at the dullness with which his adversary aims at a plain and shallow comparison. In his article with the sonorous title ‘The Odiousness of Comparisons’, Denis Feeney states that “this passage certainly highlights the fact that Horace never talks in such a way about his own relationship with his predecessors”.63 In fact, in the Ars poetica, Horace rejects the method of open borrowing by allowing a successful act of literary appropriation only under the following condition (133–5): nec uerbo uerbum curabis reddere fidus interpres nec desilies imitator in artum, unde pedem proferre pudor uetet aut operis lex. 135 … if you do not seek to render word for word as a slavish translator, and if in your copying you do not leap into the narrow well, out of which either shame or the laws of your task will keep you from stirring.64

This passage makes clear that an exaggerated sense of fidelity to the point of mere translating and copying is undesirable for the aspiring poet.65 The imitator always has to be an ambitious aemulator as well, and he has to make ‘the other his own’. Or, as Donald Russell puts it, “acknowledgement, of course, must be combined with appropriation: a paradoxical but essential point”.66 Horace admits in Epistles 2.1.219–25 that he, as a poeta doctus, occasionally complains about his readers’ lack of erudition, and ‘that our troubles and the delicately woven thread of our poems are not perceivable’ to them (l. 24f.: cum lamentamur non apparere labores | nostros et tenui deducta poemata filo). Here he refers to his art in general, but this obviously also comprises his imitative practices in particular.67 All in all, imitatio was a core word for the ancient poets’ art, and therefore, if understood together with aemulatio, it did not imply any

63 Feeney 2002, 12. 64 Translation by Fairclough 2005 (LCL). 65 Cf. Hinds 1998, 23, who describes the tedium of “disappointingly straightforward analyses of straightforward ‘borrowings’”. 66 Russell 1979, 12. 67 This labour on learned, delicate verses is the backdrop of what Hinds 1998, 23 cherishes as the “deeply encoded artistry which gives to complex Alexandrianizing allusion, and to the detective work of a modern philologist (…), its real fascination”.

26

Introduction

‘devaluation of the imitators as epigones’ (see above), but had a positive reputation in antiquity which I hereby would like to revive. In ‘Horace and the Greek lyric poets’ (1993), Feeney prefers the term ‘relationship’ to the two correspondent terms ‘influence’ and ‘imitation’, arguing that “‘[i]nfluence’ makes Horace into a passive object who is moulded, while ‘imitation’ preserves this passivity but foists it upon the Greek poets instead.”68 This seems fair enough. But the criticised passivity necessarily implies activity on the other side (not least, ‘to influence’ and ‘to imitate’ are first and foremost active verbs), and this combined play of passivity and activity on both sides specifies, in my view, simply that in which Feeney’s notion of ‘relationship’ between Horace and Greek lyric consists. The very concept of relationship is an interplay of ‘give and take’, ‘receive and lose’. Of course, imitatio alone (even if always understood with the implication of aemulatio) is never sufficient to describe the complex web of relations between two or more authors and their readers. But it is sufficient for some particular phenomena within that web.

1.2.2 Allusion, reference, intertextuality Let us now move on to the terms ‘allusion’ and ‘intertext’. This very pairing is itself an allusion to one of the most influential monographs on intertextuality by Stephen Hinds (1998). But regarding allusion, theoretical reflection testifies to an even older tradition. Pasquali’s article Arte allusiva (1942) marks a milestone, its title being numerously quoted and adopted by later scholars.69 They mostly focus on allusion within the Greek language, namely Hellenistic imitative practices and Alexandrian erudition (above all the reception of Homer in Callimachus and Apollonius).70 Hinds criticises – very justly, in my view – Richard Thomas’ rejection of the term ‘allusion’ in favour of ‘reference’. In Virgil’s Georgics and the Art of Reference (1986),71 Thomas describes Vergil’s highly sophisticated use of adaptation by hidden hints which refer an erudite reader back to the pre-texts and for which, according to Thomas, the term ‘allusion’ “has “implications far too frivolous”.72 68 Feeney 1993, 43. 69 Cf. Pasquali 1942. Thomas 1986, 171 calls it “the first work to confront the issue as an artistic phenomenon”. 70 Cf. e.g. Giangrande 1967: “’Arte allusiva’ and Alexandrian Epic Poetry”; Giangrande 1970: “Hellenistic Poetry and Homer”; Livrea 1972: “Una ‘tecnica allusiva’ apolloniana alla luce dell’ esegesi omerica alessandrina”, and the more general approach of Conte and Barchiesi 1989: “Imitazione e arte allusiva. Modi e funzioni dell‘intertestualità”. 71 Reprinted in Thomas 1999. 72 Thomas 1986, 172 n.8.

Conceptual Approach

27

Hinds’ eloquent answer to this seriousness is as follows: “One of the reasons for the durability and continuing usefulness of ‘allusion’ as a description of this kind of gesture is precisely the teasing play which it defines between revelation and concealment”.73 I will use ‘allusion’ in this work in the same sense. However, with regard to the phenomenon itself – whether called allusion or reference – Thomas provides a useful system of classifications that allows for various levels of intensity or length, identity in grammar, wording or imagery, purpose and the like, which, when all the details are taken into account, aims at establishing the plausibility and the degree of consciousness in the allusive process as well as its intentions. Thomas uses the example of Vergil, but explicitly states that this approach can be transferred to other Latin poets as well. It will in fact prove very apt and useful for Vergil’s contemporary and colleague Horace. Thomas’ “typology of reference”74 comprises the following six types: 1)  Casual reference consists in a simple, not very meaningful hint at a predecessor, for example by a particular word or combination of words which is well known and often used in the predecessor’s work. Its purpose is generally to commemorate the earlier writer and to colour the atmosphere. 2)  Single reference means a clear allusion to a specific scene in another author. It functions by means of overt similarities in the imagery and often striking wording like the casual reference, but needs to be more peculiar or ‘technical’, for example by the use of “morphological oddity, rhetorical figure, metrical or rhythmical anomaly” and the like.75 By pointing clearly at one individual sequence and its wider context, it involves the whole background (more than is explicitly mentioned in the reference) in the new context. 3)  Self-reference operates in the same way as single reference, but within the works of the author himself. Thomas calls it ‘internal self-reference’ when it is found even within the same poem, in which case both passages – referring and referred – have a reciprocal influence. 4)  Correction is Thomas’ term for Kuiper’s old coinage oppositio in imitando,76 and, according to Thomas, is “perhaps the quintessentially Alexandrian type of reference”77 because of its scholarly nature. It mostly carries a polemical tone. A scene is evoked and in the following partly or wholly rejected by contradiction or significant moderation. It can develop into an implicit dia-

73 Hinds 1998, 23. 74 Thomas 1986, 173. 75 Thomas 1986, 179. 76 Kuiper 1896, 114 (on Callimachus’ Homer imitations: “elegantiae eruditae laudem captasse videtur noster [sc. Callimachus], oppositione quadam in imitando observata”); cf. also Giangrande 1967, 85. 77 Thomas 1986, 185.

28

Introduction

logue between contemporary poets.78 It can also develop into what Thomas calls a ‘window reference’, in which the reception of an “immediate, or chief, model” (the frame of the ‘window’) is interrupted by some lines from an “ultimate source” of both the poet and his immediate model, which thereby undergoes a correction.79 5)  Apparent reference is a deceptive allusion to a model which appears obvious at first sight, but then the content of the source is not at all incorporated in the alluding passage. 6)  Multiple reference or conflation embraces several predecessors and traditions at the same time (for instance Archaic, Hellenistic, and Roman),80 sometimes also in the sense of ‘correction’ (see above). For Vergil, Thomas describes this as “the method of his poetry in broader terms: to fuse, subsume, and renovate the traditions that he inherited”.81 This can definitely be adopted as it stands for Horace. In summarising the findings of his article, Thomas states that “little in the way of reminiscence in Virgil, down to the level of apparently ornamental proper names, is casual or random but (…) such reminiscence goes to the very heart of his vision of poetry. The function varies (…), but if there is a single purpose, it is that of subsuming or appropriating an entire literary tradition, extending across 800 years and two languages”.82 I claim that this approach applies, without any differences, to Horace as well. As Hinds points out at the very beginning of his above-mentioned 1998 monograph, sometimes allusions are not hidden but deliberately revealed, or prepared, by a specific scholarly marker which is characteristic of the poeta doctus. For this external element from an auctorial perspective, David Ross’ coinage “Alexandrian footnote”83 is very fitting, especially where the marker includes typical technical terms of scholia such as dicitur or dicuntur, fertur and the like. This gears the reader’s attention towards possible sources of the dicitur such as actual source texts, and following allusive passages are thus easier to detect.

78 Thomas 1986, 187 mentions the one between Horace and Propertius, which is presumably based on the role play between Alcaeus and Callimachus in Epistles 2.2.90–101. 79 Thomas 1986, 188. 80 In his conclusion, Thomas characterises the triple mixed inheritance as follows: “not just as an exercise in cleverness or erudition (and this is perhaps what, apart from its greater complexity, distinguishes Virgilian from Alexandrian reference), but rather as a demonstration of the eclectic and comprehensive nature, and perhaps of the superiority, of the new version: the tradition has become incorporated into a new version” (Thomas 1986, 198). 81 Thomas 1986, 195. 82 Thomas 1986, 198. 83 Ross 1975, 78.

Conceptual Approach

29

Another way to partially reveal an allusion is an integrated marker, or in Hinds’ words a “signposting which is more deeply encoded” in the scene.84 Among his three direct references to Anacreon, Horace has prime examples of both versions. Whilst the latest of the references in Odes 4.9.9 Nec siquid olim lusit Anacreon seems to be a simple statement that does not point at allusions in the same poem, the second in Odes 1.17.17 et fide Teia is a perfect example of a marker that is integrated into the narrative. The first mention in the Epodes is a bit more intricate (14.9f.), and here the concept of the Alexandrian footnote will yield interesting results: dicunt … Anacreonta Teium has the typical scholarly wording, but, according to the usual structure of this phenomenon, we would expect the content of the allusion (burning love) to be mentioned and the dicunt to hint at unmentioned sources. We cannot here speak of an allusion to pre-texts by Anacreon, since Anacreon himself and his own burning love is already the content of the phrase. He serves as an overt comparison, not as a model that is alluded to. We thus need to adapt our expectations. The content of Horace’s allusion is Anacreon’s love for Bathyllus, and behind the dicunt hides a source of this allusion other than Anacreon: the later Anacreontic tradition, the Anacreontea and possibly a now lost poetological comedy scene with Anacreon, as I will argue in 2.3.2 Epodes 14 and Anacreon’s Palinode. After this long discussion of allusion, we may now turn to its partner, intertextuality. At the beginning of his second chapter, Hinds quotes without comment Duncan Kennedy’s strong statement that “[a] Cold War exists between those who study ‘allusion’ and those who study ‘intertextuality’”,85 and Hinds’ own chapter title ‘beyond philological fundamentalism’ does not sound very conciliatory. Hinds criticises Thomas’ apparently sharp distinction between true ‘reference’ and ‘accidental confluence’86 for allowing “no grey areas or gradations acknowledged in between”, and “[t]he occlusion of dynamics of language and literary discourse in the phrase ‘merely an accidental confluence’ is notable”.87 Later, he compares Thomas’ “chief danger”88 of confounding the two categories with Kathleen Morgan’s “pitfalls created by the thematic traditions”89 and comments: “Hence arises the ‘philological fundamentalism’ of my chapter title”90 – and here arises the Iron Curtain which should be torn down. 84 Hinds 1998, 3. 85 Kennedy 1995, 86. 86 Cf. Thomas 1986, 174: “Methodologically there is one chief danger in a study such as this, that is, the problem of determining when a reference is really a reference, and when it is merely an accidental confluence, inevitable between poets dealing with a shared or related language”. 87 Both quotations Hinds 1998, 19. 88 Thomas 1986, 174. 89 The whole sentence goes: “Only by establishing philological criteria for imitation can the pitfalls created by the thematic traditions of the genre be avoided” (Morgan 1977, 3). 90 Hinds 1998, 19.

30

Introduction

First, Hinds’ charge against the terms “danger” and “pitfalls” is not wholly adequate. By these terms, Thomas and Morgan admit that it is very easy to confound conscious allusion and unconscious confluence, and thereby they admit the fact that the distinction is not sharp, that there are no clear and easy boundaries, but in fact ‘grey areas or gradations’ which are difficult to classify. There is no fundamentalism in their honest struggle to distinguish the one from the other. Second, the distinction itself is due to the scope of the work, and only has an instrumental function. At this point, Thomas and Morgan are simply not interested in “dynamics of language and literary discourse” at large, but in reliable instances of conscious and intentional allusion and how they can contribute to interpretation. This interest in itself neither denigrates nor disqualifies the scope of the concept of intertextuality; it just has its own value, insofar as it aims at making visible the artistry of the authors. Artistry cannot be claimed where consciousness and intention are not substantiated.91 This will become most relevant in the discussion of Horace’s reception of the Carmina Anacreontea, and precisely the question whether the CA coloured Horace’s lyric just through accidental vague dynamics of literary discourse, or whether, in contrast, Horace knew very well about their secondary nature and used this knowledge to play with their attitudes and their poetological programme. In order to expand his take on interpretability, Hinds touches on the whole range of meanings of the omnipresent phrase me miserum or miserum me, as an example of Thomas’ confluence or ‘parallel’.92 Hinds shows that this phrase has been shaped and enriched by each new context of its use in prose, poetry, and in merely spoken language throughout the centuries.93 Here, in contrast to ‘philological fundamentalism’, there is the opposite threat of ‘philological arbitrarism’, if the distinction between conscious allusion and accidental confluence was given up in its entirety. But Hinds himself does not give it up: by admitting, as an example, that a certain instance of me miserum in Ovid cannot be considered an allusion to a me miserum in Cicero, “not even indirectly, imperfectly or unconsciously”,94 Hinds sanctifies ex silentio – perhaps indirectly, imperfectly and unconsciously, yet effectively – Thomas’ category of conscious direct allusion. In the next chapter section (pp.  34–47), Hinds views the topos, alongside the accidental confluence, as another challenging opposition to intentional ref 91 The question of (non-)determinable authorial consciousness, intention, control will be discussed in more detail later in the ‘reception’ section. 92 Cf. Thomas 1986, 174 n.12: “By ‘parallel’ I mean an accidental (and inevitable) linguistic confluence, occasioned by the fact that certain phrases, metaphors, and the like are merely a part of a society’s or language’s parlance”. 93 Hinds 1998, 33 speaks of “countless negotiations within and between the discourses of Roman culture”. 94 Hinds 1998, 33.

Conceptual Approach

31

erence. In the following process of “dismantling a topos and putting it back together again”95 (using the example of the ‘many mouths’ imagery and its manifold appearances), Hinds proves impressively and convincingly the intricacy of applying Thomas’ two categories. However, Thomas himself would probably agree with this wholeheartedly. Hinds does not destabilise, but actually confirms and refines Thomas’ categories, when he renders a passage on Milton’s poetry by Martindale,96 who contrasts allusion with “adaptations of topoi, in which [Milton] plays with stock material, and in respect of which claims for specific allusivity could lead to misinterpretation”.97 It is exactly this misinterpretation that Thomas wants to avoid as well. Rather than considering the topoi in opposition to the category of conscious reference and aligned with accidental confluence, they are precisely Hinds’ ‘grey areas or gradations’ (see above) that Thomas accounts for as the ‘chief danger’ of confusion between the two poles.98 In Hinds’ language, the terms “traditional, philological, fundamental” sometimes seem to have slight connotations such as (respectively) “outdated, pedantic, fundamentalist”. However, to play the role of advocata diaboli in this debate, I would say that Thomas’ kind of work actually provides the down-to-earth fundament on which intertextual studies can be carried out at all. Hence, while appreciating Thomas’ alleged fundamentalism, I can also totally agree with Hinds’ “paradoxical goal” of intertextuality as “a more exact account of allusive inexactitude”.99 The terms ‘allusion’ and ‘intertext’ can coexist in their respective areas, they do not need to be rivals in a Cold War. Before moving on, a specification of intertextual relations that Hinds adopts for the case of Homer and Vergil is worth mentioning: it is the “key Contean distinction, in terms of a subordination of modelling by particular source-passages to modelling by code”,100 or in Conte’s own words modello-esemplare and modello-codice. For Vergil, Homer does not only provide many individual opportunities for direct allusion (modello-esemplare), but Homer – or his poetry – is a model for Vergil in a more global and comprehensive sense (modello-codice).101 I will prove that a similar kind of relationship exists in the case of Horace and Anacreon. The New Pauly article on intertextuality criticises the “specific intertextuality (…) which described the conscious, intended and marked relations between a 95 Hinds 1998, 35. 96 Cf. Martindale 1986: ‘John Milton and the transformation of ancient epic’. 97 Hinds 1998, 34. 98 Cf. also Morgan’s “pitfalls created by the thematic traditions of the genre” (Morgan 1977, 3, see above), where ‘thematic traditions’ could be substituted approximately by ‘topoi’. 99 Hinds 1998, 25. 100 Hinds 1998, 41. 101 Cf. Conte 1986, 31. Barchiesi 1984, 91–122 applies the term modello-genere instead of modello-codice.

32

Introduction

text and literary pre-texts” for both prohibiting “the opening up of the concept of the text” and sustaining “the notion of authorial intentionality”. Therefore, a differentiation ought to be made between “intertextuality of an aesthetics of production” and “intertextuality of an aesthetic[s] of reception”, since the latter conceptually allows for “the relative openness of the literary text’s capacity to generate meaning”.102 I thereby move on to reception theory.

1.2.3 Reception “All meaning is constituted or actualized at the point of reception”.103 This remark stands at the beginning of the first essay in Classics and the Uses of Reception (2006) as a key idea of reception theory, first put into slightly different words by Martindale in Redeeming the Text (1993).104 There is a significant difference between ‘to constitute’ and ‘to actualize’. For the former, the OED gives synonyms such as ‘to set (up), to place, to establish, to make, to create’, while for the latter synonyms include ‘to make actual or real, to carry out in practice, to realize in action’. In other words, to constitute means to create something that was not there before, whereas to actualize means to deal with, to put into practice something, or to revive something now that was there before. As regards reception theory, I agree with ‘to actualize’ (or ‘realize’, as in Martindale’s original words) and disagree with ‘to constitute’. In the introduction to the above-mentioned collection on reception studies, Martindale admonishes the reader: “For those who not only believe in originary meanings but also think they are easy of attainment, I would point out that my reading of Redeeming the Text differs in almost every case from the various other receptions of it in this book”.105 However, I assume that Martindale had a meaning in mind when he wrote Redeeming the Text, and that he wanted to communicate exactly this – his – meaning. Furthermore, it is questionable in what way the mentioned “various other receptions” differ from Martindale’s own view. If the readers behind these receptions did in fact more or less understand Martindale’s core arguments and applied them in their own ways to their discussions (which seems to be the case), 102 Bendlin 2002, s.v. intertextuality (B): Intertextuality and classical philology. 103 Batstone 2006, 14, referring to Martindale 1993, 3. 104 Martindale 1993, 3: “Meaning (…) is always realized at the point of reception”. Reception studies made their way into Classics in the late 80s and early 90s of the past century; their starting point is commonly seen in Hans-Robert Jauss’s inaugural lecture at Konstanz 1967: “Was heißt und zu welchem Ende studiert man Literaturgeschichte?”, and his essay ‘Literaturgeschichte als Provokation der Literaturwissenschaft’. Other influential literary critics in this field include Mikhail Bakhtin, Hans-Georg Gadamer, and Julia Kristeva. 105 Martindale and Thomas 2006, 1n.2 .

Conceptual Approach

33

one could speak of their receptions as ‘legitimate interpretations or emphases’ of Martindale’s arguments.106 If, in contrast, the readers used Martindale’s text for their own differing or even opposite arguments, got him wrong or distorted what he had meant – in short, if they were unable or unwilling to understand him – then communication would have come to a dead end. This is especially true for research such as Redeeming the Text; much more of Martindale’s argument would be applicable to works of art rather than scholarship. Art can be satisfied by the mere act of expressing itself (as in, for instance, the desperate cry odi et amo). But the whole point of research and scholarship is to broaden its readers’ minds, to teach or explain something and to try to convince. How can one convince if one does not mean anything? Presumably even in the case of art, the desire of self-expression and of revealing one’s experiences to others is rarely the only motivation for artistic activity, but almost always goes hand in hand with a desire to communicate and to be understood. With long since dead or even anonymous authors the case is obviously intricate; we cannot ask them what they meant and they cannot defend their intentions if they are misunderstood. Let us therefore now follow the path of reception studies “by shifting focus from author to reader”.107 One basic assumption in reception theory is that “a naked encounter between a text and a reader who is a sort of tabula rasa is absurd”,108 and that, in other words, we, as human beings in history, inevitably carry a both societal and individual cultural imprint. Due to this imprint, “we cannot get back to any originary meaning wholly free of subsequent accretions. Meaning is produced and exchanged socially and discursively, and this is true of reading”.109 As an example, Martindale claims that a reading of Homer in our Western culture is never free from a Vergilian impact, even if the reader or interpreter is not familiar 106 This thought is expressed similarly by Bendlin 2002 in the New Pauly s.v. intertextuality (B): Intertextuality and classical philology. Bendlin does not refer to meaning in general, but focuses on intertextual relations: “[N]ot all intertextual relations intended by the author have to be realized by the recipient for a direct understanding of the text, just as the recipient, on the basis of previous textual experiences, establishes intertextual relations not provided or intended by the author”. Those intertextual relations that have never existed in the author’s intention can be highly interesting and enriching, they can even prove a deep consensus and interdependence of human thought in its entirety, but they do not help to understand the text as a medium of communication. 107 Cf. Hexter 2006, 23: “When reception studies as such were inaugurated, which one might date to Hans-Robert Jauss’s essay to which I allude in my title [sc. ‘Literary History as a Provocation to Reception Studies’, alluding to Jauss’ ‘Literaturgeschichte als Provokation der Literaturwissenschaft’], the idea of reorganizing the writing of literary history by shifting focus from author to reader, from ‘influence’ to reception, was a central one”. 108 Martindale 1993, 5. 109 Martindale 1993, 7. Without the words ‘produced and’ in this sentence, I would agree.

34

Introduction

with Vergil, and “poets have played the largest part in creating our sense of what earlier poems can ‘mean’”.110 This phenomenon is clearly at work in the Carmina Anacreontea and Anacreontic tradition throughout the centuries; their partial reception of Anacreon has heavily influenced our view. Martindale sums up his point by asking: “What else indeed could (say) ‘Virgil’ be other than what readers have made of him over the centuries?”.111 Granted, in a certain sense we can never read Vergil with the eyes and mind of an ancient reader, let alone that of the author himself, and we should always be aware of our chronological and cultural distance to the work of art. But there is a significant categorical difference between highly aestheticised interpretations and judgements, on the one hand,112 and scholarly scrutiny of facts, on the other. The former are admittedly very contingent on the circumstances at the moment of reception; their valuable aim is to make the received text palpable and fruitful for the receiving interpreter and his readers, not so much to state historical facts. The latter, however, does ask historical questions and tries to answer them objectively, to approach the ‘originary’ meaning.113 Interpreting texts in a personal and contingent way that allows a deep aesthetic experience for the current societal spirit of the time or one’s individual take on life is, as I said above, without doubt a valuable task in itself. However, the core of communication is the ever-ongoing attempt to understand one another. Gadamer states that “the truth of works of art is a contingent one: what 110 Martindale 1993, 8. However, we can still very well imagine an absolutely non-literary reader who has never heard of Virgil or even any other epos of humanity and comes across Homer for the first time. He is not a tabula rasa in the sense that he relates to the events in Homer according to his personal experiences and his philosophy of life, and he reads them with the bias of the general conventions and convictions of his society (which might be, to an almost negligibly infinitesimal degree, co-determined by Vergil’s oeuvre). But he is, in the narrower sense, a literary tabula rasa. 111 Martindale 1993, 10. 112 Martindale 1993, 5 gives examples of this kind from Jenkyns 1989, identifying “traces of (…) Victorian writers”, “ideological implications”, and “a post-Romantic sensibility”. 113 Martindale 2006, 2 criticises the “positivistic forms of historical inquiry” of traditional philology because, “given the overwhelmingly ‘presentist’ character of the contemporary scene, a classics which overinvests in such historicist approaches may not attract tomorrow’s students, or achieve any wider cultural significance”. On the other hand, a classics which is too interested in attracting tomorrow’s students may not achieve any historical credibility. The cultural significance of classics is something to be proved and displayed, not to be produced or achieved. If the ‘presentist’ contemporary society does not appreciate the value of this discipline, to give up its historicity and to cut it off its roots is not the solution, but one rather should prove the validity and expressiveness of the ancient world even in our times. The significance of antiquity cannot consist in its continuous reception, but rather the continuous reception proves that it does have some significance. Later in the same chapter (p. 13), Martindale describes his vision of “a classics neither merely antiquarian nor crudely presentist, a classics of the present certainly, but also, truly, of the future”, and rooted – I hope – in the past.

Conceptual Approach

35

they reveal is dependent on the lives, circumstances and views of the audience to whom they reveal it”.114 In this sentence the final ‘it’ refers back to the initial ‘what’, and the question poses itself: what is it? If not more than something entirely dependent on the audience, then what is the point of the work of art itself other than being a meaningless tool, an empty carrier of the audience’s own subjectivity, and thereby perhaps nothing more than an ego boost? The strongest reader-centred, or author-neglecting, position may be expressed in the exemplary words of the New Pauly article on intertextuality, based on Mikhail Bakhtin and Julia Kristeva: “[S]he [sc. Kristeva] also replaced the author, omnipotent in traditional textual analysis, with the subjectless productivity of texts (…): the sign in the text, released from its referential significate, communicates with other signs in a potentially infinite process of intertextual communication without being bound to the intentionality of the subject/author”. These references to ‘omnipotent author’ and ‘being bound’ conform to Hinds’ complaint about “that basic presumption of authorial control”.115 In both cases, a valid, not merely subjective meaning seems to be considered attainable that lies beyond any person’s intention. What is a ‘subjectless productivity of texts’, if not a productivity that yields meanings outside both author and reader? This seems just as conceivable as a subjectless thought floating in the atmosphere without a thinker. Interestingly, the late Kristeva herself seems to disagree: “Meaning is constituted through an embodied relation with another person”.116 Hence, meaning is not constituted through a ‘bodyless’ relation with a text. What about anonymous authors? The possibility of interpreting and valuing texts from anonymous authors or even groups of authors might seem to prove in itself the concept of subjectless texts. But perhaps here lies the core of the misunderstanding between author-focus and reader-focus: that we do not know anything about the subject does not mean that it does not exist. We may not neglect the subject of writing just as we may not neglect the subject of reading.117 At least my personal author-focus, whenever I apply it, does not aim 114 Warnke 1987, 66. 115 Hinds 1998, 25. Just as Hinds criticised the rhetoric of Thomas and other philologists (e.g. “danger”, “pitfalls”, see above) and Martindale 1993, 4 bridles at “this kind of rhetoric” that “classical scholars” apply for their “holy of holies”, one could as well criticise the rhetoric of their own party: “authorial control”, “the author, omnipotent” and the like give a far too despotic impression that certainly does not adequately reflect the general concept of meaning and authorship in traditional philology. But the forcefulness of their accusations might have been necessary for the initial ignition of the discussion and for establishing the new reception studies within classical philology at all. 116 Kristeva 2002, XVIII. 117 In his monograph Author Unknown, Tom Geue bridles at the fact that language “positively bakes in an ideology normalizing ‘onymity’, fame, knowing and being known, as the zero-grade practice” (Geue 2019, 272). I bridle at his labelling of ‘onymity’ as an ideology. It is a matter of fact that behind every sensible verbal expression, oral or written, there is a sensible

36

Introduction

at a despotic “authorial control” or a restrictive “authorial intentionality”, but merely acknowledges the fact that every single text goes back to at least one, or several, thinking individual(s) and their intention to produce a text, and that every text bears traces of its composer(s). There is no such thing as a subjectless text (unless a computer programme generates it randomly) and I claim, to adapt Martindale’s words, that ‘a naked production of a text by an author who is a sort of tabula rasa is absurd’.118 Let us finally turn to the concept of subjectivity itself. Whilst in radical applications of reception theory the subjectivity of the author, wrapped in his ‘intentionality’ or ‘authorial control’, seems to be considered an obstacle to the free and full development of a text’s meaning, the subjectivity of the reader is granted the highest authority. We need to aim at a balance of both, and at a clear understanding of subjectivity, as it seems to be adumbrated (if I understand her originary meaning correctly) in Kristeva’s statement that meaning “is constituted in relation to an other [sc. person] and it is beyond any individual subjectivity”.119 To refer to the very first quotation of this chapter section, i.e. Batstone’s rendering of Martindale’s statement (‘All meaning is constituted or actualized at producer; knowing his or her name just gives more information about the expression, whereas anonymity provides less information. If Geue wants more personal freedom in inventing his subjective interpretation, he is free to do so even when he knows a lot about the author and his intentions. 118 The debate in the framework of New Philology on multiform editions shows a similar confusion about the significance of the origin of the text, as does an extreme position of reception theory about the origin of meaning. Just as the latter can, if carried too far, tend to give up originary meanings altogether, the former tends to give up original texts. In both cases, whilst different readings and interesting variants doubtlessly enrich our understanding of the historical development of interpretations and should therefore be thoroughly studied, the difficulty (and even impossibility) to attain the original does not annihilate its significance and does not justify its complete abandoning. The so-called ‘multiform editions’ juxtapose the variants of the textual tradition just as if they all had the same relevance. Bernsdorff’s critique of those editions in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (Bernsdorff 2018) could well be transferred to the debate around originary meaning: “Solche Adaptationen nicht mehr von der als primär erkannten Fassung zu unterscheiden oder gar nicht mehr den Versuch zu unternehmen, das Primäre zu erkennen, vielmehr alles in einer ‘multiform edition’ nebeneinander zu stellen und so dem Benutzer zu überlassen, kann nicht erstrebenswert sein, denn eine historisch orientierte Literaturwissenschaft bleibt auf Editionen angewiesen, die eine Vorstellung davon vermitteln, was nach Maßgabe der Forschung als ursprünglicher Text eines bestimmten Autors gelten muss. Dass eine solche Edition eine Hypothese bleibt, ist selbstverständlich. Auch sie dokumentiert – im textkritischen Apparat – die Varianz der Überlieferung und damit ihren eigenen hypothetischen Charakter. Aber das Lachmann’sche Streben, durch die Mannigfaltigkeit zum einen zu gelangen, darf bei diesem Geschäft nicht aufgegeben werden”. 119 Kristeva 2002, XVIII. In other words, but very concordantly, C. S. Lewis describes his concept of surrender to literature in the process of reading: “Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do“ (Lewis 1961, 141).

Conceptual Approach

37

the point of reception’), I would supplement Kristeva’s words as follows: Meaning is constituted at the point of creation, actualized at the point of reception, and is perceived in the relation between the two subjects (the creating and the receiving), in their individual subjectivities’ mergence or concordance. Meaning is hence beyond any despotic control of the individual author and his world, just as it is beyond the arbitrary control of the individual reader and his world.120 In my view, the above-mentioned quotation from Batstone is also acceptable in the following modification: ‘Interpretation, not meaning, is constituted (or actualized) at the point of reception’. Reception studies can and should study the development of interpretations throughout centuries, societies, and readers’ minds. This is its highly important and valuable task which ought not to be neglected. Towards the end of Redeeming the text, Martindale finds “a possible metaphysical model” and allegory for the activity of reading in Christian theology. In his view, a parallel for the text that releases its meaning into the world of its readers, and sets it free to interpretation, is the Incarnation, “by which the Word empties itself of power, to engage in the confusions of history, time and humanness, and to redeem them”.121 After raising this idea, Martindale ponders the implications of the Incarnation “between logocentricity, the notion that there is an originary centre for meaning, and non-logocentricity, since speech (logos) enters, contingently, the multiform text of the world in stories, causing meaning to be deferred and displaced”.122 In this sentence, the word ‘meaning’ should again be replaced with ‘interpretation’.123 If we stick to the analogy of Incarnation, a central element is still missing: the ‘Speaker of the Word’. Without the assumption of a speaker there is no point to the idea of the Incarnation of a rational word, just as no meaningful text exists without an author. A slightly more fitting parallel for the Incarnation would be: not the text that releases its meaning into the world of its readers, but the author who releases his text into the world of his readers. In this analogy for reading processes, if we despise the author and his intentions altogether, we misunderstand the text – and if we despise the readers’ contingent understanding altogether, we prevent the text 120 The fact that the reader’s attempt at arbitrary control over meaning, as promoted by Jauß’ aesthetics of reception, can eventually become dangerously despotic as well has been tellingly articulated in the article ‘Führer und Geführte’ by Albrecht Buschmann: “Jauß’ Aufwertung des Lesers gegenüber dem Text war für mich produktiv, aber die darin einge­ schriebene Selbstermächtigung des Interpreten gegenüber der Evidenz der Historie ging mir erst später auf” (Buschmann 2016). 121 Martindale 1993, 104. 122 Martindale 1993, 104. 123 Cf. Martindale’s very next sentence, which contains an analogy on interpretation, not meaning: the idea of Incarnation “seems to correspond to a central paradox about interpretation (…), namely that any text has to be treated both as transhistorical and as contingent on a particular moment of history if it is to be interpreted” (Martindale 1993, 104).

38

Introduction

from its central purpose of existence, which is to make itself understandable and interpretable, and to become redemptive and transformative precisely by giving up its lordly power. In the case of Horace and Anacreon, my work will naturally focus on ‘fundamental’ philology where I treat Horace as an author whose intentional allusions and conscious intertextuality in relation to Anacreon I am trying to detect and describe. Further, it will focus on the aesthetics of reception where I treat Horace as one of Anacreon’s readers and explore his understanding, interpretations, and appropriations of Anacreon in his own Augustan period.

1.3 Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle At all times, poetry has been an important element of human intellectual history and creativity, but it has taken shape in very different ways. Poets have received veneration for their art since poetry first came into existence – think, for example, of Homer – but during their lifetime, the issue of their occupation as poets, as opposed to an occupation in politics, trade, soldiery or the like, was seldom discussed at all, not least because poetry was probably considered rather as a side job or even just a hobby for leisure alongside “serious” occupations. The evaluation of being a poet developed through antiquity. In the five centuries between the archaic Greek period and Augustan society, many of the variable factors on which the view of poetry and poets depends changed considerably. I should put on record here that I am not concerned with the largely undisputed value of poetry as a warrantor for immortality through fame – this is in fact something that was never renounced to great poets. Even long before the times of established book poetry, in archaic Greece, poets aimed emphatically at this immortality. This included not only the poets of epic and didactic poems or panegyrical choral lyric,124 but also the monodists, whose personal lyric poetry draws its value more from pure aesthetics than from immediate didactic or character formation or advertising utility. Hence, we have to distinguish clearly between the poet’s hope, on the one hand, for fame granted a posteriori, which is a widespread topos and a commonplace at any time, and his claim for esteem for his job a priori on the other hand. Esteem for the product of good poets is rather natural, but esteem for the job of poets seems to be something very questionable. The following chapter first discusses the situation of Horace’s immediate literary predecessors and contemporaries and his self-evaluation as a professional poet embedded in Augustan society. It then focuses on the more poetic view, as 124 Those genres could perhaps more naturally be considered durable, worthy and useful for moral and mythical instruction, practical education, or accumulation and consolidation of renown.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

39

it were, of poetry not only as a job, but as an all-encompassing attitude towards life, and tracks the provenance of this attitude.

1.3.1 Poetry as a serious occupation in the Augustan era One of the most important aspects for comparing the societal position of archaic Greek and Augustan Latin poets might be the development, roughly speaking, from oral poetry to book poetry, with all its intermediate stages and facets. The pivotal point within this development is Hellenistic Alexandria. Most of our transmitted fragments of pre-Hellenistic poets can be traced back to an authoritative Alexandrian edition; Alexandria is the cradle of book editing, of literary studies, of philology – in short, the starting point of a professional handling and spread of literature on a large scale. Before then, a centuries-old tradition and the increased dissemination of poetry was necessary to substantiate its place in society, which eventually led to what we could call its ‘professionalisation’ in the Hellenistic period. However, even centuries after this professionalisation of the literary sector, in late Republican and early Augustan Rome, writing poems was still far from being automatically considered as a kind of profession, let alone a time-consuming life-task. One might illustrate this by what Wolf Steidle calls the “Motiv der Lebenswahl” (1962) with his main examples of Tibullus and Propertius. In Tibullus 1.1 as well as 1.10, Steidle notes Tibullus’ ‘choice of lifestyle’ in preferring the peaceful country life (characterized by paupertas, securitas, amor) instead of war.125 According to Steidle, it is widely agreed that the opening poem 1.1 contains “eine echte Lebenswahl”;126 however, for Tibullus, this choice remains a sweet desire and a mere mind-set, but does not turn into reality (as he will actually be obliged to return to war).127 Propertius, in contrast, presents himself as the first who dares to make his lifestyle into a fateful and unchangeable servitium amoris – a daring undertaking, if we reasonably assume with Steidle that we cannot simply hold “daß die römischen Elegiker (…) in einer bereits unangefochtenen und geborgenen Welt ihres Dichtertums leben”.128 Yet, with his 125 After the plain rejection of war and its components labor and divitiae, it enters the plot again in a metamorphosed form: as war of love. 126 Steidle 1962, 108 n.33. 127 Thus, his programmatic poems contain a “stark empfundenen inneren Gegensatz zu einer Lebensform (…), von der er trotz aller Ablehnung faktisch nicht loskommt“ (Steidle 1962, 109; cursive instead of spaced by me). 128 Steidle 1962, 110. That Propertius’ position was not undisputed might also be discernible in the apologetic insistence with which he describes his “choice” as a necessity due to invincible passion; Steidle 1962, 120f. calls this passion a “lebenerfüllende und lebenverzehrende Macht (…), die wie selbstverständlich einen prinzipiellen Bruch mit römischer Lebenskonvention zu veranlassen vermag”.

40

Introduction

first book of elegies, Propertius qualifies to join Maecenas’ circle, and thereby satisfies another condition for his self-portrayal as a poet: a secured livelihood made possible by the support of a patron.129 However, it is noteworthy that the topic of poetry itself is not at all important in the first books of both Tibullus and Propertius. In both cases, the first choices of lifestyle – whether only hypothetical (Tibullus) or realized (Propertius) – consist in the Hellenistic bucolic ideas of rural peace, poverty, and above all, love, but not yet literary activity. Reflecting on being a poet in the poems themselves requires intellectually a further step in abstraction, and emotionally a higher degree of self-confidence thanks to one’s prior poetic success; in short, an advanced poet personality. It seems to be Horace’s first collection of the Odes books 1–3 which fosters this self-confidence and abstraction decisively among his contemporary fellow poets.130 It demonstrably influenced Propertius’ self-manifestation as an ambitious poet in his third volume (especially poems 1–5), which he published after Horace’s three books.131 A further important aspect is the poet’s claim to make a positive contribution to society. In the case of Propertius, we can observe how this claim is mirrored in the development of his apparent main addressees throughout the books. Whilst in the first books Propertius seems to write primarily for Cynthia and hopes above all to win her around as a reader, so that all other lovers who might feel sympathy for him, the third book displays a much wider target audience. Here, Propertius speaks to everybody and wants everybody to profit from his poems.132 Of course, his first books are not private, but are also meant to be read and appreciated by everybody; however, it makes a difference whether the topics are limited to his personal desire and yearning for a particular beloved, or are explicitly broadened and of interest for anyone. The former tends to be a somewhat self-serving expression and effusion of emotions targeted at the fulfilment of the egoistic desire, while the latter verbalises beneficial and valuable thoughts 129 Obviously, after the turbulent times of civil war, the Augustan peace that allowed for uninhibited economy and luxury must have had a considerable impact on the poetic bustle in Rome as well. 130 Cf. Steidle 1962, 120, who takes Horace’s Odes as a turning point when he assumes that a conception of writing poems as a fulfilling job was “vor Horazens ersten drei Carminabüchern in Rom noch nicht endgültig und klar geprägt”. 131 For the interplay of Horace’s books 1–3, Propertius’ book 3 and again Horace’s book 4 in this respect, cf. e.g. Solmsen 1948. 132 Cf. Steidle 1962, 136. Two examples can illustrate this shift of focus between book 2 and 3: in 2.13.3–7, Amor commands the persona to write love poetry, non ut Pieriae quercus mea uerba sequantur, (…) sed magis ut nostro stupefiat Cynthia uersu. Propertius seems to write only with the purpose to impress Cynthia. In contrast, the recusatio of epos in 3.3 shows a drastically changed outlook of the poet. Propertius pictures himself lying at the same grand spring on Helicon from which Ennius drank, now attempting himself epic poetry – only Apollo’s intervention keeps him from his overcharging intention.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

41

or pleasing imagery targeted at an interested public. When a community of readers feels that it is not merely observing a lamenting lover in his encapsulated world of unfulfilled love and self-pity, but is invited by the author to profit from the reading, then their readiness to give thanks and appreciation to his job will surely increase. So, what changed in the previous decades so that Horace, who wrote before Propertius’ book 3, could be the first to carefully set up a new self-concept as a professional poet? First of all, as I have sketched above, since the birth of philology in Hellenistic Alexandria, the societal and intellectual impact of literature and literary history had become more and more present in the minds of educated Greeks and Romans. Scholarly reflection on, and interpretation of, literary texts gradually increased the appreciation of their skilfulness among readers and stimulated the authors’ self-awareness and reflection on their own process of writing – with which they carried forward, and inscribed themselves into, literary history. Thus, for this self-awareness and self-confidence, not only is the above-mentioned individual success of the poet a precondition, but also success at the art of poetry in general. Such an art relies on a long and rich tradition of lyric to look back on, a tradition which, already by its mere existence in the background, lends to current poetry much more significance. It is important that it is not just oral, but written lyric, for, by writing, poetry gradually turns from something momentary and fugitive into something lasting – into a presentable and touchable product of work. In a nutshell: in order that an author can venture the statement that he is nothing more than a poet, being a poet must first be considered great enough for an honourable person.133 In the early Augustan era, we see a mutual enhancement of the two processes: the gradually increasing popularity of poetic activity, on the one hand, and the poets’ gradually growing self-confidence, on the other. For the authors, this represents a tightrope walk between cautiously promoting a still unpopular lifestyle until it becomes popular, and already daring to live and cherish it just because it is about to become popular.

133 Perhaps the reputation of actors followed a comparable pattern: first, it was a job only for the lowest social classes; then, with the increasing tradition of the theatre, individual actors gained fame and honour, and being an actor became more socially acceptable. Nowadays good actors are often celebrated as the greatest stars and the job is much sought-after.

42

Introduction

1.3.2 Horace’s reflection on the profession of poets in the Epistles There are a couple of instances in Horace’s oeuvre which give an impression of his self-perception as a poet and his assessment of the conditions of poetry in his time. He tended “in ungewöhnlichem Maß zur Selbstreflexion und Selbstdarstellung”, as Lefèvre puts it in his monograph Horaz.134 His utterances fall into two categories. The first are those within his lyric chief work, the Odes books 1–3 and later book 4. Here we will observe a very confident and proud profiling due to the nature of the genre, because within his main piece of art, on the crest of his lyric perfection, an artist ought not to cut down its value by too modest statements of self-doubt. This category will be discussed later in the following chapters. The utterances of the second category are found in meta-poetical texts whose purpose it is to examine the very act of writing poetry and being a poet; we encounter them especially in Horace’s late work, the second book of Epistles. Those utterances are naturally much more realistic and thereby relativise the idealised image of the Odes. Epistles 2.1 can be considered a constitutive text: although it is written far later than Odes 1–3,135 Horace reflects much more cautiously and ambiguously on his role than in the lyric context, and he illustrates a rather complicated societal backdrop for developing high esteem for poetic activity.136 The letter is Horace’s answer to Augustus’ request for a sermo137 addressed to himself; hoping for support from the princeps, Horace seizes the opportunity and develops a detailed analysis of the Romans’ current literary tastes and, consequentially, the difficulties for good and respectable poets. At the very beginning of Epistles 2.1, Horace proves himself aware of the significance of sheer age for the fame of poetry (l. 28–30); later, he derides the principle ‘old poetry is good, new is bad’ and complains at length about its vigour in contemporary society (in an amusing caricature, but surely with a true core), finally summarizing (l. 76f.):

134 Lefèvre 1993, 10. 135 In 14 BC, even after the letter to Florus (2.2) and the Ars poetica to the Pisones (2.3). Klingner 2009, 336 speculates that 2.1 might even be Horace’s last poem at all. 136 On this epistle and its role in the process cf. also the thorough evaluation in Citroni 2013: ‘Horace’s Epistle 2.1, Cicero, Varro, and the ancient debate about the origins and the development of latin poetry’. 137 For the denomination of the Epistles as sermones due to their colloquial style and loose thematic wanderings (not to be confused with the Satires, which Horace called Sermones), cf. e.g. Klingner 2009, 335.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

43

Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quia crasse compositum inlepideue putetur, sed quia nuper. I am angry when something is being scorned not because it is considered as a clumsy or gross composition, but because it is considered a recent composition.138

Horace goes on to describe how suddenly, after an age of severity, assiduousness, and strong moral laws, the whole population takes pleasure in writing poems (l. 108–110): Mutauit mentem populus leuis et calet uno scribendi studio; pueri patresque seueri fronde comas uincti cenant et carmina dictant. 110 The flighty populace has changed its mind and burns for the one eagerness to write; boys and severe fathers have dinner with their hair braided by leaves and dictate poems.

The omnipresence of poetic enthusiasm explains several things. First, it is surely one reason for the general scepticism of the less educated public against new artwork, because not only good poets emerge from this wave of verve (l. 117): scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim.139 Second (and this is more meaningful for our question), the poetic movement is at once both a symptom and a promoter of the growing societal acceptability of choosing a poetic lifestyle. It sketches the atmosphere from which not only Horace, but also Propertius and others, dared to draw self-confidence as poets. The line scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim mirrors exactly the equilibrium between the successful choice of dedicating oneself wholly to poetry (in the case of docti a choice which, carried by the common poetic enthusiasm, might by now be honoured), and the unsuccessful attempt at such a dedication in the case of the indocti, whose dil-

138 This complaint proves for Horace’s times a kind of anthropological constant, namely that a non-critical, rather uneducated public automatically presumes old works of art to be time-tested, and therefore automatically good, whereas it meets new artwork with a sweeping scepticism which is often born from a deficient ability to judge. This is observable in all sectors of art throughout the centuries, for example in music and the acceptance of new musical epochs, but also in painting, architecture, etc. 139 Interestingly, this statement comes after a list of other jobs which are all performed by people who are educated for their job (l. 114–116): Nauim agere ignarus nauis timet; habrotonum aegro | non audet nisi qui didicit dare; quod medicorum est | promittunt medici; tractant fabrilia fabri. Hence, like in Odes 1.1 (see below), poetry stands in a row with other serious professions, but here the essential difference comes to light: poetry, as opposed to the other occupations, is not done exclusively by professionals. That is its serious deficiency. Whilst this fact has no place in a very fine and indeed professional collection of lyric poems, it may be admitted in a text reflecting on poetry on the meta-level.

44

Introduction

ettantism nourishes the very scepticism and disdain against new writings that Horace had deplored earlier in the same epistle. Despite the existence of dilettantism, Horace exerts himself to justify every attempt at poetry-writing; it is a sort of romantic innocence which sanctifies even the bad poet (l. 118–120): Hic error tamen et leuis haec insania quantas uirtutes habeat, sic collige: uatis auarus non temere est animus; uersus amat, hoc studet unum. 120 But how many virtues this error and this light insanity have, you shall deduce thus: the mind of a poet is not at random avaricious; he loves verses, and for that alone he strives.

In the following lines, Horace adds to the excusatory argument on the poet’s innocence and good will a further point: the usefulness of poetry for society. Introduced by the key words utilis urbi (l. 124), Horace provides a proper apologia for his art, listing several social classes and age groups with their problems and emotions, for all of which poetry is either an effective educator, a healer, a consoler, or (towards the gods) even a supplicant.140 After taking up the cudgels on behalf of the ‘guild’ of poets, Horace admits that in part good poets are themselves guilty for the neglect or even contempt which they invoke on the part of their readers (l. 219–225): Multa quidem nobis facimus mala saepe poetae (ut uineta egomet caedam mea), … 220 cum lamentamur non apparere labores nostros et tenui deducta poemata filo. 225 We the poets often do much harm to ourselves (so as to cut down my own vine plant), (…) when we lament that our efforts and the delicately woven thread of our poems are not appreciated.

Here Horace seemingly confesses that by their finesse, he and his fellow poets make too great demands on the readers’ erudition and patience, but his lament on the ingratitude with which much of his and his colleagues’ works are received should be taken seriously. Behind the flimsy claim of the poet’s personal responsibility for this state of affairs, there is the barely hidden accusation that the readers’ taste is simply not refined enough. 140 The justification of the art of poetry is vivid and somewhat playful, but Steidle hits the mark when he says “der scherzhafte Ton umspielt ein echtes Problem” (Steidle 1962, 139). K ­ lingner 2009, 346 carves out the climax of utility in the list from “modestly negative” (l. 119f.: uatis auarus | non temere est animus) over “narrowly limited” and “gradually more elevated” to the high point of “pious prayers” to the gods (l. 138: carmine di superi placantur, carmine Manes).

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

45

Now there follow three crucial lines, still addressed to the princeps (226–228): cum speramus eo rem uenturam ut, simul atque carmina rescieris nos fingere, commodus ultro arcessas et egere uetes et scribere cogas. When we hope that the matter will arrive at the point that, as soon as you hear that I am composing poems, you complaisantly encourage me further and forbid me to dispense with it and compel me to write.

Here Horace verbalises his hope for maximum approval of poetry by the princeps himself in the future. Augustus is indirectly prompted to honour Horace’s occupation, as Kießling-Heinze put it, “indem er ihm somit seine Kunst zu üben gleichsam als Berufsarbeit auferlegt”.141 As these times of honoured profession have not yet arrived, Horace takes a back seat, describing the poet as the obliging doorkeeper of virtue; but by this move through the back-door, he actually turns poetry into a profession, however humble, and thus sets up a good reason to bar non-professionals from the job (l. 229–231): Sed tamen est operae pretium cognoscere qualis aedituos habeat belli spectata domique 230 uirtus, indigno non committenda poetae. But it is still worth considering what kind of doorkeepers the wellproven virtue has in war and peace, which may not be ceded to the unworthy poet.

In the following passage, Choerilus, the moderately skilled poet of Alexander the Great, serves as a negative example of an incapable indignus poeta. Based on this example, at the end of the letter, Horace puts into words his concluding recusatio of epic writing which is not his domain, insinuating that he would not want to be another Choerilus for Augustus. Even the so-called Ars poetica, the epistle 2.3 to the Pisones, contains a passage that mirrors the difficulties of professional poetry. Steidle comments: “Wie wenig gesichert das soziale Prestige des Dichtertums im Rom der höheren Stände damals noch war, zeigt schlaglichtartig die epist. ad Pis. 406f., wo Horaz eine ausführliche, griechisch gefärbte Darlegung über die Bedeutung des Dichtertums mit den Worten abschließt: ne forte pudori | sit tibi Musa lyrae sollers et cantor Apollo”.142 141 Kießling and Heinze 1984a, 237. 142 Steidle 1962, 139 n.165. Cf. also Kießling and Heinze 1984a, 356f. ad loc.: “die Ge­ ringschätzung poetischer Produkte (…) ist zu H.s Zeit in den Kreisen der römischen Aristokratie zweifellos noch sehr verbreitet gewesen, und wenn auch poetisches Dilettieren an der Tagesordnung war, wird man doch dem durch seine Geburt für die politische Laufbahn bestimmten Jünglinge, der solchem leuiorum artium studio (Cic. Brut. 3) sich ernstlich widmete, die gleichen Vorhaltungen gemacht haben, die der junge Ovid von seinem Vater hörte: studium quid inutile temptas? trist. IV 10, 21.”

46

Introduction

1.3.3 The role of the Greeks for Horace’s poetry and life choice When it comes to Greek colouring, Horace’s profile as a poet is inherently Greek. His self-perception and pride rely on being the first poet to transfer masterly the whole of the Greek iambic and lyric tradition, starting from the archaic and down to the Hellenistic era, into Latin verses and Roman diction.143 In his article ‘Horaz und Kallimachos’, Wehrli even goes to the length of concluding “daß mit einem Wort für ihn der Begriff des künstlerisch Vollendeten mit dem des Griechischen zusammenzufallen scheint”.144 Horace’s Latin predecessors and contemporaries are, of course, in some way present in his poetry, too.145 But this is an unavoidable influence by one’s closest colleagues rather than the orientation towards them as models worthy of emulation. Horace never explicitly aims at imitatio and aemulatio of the Romans; in contrast, sometimes he seems to avoid it deliberately. Thus, in the case of Propertius whose third book is clearly influenced by Horace’s Odes 1–3 (as pointed out above), Horace in book 4 “steers clear of anything that could be regarded as a verbal echo or indebtedness”,146 as Solmsen says. 143 To give a few illustrating quotations: in Odes 2.16.38f., Horace confesses to be equipped with a Greek spirit: spiritum Graiae tenuem Camenae | Parca non mendax dedit. In Odes 4.9, the long list of poetic predecessors (and epic heroes) is exclusively Greek, not to mention the countless loci in the Odes in which Horace imitates deliberately the Greeks. In the Ars poetica, Epistles 2.3.268f., Horace recommends Vos exemplaria Graeca | nocturna uersate manu, uersate diurna. Finally, Epistles 2.1.156–7 contains the famous observation that any Roman artistry originally stems from Greece: Graecia capta ferum uictorem cepit et artes | intulit agresti Latio. 144 Wehrli 1944, 69. However, note the humorous but clear refusal of actually composing in the Greek language in Satires 1.10.31–35, modelled after the typical scheme of a recusatio (cf. Lyne 1995, 34): atque ego cum Graecos facerem, natus mare citra, | uersiculos, uetuit me tali uoce Quirinus | post mediam noctem uisus, cum somnia uera: | ‘in siluam non ligna feras insanius ac si | magnas Graecorum malis inplere cateruas.’ This is especially interesting when contrasted with Odes 1.1.35 Quod si me lyricis uatibus inseres. On first inspection, one might think that the passages were contradictory, and that the insertion into the famous Greek lyricists was exactly the mingling with the swarms of Greeks that is rejected as insane and needless in Satires 1.10. But in fact, the comparison precisely puts on display Horace’s distinct ambition. For in Odes 1.1, he does not aim at being a tenth Greek lyricist, at imitating in the bad sense of an unoriginal epigone and idle plagiator (cf. 1.1.1 Horace and archaic Greek lyric for a discussion of inseres at the end of Odes 1.1). It is none other than the founder of Rome himself, Romulus (Quirinus), who prohibits this in Satires 1.10 long before the Odes. Rather, Horace aims at being the Romanae (!) fidicen lyrae (Odes 4.3.23), by which he does not want to lag behind the Greek originals, but rather to build on their foundations, taking their ideas as wings, soaring above them (cf. Odes 2.20) and outperforming them as the first who plants and nourishes the seed of Greek art with Latin water on Roman soil. 145 For instance, there are not only mentions by name of Horace’s colleagues and friends (e.g. Vergil in Odes 1.3.6, 1.24.10 or 4.12.13), but many intertextual traces. 146 Solmsen 1948, 109.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

47

In light of the omnipresent references to the Greeks, we can test if the whole issue of choosing one’s lifestyle as a poet could be inspired by Greek sources as well. Especially when we are dealing not with the practical and down-to-earth description of every-day Roman circumstances for an already chosen lifestyle in the Epistles, but with the first appearance of this choice in the more elevated lyric context of the Odes, the influence of the Greek tradition might be detectable. If so, then we have to ask in what the specific Roman character of the life choice consists.

1.3.4 The Horatian life choice in the Odes and its sources The idiosyncratic Horatian life choice (as opposed to the early Propertius, Tibullus and others before him) consists, as we have seen above, in the innovative combination of a preference for the simple, peaceful life (which itself is rather unspecific and as such a widespread topos in all poetic literature)147 with the novel notion of serious lyric poetic activity as a job and life-task and as a constitutive part of one’s chosen lifestyle. In fact, the appearances of this theme in Odes 1–3 seem to be the very first occurrences of this idea in Latin literature. In the following survey, I will therefore take into consideration only those places in the Odes that combine the choice of simplicity and peace with some clear hint at literary activity, starting with books 1–3. Of course, one of the most significant representations of a lifestyle choice is in the programmatic opening poem 1.1, even though the motif here is curiously circumscribed, as we will see later. Both the opening and the closing poem 3.30 are more significant because we can assume that Horace wrote them together shortly before editing the whole collection, and thus he already had a clearer view of his lyric experience and its poetological programme. The priamel of life-tasks in 1.1 poses – and answers – the question of lifechoice par excellence. Its very first word is Maecenas, the patron of poetry himself who greatly facilitated the poetic activity of Horace and the other members of his circle, and whose name today generally denotes an artistic sponsor in several modern languages. In Odes 1.1.2, he is accordingly called praesidium and dulce decus. After this kind of coaxing “invocation” to his financial Muse, Horace proposes several ways of life in a long priamel148 that culminates in the presentation of his own favourite lifestyle and his life’s goal: being a poet, gain 147 Cf. e.g. Vischer 1965, a survey on the idea of frugal life (“Das einfache Leben”) in ancient literature (the chapter on Horace is to be found on pp. 147–52). 148 Largely depending on iuuat or iuuant, Horace sets out a number of common types of life (introduced mostly by generalising words: sunt quos; hunc; illum; est qui; multos), then expressly dissociates himself by a double me (l. 29 and 30) and a clear secernunt populo (l. 32) from those common – and popular – life plans.

48

Introduction

ing nothing less than godlike fame – if the real Muses are benevolent, too –, and, some day, being counted among the classical lyrici vates by Maecenas (and his readers). This can be a sublime goal only when seen against the Hellenistic process of canonization, and thereby ennoblement, of the nine archaic lyric poets.149 The structure of the priamel itself has a widespread tradition in poetic and philosophical literature.150 In Horace’s sequence of different lifestyle choices, scholars have always read echoes of various earlier typologies, for example Plato’s three types of humans in Republic 581c (φιλόσοφον, φιλόνικον, φιλοκερδές), or the four βίοι in Greek popular philosophy (φιλότιμος, φιλοχρήματος, φιλήδονος, φιλόσοφος), of which he chooses the last option.151 For Horace, however, the question of the best βίος is not just philosophical but also practical. By asserting his wish for a life as poeta doctus against the long list of other jobs, Horace not only rejects all the aforementioned occupations and replaces them with being a poet; he also boldly elevates poetic activity above the level of these occupations152 and far beyond everything else by positioning it in the sphere of the gods153 and contrasting it with the populus. This degree of self-confidence is apt at the beginning of an ambitious collection of lyric poems. Its conclusion poem 3.30 reinforces the pride. When Horace describes his poetry as a physical monumentum which is perennius and altius (l. 1–2) than iron and the pyramids, he can only do that because of the established literary history and literary consciousness of his time. The postera | crescam laude (l. 7f.) recalls the sublimi feriam sidera vertice of 1.1.36. However, avoidance of death (l. 6: Non omnis moriar), widespread fame as well as the recitals of poems (l. 10: Dicar), and 149 For a recent thorough examination of this process of canonisation, cf. Hadjimichael 2019. Barbantani 1993, 7 suggests that the number of canonised poets deliberately corresponds to the nine Muses. 150 Cf. the vast cross references in Kießling and Heinze 1984b ad loc. and Nisbet and Hubbard 1985 ad loc. In this case, it might well be inspired by the similar passages in Pindar and Bacchylides. 151 To these two examples, Wilamowitz-Moellendorff 1913 adds the three βίοι of Arist. eth. Nic. 1095b17ff. and Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus 23ff. Cf. also La Penna 1955, 165: “Può darsi che Orazio avesse nella mente poesia corale (in ogni caso Bacchilide piuttosto che Pindaro): ma l’ampio sviluppo che la serie dei βίοι ha nell’ode e soprattutto il fatto che ai vari βίοι è contrapposto quello del sapiente (veramente del poeta, ma per ora il problema della distinzione non ha peso), rendono molto probabile il legame con la tradizione filosofica, in cui il motivo era già nel IV sec. a. C. un τόπος”. 152 Steidle 1962, 135 notes “daß carm. I 1 wohl zum ersten Mal in der römischen Literatur vom Dichtertum als einem ‘Beruf’ gesprochen hat”. Cf. also Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 1: “Zugleich aber soll der Prolog (…) den Verfasser dem Publikum als Dichter von Beruf, und zwar als Dichter äolischen Liedes vorstellen: daß jemand in der Poesie seine Lebensaufgabe erblickt, war in Rom nicht gewöhnlich; daß jemand sich als Lyriker gab, völlig neu”. 153 It is not only by dis miscent superis (l. 30) that he places himself among the gods: the metaphor sublimi feriam sidera uertice (l. 36) is, according to Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 9, “im Griechischen ursprünglich Bezeichnung göttlicher Größe”.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

49

the coronation with laurel by a Muse (l. 15f.: mihi Delphica | lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam) are only part of the old and common topos of eternal fame after producing good poetry; the imagery has nothing to do with the problem of the actual choice of lifestyle. It is interesting to note that the choice of what we could call the φιλήδονος βίος (l. 19–22: wine, otium, a locus amoenus in the shadow and next to a spring) is seemingly separated from Horace’s own life plan by the generalising introduction est qui… (i.e. ‘not me’!) and the following six lines before we arrive at Horace’s me and the φιλόσοφος βίος in l. 29. Throughout the books, however, it will become apparent in several poems just how much the aspects of l. 19–22 are actually an important part of Horace’s life choice. Among the many instances of carefree wine-drinking and loci amoeni in the Odes, I find two most striking examples to be 1.38 and 2.11. The last little poem of the first book, Odes 1.38, corresponds closely to the pattern of 1.1.19–22. Here the speaker displays his frugality by renouncing the luxurious symposium preparations of his slave and asking merely for simplici myrto, which is decorous both for the slave and himself who relaxes sub arta vite bibentem. This recalls especially the pocula Massici and viridi membra sub arbuto stratus of 1.1.154 With the same imagery, the persona of Odes 2.11 suggests a symposium (l. 13–17): cur non sub alta vel platano vel hac pinu iacentes (…) potamus uncti? The ardentis Falerni pocula (l. 19f.) shall be cooled with praetereunte lympha (l. 20), which recalls the aquae lene caput sacrae of 1.1.22. Why, then, does Horace seem to dissociate himself slightly from this very Horatian lifestyle in the programmatic opening poem? Perhaps in doing so, he wants to prevent the impression of total laziness and uselessness that could arise from his sympotic passages. Instead, he underlines that his actual personal standard demands high erudition and a great effort to achieve the praemia (l. 29) which separate him from the crowds. His sympotic activity shall not be misinterpreted as the lowbrow practice of a trivial time-waster (cf. l. 20: partem solido demere de die), but should rather be understood as part of the cultivation of a fine taste for life’s joys. In the opening poem of Odes book 3, we encounter Horace’s self-description as Musarum sacerdos (l. 3). In connection with the hate and avoidance of the profanum vulgus (cf. 1.1.30ff.: me gelidum nemus … secernunt populo and the cultic Nympharum … chori) and the following list of life plans which aim at wealth and fame and are therefore pitiable, this poem clearly displays a close kinship with Odes 1.1. In the last stanza of 3.1, Horace poses the rhetorical question why he should ever give up his modest Sabine farm and swap it for troublesome riches. In doing so he again portrays the sense of his life as Musarum sacerdos: wealth 154 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 159: “zu diesem Satz der Einleitungsode hier als Buchschluß eine Illustration”.

50

Introduction

and fame are for sure concomitants of other professions than his, but these concomitants only cause problems anyway. The pride in a vocation of being a priest of the Muses is interwoven with the frugality of an individuum that is misjudged by ‘profane’ society. On the insouciant atmosphere of Odes 1.22, the ode cherishing the beloved Lalage, Mayer comments: “Joking and irony apart, the poem nonetheless insinuates a guiding principle of H.’s self-presentation or persona: the poet, the darling of the Muses, is a being set apart, and one manifestation of his self-sufficiency is his general cheerfulness, an immunity from cares, cf. the opening vaunt of 26 Musis amicus”.155 In 1.26, Horace then unfolds a short and picturesque idyll of insouciance between a fresh spring and sunny flowers. From the latter, the Muses shall wind a wreath for his pupil and emulator Lamia and sing in his honour a song on new strings with a Lesbian plectron. Almost all of these Horatian elements – the rejection of other life plans and recusatio of epic poetry, the peaceful life choice in connection with song and Dichterweihe, emphasis on frugality and friendship with the Muses – find a doubtlessly influential precursor in Callimachus’ prologue to the Aetia. Here, the Telchines are described as clueless beings who “have not become friends with the Muse” (l. 2 οἳ Μούσης οὐκ ἐγένοντο φίλοι).156 Friendship is resumed at the end of the prologue in the gnomic statement that those who were dear to the Muses in childhood will also rest in their favour in old age (l. 37f. Μοῦσαι γὰρ … πολιοὺς οὐκ ἀπέθεντο φίλους). Callimachus justifies his recusatio of the epos by a vision of Apollo in which the god commands him, firstly, to fatten his sacrificial animals, but to keep slender his Muse (l. 22–24), and, secondly, not to tread the beaten tracks of others (l. 26 ἑτέρων ἴχνια μὴ καθ’ ὁμά), but to choose the untouched and partly narrow paths (l. 27f. ἀλλὰ κελεύθους | ἀτρίπτους, εἰ καὶ στεινοτέρην ̣ ἐλάσεις). Beyond the Odes, Horace imitates almost verbally both the Callimachean ‘fat animal versus slender Muse’ as well as the choice of paths in other places, such as Satires 2.6.14f.: pingue pecus domino facias et cetera praeter | ingenium and Epistles 1.19.21f.: Libera per uacuum posui uestigia princeps, | non aliena meo pressi pede.157 The influence of Callimachus’ prologue to the Aetia in later Hellenistic and Roman, especially Augustan, literature can hardly be overestimated. By this 155 Mayer 2012, 169. In A. Campbell’s words, “Horace rides a freelance in the spiritual world” (Campbell 1924, 197f.). For the significance of this spiritual dimension cf. also Krasser 1995: Horazische Denkfiguren. Theophilie und Theophanie als Medium der poetischen Selbstdarstellung des Odendichters. 156 Text taken from Pfeiffer 1949. 157 Cf. Wehrli 1944, 71: „Daß diese allgemeine Aehnlichkeit im Sinne literaturgeschichtlicher Kontinuität zu verstehen ist, beweist (…) die Verwendung einzelner Prägungen des Kallimachos durch Horaz“.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

51

prologue, he constitutes the development of a new and attractive poem type, as Wimmel phrases it.158 Callimachus is thus one of the main sources of inspiration for Horace’s lyric design of the life choice. However, as we know from the lyrici vates of Odes 1.1, the enumeration of six of them in Odes 4.9, the playful poetic competition in Epistles 2.2 (l. 99: Discedo Alcaeus puncto illius), and, lastly, from reading his poetry generally, Horace tends to identify more with the archaic poets than with Callimachus. Much as he appreciates Callimachus’ praise of the refined, careful, sophisticated poetry as opposed to large-scale heroic epic, Horace does not want to impart teaching and educational attitudes so much as display his appreciation of famous archaic literature and its topics such as symposium, wine, love, enjoyment, merriment, and invective. A core poem for Horace’s life choice is Odes 1.31. Horace composed this for a very apt occasion, namely the dedication of the new temple of Apollo on the Palatine in 28 BC. It included a Greek and Latin library and a statue of the God – not with his quiver, but with the cithara: “darin mochten die Poeten Roms ein glückliches Vorzeichen für die Gunst erblicken, die ihnen vom Princeps zuteil werden sollte”.159 Accordingly, the poem is a self-confident manifestation and contouring of the poet’s life and mind-set. He appears expressly as nothing other than the vates (l. 2), identifying whole-heartedly with this “job”. In the long preamble (l. 1–16) to the actual short prayer (l. 17–20), Horace first rejects the usual wishes of other people for riches and earthly success. The wide rura (l. 7) and the wine-growers are slightly reminiscent of the squire and the farmer in the opening poem 1.1.9–14, while the dives … mercator of 1.31.10f., who sets sail on the ocean three or four times a year, reminds of the one in Odes 1.1, who is characterised by mox reficit rates quassas indocilis pauperiem pati (1.1.17f.). Horace then introduces his own view, again like in Odes 1.1.29f., by an opposing double me (1.31.15f.), and displays the simplicity of his life. The prayer in the last stanza combines a readiness to accept what he has got with the request to be capable of enjoying it, condensed into the first two words of the prayer in l. 17: frui paratis.160 The following lines explain what he deems necessary for the frui: health both in body and in mind (valido mihi … integra cum mente) and a tolerable old age (nec turpem senectam) with – and this is the key request of the 158 In his monograph “Kallimachos in Rom”, Wimmel assumes “daß die Form des Prologs sich zu einem runden und dauerhaften Gedichttypus ausgestaltet, in dem meistens excusatio, recusatio, Panegyrik, Stilbekenntnis und Lebensrechtfertigung sich die Waage halten. Die Form zeigt Anmut und poetisches Eigengewicht; dem Dichter fällt in ihr eine geistige Hel­ denrolle neuer Art zu, die sich nicht im Apologetischen erschöpft” (Wimmel 1960, 2). 159 Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 131. 160 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 134: “Auf paratis liegt ein Nachdruck – er verlangt nicht nach mehr –, auf frui ein anderer“.

52

Introduction

prayer – a cithara. The poem’s last words confirm and underline his self-definition as a poet, and they alone form the proper answer to the initial rhetorical question of what specifically a poet wants from Apollo (l. 1f.: Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinem | vates?).161 In the following Odes 1.32, Horace addresses his (which is in fact Alcaeus’) personified lyre and urges it to play a Latinum … carmen (l. 3f.); this versified plea is at once its own fulfilment, so poetic activity is already in full swing. At the end of the poem, Horace greets the lyre: salve | rite vocanti (l. 15f.), that is, as someone adept in the rituals, someone professional. Besides Odes 1.32, where Horace plays on Alcaeus’ lyre which is already accustomed to wine, song, and love (Liberum et Musas Veneremque, l. 9), a very similar portrayal of the poetic life is to be found in Odes 1.17. Here, Horace cheerfully describes the effects of his own life choice: peace, agreeable temperatures, and music which bewitches even the wildest animals and takes away any fears. Already from the beginning, this apparently Roman bucolic idyll (which recalls the amoenus Lucretilis in the heart of Latium) turns out to be actually rooted in Greece, since Faunus, alias Pan, introduces the poem and creates the scenery, coming directly from his home on Mount Lykaion in Arcadia. Without the frequent visitation of the Greek god, there would be no such idyll in Latium. Horace also presents himself as sheltered by the gods and thus implies that his life choice is approved of by them: Di me tuentur, dis pietas mea | et Musa cordi est (l. 13f.). By inviting the mysterious addressee Tyndaris into this paradise, and by recommending to her Lesbian wine and the Teian lute, he asks her to make her choice as well, following Horace and the old predecessors Sappho, Alcaeus, and Anacreon into the idealised world of poetry. In the case of these archaic poets, we cannot find a similar atmosphere, let alone this motif of life choice. As described at the beginning of this chapter, this is due to the fact that the central circumstances for such a choice were completely different: book poetry, professional philology, and reflection upon literary history were rather alien to the archaic writers. It is, of course, the Hellenistic period that sets the milestones for Horace’s view on the poetic lifestyle.162 As I will show in detail in 3.2.2 Horace and the Anacreontean Dog Star, the whole scenery around Tyndaris in 1.17 (bucolic surroundings, flight from the heat of the Dog Star by drinking and singing, imita 161 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 135: “ein Alter, das nicht durch Verfall der körperlichen oder geistigen Kräfte abstoßend wird, wünscht sich ein jeder; für H. wird es aber nur Wert haben, wenn ihm Apollo citharoedus auch die Leier gönnt”. 162 Cf. esp. Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 215: “The poem illustrates a feeling for country life that began in the urban conglomerations of the Hellenistic age and that finds e­ xpression in  bucolic poetry”. They describe Tyndaris as “a dream figure, belonging to the world of ­A lexandrian pastoral” (216), modelled on Theocritus’ Galatea. Hence, although Horace ­a lludes verbally only to the archaic poets in 1.17, Hellenism provides the backdrop for the ode.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

53

tion of Anacreon) is deeply influenced by the oldest Carmina Anacreontea, and especially by its closing poem CA 60b (on its separate dating, see 3.2.1 CA 60: questions of unity and dating). Now, this oldest collection is the one that is filled with the authors’ consciousness of their own imitative practice, their role play, and their job of ‘being Anacreon’.163 CA 1 depicts the poetic investiture by which ‘being Anacreon’ actually becomes an irrevocable life task – yet also a task consciously chosen by the persona at the moment of receiving Anacreon’s wreath. In Epodes 14, on the occasion of a recusatio of iambic poetry due to the prevention by a mighty god (l. 6: deus, deus nam me vetat), we find in l. 9‒11 Horace’s very first mention of Anacreon, who is described as a love-poet: non aliter Samio dicunt arsisse Bathyllo | Anacreonta Teium | qui persaepe cava tes­ tudine flevit amorem. Through non aliter, Horace’s dealing with Anacreon goes to such lengths that one can speak of identification – in a remarkably Anacreontean setting, and with dicunt used as an indicator of a nebulous tradition and a rumour rather than the original Anacreon, as I pointed out in 1.2.2 Allusion, reference, intertextuality. The source of this picture of Anacreon may well be a Hellenistic Anacreontean imitation or even a lost comedy scene featuring Anacreon (cf. 2.3.2 Epodes 14 and Anacreon’s palinode). Although this does not count as an example of the motif of poetry as a proper life choice, it is another significant instance of strong inspiration from the Anacreontic tradition in the context of poetic production. Glenn Most describes the uniqueness (within Greek literature) of Anacreontic imitation in the CA: “Mimesis is of course one of the fundamental structures and techniques of ancient Greek culture, as of those other cultures influenced deeply by it; but the kind of mimesis directed by the Anacreontics towards Anacreon seems to be almost unparalleled elsewhere in Greece. In general, when the Greeks imitate Greek heroes, they attempt to make the pattern of their behavior correspond to that of their model; but when they imitate Greek poets, they copy or imitate not larger or smaller actions or modes of conduct, but instead larger or smaller passages and stylistic features of their literary texts.”164 Most goes on to describe how the Anacreontic imitators strive to “partake of an Anacreontic way of life consisting of a certain kind of drinking, singing, and desiring”.165 Partaking of wine, Anacreontic singing, and desire is exactly what Horace exemplifies and suggests to Tyndaris in Odes 1.17. With this lifestyle and Anacreon’s lyre in her hands, she shall virtually become a new Anacreontic poetess. Thus, the new kind of mimesis of the Anacreontea, being apparently unique in Greek literature, 163 Cf. Bär 2016b, 33, who also notices the intense play with identity in these poems (including 60b) and observes, with regard to CA 17, “the disproportion between the non-identification of the poetic speaker with Anacreon (as implemented in the two poems that frame the collection) and the insinuated identification in this poem”. 164 Most 2014, 150. 165 Most 2014, 151.

54

Introduction

seems to have had a deep impact on Horace’s imitative technique, his life choice and his self-perception as a poet.166 The Horatian life choice is inspired particularly by the mentioned sources, i.e. the Callimachean and Hellenised Anacreontic traditions; it is not simply common in all Hellenistic literature. Some otherwise important and influential Hellenistic authors are virtually irrelevant for the question of one’s conscious life choice as a poet, since they do not feature any metapoetic treatment on it. This is evident, for instance, in the case of Asclepiades of Samos. He can therefore serve here as a kind of counterevidence that highlights ex silentio the unique and peculiar nature of the motif of life choice shared by Horace, Callimachus, and the Anacreontea. At the beginning of Alexandria’s literary florescence, Asclepiades was one of those early pioneers who came in the late fourth and early third century from the southern Aegean islands with their “vibrant literary culture”, as the Asclepiades editor Sens writes (he lists as Asclepiades’ colleagues from the islands and the coast of Asia Minor Zenodotus of Ephesus, Philitas of Cos, Hermesianax of C ­ olophon, Philicus of Miletus, and Simmias and Antagoras of Rhodes).167 Asclepiades shaped certain themes and styles of the Hellenistic epigrammatic genre and was its most important representative. He had a significant impact on many contemporary and later authors of the Hellenistic zenith, such as Callimachus, Theocritus, Apollonius of Rhodes,168 and several famous metaphors and images of Greek as well as Latin love poetry most probably derive from him, such as Eros and Aphrodite as archers with arrows, and, most importantly, the motif of the paraclausithyron, which became almost omnipresent in later love lyric.169 Last but not least, alongside the Sapphic and Alcaic stanzas, the various Asclepiadic stanza forms are among the most used lyric metres in Horace’s Odes.170 However, whilst Asclepiades’ literary influence is beyond doubt, his times were too early for the poetic life choice that we find slightly later. Book poetry was about to grow, but was not yet fully established, and the Alexandrian philology had just begun to germinate. The product of poetry had to be established and honoured in society before the production could be valued at all. Additionally, in Asclepiades’ epigrams, the speaker is never clearly identifiable with the author,

166 For an analysis of CA 1 and its literary background cf. Bartol 1993: ‘TON ANAKPEONTA MIMOY: Einige Bemerkungen zum „Carmen Anacreonteum“ 1 W.’. 167 Cf. Sens 2011, li. 168 For a brief account of Asclepiades’ impact on those and other authors, cf. the chapter ‘VI. Asclepiades and his contemporaries’ in Sens 2011, li‒lxii. 169 Cf. Degani 2002 s.v. Asclepiades [1] of Samos. 170 Admittedly, this verse form was not invented by Asclepiades, but is attested already much earlier; yet it was later ascribed to the Samian epigrammatist, and this evidence alone proves his fame and appreciation among his successors.

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

55

and is very often even expressly different from him.171 Although we have only a very small fraction of his oeuvre, it is very unlikely that this tendency should only be due to a partial transmission that accidentally or intentionally leaves out all the more personal poems. This fact alone prevents us from searching for any poetic life choice in Asclepiades. The development of Alexandrian poetic production can thus be considered an earlier Greek equivalent to the Latin Augustan development. As explicated above, Horace’s life choice could only succeed because it relied on, and took its strength from, earlier cautious preparations, for example by Tibullus and Propertius. Likewise, Asclepiades, by strongly influencing the literary industry in Alexandria, was only a pathfinder for the Hellenistic life choice, but not a representative. The growing Hellenistic interest in poets’ biographies probably also fostered the recognition of the author of great literature as an actually authoritative personality. It seems that Hellenistic scholars became more aware of the fact that there were human beings behind the abstract names of authors.172 This led to a greater appreciation of not only their literary products, but also their persons (like Anacreon in the case of the Anacreontea). Personal esteem is exactly what Horace, as the first of the Augustan poets, dares to struggle for openly. Just as an honourable person can stage herself assertively as a poet only after poetry itself has become a well-respected profession, in the same way a poet can be imitated as a personality only after proving himself a worthy personality, a kind of hero.173 I would therefore dare to say that Horace draws at least part of his poetic self-confidence and his hope for recognition from the success of the particular role model that Anacreon represented. Anacreon’s status as a poet hero is already attested in classical Athens, as for example the so-called Booner Vases prove.174 What distinguishes Anacreon’s poetic biography significantly from Horace’s ‒ beyond the differences in period, language, and society ‒ is the fact that the latter mainly stayed in Rome under the same patron and the same princeps throughout almost his entire career, whilst the former moved several times, from Teos to Abdera to Samos to Athens, and produced his poetry under 171 Cf. Sens 2011, xlix: “The variety of speaking voices adopted in the corpus ‒ including that of a woman in XIX ‒ makes it clear that none of Asclepiades’ narrators can be identified as the historical poet, so that the poems cannot be used to reconstruct details of his psychology any more than they can be taken as evidence for his biography”. 172 Barchiesi 2001, 142f. speaks of “the Hellenistic and Roman tradition that centers on the author as a matrix of his poetic production”. 173 Both phenomena are interwoven: where the poet can say “Look, I am a human with flesh and blood, with a personality and a biography”, there, in return, the actual human amidst society can say “Look, I am a poet by profession and with passion”. 174 For the Booner Vases cf. especially Bernsdorff 2020, 582–6; for Anacreon’s rise to a hero already in the classical period cf. Bing 2014.

56

Introduction

several tyrants. The vicissitudes of his residences and necessarily varying loyalties may have fostered Anacreon’s self-reliance, as Bowie implies in Wandering Poets: “Perhaps Anacreon was justified in focusing attention on his own poetic persona and skills. In Peisistratid eyes, he was a catch, and the impact he made in Attica vindicated their judgement”.175 Anacreon’s focused self-assurance is mirrored in the Horatian “Selbstreflexion und Selbstdarstellung” mentioned above.176 Self-reliance and independence are attractive characteristics of the original Anacreon that Horace needed in cultivating his life choice; for its forming he could then find plenty of inspiration in the early Anacreontea, which he read and used consciously and separately from the original Anacreon, as I will argue in 3.1.2 Character of the anthology and significance for Horace and the following chapter sections. However, comparing Horace’s life choice with that of the Anacreontean poets also uncovers a crucial difference: anonymity. The Anacreontean poet has no other name than that of Anacreon. He has no personality, no profile – and thereby no position in society and no reputation to lose. For him it is far easier to follow in Anacreon’s footsteps, because the question of his real identity and the possible personal criticism of his life choice is inhibited by his anonymity. Horace, in contrast, much as he deeply internalizes the Greek predecessors, remains definitely and distinctively himself – as he does not tire of asserting when he speaks for instance of himself as princeps Aeolium carmen ad Italos | deduxisse modos (Odes 3.30.13f.) or Libera per uacuum posui uestigia princeps | non aliena meo pressi pede. Qui sibi fidet, | dux reget examen. Parios ego primus iambos | ostendi Latio (Epistles 1.19.21–24). This is why Horace’s undertaking is somewhat delicate. Since he seems to aim at advancing the appreciation and societal acceptance of an entire poetic life style, he avails himself of the Anacreontean poets, whose self-representation proves very beneficial for this purpose; they have already succeeded in propagating precisely this appreciation of the poet personality Anacreon. However, unlike them, Horace has to answer for his self-representation with his own entire identity.177 175 Bowie 2009, 130. 176 Lefèvre 1993, 10. 177 We could call this the burden of ‘onymity’ and take Tom Geue’s words, who with his monograph Author Unknown wants to convey to the reader “a sense of the author’s name as weight or straitjacket to be shaken off”, so that “the condition of the name-free should leave us with lighter shoulders” (Geue 2019, 273). These lighter shoulders and the lifted burden can here be applied precisely to the Anacreontean poets as producers, not readers of anonymous poetry. Through their anonymity, they can write much more carelessly and can take more liberty in what they say and how. (How significant this freedom is and what a profound effect it can have on someone’s writing can be illustrated by the contemporary negative example of anonymous ‘shitstorms’ in ‘social’ media.)

Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle

57

To sum up: the public and societal aspect of Horace’s life choice is defined by the specific Roman conditions of his time; the private and aesthetic aspect by the imprint of his Hellenistic predecessors. Horace exhibits traces of both the Callimachean propensity towards the φιλόσοφος βίος and the Anacreontean bias towards the φιλήδονος βίος. Neither Callimachean learnedness without carefree symposia nor the Anacreontean symposia without a learned standard satisfy him. In Mette’s words, “the greatest part of Horace’s poetry permits the observation that this great artist has managed to weave lifestyle and literary style into one”.178 Just as he is the first to bring the Aeolic song to the Latin lyre (cf. Odes 3.30), he is also the first to translate the Hellenistic poets’ self-awareness into the Roman present age, and he is the first to unite two very divergent prime examples of Hellenistic poetry, Callimachus and Anacreontea, into a new and symbiotic whole.

178 Mette 2009, 55.

2. And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

2.1 Wine and Inebriation One of Anacreon’s most famous distinguishing marks is his symposiastic cheerfulness and drunkenness, a trait that is anything but alien to Horace. Descriptions of symposia, wine-mixing, precious oils and the like are numerous in both authors.179 Needless to say, this topic is also among the most widespread in lyric poetry. In this chapter, I will assess all direct reflections of specifically Anacreontic symposium settings in Horace as well as further topics that are interrelated with symposia and clearly influenced by Anacreon.

2.1.1 Odes 1.27 and PMG 356b: restrained partying I start off with one of the oldest known and most obvious cases of Anacreontic influence, the prominent comparison of the beginning of Odes 1.27 and PMG rd 356b. Its first scholarly testimony is as early as Porphyrio’s 3 cent. commentary on Horatii Carmina180 and has attracted scholars’ interest ever since.181

179 Cf. for Anacreon Seneca’s remark in Epistles 88.37, where he picks up the current stereotypes and cannot decide: libidinosior Anacreon an ebriosior uixerit. For an introduction to this part of his character, cf. e.g. Rosenmeyer 1992, 15ff. and Kantzios 2005: ‘Tyranny and the Symposion of Anacreon’. The Anacreontic fragments including wine or drinking are: PMG 346 fr. 4, 352, 356a and b, 373, 383, 389, 396, 407, 409, 412, 415, 427, 433, 454, 455. For Horace cf. e.g. Commager 1957 on “The Function of Wine in Horace’s Odes”. Symposiastic poems include Epodes 13, Odes 1.27, 2.7, 2.11, 3.15, 3.19, 3.28 and many more. 180 Cf. Porph. Hor. c. 1.27.1: Protreptice ode est haec ad hilaritatem, cuius sensus sumptus est ab Anacreonte ex libro tertio. Apart from the three direct mentions of Anacreon by Horace, this is the only other instance in the commentaries on both Odes and Epodes where Porphyrio refers to Anacreon. Campbell 1985, 37 takes this as a rather disqualifying find: “[T]here may be no significance in this, since he [sc. Porphyrio] misses even loud clear echoes of Greek poetry like ‘nunc est bibendum’.” Of course it seems random, but one could as well say that the fact that here Anacreon is mentioned randomly, whilst elsewhere other obvious echoes are not, emphasises the importance and equality of Anacreon among other models. On Porphyrio’s commentary in general, cf. Breuer 2019: ‘Ita dictum accipe: Pomponius Porphyrio on Early Greek Lyric Poetry in Horace’ (in Currie and Rutherford 2019). 181 In addition to the commentaries by Nisbet and Hubbard 1985 and Kießling and Heinze 1984b, the connection is assessed e.g. in Fraenkel 1957, 179–83, Mayer 2012, 183f. For PMG

60

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Both poems mark the attempt to restore the idyllic atmosphere of a symposium which has come to the verge of violence.

PMG 356b ἄγε δηὖτε μηκέτ’ οὕτω πατάγῳ τε κἀλαλητῷ Σκυθικὴν πόσιν παρ’ οἴνῳ μελετῶμεν, ἀλλὰ καλοῖς ὑποπίνοντες ἐν ὕμνοις.

Come now, let us no longer practise any more Scythian drinking with clatter and shouting over wine, but moderately drinking amid beautiful songs.

Odes 1.27 Natis in usum laetitiae scyphis pugnare Thracum est; tollite barbarum      morem uerecundumque Bacchum      sanguineis prohibete rixis. Vino et lucernis Medus acinaces immane quantum discrepat; impium      lenite clamorem, sodales,      et cubito remanete presso.

5

Tankards were meant for joy; only Thracians use them as weapons. Away with that barbarous behaviour, and protect Bacchus, who is a respectable deity, from bloody brawls! Where there is wine and lamplight a Persian dagger is utterly out of place. Quieten down this unholy row, my friends, and stay where you are, reclining on your elbow.182

A symposium that started off cheerfully with cups of wine (laetitiae scyphis, 1.27.1; κελέβην is mentioned in 356a) descends into a barbaric rabble. Anacreon requests st (in 1 person plural adhortative) not to make noise and drink in a “Scythian” way any longer, but to drink moderately and enjoy pleasant songs. Similarly, Horace calls on his companions not to exaggerate the “Thracian-style” fighting and “barbaric” drinking, arguing, shouting (which reflects the Σκυθικὴν πόσιν),183 but to remain lying down. The situation in both cases is already on the brink of chaos (cf. sanguineis … rixis and πατάγῳ τε κἀλαλητῷ). Horace’s mention of the Medus acinaces (LSJ s.v.: “a short sabre of the Persians, Medes, and Scythians”), whilst at first glance seeming surprisingly incoherent with the Roman setting – an “exotic and recherché expression”184 –, may well be evocative of Anacreon’s use of this technical term (PMG 465 τὠκινάκῃ), and of a Scythian characteristic again.185 356, cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 425 who says that “the points of contact are too vague to maintain an adaptation of this very fragment with certainty”. 182 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 183 Cf. Plat. leg. 637e, where Plato mentions the same drinking habits of Scythians and Thracians together: Σκύθαι δὲ καὶ Θρᾷκες ἀκράτῳ παντάπασι χρώμενοι. 184 Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 313. 185 Cf. Campbell 1985, 37: “The echo is not only in the words ‘Thracum’ and ‘barbarum’ but in ‘verecundum’ and ‘impium’, which recall the καλοὶ ὕμνοι of Anacreon. We know also

Wine and Inebriation

61

The vivid descriptions of these scenes as they develop have been labelled a “running commentary”,186 a technique also used elsewhere in early and Hellenistic Greek poetry. However, in both poems, the personae not only observe, but also participate in the situation. In particular, Horace’s participation, as shown by the way he captures the companions’ attention and guides them subtly by a smart conversation with Megylla’s brother, is pictured so elaborately that several scholars speak of imaginary “stage directions” which we are tempted to insert into the poem’s semantic gaps.187 I therefore agree with Fraenkel that the term ‘running commentary’ and the generic comparison with other poems of this kind is not altogether appropriate. Fraenkel re-narrates the whole ode, inserting colourful stage directions, and praises the “subtle and consistent building up of a dramatic structure in a lyric poem”, which is “certainly not in the manner of Anacreon or, for that matter, any archaic poet, but bears the stamp of a later age”.188 Odes 1.27 is thus an example of the fruitful transformation of archaic motifs with Hellenistic artistry into Augustan poetry.

2.1.2 Odes 2.7 and PMG 356a: madness through inebriation In Odes 2.7, Horace rejoices in the return of his friend and comrade Pompeius, with whom he shares memories of both the battlefield and symposiastic gatherings. Towards the end of the poem, Horace encourages Pompeius to thank Iuppiter for his safe return with a dapes, and to indulge in a symposium. I wish to concentrate on the three last lines of the ode (l. 26–28): (…) Non ego sanius bacchabor Edonis: recepto dulce mihi furere est amico. I shall revel with all the madness of a Thracian; it is sheer delight to go wild, for I have got back my friend.189

Nisbet and Hubbard observe on this passage that Edoni refers to “a Thracian tribe whose king Lycurgus was driven mad by Dionysus”. Further, since the women of the people of Edoni are said to be Maenads, “the name goes well with that Anacreon used the word ἀκινάκης ‘scimitar’ (fr. 465)”. In addition, Bernsdorff 2020, 701 speculates if the name Megilla or Megylla in l. 11 (on the varying spelling cf. Fraenkel 1957, 180 n.3) might reflect Anacreon’s Μεγιστῆς (PMG 352, 353 and 416). 186 See Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 310 with references to articles about this technique in early Greek poetry: Wheeler 1930, 217ff.; Mühll 1940, 423. 187 Cf. Wheeler and Nutting 1934, 204f., Fraenkel 1957, 181 (or in German “Bühnenanweisungen”: Fraenkel 1983, 215), Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 310. 188 Fraenkel 1957, 180f. 189 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL).

62

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

bacchabor; Horace is (…) referring to the hard drinking of the Thracians”190; they also mention Odes 1.27.2 as a parallel for this kind of drinking. It is, as we saw above, inspired by Anacreon’s PMG 356b. Here in Odes 2.7 we have a second reference to Thracian drinking of the style of 356b, but in addition, I see a much more intriguing reflection of the earlier section of the same Anacreontic poem, namely 356a.191 The key word is bacchabor. The Greek equivalent of bacchari, βακχεύω, is well attested, appearing frequently in the tragedies and fragments of Euripides, occasionally in Sophocles, Aeschylus, and Aristophanes, and rarely in prose (Herodotus, Plato). However, whilst the Latin bacchari occurs sporadically in Plautus, Cicero, st and Seneca, this very form, a 1 p. sg. future, exists only here in classical Latin st literature (as far as it is known to us). Similarly, Anacreon’s 1 p. sg. future (ἀνα-) βασσαρήσω in fr. 356a PMG, as a verb, is in fact a hapax legomenon. It stems from ἀναβακχεύω; the LSJ s.v. translates the intransitive use as “break forth in Bacchic frenzy”. Both word forms are very rare; they mean more or less the same kind of drunkenness, occur in the same context of a quickly prepared symposium, and in a poem by Anacreon that Horace pretty undoubtedly knew well and had used elsewhere before. This can hardly be coincidence:

PMG 356a

ἄγε δὴ φέρ’ ἧμιν ὦ παῖ κελέβην, (…) 5 (…) ὡς ἂν †ὑβριστιῶς† ἀνὰ δηὖτε βασσαρήσω. Come, boy, bring me a bowl, (…) that I may once again (saucily?) play the Bacchant.192 _______________________________ 5 ἂν ὑβριστιῶσανα A: ἀνυβρίστως Panuw: ἀνυβριστί Baxter: ὡς ‹ἂν› ἀνύβριστ(α) dubitanter Page193

Odes 2.7 Obliuioso leuia Massico ciboria exple (…) (…) Non ego sanius bacchabor Edonis: recepto dulce mihi furere est amico.

21 26

Fill up the polished cups with Massic that dulls the memory (…) I shall revel with all the madness of a Thracian; it is sheer delight to go wild, for I have got back my friend.194

190 Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 121 ad loc. They give Prop. 1.3.5 and Ov. met. 11.69 as examples for the Maenads. In both passages, drunkenness and Bacchus are mentioned as well. 191 We do not have a final proof that it was one and the same poem, but Athenaeus’ use of the word προελθών between the two sections 356a and b is quite a telling sign. Cf. Fraenkel 1957, 179 n.2 and especially Bernsdorff 2020, 422f. Mühll 1940, 423 argues for 356b as a self-contained little poem, but his arguments do not convince me. Furthermore, it is questionable if the fragments immediately followed each other or if Athenaeus skipped some lines in his quotation, but this is irrelevant for the connection with Horace. 192 My own translation. 193 Apparatus according to Bernsdorff 2020, 173. 194 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL).

Wine and Inebriation

63

In Anacreontic words, Horace states that he will not be more restrained than the Thracian tribe of the Edoni. As we just saw, this tribe underlines and specifies the bacchabor by reference to Dionysus and Thracian drinking, as in 1.27, and its origin points particularly to Anacreon from Thrace and his Σκυθικὴν πόσιν in PMG 356b. This link between Horace and Anacreon can give us a new hint at a solution for the locus desperatus of 356a.5: ὡς ἂν †ὑβριστιῶς†. I will first assess the already existing arguments. The core question is how we understand the ‘αν’ in ωσανυβριστιως: either as the modal particle ἄν (and ὑβριστ(ι)ῶς as a positive form of affirmed frenzy), or as an alpha privative that denies exaggerated frenzy and advocates temperance.195 In his commentary ad loc., Bernsdorff does not take a definitive stance, but leans towards the latter option, arguing that the connotation of impertinence in the positive form ὑβριστῶς is inappropriate and that “excessive drinking would be sacrilege against Dionysus”.196 He therefore also interprets ἀναβασσαρέω moderately as prompting “the idea of a bacchant who serves the god of wine”197 and paraphrases it as “celebrate the mysteries of Bacchus”.198 In my view, this gives the poem a much too sober touch. Following Pretagostini, I lean towards the ‘insolent’ interpretation.199 The whole context of 356a suggests excess: the strong mixing ratio 2:1, the greedy drinking style of ἄμυστιν, and the force of the particular verb ἀναβασσαρέω, which I interpret with the LSJ as a strong “break forth in Bacchic frenzy” (see above). A tame word like ‘non-impudently’ in the final clause that is supposed to explain the goal of the greedy drinking process would sound rather prissy. If a restriction in drinking was intended here, it could have been expressed by a more positive word that causes less disruption to the tone of hilarity, such as ‘gracefully’ (for example ἁβρῶς, used in PMG 373 as well). The admittedly well-behaved restriction and call to order of 356b, which shows piety and moderation precisely against hybris, needs a reason, an action of excess, in the first place, otherwise the μηκέτ’ οὕτω (356b.1) is pointless.200 The cohortative μελετῶμεν in 356b.4 shows that the persona has been part of the excess, and the adjective ὑβριστός is not even necessarily overly sacrilegious: in Euripides’ Bacchae, it is also used in a Bacchic context for the thyrsoi of the Maenads (113):

195 Most scholars tend to hold this view. Cf. the thorough discussion of the lexical and semantic plausibilities of both options, as well as further proposals for solution, in Bernsdorff 2020, 429f. 196 Bernsdorff 2020, 430. 197 Bernsdorff 2020, 429. 198 Bernsdorff 2020, 430. 199 The textual tradition argues for it: the codex Marcianus, although otherwise erro­ neous, has a gap between ἄν and ὑβριστ(ι)ῶς; cf. Pretagostini 1982, 53. 200 Cf. Pretagostini 1982, 49: “non si deve più bere così” (italics by Pretagostini).

64

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

ἀμφὶ δὲ νάρθηκας ὑβριστὰς. In addition, if we thus take ἄν as the modal particle, it colours, or softens, the only nearly sacrilegious ὑβριστῶς into the syntax of a tentative eventualis.201 In a possible negated ἀνυβρίστως next to ἀναβασσαρέω, Bernsdorff hypothesises “an early instance of the paradoxical topos of ‘going mad gracefully’”202, which is found in the Hellenistic Carmina Anacreontea and in Horace: cf. χαριέντως … μανῆναι (CA 53.14) and misce stultitiam consiliis brevem, | dulce est desipere in loco (Odes 4.12.27f.). However, as I said above, there would have been more suitable words to express this image. To me it seems that in the archaic PMG 356a and b, μανία and χάρις are not yet amalgamated into the Hellenistic paradox, but partitioned into the two parts of the poem. There is a further argument. If Horace’s bacchabor in 2.7 is a reflection of Anacreon’s ἀνά … βασσαρήσω, as argued above, then the non ego sanius right before it and the furere right after make unrestricted frenzy also in the source text all the more plausible.203 To summarise, PMG 356a and the end of 2.7 both describe the same preparation and beginning of a cheerful symposium, with the explicit intention of getting reasonably – or rather more than reasonably – drunk, whilst PMG 356b and the beginning of 1.27 both deal with the same exaggeration of madness in the symposium which results from too much drinking. A third ode is worth mentioning in the context of madness through drinking. Odes 3.19 features an overtly impatient tone; a symposium cannot be prepared quickly enough. Again, Horace’s scenery resembles Anacreon’s, especially in the central lines 9‒18. Here, the persona exhorts the slave in l. 9‒11 with a triple imperative da, the first time combined with propere, the third time followed by a snippy address to the puer:204 Da lunae propere nouae, | da noctis mediae, da, puer, auguris | Murenae. Then l. 11f. provide closer instructions for the correct wine mixing: tribus aut nouem | miscentur cyathis pocula commodis. Both the impatient address to a puer and the detailed instructions (including the striking Greek technical term cyathis)205 are again reminiscent of PMG 356a (ἄγε δὴ φέρ’ 201 Cf. Pretagostini 1982, 53: “Sul piano sintattico la proposizione si presenta come una finale con congiuntivo eventuale”. That the adverb ὑβριστῶς is not attested elsewhere (whereas the adjective exists ‒ and both the negated adjective and adverb, ἀνύβριστος and ἀνυβρίστως, rarely occur too) is only a minor drawback, cf. Pretagostini 1982, 53. 202 Bernsdorff 2020, 430. 203 Excessive drinking is nothing alien to Anacreon, as Bernsdorff himself observes: “There are fragments where the speaker seems to present himself as an immoderate drinker (PMG 373 with n.) or as being heavily drunk (PMG 412)” (Bernsdorff 2020, 424). 204 Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 234 ad loc.: “puer, like παῖ, is a normal address to a slave (cf. 1. 38. 1), notably in contexts that refer to pouring wine”. 205 Cf. also PMG 383: οἰνοχόει δ’ ἀμφίπολος μελιχρὸν | οἶνον τρικύαθον κελέβην ἔχουσα. Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 234f. s.v. tribus aut nouem do not mention Anacreon, but give a close parallel for Horace’s wording from Alexis, PCG 2 fr. 116. However, this does not exclude a

Wine and Inebriation

65

ἧμιν ὦ παῖ and τὰ μὲν δέκ’ ἐγχέας | ὕδατος, τὰ πέντε δ’ οἴνου). This is probably more than a coincidental similarity, if we also consider the close kinship of Odes 3.19 with the beginning of 1.27, the imitation of Anacreon’s PMG 356b. In 3.19, the Grace’s fear of rixae provoked by drinking (l. 15f.: tris prohibet supra | rixarum metuens tangere Gratia) brings to mind Horace’s own call to temperance in 1.27.3f., inspired by 356b: uerecundumque Bacchum | sanguineis prohibete rixis206. Further, the following admonition impium | lenite clamorem, sodales (1.27.6f.) is thwarted in Odes 3.19 by the invitation to lunatic uproar (3.19.22f. audiat inuidus | dementem strepitum Lycus). Speaking in the third person about himself, Horace says in l. 14f.: ternos ter cyathos attonitus petet | uates. The attribute attonitus here has the force of Greek ἐνθουσιάζων:207 Horace wants inebriating cyathos, just as Anacreon’s order of κυάθους in 356a shall result in Bacchic frenzy (ἀνὰ δηὖτε βασσαρήσω). We can thus infer that the Horatian setting is inspired by 356a and 356b in Odes 3.19 again, but obviously, this time Horace turns Anacreon’s cautious restrictions upside down: he decides against the three Gratiae, against the temperance of 356b, and in favour of the nine Musae and the revelry of 356a. I will revisit the peculiar sweetness of the expression insanire iuuat in 3.2.3 Insanire iuuat: welcome mania through drinking. Beyond 356a and 356b, there might be a further Anacreontic reminiscence in Odes 3.19. The triple imperative quoted above could remind us of PMG 396, which has three urgent imperatives to the slave as well, even though they are followed by different instructions (namely the requested objects instead of toasts): PMG 396 φέρ’ ὕδωρ, φέρ’ οἶνον, ὦ παῖ, φέρε δ’ ἀνθεμόεντας ἧμιν στεφάνους ἔνεικον, ὡς μή208 possible inspiration by Anacreon. In contrast, the latter is the far more probable source than PCG because of the many further interwoven connections, as will become evident from the following. 206 A further ode should not pass unmentioned here: Odes 1.18 features a restriction in revelry that has some resemblance with 1.27. In 1.18.11, Horace addresses Bacchus (candide Bassareu) and then (13f.) speaks of his typical instruments: saeua tene cum Berecyntio | cornu tympana. This evokes 3.19.18f. Cur Berecyntiae | cessant flamina tibiae? 207 Vergil uses it explicitly for Bacchic frenzy in Aen. 7.580: attonitae Baccho … matres. 208 A variant reading, transmitted only in one single manuscript (codex G, cf. Leo 2015, 139) is ὡς δή. It is a quotation by Orion, who concentrates on the use of the verb πυκταλίζω, probably without much consideration of the context and the precise meaning. This variant ὡς δή turns the meaning of the boxing metaphor, which is in itself much debated, upside down. Leo 2015, 139–42 with n.230‒232 provides a thorough overview of the earlier scholarly positions and arguments, and decides for ὡς μή, as does Bernsdorff 2020, 635 after examining all possible variants of the metaphor’s meaning. A helpful comparandum is PMG 346 fr.4, where “escaping Eros and drinking seem to be in contrast with the boxing match” as well (Bernsdorff 2020, 634). The fact that in 346 fr. 4 l. 1 a battle seems to have taken place (χα]λεπ ̣ως̣ ̣ δ᾿

66

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

πρὸς Ἔρωτα πυκταλίζω. Bring water, bring wine, boy, bring us garlands of flowers, so that I may not box against Eros.

What is more, the impatience in PMG 396 is connected with erotic trouble; this feature is absent from 356a and b, but is present in the last lines of Odes 3.19, culminating finally in the speaker’s avowal of his own affliction by a slightly personified amor (l. 28): me lentus Glycerae torret amor meae. This erotic drought seems to mark a second motivation for drinking besides Horace’s initial annoyance about the boring stories of the unnamed addressee.209 Earlier in 2.7, in the third stanza, Horace depicts his and Pompeius’ escape from the battlefield and introduces the well-known motif of leaving one’s shield behind (ll. 9‒10):210 Tecum Philippos et celerem fugam sensi relicta non bene parmula. 10 With you beside me I experienced Philippi and its headlong rout, leaving my little shield behind without much credit.211

This is commonly compared to a passage of Archilochus, but it also repays comparison with Alcaeus, and Anacreon PMG 381b: ἀσπίδα ῥίψας ποταμοῦ καλλιρόου παρ’ ὄχθας Having thrown (my?) shield by the banks of the beautifully-flowing river

Campbell discounts the link with Anacreon, stating the uncertainty of the context and wording of Anacreon’s fragment. It is quoted by Atilius Fortunatus (De metr. Horat. VIII) not for semantic reasons, but only as a metrical example; the ῥίψας is Bergk’s conjecture for the manuscript reading ασπιδαριψεςποταμον; and it is unclear who the subject is.212 Given the much stronger similarity with ἐπυκτάλιζο ̣[ν) does not yet mean that it was won (l. 4 ἐκϕυγὼν Ἔρωτα does not sound like victory) and hence offers no proof for a positively judged fight. Besides the manuscript tradind tion, the Autun mosaic from the 2 cent. AD clearly has ΩΣ ΜΗ. Given both the textual state of affairs and the various options for interpretation, I agree with Leo and Bernsdorff; I suggest a further reason in favour of μή and more support for the understanding of the metaphor in 3.2.4 Eros and the pouring puer: Anacreontean and Anacreontic wine and love. 209 On the question of unnamed addressees, including this one, cf. 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation and a new proposal of interpretation in 3.2.3 Insanire iuvat: welcome mania through drinking. 210 On Horace’s use of the motif cf. Smith 2015: ‘Horace Odes 2.7 and the Literary Tradition of Rhipsaspia’. 211 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 212 Cf. Campbell 1985, 37f.

Wine and Inebriation

67

Archilochus (κάλλιπον οὐκ ἐθέλων with the author himself as subject = relicta non bene with Horace himself as semantical subject),213 it would indeed be bold to claim that Horace deliberately used Anacreon as his first and main exemplar. However, the much stronger link to Anacreon later in the poem might allow one to recognise Anacreontic patterns, too, in this instance. We will deal with this line again in another context in 2.2.5 Love reloaded: Odes 4.1 and the erotic δηὖτε motif.

2.1.3 Deducing Zeus in PMG 362 and Epodes 13 There is also an Anacreontic reflection in Epodes 13, an untypical epode which “is clearly sympotic in its setting, the first and only epode to be so”.214 In vivid words, Horace depicts a horrible thunderstorm before suggesting a symposium. The thunderstorm might be inspired by Anacreon’s PMG 362. As far as I can see, Bergk first spotted the affinity in his edition of the Poetae Melici215, whereas later commentators mostly judge it very cautiously:216

PMG 362

Epodes 13

μεὶς μὲν δὴ Ποσιδηιών ἕστηκεν †νεφέλη δ’ ὕδωρ ‹ › βαρὺ δ’ ἄγριοι χειμῶνες κατάγουσιν.†

Horrida tempestas caelum contraxit et imbres niuesque deducunt Iouem; nunc mare, nunc siluae Threicio Aquilone sonant (…)

The month of Poseideon has come, ? the cloud is heavy with water and wild storms bring down ?

A horrible storm has made the sky frown, and rain and snow bring down Jupiter; now the sea, now the woods roar under the Thracian north wind.

In both Greek and Latin lyric poetry, wintry storms are a typical prelude for the invitation to drink, just as are their opposite, the hottest days in summer when the Dog Star rises (cf. 3.2.2 Odes 1.17 and CA 60b: Horace and the Anacreontean Dog Star). A prominent example for cold winter as an excuse for a symposium is Horace’s Soracte Ode 1.9, which doubtlessly imitates Alcaeus’ fr. 338 Voigt.

213 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 113 ad loc. 214 Lyne 2005b, 3. 215 Cf. Bergk 1882 ad loc.: “locus Horatii (…), qui aperte haec imitatus est” 216 Cf. e.g. Lyne 2005b, 7n.29: “The passage [sc. of Anacreon] could well be noting an occasion for a symposium like ours [i.e. in epod. 13], but as we have no context, the crucial part must remain between obeloi, and a connection with Horace a matter of conjecture”.

68

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

­Epodes 13 foreshadows this connection.217 Here the persona suggests a symposium right after the lines quoted above. Similarly in PMG 362, scholars commonly assume a continuation with some kind of drinking as well, and perhaps even the depiction of a rivalry between Poseidon and Dionysus.218 Before this connection can be assessed in detail, we have to take into account the complicated state of textual transmission for Anacreon’s fragment. It is preserved as part of a scholion to Hom. Il. 15.192; this is the text printed above.219 Its most striking problems are in l. 2 and 3: the unclear relation between νεφέλη and ὕδωρ and the whole sentence structure, and the loss of the first three syllables of the glyconic in l. 3, which leaves the sentence semantically unclear as well. In the Commentaries on Homer, Eustathius of Thessalonica gives a version of this scholion, but with variations (in bold): μεὶς μὲν δὴ Ποσειδηΐων ἕστηκε, νεφέλαι δ’ ὕδατι βαρύνονται, ἄγριοι δὲ χειμῶνες παταγοῦσι.

In general, Eustathius reproduces the scholia very closely, but his wording regularly deviates from his source. Here he obviously does not care about the metre, and it seems as if he himself is trying to make sense of a fragmentary quotation, struggling with the problems mentioned above, and therefore filling in with what he thinks is intended.220 We should take the scholion itself much more seriously and consider it to be far closer to the original than Eustathius’ obviously altered and not even metrical version. This principle also applies to the variant παταγοῦσι. Bergk is sure that this is Eustathius’ error (or conjecture);221 it might be due to his attempt to create a whole sensible sentence, since κατάγουσιν lacks an accusative object. However, even if παταγοῦσι was an equally attested textual variant, the principle of preferring the lectio difficilior would still speak in favour of κατάγουσιν.222 Hence, we can keep the transmitted κατάγουσιν for good 217 Cf. Lyne 2005b, 3: “Indeed, apart from its epodic Archilochean metre, Epodes 13 most resembles a sympotic type from monostrophic lyric. It anticipates Ode 1.9 in particular, and shows affinities to the Alcaean sympotic poem behind that ode (fr. 338)”. 218 Cf. e.g. Tsomis 2001, 148 for the idea that Dionysus himself might have appeared later in PMG 362. Bernsdorff 2020, 496 mentions the short fragment PMG 365: πολλὰ δ’ ἐρίβρομον | Δεόνυσον. Vocabulary and metre would fit here (ἐρίβρομος = ‘loud-shouting’ as a typical epithet of Dionysus can also refer to clouds, i.e. bad weather, cf. LSJ s.v.). 219 Except for l. 1: Ποσιδηίων, which was substituted for the metrically incorrect ποσειδηΐων. 220 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 495. 221 Cf. van der Valk 1979, 719 ad loc. 222 Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 536f. are not convincing: “Bergk durfte in der lückenhaft überlieferten Strophe des Anakreon (…) – woran sich immerhin Aehnliches wie bei H. schließen konnte – nicht der Horazparallele zuliebe und durch die Nebenüberlieferung κατάγουσι verführt Δία τ‘ ἄγριοι κτλ. schreiben”. I do not see on what basis they judge the κατάγουσιν a secondary tradition, since actually Eustathius’ is the real secondary tradition.

Wine and Inebriation

69

reasons. If we thus accept it on its own as the more probable reading, we may take it as a strong link to Horace’s deducunt. The connection should and can be fortified by more parallels. Horace’s opening lines have mostly been compared to the above-mentioned passage of Alcaeus (fr. 338):223 ὔει μὲν ὀ Ζεῦς, ἐκ δ’ ὀράνω μέγας χείμων, πεπάγαισιν δ’ ὐδάτων ῤόαι ‘Zeus sends rain, a great storm comes from the heavens, running waters are frozen solid.’

Considering Horace’s general affinity with Alcaeus and the fact that in the Soracte ode 1.9, he definitely refers to this Alcaean poem, the link is quite probable: rain, Zeus, the sky, a winter storm – all features are present in Epodes 13. But if this passage is seriously considered as a source of inspiration, Anacreon’s should be all the more. Even without the equivalence of κατάγουσι and deducunt, the similarities in expression and word order are much stronger than with Alcaeus. It seems that Horace adopts the vocabulary, but varies the grammatical structure, that he found in Anacreon. Anacreon uses the words νεφέλη (cloud), ὕδωρ (water/rain), and χειμῶνες (snowstorms). These are rendered by Horace’s terms tempestas (which is also a synonym for χειμῶνες) caelum contraxit (= clouds),224 imbres (= water/rain), and nives (= snowstorms). Anacreon’s adjective ἄγριοι, which describes the χειμῶνες, is reflected by Horace’s horrida, referring to the tempestas. Most telling is of course the above-mentioned translation of χειμῶνες κατάγουσιν by (imbres) nivesque deducunt Iovem. But what about the missing direct object of κατάγουσι? One could assume that in the fragment’s corrupt part in l. 3, there might have been some equivalent for Iovem or “thunderbolt” (βαρὺ and its relatives can describe a deep loud sound),225 or for “Zeus” or “sky”. One of the most convincing conjectures for the lines, albeit including small emendations in the transmitted text, is therefore Bergk’s νεφέλας δ’ ὕδωρ | βαρύνει, Δία τʼ ἄγριοι | χειμῶνες κατάγουσι.226 In fact, we can consider his παταγοῦσι as a mere conjecture of the same kind as Bergk’s Δία: a try to make sense of the text. 223 Thus e. g. Watson 2003, 419. 224 The interpretation of this term as referring to clouds is widely accepted; cf. e.g. Watson 2003, 423. 225 Cf. LSJ s.v. III, 1. 226 Concerns about this emendation have been voiced from several scholars. Cf. e.g. Watson 2003, 424 ad loc.: “The corrupt Anacreon fr. 362.3–4, restored by Bergk as Δία τʼ ἄγριοι | χειμῶνες κατάγουσι, is sometimes cited as Horace’s source, but the crucial Δία is an emendation”. But obviously the restoration of Δία is made on account of the already stated connection with Horace, not vice versa, and the crucial word is κατάγουσι = deducunt, not Δία. Rudd 1960, 384 n. 16 inaccurately claims that Δία κατάγουσι together are a conjecture. Better Low-

70

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Bernsdorff compares Odes 3.28 as the only other instance in sympotic poetry where Poseidon, alias Neptune, is the indicator of a date, even though here it is the opposite season, high summer (the feast of Neptune takes place around the th dog star days, July 23 ):227 Festo quid potius die Neptuni faciam? Prome reconditum, Lyde, strenua Caecubum munitaeque adhibe uim sapientiae. (…) Nos cantabimus inuicem Neptunum et uiridis Nereidum comas. 10 What could I better do on the feast day of Neptune? Bring out, swift Lyde, the hidden Caecuban wine and apply force to fortified wisdom. (…) We will sing alternately of Neptune and the green hair of the Nereids.

Bernsdorff cautiously endorses the possibility that Horace took inspiration for the feast of Neptune from Anacreon’s month of Poseidon. This remains speculative, but the assumption that already in the sympotic Epodes 13 Horace availed himself of the probably sympotic PMG 362 supports Bernsdorff’s suggestion that he did so here as well. Interestingly, the woman whom Horace invites to the symposium, Lyde, has the same name as the girl who is compared to an equa trima in Odes 3.11, the Horatian version of Anacreon’s Thracian filly (cf. 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation). Odes 3.28 would thus imitate the Anacreontic combination of a reference to Poseidon in PMG 362 with his potential exhortation to drink (here in deepest winter), also present in the symposium of Epodes 13, of Alcaeus’ fr. 338 and Odes 1.9. At the same time, he would enlace this with drinking and lust in hottest summer during the Dog Star days, as described in the prime example Alcaeus 347a Voigt228 and reworked in Horace’s own Odes 1.17 to Tyndaris, which itself is deeply connected to Anacreontic poetry, as I will show later in 3.2.2 Odes 1.17 and CA 60b: Horace and the Anacreontean Dog Star.

rie 1992, 416 n.9: “(…) but the epode’s resemblance to this fragment seems less close without Bergk’s supplement Δία, which derives from the epode”. 227 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 497. 228 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 498.

Wine and Inebriation

71

2.1.4 Odes 1.36: Bassus, βασσαρεῖν and drunk Damalis Horace’s ode 1.36, which describes the safe return of someone called Numida, has often been judged as one of his less artful works.229 This might, inter alia, be due to the fact that textual problems (thoroughly discussed by Johnson 2002) obfuscate the meaning of certain lines, and that some subtle Anacreontic allusions have not yet been thoroughly interpreted. However, a new examination of the literary background will shed more light on the ode and stimulate a re-evaluation. I will first discuss the textual problems in l. 13 (resulting in the solution nunc multi Damalis meri and the transposition of ll. 15–16 before ll. 13–14), and then re-examine the surroundings and background of ll. 13 and 14 and demonstrate some significant connections to Anacreon. There are two interconnected problems in the fourth stanza (ll. 13–16): the sense of the negative particles and the order of the lines. Here is the text: neu multi Damalis meri Bassum Threicia uincat amystide neu desint epulis rosae 15 neu uiuax apium neu breue lilium. Damalis, that doughty drinker, must not be allowed to beat Bassus at tossing the Thracian pot; there must be no lack of roses at the banquet, or of long-lasting celery or lilies that live for a day.230

The sense of l. 13f. ‘nor shall Damalis, woman of much unmixed wine, outdrink Bassus’ is the greatest problem. It is not convincing to claim that Bassus must be a character known for his soberness, who, in this wild symposium, shall drink even more than the drunkard Damalis.231 Why should the name Bassus, which in Latin is a cognomen meaning “the fat one” and of which Nisbet and Hubbard say “perhaps the name is chosen because it resembles ‘Bassareus’ (1. 18. 11 n.)”232, be attributed to the most sober participant of all? In itself it would never evoke this association. In his article “Should Damalis outdrink Bassus?”, Johnson ar 229 Thus West 1995b, 178: “Apart from a brilliant exposition by Syndikus, by and large this poem has not had a good press”. Mayer 2012, 218 calls it “a poem generally marginalized”. Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 151: “Voran steht billig dies fröhliche Begrüßungsgedicht”; Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 402: “Yet Horace shows less than his usual skill in handling his theme: there are no evocative Roman details, the metre is somewhat jejune, and the list of directions perfunctory (…). Perhaps Horace could think of nothing much to say about Numida.” 230 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 231 Cf. e.g. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 153 ad loc.: “Darin wird es … mit Damalis selbst der nüchterne Bassus aufnehmen” and Syndikus 2001, 321: “ein gewöhnlich Nüchterner soll eine bekannt trinkfeste Hetäre im starken Zechen (…) übertreffen”. 232 Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 405; in their note on 1.18.11 they describe it as “a title of Dionysus” (p. 234). Other interpretations of the name Bassus include the identification with friends of Propertius and Ovid (cf. Johnson 2002, 187f. n.5); the name thus has multilayered implications.

72

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

gues convincingly against any kind of negation in this line, and proposes to read nunc multi Damalis meri. This is paleographically, lexically and semantically very plausible.233 Johnson lists many similar instances for nunc in Horace’s Odes, among others the first stanza of the following Odes 1.37: Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero pulsanda tellus, nunc Saliaribus ornare puluinar deorum tempus erat dapibus, sodales. Now let the drinking begin! Now let us thump the ground with unfettered feet! Now is the time, my friends, to load the couches of the gods with a feast fit for the Salii!234

In my view, this stanza holds more than just another proof for the use of nunc in Horace. The connection between 1.36 and the beginning of 1.37 is much closer, both in generic and in semantic terms. As numerous scholars have stated, book 1 of the Odes finishes with a triad of interconnected drinking songs (1.36–38). In addition, Lowrie notes that “[t]he two previous poems [sc. 36 and 37] are the only ones in the first collection to mention the dances and dinners of the Salii”.235 I note the following correspondences: 1.37.1f. nunc pede libero | pulsanda tellus corresponds closely to 1.36.12 neu morem in Salium sit requies pedum; and this mos Salium of 1.36 is used for the dinner in 1.37.2: nunc Saliaribus … dapibus, a dinner which itself is present in 1.36.15 as neu desint epulis rosae.236 In both cases, the gods are flattered (1.36.1–3: iuuat placare … deos; 1.37.3: ornare puluinar deorum), and, last but not least, there is a strong invitation to drink: Nunc est bibendum (1.37.1) and neu promptae modus amphorae (1.36.11) and especially nunc multi Damalis meri … uincat (1.36.13f.). These analogies show how tightly the poems are interwoven and how similar their statements are, in part even using the same words, which make the parallel nunc est bibendum – nunc multi 233 Cf. Johnson 2002. His main arguments are (a) that Bassus is a rather marginal character in this ode. His being the victor of the contest “places too much emphasis on Bassus” (p. 187); (b) that in general a woman outdrinking a man is much more spectacular, which would be more apt for this kind of rackety ‘Return Odes’, whilst the negative neu suggests restraint rather than revelry (p. 188); and (c) that Damalis later becomes the centre of attention, and outdrinking a man named Bassus is far more in line with her later remarkable appearance than if she was introduced by an unspectacular failure (p. 188). For the paleographical arguments cf. Johnson 2002, 189. 234 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 235 Lowrie 1997, 170. The Salii were Roman priests of Mars famous for their feasts and dances. 236 The epithet marking the Salii is in 1.36 attributed to the dance, in 1.37 to the feast, but the respective other typical element is not distant, and in both cases the Salii epithet expands semantically ἀπὸ κοινοῦ to both dinner and dancing (especially in 1.36, since Saliares epulae is a very common expression).

73

Wine and Inebriation

Damalis meri more noticeable. The lines would then read in translation: ‘Now Damalis, that doughty drinker, shall beat Bassus at tossing the Thracian pot.’ For the order of the lines 13–16, Peerlkamp proposes to swap ll. 13–14 and 15–16. This is not absolutely necessary; even if we leave the order as it is, the elimination of one neu in the chain is structurally justifiable, as Johnson points out.237 But Nisbet and Hubbard give two good arguments in favour of the swap: “On this hypothesis the two references to Damalis are brought together, and (what matters more) the unimportant flowers are given less emphasis”.238 In addition, I see more advantages: in the case of transposition, the neu series would have a final climax in two successive neu in a single line, and above all, the epulae would be much closer to their typical epithet Salii, namely just one line below. Thus the second half of the poem (from l. 10) would read: Cressa ne careat pulchra dies nota neu promptae modus amphorae neu morem in Salium sit requies pedum neu desint epulis rosae neu uiuax apium neu breue lilium. nunc multi Damalis meri Bassum Threicia uincat amystide. Omnes in Damalin putres deponent oculos nec Damalis nouo diuelletur adultero lasciuis hederis ambitiosior.

[15] [16] [13] [14]

10

15

20

Now I turn to the Anacreontic allusions, particularly in verses 13–14.239 If analysed separately, the allusions are not too conspicuous, but they are striking when studied together. Odes 1.36 is one of three ‘Return Odes’ (1.36, 2.7, 3.14) which celebrate the safe return of good friends from war and are “all characterized by the reversal of the moderate symposia common in Books I–II – they are a time of revelry”.240 In 237 Cf. Johnson 2002, 189: “The pattern of the negatives even without the transposition of lines 13–14 is not ruined. The last two lines of both stanzas would still begin with neu in emphatic first position, which well accounts for the corruption: a copyist mesmerized by the anaphora of seven negatives in lines 11–18 (…) could have understandably misread nunc, or [] perhaps mistaken some contracted form of nunc (nc) still visible behind the variant nec , for another negative in the series”. 238 Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 404 ad loc.: “On this hypothesis the two references to Damalis are brought together, and (what matters more) the unimportant flowers are given less emphasis”. 239 For the sake of clarity, and because the suggested transposition of lines remains hypothetical, I keep the common line numbers. 240 Johnson 2002, 188.

74

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

particular, Odes 2.7 with its three final lines (discussed above in 2.1.2 Odes 2.7 and PMG 356a: madness through inebriation) pictures a scene of wild feasting: Non ego sanius | bacchabor Edonis: recepto | dulce mihi furere est amico (26–28), inspired by PMG 356a. The ‘alcoholophilia’ in 1.36 is quite obvious as well. In their note on amystide (‘drink taken at one draught’),241 a loanword from the Greek ἄμυστις, Nisbet and Hubbard only tangentially note Anacreon’s fr. 356a: ἄγε δὴ φέρ’ ἡμὶν ὦ παῖ | κελέβην, ὅκως ἄμυστιν | προπίω. As mentioned above, they connect the name Bassus with Bassareus. Although bassus means “fat” in the first place, an association with Bassareus/Bacchus can hardly be discarded in this wine- and party-soaked atmosphere242 – and in that case, (ἀνα-)βασσαρήσω might also be overheard, which comes from the same 356a as the ἄμυστιν and imitated by Horace in the bacchabor of 2.7, itself another of the Return Odes. Furthermore, the use of Threicia as an epithet for amystide is the same denomination for barbaric drinking as in 1.27.2 (Thracum),243 and in both cases this looks to the Σκυθικὴν πόσιν of PMG 356b.244 In general, the depiction of women as heavy drinkers is not alien to Anacreon: for instance, in PMG 427, a woman is depicted as καταχύδην πίνουσα, and the one-word fragment PMG 455 οἰνοπότις refers to a wine-drinking female as well. Line 14 is not only largely Greek (three words with Greek roots: Bassum, Threicia, amystide versus one Latin word: uincat), but utterly Anacreontic. In the previous line, the name Damalis rings several bells. The name is obviously a loanword from the Greek δάμαλις ‘heifer’, which was already used in Greek as a personal name.245 One can easily feel reminded of Horace’s own heifer and filly metaphors (Odes 1.23, 2.5, 3.11), which all bear on Anacreon’s heifer and filly prototypes (346.1, 408, 417 PMG, see the sections 2.2.2 on ‘untamed temptation’ and 2.2.3 on ‘fearful fawns’ in the following chapter). But considering that Damalis is depicted as a loved and loving drunkard whom all the men admire (l. 17f.: Omnes in Damalin putres | deponent oculos), the association with Anacreon’s δαμάλης Ἔρως in PMG 357, the companion of the god of 241 OLD s.v. amystis. 242 Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 405: “Bassus may be the type-name for a heavy drinker in Martial 6. 69: ‘non miror quod potat aquam tua Bassa, Catulle; / miror quod Bassi filia potat aquam’ (in the second line there is a variant Bassae)”. 243 In fact, the two odes 1.36 and 1.27 share not only the use of the epithet, but also the structural character of describing a developing situation; cf. Syndikus 2001, 320 on 1.36: “So ist ein gewisses Fortschreiten der Handlung in der Art der Ode I 27 zu bemerken”. 244 The combination Threicia … amystide has been traced back to Callimachus Aetia fr. 178.11 Pfeiffer: Θρηικίην … ἄμυστιν (cf. e.g. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 153, and Mayer 2012, 217), but Callimachus may have served only as an intermediary on the way back to the original source Anacreon. 245 Cf. Schmid 1942, 118 n. 123: “Der häufige Name Δάμαλις … gehört zu den Eigennamen, die aus Tiernamen hergeleitet sind”. Fraser and Matthews 2005, 85 (Lexicon of Greek personal names) locate the name, among many other places, in the Thracian region Edonis.

Love and Domination

75

wine, particularly suggests itself to the reader.246 The probability of this allusion is heightened by the fact that PMG 357 was known to Horace and probably used also elsewhere: it has penetrated the first stanza of Odes 2.19, the frantic vision of the god of wine accompanied by the Nymphs.247 We can now leave Dionysus behind and focus on Eros. The two verses 1.36.13–14 constitute the pivot between the chapters on Wine and Love; they symbolise emphatically how interwoven both topics are and how fitting Seneca’s unanswerable rhetorical question in Epistles 88.37 is: libidinosior Anacreon an ebriosior uixerit.

2.2 Love and Domination Tightly intertwined with wine, the second most famous trait of Anacreon’s persona is his addiction to love. Cicero sums this aspect up in a simple remark: nam Anacreontis quidem tota poesis est amatoria.248 In various fragments, Anacreon depicts his love for boys as well as girls (for instance Cleobulus in 357 and 359, the Lesbian girl in 358, the girlish boy in 360, Smerdies in 366 and supposedly in 347.1 and 422, a girl in 417 and 418),249 his helplessness when confronted with Love as a divine power (see fr. 357, 358, 398), his mad reactions to it and his handling of unanswered love (see PMG 359, 376, 400, and especially 428).250 This section investigates the degree to which Horace’s picture of love, and Love, resembles Anacreon’s and is shaped by it.251 246 Both poems have glyconic verses, meaning that the two related words necessarily occur in the same position of the verse: ὦναξ, ὧι δαμάλης Ἔρως – neu multi Damalis meri). The three reflections of PMG 356 and 357 in Odes 1.36 Bassus – ἀναβασσαρήσω, Threicia … amystide – Σκυθικὴν πόσιν, Damalis – δαμάλης Ἔρως are mentioned briefly in Bernsdorff 2020, 426, but without the additional reference to Odes 2.7 and bacchabor which further fortifies the allusion here. For female drunkards and revellers in Anacreon’s poetry or his surroundings cf. PMG 427.3f.: σὺν Γαστροδώρηι καταχύδην | πίνουσα, and the hapax legomenon κωμάϲτρια, ‘female reveller’, in P.Oxy. 5410, probably a fragment of a comedy featuring Anacreon (cf. Bernsdorff 2019, 26). 247 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 440. The stanza reads (2.19.1‒4): Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus | uidi docentem, credite posteri, | Nymphasque discentis et auris | capripedum Satyrorum acutas. 248 Cic. Tusc. 4.71. 249 Cf. the collections in Hutchinson 2001, 273–4 and Bernsdorff 2020, 468. 250 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 41: “[T]he consistent tone and permanent state of unfulfilled erotic desire in Anacreon’s poetry is unlike that of his contemporaries”. 251 In its resemblance to Anacreon’s concept of love, Horace’s differs widely from those of his contemporaries Propertius and Tibullus: the gap sometimes is as wide as the difference between irony and pathos. For a general introduction to this new poetic character of love cf. Arkins 1993: ‘The Cruel Joke of Venus: Horace as Love Poet’.

76

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

2.2.1 Odes 1.36 and PMG 357: Δαμάλης Ἔρως and beloved Damalis In Anacreon’s fragment 357 PMG, a plea to Dionysus to foster the persona’s advances to the boy Cleobulus,252 the role and quality of Love as a god ( Ἔρως) is defined by its description as δαμάλης, which derives from δάμνημι (tame, subdue). Scholars have understood, translated and discussed it in two ways, in connd rd nection with two lexicographers, Herodianus (2 /3 cent. AD) and Hesychius th (perhaps 5 cent. AD).253 The earlier takes the word from Anacreon’s context and traces it back to δάμαλος ‘calf’ (cf. Herod. gramm. π. καθολ. προσῳδ. 3). The later opposes the unusual δαμάλης to the usual vocable δάμαλις (“young cow” / “twig”). He seems to refer it to the same Anacreon passage, since he immediately connects it with ἔρως (Hes. δ 170 La.): δαμάλην· τὸν ἔρωτα. ἤτοι τὸν δαμάζοντα. ἢ ἀγέρωχον.254 There are only very few other uses of δαμάλης in ancient literature, but they all point towards the meaning ‘young bull’.255 Hesychius’ gloss is thus the only

252 The precise meaning of the plea’s content in l. 9‒11 Κλεοβούλῳ δ’ ἀγαθὸς γένεο | σύμβουλος, τὸν ἐμὸν δ’ ἔρωτ᾿, | ὦ Δεόνυσε, δέχεσθαι is much debated. Bernsdorff 2020, 449–53 discusses the manifold interpretations at length; he decides against Kan’s 1881 conjecture γε in l. 10 and for the understanding of δέχεσθαι as an imperative infinitive directed at Dionysus and thus parallel with ἐπακούειν in l. 8: “Interpreted in that way, Dionysus would be requested to repeat the συμπαίζειν in the mountains, not with Eros the god, but with Cleobulus, who is called An.’s Eros because he is the person whom An. loves” (p. 453). This interpretation has the downside that the inclusion of only one line after naming Cleobulus in the dative, a reference to the same Cleobulus in τὸν ἐμὸν δ’ ἔρωτ᾿, appears a bit exerted; likewise, the change in syntax from a usual imperative γένεο to an infinitive with imperativic force two lines later (δέχεσθαι). In both parallel infinitives I rather sense the infinitive of purpose, ἐπακούειν with Dionysus as subject (‘come, so that you hear’), δέχεσθαι with Cleobulus (‘be an adviser, so that he accepts my love’). This seems to me the most intuitive understanding, but ultimately, Bowie might hit the nail on the head when he comments: “It seems to me that at this point the poet deliberately leaves his audience in aporia” (Bowie 2013, 37). Concerning Bowie’s idea that τὸν ἐμὸν δ’ ἔρωτ᾿ might denote Anacreon’s love song see below the discussion of Odes 3.11 in 2.2.3 Odes 1.23 and PMG 408: fearful fawns. 253 Cf. DNP s.v. Hesychios. 254 Following both Herodianus and Hesychius, modern lexicographers include both interpretations of δαμάλης. In Beekes’ Etymological Dictionary, the entry δαμάλης says: “‘tamer’, said of Eros (Anacr.), ‘younger bull (still to be tamed)’ (Arist.)” (Beekes 2010, 300f., s.v. δαμάλης). The DELG s.v. δάμνημι explains similarly: “‘qui dompte’ dit d’Éros (Anacr.), mais généralement dans le langage de l’élevage se dit du jeune animal qui n’est pas encore apprivoisé, taurillon (Arist.)” (p. 251). In “La formation des noms en grec ancien”, Chantraine specifies “le dérivé est typique, employé d’une part par un poète, de l’autre dans un vocabulaire technique” (Chantraine 1933, 237). This differentiation of use is, in his view, enough to justify the opposite perceptions of the same word. 255 Cf. e.g. Aristot. hist. an. 632a16; Phylarchus FHG I 335 l. 20; and a doubtful case in Theocr. epigr. 4.17 l. 17, where I assume that δαμάλαν means the male, not the female, young animal.

Love and Domination

77

place in extant ancient literature where δαμάλης is interpreted as active ‘tamer’, and he seems to trace it back (exclusively?) to our Anacreon passage. What do internal hints in the fragment itself suggest? Attempts at inferences from the epithets of Dionysus’ other companions, the Nymphs and Aphrodite, can lead to opposite conclusions on the epithet δαμάλης; however, I rather agree with Braghetti’s argument concerning the young bull: “die Attribute der anderen angerufenen Gottheiten bezeichnen äußerliche Eigenschaften, und der gute Stil (…) verlangt dasselbe für Eros”.256 The poem’s first word ὦναξ is specified in the last line (ὦ Δεόνυσε). Considering that Dionysus is often pictured with or even as a bull, the idea of a young bull as his companion is coherent.257 In other fragments, Anacreon also uses the metaphor of untamed animals in a context of love (esp. the Thracian filly of PMG 417; in PMG 346 fr. 1, Cypris frees her horses from the yoke). Perhaps the most important indication is the verb συμπαίζουσιν (l. 4). This suits a young bull much more than a mighty tamer, and it additionally reminds one of the Thracian filly (l. 10: κοῦφά τε σκιρτῶσα παίζεις).258 Due to the clear tendency of the extant material in favour of the meaning ‘young animal yet to be tamed’, the poem’s internal coherence, and the other Anacreontean animal metaphors, I strongly prefer the translation ‘young bull’, and I assume that this is the only proper meaning the word δαμάλης can have. However, an insinuation of dominance and taming is of course subliminally present in the whole scenery and, thanks to the context, in this very word, also since the very first appearance of Eros as a god in our transmitted literature already connects him with the verb ‘to subdue’ (Hes. theog. 120–122: ἠδ ’ Ἔρος (…) δάμναται ἐν στήθεσσι νόον καὶ ἐπίφρονα βουλήν).259 Anacreon himself has impressive representations of an aggressive, dominant Eros (cf. esp. PMG 346.1, 396, 398, 413). PMG 360 is addressed to a boy with a girlish glance, who is the ob 256 Braghetti 1994, 48f.n.7. For the opposite conclusion cf. Leo 2015, 97: “gli epiteti attribuiti alle Ninfe e ad Afrodite sono epiteti dal sapore tradizionale (…) e per Eros epiteto tradizionale certo è ‘domatore, soggiogatore’”. 257 For examples of Dionysus as a bull, cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 330f.; for more observations on the topos of Dionysus and the bull cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 441. 258 For a thorough analysis of the implications of erotic παίζειν between naive innocence and threatening approach cf. Rosenmeyer 2004: ‘Girls at Play in Early Greek Poetry’. Berns­ dorff 2020, 441 adds the argument: “[T]he idea of Eros as a frisky young animal would emphasize Dionysus’ achievement in controlling him through playing together with him, the Nymphs, and Aphrodite”. A playing god of wine is also depicted in the ode whose first stanza alludes to PMG 357, Odes 2.19.25f.: quamquam choreis aptior et iocis | ludoque dictus (cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 444). 259 Sapph. fr. 1.3 V. and Il. 14.199 are further instances for the use of erotic δάμνημι and δαμάζω, just like PMG 505d.4-5 which displays Eros’ superiority: ὅδε καὶ θεῶν δυνάστης, | ὅδε καὶ βροτοὺς δαμάζει. Love’s typical omnipotence in Greek lyric leads Lasserre in his doctoral thesis “La figure d’Éros dans la poésie grecque” to remark: “Ce thème est né avec la première poétisation de l’amour : on le sent dans le verbe δάμνασθαι, si fréquemment utilisé” (Lasserre 1946, 40).

78

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

ject of love. This innocent boy bridles (ἡνιοχεύεις) the persona’s soul. This is an image that comes very close to Eros as a subduer. Thus, on the surface, δαμάλης certainly means the young bull, but in addition to the literal meaning of the word, the ‘subduing’ notion can hardly be overlooked, not as a second rivalling translation, but merely a strong insinuation of δαμάλης in this context.260 Having clarified this, we return to Damalis, the drunkard of Odes 1.36. As stated above in 2.1.4, the Greek name Damalis (‘heifer’) in the context of the Anacreontean Threicia amystide and Bassus (cf. PMG 356a and b) recalls the association with the young bull δαμάλης Ἔρως. Anacreon’s song begs for acceptance on the part of the boy Cleobulus. We encounter this boy prominently in another Anacreontic stanza, in PMG 359: PMG 359 Κλεοβούλου μὲν ἔγωγ’ ἐρέω, Κλεοβούλῳ δ’ ἐπιμαίνομαι, Κλεόβουλον δὲ διοσκέω. Cleobulus is the one I love, Cleobulus I am crazy about, Cleobulus I am staring at.

A striking polyptoton, just like Damalis – Damalin – Damalis. Anacreon’s διοσκέω, in the LSJ translated as ‘look earnestly at’, is a hapax legomenon, glossed by Hesychius: διοσκεῖν· διαβλέπειν συνεχῶς τὴν ὅρασιν μεταβάλλοντα. Cyrino translates: “to look steadily at, constantly changing your viewpoint” and comments: “In this [sc. Anacreon’s] fragment, the word is often considered a too prosaic anticlimax, or even a joke”.261 Horace’s revelling cronies not only slobber over Damalis in a way that could be called ἐπιμαίνομαι; they also watch her with a glance as intense as Anacreon does his Cleobulus. The words putres | deponent oculos are a somewhat odd expression as well; they sound like διαβλέπειν συνεχῶς τὴν ὅρασιν μεταβάλλοντα. It looks as if Hesychius had translated Horace’s Latin paraphrase of διοσκέω back into Greek. In any case, Horace depicts precisely this “power of eros to strike the lover [here: omnes] into mute fascination with the love-object”262 that Cyrino assumes for the verb διοσκέω.

260 I would therefore disagree with Leo 2015, 97, who regrets that “purtroppo non resta ­pienamente risolto il problema del senso di δαμάληc”, but I agree with the following evaluation of δαμάλης as “epiteto che ad ogni modo contribuisce a delineare uno dei tanti ritratti del dio presenti nella poesia di Anacreonte, per cui si giustifica la definizione di Eros metamorfico”. 261 Cyrino 1996, 374 n.14, quoting Kirkwood 1974, 165: “It is a deliberately odd and slightly absurd expression. The poet is laughing at himself”. 262 Cyrino 1996, 374 n.14.

Love and Domination

79

Maximus of Tyre testifies that Anacreon’s poems ‘abound with Cleobulus’ eyes’.263 The conspicuous focus on eyes and glancing allows for further speculations. Let us have a look at another subduing glance: PMG 360 ὦ παῖ παρθένιον βλέπων δίζημαί σε, σὺ δ’ οὐ κλύεις, οὐκ εἰδὼς ὅτι τῆς ἐμῆς ψυχῆς ἡνιοχεύεις. Boy with the girlish glance, I seek you, but you do not listen, not knowing that you hold the reins of my soul.

This fragment has often been associated closely with PMG 357 (δαμάλης Ἔρως); some scholars even suppose that PMG 357 and 360 originally stem from a single poem.264 Even if they are not from the same poem, it is highly plausible that PMG 360 is directed especially to Cleobulus – more than to all the other beloved boys because of the specific components of glance and reining and subduing. In PMG 357, it is also the persona, the desire’s subject, that has lost control: this is why Eros firstly appears as a god. The object Cleobulus is the reason for the subject’s suffering, supplication and submission. In a blending and blurring of desire and its object, we could aptly call him δαμάλης Κλεόβουλος. Hence a Latin “translation”, or adaptation, of a girlish boy Κλεόβουλος δαμάλης or δαμάζων by Damalis, a heifer girl with rather male drinking habits, would be apt in every sense. If, then, we can identify Damalis as akin to Anacreon’s Cleobulus and δαμάλης Ἔρως, the analogy may allow us to take a step further. The name Bassus might not only be a generic reminiscence of Bassareus/Dionysus, but perhaps the person that competes with the ‘heifer’ Damalis in a Thracian drinking context is precisely represented by Anacreon’s ἄναξ Dionysus in 357, who is accompanied by his young bull δαμάλης Ἔρως and plays with him. What, then, does it mean to say that Damalis/Cleobulus/Eros shall outdrink Bassus/Dionysus? I shall dare a speculative intellectual game: in 357, Anacreon begs Dionysus for subduing Cleobulus, his untamed subduer. Horace’s answer in this revelry is: Damalis defeats Bassus; the untameable Eros-Cleobulus will outdrink his master, the god of wine himself, and cast his advice (cf. l. 10 σύμβουλος) to the wind. Cleobulus-Damalis will not accept the love of any of the suitors (omnes; we could imagine Anacreon among them), but stick to another lover: Numida. A warrior, just returning from the battlefield, snatches the beloved Damalis-Cleobulus away before the suitors’ faces and thus defeats indirectly even Anacreon’s persona of PMG 357. Even if this analogy is worked 263 Max. Tyr. XVIII 9: μεστὰ δὲ αὐτοῦ τὰ ᾄσματα (…) τῶν Κλεοβούλου ὀφθαλμῶν. 264 Cf. e.g. Kirkwood 1974, 164.

80

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

out in too much detail here, there could barely be a greater honour for Numida than outrivalling Anacreon-like suitors in wine and love. In my view, Odes 1.36 is neither “billig” nor has it “nothing much to say about Numida”.265

2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation I now turn to one of Horace’s most expansive and most obvious treatments of an Anacreontic motif: his adaptation of PMG 417 in Odes 2.5, and, based on this, PMG 346 (fr. 1); 360; 408 and Odes 1.23; 3.11. The core of PMG 417 is the metaphor of a young untamed horse for a young virgin girl, who is playing and running around freely. Anacreon does not mention the filly’s metaphorical nature and its literal meaning, but it is all too obvious, especially when we consider the close connection with fr. 360.266 In both fr. 360 and 417, the addressee is a potential, but unwilling267, beloved; both “look” in some way (βλέπων and βλέπουσα). But whereas the former is a boy whose look is “maidenly” (παρθένιον), the latter is a girl (or, in the literal sense, a filly) that “looks askance” (λοξὸν); the former does not know (οὐκ εἰδὼς) that it holds the reins (ἡνιοχεύεις), while the latter is to know (ἴσθι) that it will be reined back soon (τὸν χαλινὸν ἐμβάλοιμι, ἡνίας δ’ ἔχων …). Whilst in 360, Anacreon is the helplessly reined “victim” in a figurative sense, in 417 the “victim” who will be reined is the figurative horse-girl – as if through the metaphor, Anacreon felt more confident in his human power over an animal.268 This powerful imagery has obviously inspired Horace, since it recurs in some way in several of his poems. One of the closest copies is in 2.5, a poem that depicts the immature and naive youth of a girl named Lalage (l. 15). She puts off her impatient lover-to-be, and even though Horace chooses a heifer (uirentis … iuuencae) instead of a filly for the metaphor, the parallels are obvious. Lalage is a slightly altered incorporation of Anacreon’s Thracian filly; the name itself could therefore be inspired by Anacreon’s use of λαλάζειν, a variant of λαλαγεῖν.269 265 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 151 and Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 402. 266 Heracl. all. 5.10 introduces his quotation of 417 by an explanation of its allegorical nature: Καὶ μὴν ὁ Τήιος Ἀνακρέων ἑταιρικὸν φρόνημα καὶ σοβαρᾶς γυναικὸς ὑπερηφανίαν ὀνειδίζων τὸν ἐν αὐτῇ σκιρτῶντα νοῦν ὡς ἵππον ἠλληγόρησεν οὕτω λέγων. 267 In fr. 360, it might even be worse than refusal, namely ignorance, as Rosenmeyer argues: “The contrast between total obsession and blind unconcern (…) is stark and disturbing” (Rosenmeyer 1992, 45). 268 Rosenmeyer’s interpretation is that due to “the fact that the object of love here is female, (…) Anacreon automatically takes on the active, dominating role” (Rosenmeyer 1992, 45). The image of reining in connection with love and animal metaphors is the same as in PMG 357, the supplication to Dionysus with δαμάλης Ἔρως, discussed above in 2.2.1). 269 Cf. LSJ s.v. λαλάζω. The allusion to Anacreon by the name Lalage is proposed by e.g. Campe 1872, 674. Anacreon’s fragment PMG 427.1f. says μηδ’ ὥστε κῦμα πόντιον | λάλαζε.

Love and Domination

PMG 417 πῶλε Θρῃκίη, τί δή με λοξὸν ὄμμασι βλέπουσα νηλέως φεύγεις, δοκεῖς δέ μ’ οὐδὲν εἰδέναι σοφόν; ἴσθι τοι, καλῶς μὲν ἄν τοι τὸν χαλινὸν ἐμβάλοιμι, ἡνίας δ’ ἔχων στρέφοιμί ‹σ’› ἀμφὶ τέρματα δρόμου· νῦν δὲ λειμῶνάς τε βόσκεαι κοῦφά τε σκιρτῶσα παίζεις, δεξιὸν γὰρ ἱπποπείρην οὐκ ἔχεις ἐπεμβάτην. Thracian filly, why are you looking at me from the corner of your eye and fleeing from me ruthlessly? Do you think I do not know anything skilled? You should know: I would put you on the bit neatly and, holding the reins, I would turn you round the turningposts of the race-course. But now you are grazing in the meadows and are playing and lightly frisking around, for you don’t have a dexterous charioteer experienced in horses.

81

Odes 2.5 Nondum subacta ferre iugum ualet ceruice, nondum munia comparis      aequare nec tauri ruentis       in Venerem tolerare pondus. Circa uirentis est animus tuae   5 campos iuuencae, nunc fluuiis grauem      solantis aestum, nunc in udo       ludere cum uitulis salicto praegestientis.

She is not yet strong enough to bear the yoke with a submissive neck; not yet can she take an equal share of the work with her partner, or endure the weight of a bull as he rushes to mate. The mind of your heifer ranges over green meadows; now she seeks relief in the river from the oppressive heat; now she is passionately eager to gambol with the calves in the damp osier beds.270

The πῶλος is replaced by a iuvenca,271 and accordingly, for the horse, Anacreon uses a bit (χαλινός) and plans races (cf. τέρματα δρόμου), whereas Horace speaks of a iugum for the young cow, probably for farm labour (and at the same time insinuating the con-iugium). Both “animals” are not yet ready for love (δεξιὸν γὰρ ἱπποπείρην | οὐκ ἔχεις ἐπεμβάτην; nondum subacta ferre iugum ualet) but are still playing around (παίζεις; ludere) in the meadows (λειμῶνας; campos),272 and praegestientis might reflect κοῦφά τε σκιρτῶσα.273

Here the babbling is judged negatively, and there is no indication that the female addressee (cf. 427.4 πίνουσα) is young; in contrast, she might rather be old. 270 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 271 The Greek word for ‘heifer’ would be δάμαλις: does Horace’s choice of precisely a ­iuvenca for the metaphor subtly remind one of Anacreon’s young bull Ἔρως δαμάλης along with the filly? 272 For the erotic implications of meadows in Greek poetry, cf. Bremer 1975, 268–80. 273 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 77–84. Later, in l. 13, the iam te sequetur draws on ­Sappho’s καὶ γὰρ αἰ φεύγει ταχέως διώξει (1.21; cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 86).

82

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Whilst in Horace’s case it is clear from the first word (nondum) that the girl Lalage is a virgin, the status of the Thracian filly is controversial. Several scholars have argued that the filly’s free play on the meadows, as opposed to her being kept in a stable, insinuates not a (virgin) girl,274 but a free hetaira with much erotic experience,275 and that in this poem, “a large part of its wit (and seductiveness) inhere in the rhetorical technique of praising a hetaira by assimilating her to a virgin”.276 This impression might arise from the introduction to the fragment in the quoting source Heraclitus; he speaks of the girl’s ἑταιρικὸν φρόνημα, but as Hullinger convincingly argues, “Heraclitus applies this word to the woman’s ‘attitude’ (φρόνημα) instead of her person as a whole”, and she is “not a professional hetaira but is only acting like one by being discriminating and difficult to please”.277 Likewise, the assumption that her Thracian epithet stamps her as a hetaira278 is not even remotely necessary: it might simply indicate that she is from Anacreon’s (second) home region, and that she is particularly beautiful and noble, since Thracian horses were widely known to be a precious breed.279 Bremer shows with examples from epic and tragedy that in Greek poetry, flowery meadows generally symbolise female beauty and attractiveness. But not for already realised erotic activity: his view that the meadow is “a place where virginity finds its end and fulfilment in sexuality”280 goes a bit too far for PMG 417. Analysing erotic meadow scenes in archaic poetry and myth, Claude Calame argues that the meadow is very rarely the place of the sexual act itself, but mostly “represents a space filled with Eros, which serves as an immediate prelude to the gratification of sexual desire”.281 Many gods only snatch their female victims in the meadow and take them away before raping 274 For the (virgin) girl, see e.g. Acosta-Hughes 2010, 155; Bowra 1961, 271; Campbell 1983, 21; Gerber 1997, 207. 275 For the erotic interpretation of the play cf. Budelmann 2018, 203; for the meadow cf. Gentili 1958, 186–94. 276 Kurke 1997, 114 n. 20. Interestingly, in continuing that “much of the poem’s diction would be equally appropriate to a virgin girl as yet ‘unyoked’” (my bold), Kurke uses precisely the term that Horace employs for Lalage: nondum … ferre iugum ualet. On this Horatian term cf. also Adams 1982, 155 and 207. 277 Hullinger 2016, 734. 278 Thus Kurke 1997, 114; Skinner 2010, 64. 279 Cf. Hullinger 2016, 734. 280 Bremer 1975, 269. As a prime example for this kind of meadow, Bremer gives “the opening passage of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter”, where the girl Persephone is abducted by Hades while plucking flowers in a meadow (also here λειμῶνα). Since at least the discovery of the swineherd Eubuleus in P.Oxy. 3722, and in view of PMG 350 (perhaps a trace of Baubo’s obscene gesture), we know that Anacreon dealt with the Demeter myth in his poems (cf. 2.3.6 Horace’s Baubo and Anacreon’s Eubuleus). 281 Calame 1999, 155. Cf. also Rosenmeyer 2004, 163: “Greek poetry can represent the liminality of a girl’s sexual status through the physical setting in which the action takes place: the ‘players’ are placed in a natural environment that reflects their stage in life, namely, the moments just before the loss of innocence”.

Love and Domination

83

them. In any case, it is the high erotic tension and fervent expectancy of this place of transition that constitutes the ‘wit and seductiveness’ of the poem. Any other interpretation destroys the similarity with Horace’s obvious and doubtless imitation including meadows and play in Odes 2.5, where the girl’s virginity is beyond question. Both the Thracian filly and the iuvenca are virgins, and both meadows portray a “threshold between childhood and adulthood”.282 The eager hope for very soon, but not yet available, erotic fulfilment is colourfully repeated in Horace’s case in the image of unripe grapes (l. 9–12: Tolle cupidinem | immitis uuae etc.), a typical allegory for immature beloveds. There are even forerunners for the combination of animal and grape metaphors.283 It does not derive directly from any of our extant Anacreontic fragments, but the colourful line 12 is striking: purpureo uarius colore. According to Nisbet and Hubbard, uarius “(like ποικίλος) describes lively variegation of colour”, and “varius and purpureo are pointedly juxtaposed”.284 This reminds one of another juxtaposition in a similar context, i.e. the context of a game of love with an unwilling girl (PMG 358.1–4): σφαίρῃ δηὖτέ με πορφυρῇ | βάλλων χρυσοκόμης Ἔρως | νήνι ποικιλοσαμβάλῳ | συμπαίζειν προκαλεῖται (‘Once again, throwing a purple ball at me, Eros with the golden hair challenges me to play with the girl with the colourful sandals’). ‘Purple’ is an epithet of Aphrodite in PMG 357.3 (πορφυρῆ τ’ Ἀφροδίτη), and, concerning PMG 358, Bernsdorff remarks that “ποικίλος not only evokes sophistication (…), but associates her with the realm of Aphrodite”,285 just like uarius, so that both words illustrate the unclear, chatoyant state of the girls’ (im-)maturity. There are two obvious differences between PMG 417 and Odes 2.5. First, Anacreon remains within the metaphor and thereby keeps his categorical power as a human (a skilful intelligent rider) over an animal that cannot defeat human reason, whilst Horace is less subtle and admits that behind the allegory there is an actual girl. He also assimilates his own position to a rather unreasoning taurus. He thereby gives up some of Anacreon’s categorical power, but uses more drastic descriptions at the same time.286 282 Bernsdorff 2020, 310. 283 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 84. 284 Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 86. 285 Bernsdorff 2020, 468. 286 Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 78 describe the stylistic difference as follows, referring especially to tauri ruentis | in Venerem tolerare pondus (l. 3f.): “[W]hereas the double entendre in the original is characteristically elegant and discreet, Horace seems to rush into love-poetry like a bull in a china-shop”. West 1998, 35, however, explains this apparent rudeness with the different focus of the ode; Horace gives more attention to the perspective of the immature girl who would indeed suffer from such a wanton onrush. Similarly, Quinn 1991, 205 speaks of Horace’s ”sympathy with the woman’s point of view”. We might think of the woman’s perspective likewise in Anacreon’s PMG 432: κνυζή τις ἤδη καὶ πέπειρα γίνομαι σὴν διὰ μαργοσύνην (for the discussion of this fragment’s addressee cf. 2.3.4 Aeschrology: beastly women in Epodes 12 and PMG 424, 432, 437).

84

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Second – and this is a decisive and meaningful difference – Anacreon, as the impatient lover, addresses the filly-girl directly, whilst Horace, being more of an observer, speaks of her in the third person and addresses the lover instead (tuae, l. 5). He thus creates a certain emotional distance and a greater sense of objectivity and control over the situation. His distancing might make him feel more detached and more secure from the force of Eros, but it also elicits the unavoidable question of who hides behind the addressed tuae, a question posed already in the scholia by pseudo-Acro: incertum est quem adloquatur hac ode, utrum amicorum aliquem an semet ipsum.287 Both options are similarly unprecedented, as Harrison points out: “[T]here seems to be no other analogous case of self-address in the Odes”, and “no other ode has repeated second-person singular addresses without a more specific identification of the addressee”.288 There are of course gnomic statements with a generic tu in some odes (cf. e.g. 3.24), but in 2.5 the second person cannot by any means be considered a generic address. Already the appearance and very personal description of the girl Lalage makes the scenery individual and private, and additionally the mention of the addressee’s age (l. 14f. quos tibi dempserit | adponet annos) does not allow for a generalisation. The second-person address of 2.5 only appears in l. 5, so that the whole first stanza still seems to contain a personal observation of the poem’s persona who is directly confronted with the heifer, not the opening of a counsel to another person. The late address itself is, however, nothing extraordinary. From all the Horatian addresses to identifiable persons in the Epodes and Odes, as collected by Citroni 2009,289 I have singled out all those with a relatively late, or in part even extremely late, second-person address (i.e. an introduction of a second person by verb form, vocative, or pronoun later than the first four verses), and there are many examples of them.290 Some are worth mentioning. Odes 2.9 has the address (amice Valgi) in the fifth line like Odes 2.5 and also shares with it the structure of “it is not thus – but thus”. In both poems negations appear in the first stanza (2.9.1: Non semper; l. 4: nec) followed by a statement on the status quo in the sentence with the address (2.9.5: stat glacies iners). Odes 2.18, which describes the contrast between the persona’s happy poverty and someone else’s richness, is a dubious case: the tu does not appear before l. 17 and is not specified. Nisbet and Hubbard assume Maecenas as the addressee, because l. 10–14 seem to allude to him, but this is far 287 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 77. 288 Harrison 2017, 83. Cf. also Lowrie 1997, 22 n.3 on several dubious addressees. There are only two instances where Horace mentions his own name, and both are in the third person: Odes 4.6.44 and Ep. 1.14.5. 289 Cf. Citroni 2009, 73 n.2. 290 Late second-person mentions of known addressees: Epodes 3.19, 14.5; Odes 1.4.14, 1.7.17, 1.26.7, 2.1.7, 2.9.5, 2.16.7, 2.18.17, 2.20.6, 3.16.20, 4.7.7, 4.12.13.

Love and Domination

85

from certain.291 It is clear, however, that the tu is definitely and most explicitly different from Horace’s persona. If it is not Maecenas, we could understand it as a gnomic address to the public similar to the generic tu in 3.24. In Odes 3.19, the addressee of the first lines is quite difficult to determine. It cannot be the puer of l. 10 who is just a slave, the other addressee Telephus in l. 26 is far too distant from the beginning, and Murena later only appears in the third person as the reason for a toast (l. 11). Nisbet and Rudd do not specify his identity: “The poem begins abruptly with a protest: somebody is going on about chronological questions that all seem very remote”;292 later they suggest that “[i] f Horace’s comments sound too discourteous for a formal dinner of this kind, we can always understand them as an interior monologue”.293 This could be the only instance for another monologue with a self-address in the second person, but, in my view, the first-person verb forms within this section (l. 6 mercemur and l. 8 caream) contrast with the second-person address and make the perception as an interior monologue most difficult. Whilst in Odes 2.5, we encounter almost exclusively a ‘You’, in Odes 3.19, a quite articulate ‘I’ flanks the ‘You’. This rather creates an interior dialogue, almost like a split personality. Although that is even more matchless within Horace’s Odes and Epodes than a simple self-address would be, it may have a deeper sense, as I will suggest in 3.2.3 Insanire iuuat: welcome mania through drinking. As to further unnamed addressees who are not slaves, Citroni lists two male ones in Epodes 4 and 6 and two females in Epodes 8 and Odes 1.16.294 In all of these cases, the anonymous addressees are opposed with a first person and thus explicitly different from the persona. This speaks in favour of another unnamed person other than Horace himself in Odes 2.5. Several answers to the question have been proposed so far, but many of them remain as vague as the poem itself. Baldo basically restates the scholion quoted above;295 West in his commentary states the obvious that Horace is a “Praeceptor Amoris counselling patience to a lover in a hurry”;296 similarly Syndikus assumes an anonymous, and possibly fictive, third party.297 Fantham and Quinn speak of a betrothed man or even a slightly elderly husband as the addressee, but this somewhat prissy setting of a

291 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 289f. Citroni 2009, 73 n.2 objects: “But Horace cannot place Maecenas in such a negative light”. 292 Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 227. 293 Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 228. 294 Cf. Citroni 2009, 73 n.6. 295 Cf. Baldo 2009, 249. 296 West 1998, 39. 297 Cf. Syndikus 2001, 362. He tries to account for the missing name of the addressee “weil mit der Nennung keine Ehrung verbunden wäre, wie es Horazens Anreden meistens beabsichtigen“.

86

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

legitimate marriage, including procreation and family, is speculative and really does not suit the saucy tone of the ode and of its model PMG 417.298 Another approach to a solution is the attempt to find a so-far unnoticed personal name in the poem, such as a Ferox (cf. l. 13f. with slightly altered punctuation: iam te sequetur; currit enim, Ferox, | aetas) or Albi instead of albo in l. 18 (non Chloris, Albi, sic umero nitens) as a reference to Tibullus, but both suggestions are rather absurd.299 A frequently produced and somewhat evident solution is the above-mentioned proposal that Horace is indeed addressing himself by tuae in a soliloquy. This view is held or at least favoured by many scholars.300 A lyric parallel for such a soliloquy is Catullus 8, but there the self-address is explicit from the first to the last line: miser Catulle – at tu, Catulle, and the tone is totally different.301 On the contrary, Horace does not make it explicit at all. Harrison points to the attractive girlish boy Gyges in l. 20, “clearly the third in a list of past lovers for Lalage’s pursuer”, and concludes: “Such bisexuality could suit the poet as addressee”.302 To fortify the theory of self-address, scholars mostly point to Lalage’s earlier appearance in Odes 1.22.10: the possessive pronoun in dum meam canto Lalagen sounds like a revealing equivalent to 2.5.5f. tuae … iuuencae. According to Citroni, “[t]he anonymous addressee of 2. 5 is most certainly the poet himself: otherwise the name Lalage, which in 1. 22 is a woman loved by the poet, would be needlessly misleading”.303 I agree with the point that the rare and special name Lalage evokes at least a very strong notion of identity between the 298 The mention of maritum (l. 16) is no indicator for a marital context, as Fantham 1979, 48 explains. But she agrees with Quinn 1991, 207 that the possibly empty promise of Lalage’s future maturity is unrealistic without the assumption of a marital bond because “[s]uch lovers will hardly wait a year or two to satisfy their fancies” (Fantham 1979, 48). Yes, but why should the addressee not have several affairs in the meantime before returning to Lalage later? Cf. also Harrison’s evaluation: “it is hard to see that this poem is set in a marital context of any kind (…) the Anacreontic and Philodeman models (…) and the list of past lovers in 17–24 strongly suggests that Lalage is simply another in a sequence of non-marital affairs rather than a present or future bride” (Harrison 2017, 83). 299 Cf. Harrison 2017, 90. Harrison objects to the Albi idea that “the known attractions of white shoulders and what would be a very late appearance of the addressee make this difficult”. I totally agree, since it would be not only a late but also an extremely marginal appearance in the middle of that sentence fragment right after Chloris’ name. 300 Thus e.g. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 179, Citroni 2009, 73 n.6, MacLeod 1984, 252. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 77 do not decide, but also tend towards a self-address. Syndikus 2001, 361 argues: “Schwer denkbar ist es jedoch, daß Horaz diese ungewöhnliche Sprechweise ein ganzes langes Gedicht durchgehalten haben sollte, und das, ohne dem Hörer das leiseste Zeichen zu geben, daß er sich selbst ermahne”. 301 Cf. Harrison 2017, 82f. and West 1998, 39, who contrasts Catullus’ “anguished introspection” and “muddled stream of consciousness” with Horace’s “cool, detached, sophisticated, ironic” attitude. 302 Harrison 2017, 91. 303 Citroni 2009, 73 n.6.

Love and Domination

87

described girls in the two odes. We should at least assume that the same girl or woman could be meant in 1.22 and 2.5. I disagree, however, with Citroni’s claim that in 1.22 Lalage is loved by the poet: she is certainly loved by the persona, but the persona of Horace’s odes is not always simply identical with the poet. And yet, it is in my view rather unlikely that in Odes 2.5 Horace gives advice to an actually definable friend about a girl whom his persona declares to love tenderly in Odes 1.22.304 The addressee of 2.5 seems to be neither the poet Horace in a soliloquy nor an existing definable personality who is clearly different from himself nor a generic unspecified addressee. But if not these possibilities, then who? My own proposal for the addressee of Odes 2.5 is the following: in connection with the quite obvious copy of the Thracian filly in the iuvenca Lalage, the tuae addresses the filly’s, alias iuvencae, lover Anacreon, or to be precise, a copy of Anacreon’s persona of PMG 417.305 This idea is not only a (not compelling, but fitting) logical consequence of the identification of Lalage with Anacreon’s Thracian filly: it also fruitfully combines all previous approaches, adopting and uniting several seemingly conflicting arguments by previous scholars. Identifying the addressee as Anacreon’s persona allows for West’s generic “lover in a hurry” and specifies him; it allows for the addressee’s somewhat old age suggested by Quinn’s and Fantham’s elderly husband (old age being a typical trait of Anacreon); it scans perfectly with Harrison’s remark on the addressee’s bisexuality quoted above (another typical trait of Anacreon, cf. chapter section 2.2.4 Floating hair and bisexuality), and it finally even allows for the ambiguity between address to a second person and soliloquy that the pseudo-Acronian scholiast, and many fellow scholars, already struggled with. Or to say it in Macleod’s words: “[I]f it is not made entirely clear that Horace is speaking to himself, that has its point”.306 Horace has adopted and adapted Anacreon’s Thracian filly as an inspired but new creation of the iuvenca Lalage and thus did not merely copy the metaphor (imitatio), but took possession of it and made it his own (aemulatio); just in the same way he is taking possession of Anacreon’s persona and makes it his own. The addressee Anacreon is in fact Horace’s alter

304 Fantham 1979, 48 is slightly contradicting herself when she criticises the theory of self-address by admonishing that “the stanza that follows (sc. l. 17 dilecta …) misses a chance, if the poem is written ad seipsum, to refer to loves of Horace named elsewhere: Pholoe, Chloris and Gyges are mentioned in other odes (3.15.7&8 and 3.7.5) but without relation to the ­poet-speaker; thus nothing in these lines of 2.5 suggests a reference to Horace’s own past”. But one of the strongest arguments for soliloquy lies precisely in the fact that the main character, Lalage, who is much more important than the others, is a love of the poet-speaker and named expressly in Odes 1.22! 305 Direct address to a lyric predecessor is not unparalleled: cf. Odes 2.13.26f. et te sonantem plenius aureo, | Alcaee. 306 MacLeod 1984, 252.

88

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

ego.307 The two personae, both of whom are hidden simultaneously behind the tuae, almost melt into one another – or, in other words, Horace here addresses himself in the role of a Latin Anacreontic persona, his own Anacreontic self, and thus aliquem as well as semet ipsum at the same time.308 He puts on Anacreon’s role and simultaneously that of his personal counsellor, but even the role of a counsellor is Anacreontic in this case:309 the persona of PMG 417 uses emphatic educational language towards the filly (cf. δοκεῖς δέ μ’ οὐδὲν εἰδέναι σοφόν and ἴσθι τοι),310 and just in the same way but on the next level, the persona of Odes 2.5 gives didactic advice to this very persona of PMG 417. On a metapoetic level, this play of identity and non-identity illustrates clearly Horace’s relationship with Anacreon in general. As an actual poet, Horace imitates and emulates the imagery and themes of the poet Anacreon (here in the heifer Lalage for the Thracian filly). And, as a lyric persona, he imitates and emulates the persona Anacreon (here through being another Anacreon and simultaneously being Anacreon’s Anacreon-like counsellor).311 This interpretation can be substantiated with further observations on the last two stanzas of 2.5. Interestingly, in the last words of the poem ambiguoque uoltu (2.5.24), some scholars have noticed a possible allusion to παρθένιον βλέπων in PMG 360.1, the fragment that is tightly connected with 417 through several correspondent wordings and images.312 As shown above, through the strikingly similar wording, PMG 360 is an indicator of the proper sense behind the meta 307 Cf. also Horace’s second close adaptation of PMG 417 and of Anacreon’s persona in Odes 3.11, the plea to Mercury to make the equa trima Lyde accept Horace’s love (see below in 2.2.3 Odes 1.23 and PMG 408: fearful fawns). In 3.11 the degree of identification with Anacreon is even stronger, a point that underscores the presence of Anacreon’s persona here as well. Fantham 1979, 47 is a prime example for an unintended good argument for my theory, so I shall quote it in full: “Of course the allusions to the lover’s waning youth, 11–15, and bisexual past, 17f., could fit Horace’s own persona, but when Horace is treating his own case in the thematically similar ode 1.23 his role is unambiguous and proclaimed from the beginning, uitas hinnuleo me similis Chloe, just as Anacreon’s lines to the Thracian filly-girl, fr. 417, reiterate the first person verbs and pronouns.” 308 Thereby the following objection by Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 77 becomes pointless: “Above all, he is described as middle-aged and past his best (14); a tactful ironist like Horace says this kind of thing about himself, not about even his imaginary friends”. I disagree: he may say it about himself and just as well about his alter ego in this poem, the topically old Anacreon. In any case, the dempserit is future perfect, which means that right now those years are not yet gone. Perhaps the addressee is only on the verge of old age. 309 Among others, MacLeod 1984, 253 traces Horace’s “admonitory tone” back to Alcaeus, but Anacreon’s own didactic tone should not be neglected here. 310 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 705f. for the role of knowledge or σοφία in PMG 417. 311 Interestingly, this is a characteristic that Horace shares particularly with the Carmina Anacreontea. 312 Cf. Acosta-Hughes 2010, 154 n.51: “The first image of this poem, ὦ παῖ παρθένιον βλέπων, is one image that lies behind Horace’s Cnidian Gyges.” Likewise see Bernsdorff 2020, 710; he goes on observing that the allusion also shows Horace’s and Anacreon’s affinity

Love and Domination

89

phor of 417. Apparently, Horace combines the metaphor from 417 and its interpretation from 360 and thus creates an explicit allegory for Lalage313 that even includes the Anacreontic combination of erotic reins with girlish boys at the end. Already Campe 1872 juxtaposes the poem’s whole last stanza with PMG 360 and then concludes: “Es wäre vielleicht noch einiges fernere hier zu ermitteln; doch wir wollen es andern überlassen, diesen spuren weiter nachzugehen.”314 Horace’s plan to merge 417 and 360 into one helps to explain the surprising turn towards the ode’s end, or, as Nisbet and Hubbard call it, the “poem’s dying fall”315, which, as far as I see, has not yet been interpreted fully satisfactorily. In my view, the allusion to PMG 360 hides in more than the last words of the poem ambiguoque uoltu. I see intriguing hints already in the fifth stanza (17–20). dilecta, quantum non Pholoe fugax, non Chloris albo sic umero nitens ut pura nocturno renidet luna mari Cnidiusue Gyges. 20 She will be loved more than the timid Pholoe, more than Chloris who with her white shoulder gleams just like the pure moon twinkles on the nocturnal sea, or like Cnidian Gyges.

Whilst Pholoe and Chloris are both introduced by non as girls who are not rivals, but inferior to Lalage, the third name in this stanza comes like a small appendix at the very end, connected not through a third non, but surprisingly by –ve. At first sight, it seems most logical to understand him as a third example of inferior beloveds, alongside Pholoe and Chloris.316 However, Nisbet and Hubbard expound the problems of this reading: “-ve marks a very slight transition compared with non Chloris albo, and at this late stage in the stanza Cnidiusue Gyges seems the end of the old colon and not the beginning of the new.”317 I would rather not underestimate these problems, but strongly prefer the other reading: that Gyges is syntactically on the same level as the moon, and part of the comparison sic – ut. Nisbet and Hubbard have an ingenious explanation for the strange equation of the moon glittering on the sea with the boy Gyges: “[P]erhaps Horace has undermined his uncharacteristic poeticism by yet another play on words: the in terms of bisexuality, and concludes that “[t]his self-stylization of the Horatian narrator as Anacreon would fit the wealth of Anacreontic motifs in this ode” (i.e. 2.5). 313 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 710: “[T]he technique of the ode is quite close to that of our fragment, since the image is presented as an allegory, not as a comparison”. 314 Campe 1872, 677. 315 Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 79. 316 Thus Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 90: “[T]he most prudent interpretation is to take Gyges as coordinate with 17 Pholoe and 18 Chloris; Pholoe is characterized by a word, Chloris by a couple of lines, but Gyges by a whole stanza”. 317 Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 90.

90

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

moon glints to the sea and Gyges to his male lover (nocturno coheres with both interpretations). mas-maris is rare in poetry (1. 21. 10), but suits the animal tone of the ode”.318 Even renidere ‘shimmer’ can be used as a synonym of subridere or, with the dative, arridere, meaning ‘to smile upon’.319 Thus the pure moon shimmers (renidet) onto the nocturnal sea (nocturno mari) just as Gyges smiles upon (renidet) his nocturnal male lover (nocturno mari). The comparison of Gyges’ smile with a pure moon is extremely reminiscent of ὦ παῖ παρθένιον βλέπων, especially when in the following line (21) Gyges is inserted into the puellarum choro. In the given context, the adjective purus not only describes the obvious bright moonshine, but on another level clearly alludes to erotic purity.320 Similarly luna – or Luna – is not only the moon as a celestial body, but such a common name for the eternal virgin Diana that the allusion to virginity cannot be missed. With the combination of pura luna and puellae, virginity and femininity, Horace renders colourfully Anacreon’s adjective παρθένιον. Whilst Lalage is obviously a new representation of the Thracian filly in PMG 417, Gyges seems to be a new materialisation of the maidenly boy in the similar PMG 360. By merging those two fragments in which the Anacreontic persona is in two absolutely opposing situations (total control versus total surrender), and by taking on the role of a counsellor as described above, Horace sets himself between, and slightly apart from, both the dominance of 417 and the helplessness of 360. The ode’s end is still a ‘dying fall’ (cf. above), but a fall from PMG 417 into 360, laden with meaningful allusions and with sympathy for the Anacreontic persona. Moreover, Horace’s poetic technique of entwining PMG 360 with PMG 417, a poem focused on a girlish male protagonist with the female filly scenery, is mirrored in the metapoetic meaning of the image of Gyges in the girls’ choir in the last stanza: Quem si puellarum insereres choro etc. (l. 21). According to Nisbet and Hubbard, “inserere suggests the twining of a flower in a circular garland (serta)”.321 The same word is used with metapoetic force in the prominent opening ode 1.1.35: Quod si me lyricis uatibus inseres. The metapoetic meaning of inserere and ἐμπλέκειν, illustrating the interlacing of poetic flowers, can also be overheard in Odes 2.5 where the entwined PMG 417 and 360 create another miniature anthology.

318 Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 91. 319 Cf. OLD s.v. renideo 3: ‘to smile back (at), beam’ and (b) ‘to smile with pleasure (at)’. 320 Cf. OLD s.v. purus 5: ‘not polluted by sexual contact, pure, chaste’. 321 Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 91. This image of a garland of flowers (corona) is especially fitting in the context of a chorus because of the derivation of chorus from corona, or corona from chorus, which was prevalent in ancient Roman etymology: cf. Leigh 2010, 269 with n.10.

Love and Domination

91

2.2.3 Odes 1.23 and PMG 408: fearful fawns In an earlier obvious use of the animal metaphor, namely Odes 1.23, Horace’s role seems to be exactly the same as Anacreon’s in PMG 408, as the following striking parallels show.322 PMG 408 ἀγανῶς οἷά τε νεβρὸν νεοθηλέα γαλαθηνὸν ὅς τ’ ἐν ὕλῃ κεροέσσης ἀπολειφθεὶς ἀπὸ μητρὸς ἐπτοήθη. . . . in a gentle way, like a new-born deer that still sucks milk and that in the woods, left by its antlered mother, is frightened.

Odes 1.23 Vitas inuleo me similis, Chloe, quaerenti pauidam montibus auiis matrem non sine uano aurarum et siluae metu. You shy away from me, Chloe, like a fawn trying to find its fearful mother on the pathless mountains, filled with a baseless fear of breeze and forest.323

Here begins the intriguing development of Chloe, a female Horatian-Anacreontic character, who appears four times throughout the odes. Remarkably, in all four instances, an Anacreontic background is detectable. Her story proves that recurring personal names in several odes are not just randomly assigned, but that behind them we can find multi-layered personalities.324 In Odes 1.23, the close copy of PMG 408 quoted above, the addressee Chloe still avoids Horace like a fearful fawn, being too shy and apparently very young, although it is now time for her to leave her mother and marry (l. 11f.: tandem desine matrem | tempestiua sequi uiro). In Odes 3.7, Chloe is, as Bernsdorff observes, “a rival of the addressee Asterie, whose name might also have Anacreontic association (P.Oxy. 3722 fr. 30.6 Ἀστ] ε ̣ρίδος, PMG 957)”.325 She is the hostess of Asterie’s absent husband; now her fawn-like shyness has disappeared and she has become a woman with adulterous interests in her married guest.326 But the Anacreontic reminiscence lies not 322 PMG 408 is clearly the main model (cf. e.g. Fraenkel 1957, 183 and Campe 1872, 673 who even says “Das übrige ist aus Anacreon fast übersetzt”), but the first line Vitas inuleo me similis also recalls the φεύγεις of PMG 417.2, and the mother may refer to PMG 346 fr. 1 (cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 710). 323 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 324 Cf. Campe 1872, 671, who exemplifies this through Lydia in four poems and concludes: “Offenbar gehören diese lieder zusammen: es ist dieselbe Lydia in allen”. 325 Bernsdorff 2020, 43 n.210. 326 Campe 1872, 674 goes too far: “So sehen wir Chloe aus dem schüchternen reh zur begehrlichen hetäre geworden.” She is not depicted as a hetaira, and the described seductive skills are not Chloe’s, but those of the nuntius (it is him who is described as uafer). In fact, we even do not know with certainty if Chloe is in love at all; it is all reported speech from the nuntius.

92

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

only in the name of Asterie and in the person of Chloe. The young man loved by both women is no less than Gyges, who, as discussed above, serves as the impersonation of the maidenly glancing addressee of PMG 360. Meanwhile, Asterie seems dangerously interested in Enipeus, a horseman who is remarkably similar to Anacreon’s persona in PMG 417.327 In Odes 3.9.9f., where she is given the epithet “Thracian” (which reminds us again of the Thracian filly of PMG 417),328 Chloe has become the poet’s talented and charming beloved: Me nunc Thressa Chloe regit | dulcis docta modos et citharae sciens. Her reining power over her lover (me … regit) recalls the motif of erotic reining in the above-mentioned PMG 360.3f.: τῆς ἐμῆς | ψυχῆς ἡνιοχεύεις (cf. OLD s.v. regere 3 for the same sense as ἡνιοχεύειν).329 Last but not least, in Odes 3.26, Horace’s persona is an old man who pretends to have given up the games and battles of love. Yet, as the very last line of the poem shows, he cannot hide the fact that he is still interested in such sport, yet now ‘in a huff’ while acting like a prima donna by asking the Queen of Cyprus, Venus, to castigate Chloe for her arrogance (l. 12): tange Chloen semel arrogantem. This event also falls a couple of years later than the situation predicted for Lalage in the fourth stanza of 2.5: illi quos tibi dempserit | adponet annos (2.5.14f.). So Horace is already too old for the now very mature Chloe. The scene inevitably makes us think of PMG 358, where Anacreon feels invited to partake in an amorous game on the initiative of Eros, but the girl with the shimmering sandals scorns old Anacreon’s white hair. But I return to the filly motif, which is applied a third time in Odes 3.11, now as an invocation to Mercury and the lute, by whose music the reluctant Lyde shall be flattered (ll. 7–12): (Mercuri … tuque testudo …) dic modos, Lyde quibus obstinatas applicet auris, quae uelut latis equa trima campis 10 ludit exultim metuitque tangi, nuptiarum expers et adhuc proteruo cruda marito.

327 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 43 n. 210, pointing to lines 25–26: quamuis non alius flectere equum sciens | aeque conspicitur gramine Martio (note that this scene is situated in a meadow, and cf. PMG 417.3 μ’οὐδὲν εἰδέναι σοφόν and 7f. στρέφοιμί | σ’ ἀμφὶ τέρματα δρόμου). See also Bernsdorff 2020, 829 on PMG 497 (a mention of Peleus’ dagger by Anacreon): “It may be relevant that Peleus serves as an example of chastity (…) in Hor. carm. 3.7, an ode which is full of references to An.” 328 In Campe’s words, Threicia “versetzt uns … nach A b d e r a und zu Anacreon” (Campe 1872, 673). According to Bernsdorff 2020, 712, Thrace in Anacreon’s fragments always “seems to be the homeland of persons described as attractive”. 329 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 43 (referring to Campe 1872, 673).

Love and Domination

93

(Mercury … and you, tortoise-shell …) come, sing a song to catch Lyde’s obstinate ear. Like a three-year-old filly which frisks and prances in the wide meadows, she shies away from being touched, knows nothing about marriage, and is not yet ripe for an ardent mate.330

Horace’s image of the three-year-old horse, who enjoys frolicking in the fields and is both too immature for a husband like Lalage and obstinate, is deeply indebted to that of Anacreon’s Thracian filly.331 Here Horace’s persona identifies even more with Anacreon’s than in Odes 2.5.332 Bernsdorff observes a structural similarity with Anacreon: “In carm. 3.11 the reference to the ‘Thracian Filly’ is embedded in a hymn (to Mercury) which refers to the speaker’s personal erotic relation to Lyde. A model for this kind of erotic hymn is An. PMG 357 (to Dionysus and Cleobulus respectively)”.333 In addition, the word for lyre, testudo (l. 3), is the same as the term used for Anacreon’s lute in Epodes 14.11: qui persaepe caua testudine fleuit amorem. In stanzas 4–6, the examples given of the power of the lyre on animals, natural phenomena and even Cerberus show that Orpheus’ instrument is meant. Yet this reference does not exclude a multi-layered understanding. Intriguingly, the verses 3.11.7f. that end the invocation and immediately lead into the imitation of PMG 417 sound like a slight variation of Bowie’s interpretation of the last lines in PMG 357 (10f.) τὸν ἐμὸν δ’ ἔρωτ᾿, | ὦ Δεόνυσε, δέχεσθαι, a plea to Dionysus to accept Anacreon’s love song.334 Now, in 3.11.7f., the beloved, rather than Mercury, shall accept Horace’s love song: dic modos Lyde quibus obstinatas | applicet auris. Might this hint at how Horace understood the much-disputed end of PMG 357? In any case, we can say that Horace invites Orpheus’ powerful lute to per 330 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 331 Cf. Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 149 on Lyde: “a frolicsome filly in the erotic language of Anacreon”. 332 Bernsdorff 2020, 710 calls it “the most detailed Horatian adaptation of PMG 417” and emphasises the significance of the lyre in evoking Anacreon’s persona: “The wish to win control over the reluctant Lyde by means of the lyre indirectly contributes to an identification of the singer of carm. 3.11 with that of PMG 417”. 333 Bernsdorff 2020, 43. Cf. also Bernsdorff 2020, 711: “[A]lso in this case Horace combines one Anacreontic reminiscence with another, since the opening address to Mercury resembles An.’s hymn to Dionysus in order to obtain the love of Cleobulus”. Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 149 compare the “secularization of hymns for private purposes” in 3.11 and PMG 357. For the general affinity of this ode’s language and structure with archaic Greek diction and style, cf. Cairns 1975; he takes 3.11 as a prime example for Horace’s stylistic aemulatio of Greek lyric and sees clear similarities in the poems’ tone (p. 137): “The irony and deliberately patent moral hypocrisy is very similar of Anacreon in his analogous appeal to Dionysus. to Dionysus. The religious and the generic device of the vicarious speaker appear here too of underlining the scepticism with which the poet expects the to receive the poem”. 334 Cf. Bowie 2013, 37–8 with parallels for such a meaning of ἔρως/amor.

94

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

form a latinized Anacreontic plea to Lyde in the style of both PMG 357 and PMG 417, and that he too deserves the honorific titles that Bowie lends to Anacreon: “a teaser and a trickster”.335 Finally, PMG 346 fr. 1.1–12 could be seen as a universal source of all of Horace’s applications of the motif (1.23, 2.5, 3.11), if we accept Lobel’s plausible conjecture of μήτηρ in l. 5. Here is the text and translation given by Bernsdorff 2020:336 οὐδεμ ̣ . . [ . ]σ ̣.φ . . α ̣ . . [ . . . ] . . [ φοβερὰς δ’ ἔχεις πρὸς ἄλλῳ φρένας, ὦ καλλιπρό[σ]ωπε παίδ[ων· καί σε δοκεῖ μὲν ἐ[ν δό]μο̣ ̣ισ̣ ̣ι ̣[ν 5 πυκινῶς ἔχουσα [μήτηρ 5 ἀτιτάλλειν· σ[ . ] . [ . . . . ] . . . [ τὰς ὑακιν[θίνας ἀρ]ούρας ἵ]να Κύπρις ἐκ λεπάδνων . . . . ]´[ . ]α[ς κ]ατέδησεν ἵππους. . . . . . . ]δ’ ἐν μέσῳ κατῆξας 10 . . . . . . ]ωι δι’ ἅσσα πολλοὶ πολ]ιητέων φρένας ἐπτοέαται· nor . . . but you have a timid heart in the presence of another, you girl of the beautiful face. And ?your mother? thinks she tends you at home, keeping a firm hold of you; but you ?are longing for/escaped to? the fields of hyacinth, where the Cyprian, (after having freed them) from the straps (of the yoke) had fastened her . . . steeds. . . . you darted down (?) in the middle of . . ., so that many citizens had fluttering hearts.

This fragment combines the fearful offspring and caring mother of PMG 408 and Odes 1.23 with the meadows, the imagery of reined horses, and the charming and bewitching run (‘you darted down’) of PMG 417 and Odes 2.5 and 3.11. The combination of Aphrodite and her yoke (or something similar; ‘yoke’ is a highly probable conjecture for the lacuna) might even be the specific source for the same combination in the first stanza of Horace’s Odes 2.5: Nondum subacta ferre iugum ualet (…) nec tauri ruentis | in uenerem tolerare pondus. The status of the apparently shy girl darting down into the fields has been subject to interpretative debate. Serrao compares the contrast between her shyness and frivolity with the transition in Odes 2.5 from immitis uuae (l. 10) to iam te sequetur (l. 13)337 and traces a temporal development within the fragment’s lines, corresponding to “the normal cursus honorum of a high-class courte 335 Bowie 2013, 36. 336 Bernsdorff 2020, 159f. 337 Cf. Serrao 1968, 47.

Love and Domination

95

san”.338 Similarly, Kurke underlines, too heavily in my view, the girl’s frivolity and interprets Aphrodite’s hyacinth fields as a place that is associated with “women who are promiscuous and readily available”.339 However, as pointed out by Rosenmeyer and as I have argued with Calame above (in 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation), meadows represent “a liminal spot of potential erotic transgression, not a site of promiscuity”.340 I strongly agree with Rosenmeyer and Bernsdorff that the girl in the meadow is likely to be a virgin on the verge of discovering her sexual interests, exactly like the Thracian horse of PMG 417 and Lalage in 2.5.341 There remains one striking and debatable detail in the imagery. Apparently, Aphrodite’s horses, who are then joined by the addressee, are not ‒ as we would expect from this metaphor ‒ freely playing in the meadow, but are tied up right after being freed from the yoke. This variation of the image is quite unique; what does it mean? Bernsdorff stresses the contrast between the Thracian filly’s total freedom and the filly’s restricted freedom in this poem when it enters the circle of Aphrodite’s bound horses,342 but, as far as I see, the fragment does not say that the addressee is tied down too. In contrast, I suggest the following interpretation: ‘binding the horses just freed from the yoke’ might mean that these horses represent young women who are no longer virgins (they have just carried Aphrodite’s yoke!) and therefore may not play freely in the meadow of virginity, but may graze there only as ‘transitory virgins’ before carrying the next yoke. In this case, Kurke’s interpretation of the field as a place for promiscuous women is apt. Thus, their contrast with the truly free (that is, truly virgin) addressee is even more palpable; her freedom is her peculiar distinction. The citizens’ hearts flutter especially because among the sexually experienced – fastened – girls of Aphrodite there is suddenly a free one, a virgin, but now very ready to be “plucked” from the meadow. Shyness and frivolity, an openness to first sexual contact and repulsion from it, can be felt at the same time. That is precisely what makes the young girls of

338 Serrao 1968, 51. But for the temporal development cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 309: “[T]he girl’s fear, which is described as being present and not a pretence, does not fit the image of a woman who is a prostitute at the same time. (…) the fear and the mother’s protection, described in the first part of the fragment, are clearly located in the present, not in the past”. 339 Kurke 1997, 124. 340 Rosenmeyer 2004, 176. 341 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 310: “By saying that the girl has already entered or longs to enter the fields of hyacinths (…), the narrator symbolically indicates that the girl’s mind is now directed towards the realm of Cypris, not that she really leaves her mother’s house”. 342 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 317: “The horses that the addressee will join are freed from the [] yoke, but nevertheless bound by Aphrodite. The addressee, by becoming one of these horses, will enjoy a limited period of (restricted) freedom in the meadow.” See also Leo 2015, 35.

96

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

all these animal- and meadow-metaphors in Anacreon and Horace so tremendously attractive. Another noteworthy aspect of the animal metaphors which is common to both Horace’s and Anacreon’s poems is their subtle insinuation of aggression. An apparent hint against violence is found in Odes 1.23.9‒10, where Horace underlines that he will not use force to win over the reluctant Chloe: Atqui non ego te, tigris ut aspera | Gaetulusue leo, frangere persequor. The comparison does not sound particularly appeasing, especially when one thinks of other uses of this imagery. In Odes 3.11.41‒42, the Danaids, when killing their grooms, are compared to brutal lionesses: quae uelut nactae uitulos leaenae | singulos eheu lacerant; in Odes 2.5.3‒4, the metaphor for a lover’s impetuosity is tauri ruentis | in Venerem … pondus. When describing a similar degree of subliminal violence in Anacreon’s poems, Rosenmeyer uses the very illustrative term “flirtation with danger”.343 Similarly, there is one occasion in Anacreon where animal metaphor and aggressiveness are combined, namely in the first line of PMG 357, which depicts the young bull δαμάλης Ἔρως (discussed in 2.2.1 Odes 1.36 and PMG 357: Δαμάλης Ἔρως and beloved Damalis). This figure reminds us primarily of the Anacreontic imagery around young animals and reining, but on a deeper level can also call forth the whole register of meanings of δαμάζω.344 The aggressive animal metaphors will be discussed in detail in 2.3.4 Aeschrology: beastly women in Epodes 12 and PMG 424, 432, 437.

2.2.4 Floating hair and bisexuality In the previous chapters and chapter sections, we have sometimes already alluded to a topic that is central both to Anacreon’s and Horace’s love life: the homo- and bisexual tendencies, the enthralling power of homoerotic love, and the descriptions of male beloveds with quite feminine attributes.345 Horace testifies to his ‘bisexuality’346 in, among other places, Satires. 2.3.325, where his 343 Rosenmeyer 1992, 42. 344 The LSJ lists for δαμάζω “tame, break in” for animals, “make subject to a husband” for women, “subdue, conquer” for other instances. 345 On this topic in general cf. Cantarella 1992: Bisexuality in the ancient world (including passages on Anacreon and Horace). 346 I use the modern term of bisexuality, like Cantarella 1992 (see the footnote above) and Williams 1999 in Roman homosexuality (cf. the very first introductory chapter ‘Homosexuality, Heterosexuality, and Bisexuality’), rather faute de mieux, acknowledging that our modern understanding of this and related terms differs significantly from ancient concepts and social conventions. Modern ‘bisexuality’ is, for instance, terminologically distinct from ‘pederasty’, but in ancient literature, the phenomenon of erotic love for both male and female persons can hardly be separated from pederasty. I use the terms with this caveat. For deeper insights and sensitive analyses concerning terminology and concepts of erotic love in antiquity, see e.g. Skinner 2010: Sexuality in Greek and Roman culture.

Love and Domination

97

interlocutor Damasippus jokingly accuses him of mille puellarum, puerorum mille furores. Fervent but unrequited love is also Horace’s very first explicit point of connection with Anacreon in Epodes 14.9–11. In the context of exculpating himself for his lack of perseverance in writing iambics, Horace compares his current heterosexual inclination with Anacreon’s homosexual love: he is suffering from unfulfilled love (for the girl Phryne) just as – non aliter – Anacreon did (for the boy Bathyllus), who, while lamenting, no longer produces elaborate verses (non elaboratum ad pedem, l. 12).347 Already in Epodes 11, excessive love is presented as an obstacle to writing poetry (cf. l. 1–2: Petti, nihil me sicut antea iuuat | scribere uersiculos amore percussum graui). Here, Horace speaks of his ardor for both boys and girls alike: mollibus in pueris aut in puellis urere (l. 4) and sed alius ardor aut puellae candidae | aut teretis pueri longam renodantis comam (l. 27f.). It is remarkable how little he distinguishes between the sexes; he mentions them all in one breath. The favourite boys are equipped with softening attributes – mollis, teres, longam renodans comam – and thus look quite a lot like girls ‒ a typical ­feature of ancient homosexuality.348 Horace’s current love in Epodes 11 is Lyciscus, who ‘boasts about defeating any girl in softness’ (gloriantis quamlibet mulierculam | uincere mollitia, l. 23f.). The beloved, if male, has to be the better female. Perhaps the most prominent, and certainly the most Anacreontic, example of homoerotic love in combination with wavering demarcations of gender in Horace is Gyges in Odes 2.5, who could be included within a group of dancing maidens and who could no longer be discerned due to his face and his loose long349 hair: quem si puellarum insereres choro, | mire sagacis falleret hospites | discrimen obscurum solutis | crinibus ambiguoque uoltu (l. 21–24.). Again, long hair is a particularly telling feminine attribute.350 In 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: Untamed 347 This verse has been subject to lots of attention and differing interpretations. In Anacreon’s own fragments, we also find some kind of lament on the effects of love. For example, fr. 413 is a colourful description of love(-sickness) striking like an iron hammer and a bath in icy floods; fr. 445, transmitted to us by Himerius, is a complaint against the gods of Love. It is embedded in Himerius’ tale of Anacreon’s frequent disappointment in love relationships, which the poet himself mentions in e.g. fr. 378. However, no Anacreontic lament on the difficulties of poetry writing survives today. 348 For the Greek world, cf. the monograph by Dover 1989 on Greek homosexuality. 349 I say ‘long’, because otherwise the expression soluere crines would be pointless. 350 It was in fact unusual for Roman boys and men both to wear long hair at all and to take care of it too diligently. Cf. Bartman 2001, 3: “In metropolitan Rome and the West, men usually wore their hair short on the crown. (…) Apart from routine upkeep, however, the proper Roman male was advised to avoid excessive attention to his hair; the man who curled and anointed his locks risked scorn for appearing effeminate”. This contrasts harshly with the typus of the “sexy boys” in Roman sculpture, which Bartman examines in another article. Due to this disagreement, the “sexually transgressive Hellenistic statues (…) evoked exoticism and otherworldliness” (Bartman 2002, 258).

98

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

temptation above I have noted Gyges’ close affinity with the addressee of PMG 360 and the reminiscence of Anacreon’s expression παρθένιον βλέπων in ambiguoque uoltu.351 PMG 417, which features the female Thracian filly, and PMG 422, featuring the male Thracian character shaking his hair (Θρηϊκίην σίοντα χαίτην), are only two of many examples for the coexistence of male and female lovers in Anacreon’s poetry. There are the fragments on Cleobulus (the hymn to Dionysus in PMG 357, the polyptoton in PMG 359, and probably Cleobulus’ girlish glance in PMG 360), those on female beloveds (PMG 358 about the young girl that scorns Anacreon’s white hair, and PMG 418, a plea of the old persona to a pretty girl that she shall listen), and those with a specific focus on long hair. One of Anacreon’s lovers was Smerdies from Thrace,352 who, as testimonies as well as Anacreontic fragments353 confirm, had his hair cut – a matter of deep grief for the poet. PMG 347 fr. 1 is a long, broken-hearted reproach to the boy354 because of his haircut, which includes an account of the falling hair whose richness of detail prompts Hutchinson to note “an extravagance and vigour, a concreteness and imaginative scope, too often forgotten in images of Anacreon”.355 Later, he points out that “[t]he attractive description (sc. of the hair) pointedly transfers to a boy Archilochus’ description of a woman”.356 The most strikingly long-haired exemplar of Horatian beloveds is, however, Ligurinus. He appears only twice in the Odes, in Odes 4.1 and 4.10, but both these appearances are noteworthy. Odes 4.1 is a kind of programmatic recusatio of Venus.357 In it the poet implores the goddess to stop her quarrels (bella), 351 Bernsdorff 2020, 710 comments: “This phrase, just as the appearance of the boy Gyges in the catalogue of girls at all, illustrates the bisexual interest of the speaker, thus stressing a trait which is typical of An. in general”. In footnote 22, he points to PMG 422 Θρηϊκίην σίοντα χαίτην, perhaps also an acatalectic trochaic dimeter, and speculates that “[t]he boy described here might have appeared (at least to later audiences) as a counterpart to the female Thracian filly, thus forming a pair which underlines An.’s bisexuality”. 352 His name is preserved in fr. 366 and a tiny papyrus scrap of 346 (fr. 14). For his Thracian origins, cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 353. 353 Testimonies: e.g. Max. Tyr. 18.9, 271–2 Trapp μεστὰ δὲ αὐτοῦ τὰ ᾄσματα τῆς Σμέρδιος κόμης, καὶ τῶν Κλεοβούλου ὀφθαλμῶν καὶ τῆς Βαθύλλου ὥρας. Furthermore PMG 471, 503. Fragments by Anacreon: e.g. PMG 414: ἀπέκειρας δ’ ἁπαλῆς κόμης ἄμωμον ἄνθος. For a detailed discussion cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 352–4. 354 Smerdies’ name is not preserved in the fragment; however, a connection of this poem to the Smerdies story is likely due to the above-mentioned testimonies and a reference to Thrace in l. 10 (cf. Hutchinson 2001, 264). 355 Hutchinson 2001, 265. 356 Hutchinson 2001, 265. 357 Cf. e.g. Lefèvre 1968, 168f. It has also been labelled “Widerspiel eines ὕμνος κλητικός” (Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 386) and “a kind of ἀποπομπή” (Fraenkel 1983, 410), and it has been considered due to its position as a carefully modelled opening poem (Fraenkel 1983, 413; Rudd 1982, 382) as well as because of its cultic background (cf. e.g. Weinreich 1942). In my view, these variously weighted interpretations in scholarship are not in the least mutually exclusive (see also Thomas 2011, 86).

Love and Domination

99

leave him alone and rather visit a particular more apt, i.e. younger, man, Paullus Maximus, who will venerate her with beautiful rites. Horace asserts that mutual love and drinking challenges at symposia are certainly past and over for him. Up to l. 32, the refusal sounds absolutely determined. Then, suddenly, a sed turns the whole recusatio upside down. The addressee is now no longer the goddess of love, but its object: the boy Ligurinus. Here it becomes obvious that Venus’ so far unexplained bella are directed against this new and particular undesired desire. In the last part of the poem, Ligurinus replaces, and embodies, Venus, and now her abstract assaults assume a very precise form of hunting and haunting, since her bella take place – most fittingly – on the Campus Martius.358 The poem is variously connected with the monodic tradition. The central themes and motifs (the goddess of love; renunciation of love because of old age; hopeless passion for a dismissive boy; erotic dreams) are not only in general extremely common in monody; there are also more precise points of contact. For example, the passage 4.1.9–27 on the veneration of Venus can be compared with Alcaeus fr. 296b.359 The puzzling attribute purpureis (l. 10) that is used to describe Venus’ swans may also date back to Aphrodite’s first description as πορφυρῆ in Anacreon 357 PMG.360 More importantly, the frame of the ode is unmistakably Sapphic: the initial prayer to Venus in ll. 1–12 is inspired by Sappho’s famous hymn to Aphrodite (fr. 1),361 while the description of bodily phenomena of lovesickness in ll. 33–36 (a tear, inability to speak) most probably alludes to Sappho 31 and its Latin translation in Catullus 51.362 Yet besides the obvious Sapphic allusions, there are Anacreontic reminiscences as well. The rara lacrima, although at first sight just part of the allusion to Sappho 31, is a good example of a Sapphic-Anacreontic double entendre. Acosta-Hughes has ob 358 Thomas 2011, 102 comments on the Campus Martius only as a place for athletics and bathing, but both its former main purpose for field exercises and the accentuated end position of Martii (god of war) in l. 39 stress the military aspects and establish a connection with the initial bella and militia amoris (cf. also l. 16 late signa feret militiae tuae). 359 Spelman 2014, 57 sees a link there that “has not previously been explored, but seems difficult to deny”. This fragment is already marginally mentioned as a parallel in Hutchinson 2008, 175. 360 Cf. Putnam 1986, 45 and Thomas 2011, 92. Campbell 1982, 319 describes Anacreon’s πορφυρῆ as “a unique epithet”. 361 This is a thoroughly commonplace assumption among scholars. Cf. Putnam 1986, 39–41; Nagy 1994, 417–21; Feeney 1998, 101–2; Barchiesi 2000, 172–3; Hunter 2007, 213–4. 362 Cf. Putnam 1986, 41: “Sappho’s mixture of figurative (fire racing) with literal (sweat streaming down) is concisely turned by Catullus with the extraordinary oxymoron flamma demanat. Horace looks back to both, yet this time it is neither flame nor sweat that pours down, only an occasional tear, as if plenitude of emotion were no longer possible”. Hunter 2007, 214 comments: “[H]ere, as so often and as with the language of pursuit and flight in the final stanza, the surrounding context re-energises a direct link with a famous ‘authorising’ text, although the details of that text have long since become a very familiar part of poetic tradition”.

100

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

served an intriguing detail here. In an epigram (19 GP) addressed to Anacreon as Σμερδίῃ ὦ ἐπὶ Θρῃκὶ τακεὶς (l. 1), Dioscorides, the epigrammatist who was a conrd temporary of Antipater of Sidon (3 century BC), states that the poet often sheds a tear because of Bathyllus (19 GP, l. 4): χλωρὸν ὑπὲρ κυλίκων πολλάκι δάκρυ χέας. This not only resembles Horace’s persaepe fleuit … amorem in Epodes 14.11 (also because of Bathyllus). In addition, Acosta-Hughes speculates that “Anacreon is the model that lies behind Horace’s ‘rara lacrima’ of Odes 4.1.34, where the single tear parallels the single tear in the fourth line of Dioscorides’ epigram on Anacreon”.363 Even if this suggestion sounds slightly far-fetched, Ligurinus himself is a quite Anacreontic character, despite and alongside all the Sapphic reminiscences in his surroundings.364 This becomes most obvious in Odes 4.10, in which the poet gives an insistent warning to the boy not to underestimate the quick aging process, including the growth of a beard and the loss of his long flowing hair, and his future regret at having rejected lust and love when it was still time. This motif is deeply interwoven with the tradition of Hellenistic epigram, where the contrast between the still blooming young boy and his approaching unattractive manhood in the near future is pervasive.365 But, as so often in Horace’s poetry, there is not necessarily only one source of inspiration, but he draws exhaustively from the whole tradition between archaic and Hellenistic poetry. Not only does the immediate address in l. 1 O crudelis adhuc (cf. also dure in 4.1.40) constitute “another example of an address to a young, inaccessible youth”366 and make us think of the Thracian filly who flees νηλέως (PMG 417.2), but more specifically the loss of long hair “may be inherited from Anacreon’s complaint about a boy’s lost hair”367 in PMG 347 fr. 1. In Anacreon’s fragment, the hair is already gone; its splendour is past and over. Horace’s Ligurinus still has his beautiful hair, but the persona predicts its loss in the future. Smerdies’ hair (l. 1 κ[ό]μ ̣[η]ς) shaded his neck (l. 2 ἐσκία[ζ]εν̣ ̣ αὐχένα), whilst Ligurinus’ hair (l. 3 comae) flies lightly around and upon his shoulders (l. 3 umeris inuolitant) before falling down: deciderint comae. In PMG 347 fr. 1, the deplorable loss is expressed in no less than three verbs: ἡ δ’ ἐς αὐ ̣χ ̣μηρὰς πεσοῦσα (l. 4), ἐς κόνιν κατερρύη (l. 6), and again περιπεσοῦσ̣ ’̣ (l. 8). Considering the importance and lustre of Smerdies’ figure and hair, it is quite implausible to think that Horace’s reader, after encountering the longhaired boys in Epodes 11 and especially Ligurinus, the prominent youngster 363 Acosta-Hughes 2010, 153. He there goes on to observe in n. 49: “In this complex poem of Greek and Roman lyric imagery it would not be surprising that Horace would evoke Anacreon, just as he obviously evokes Sappho.” 364 Cf. also my evaluation of the Anacreontic colour of the last line and aquas … uolubiles in the following section 2.2.5 Love reloaded: Odes 4.1 and the erotic δηὖτε motif. 365 Cf. Thomas 2011, 211: “More than any other in the corpus the poem strives for a close identity with Hellenistic epigram, of which it is in part a Romanizing adaptation”. 366 Bernsdorff 2020, 44. 367 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 44.

Love and Domination

101

of Odes book 4 with its Anacreontic surroundings, could not have thought of Smerdies, this most famous of all long-haired beloved boys in Greek lyric. Thus, whilst homo- and bisexuality are generally widespread in ancient lyric poetry, Horace does not only share the same broad-minded conception of bisexuality with Anacreon, but he also models the focus on hair and its loss on Anacreon’s and even some of his beloved boys on distinct Anacreontic precursors: Gyges on Cleobulus, Ligurinus on Smerdies.

2.2.5 Love reloaded: Odes 4.1 and the erotic δηὖτε motif Book 4 of Horace’s Odes is commonly said to deviate in style and content from the first three, which he probably published as a whole368 and which were framed by the successfully accomplished task of inscribing himself into the tradition of archaic Greek lyric (Odes 1.1.35: Quod si me lyricis uatibus inseres – 3.30.1.: Exegi monumentum aere perennius). Conversely, in book 4, Horace’s lyric persona is older and he must renounce the pleasures of love and wine that were so crucial for books 1‒3. Now he turns from light love poetry and symposium to more epic and grave topics, at the same time becoming more “Pindaric” (cf. Odes 4.2.1: Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari).369 Hence, one might expect far fewer references to the playful and lustful parts of the triad Sappho–Alcaeus–Anacreon. However, one of the book’s main topics, namely old age and passing time in combination with reflections on one’s personal aptitude for love and wine, provides a significant similarity with the monodists ‒ especially Sappho and Anacreon.370 Thus, despite the general change in tone in book 4, the allusions to the monodic triad are still numerous;371 all three are, among other things, present in the long list of Greek models in Odes 4.9. The very first poem of book 4 is a striking example of the presence of Greek love poetry patterns in the latest collection of Odes. In the previous chapter, the affinity between Anacreon’s long-haired beloveds and the Ligurinus of this ode (and Odes 368 This is the common view, although not entirely undoubted (cf. Hutchinson 2002). 369 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 387, who note “daß die erotisch-sympotische Poesie in diesem Buche stark zurücktreten wird”. 370 The most relevant poems with this motif are 1, 7, and 10‒13. In Porter’s extensive essay ‘The recurrent motifs of Horace, Carmina IV’, these six poems are identified as focusing on “time’s relentless passing and the melancholy reflections occasioned by that passing” (Porter 1975, 189). 371 Bernsdorff 2020, 42 judges that “in the fourth book Anacreontic motifs become more and more prominent”, as in the topic of “grouping of the older lover and the young beloved which is so prominent in the original fragments of Anacreon and in his image in the later tradition” (Bernsdorff 2020, 43). In his monograph Das Spätwerk des Horaz, Becker 1963, 113 frames the general tendency of book 4, in which Horace “nicht, wie in seinen früheren Oden, Gewicht darauf legt, daß er eine neue Form griechischer Lyrik für Rom gewinnt, die pindarischen Elemente und die Inhalte frühgriechischer Dichtung jedoch sehr stark hervortreten”.

102

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

4.10) became evident. I now want to focus on a specific archaic Greek pattern of repetitive lament on unfulfilled love, the δηὖτε motif, and its reflections in Horace. Beyond the triad Sappho–Alcaeus–Anacreon, Richard Thomas has additionally suggested that Ibycus PMG 287 represents a “primary intertext” that has “particular potency” for Odes 4.1.372 He points to the fact that its speaker feels himself thrown again (δηὖτε) by Eros “with innumerable charms (…) into the inescapable nets of Venus”, although he compares himself with a “horse in old age” that “goes unwillingly (…) into the race”.373 Sappho’s fr. 1 is an even more significant intertext; the parallels show how Horace’s lines are imbued by Sappho: Sappho fr. 1.1–12374

Odes 4.1.1–12

ποικιλόθρον› ἀθανάτ› Ἀφρόδιτα, παῖ Δίος δολόπλοκε, λίσσομαί σε, μή μ’ ἄσαισι μηδ’ ὀνίαισι δάμνα, πότνια, θῦμον, ἀλλὰ τυίδ‘ ἔλθ‘, αἴ ποτα κἀτέρωτα 5 τὰς ἔμας αὔδας ἀίοισα πήλοι ἔκλυες, πάτρος δὲ δόμον λίποισα χρύσιον ἦλθες ἄρμ› ὐπασδεύξαισα· κάλοι δέ σ‘ ἆγον ὤκεες στροῦθοι περὶ γᾶς μελαίνας 10 πύκνα δίννεντες πτέρ› ἀπ› ὠράνωἴθερος διὰ μέσσω.

Intermissa, Venus, diu rursus bella moues? Parce precor, precor. Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cinarae. Desine, dulcium mater saeua Cupidinum, 5 circa lustra decem flectere mollibus iam durum imperiis: abi, quo blandae iuuenum te reuocant preces. Tempestiuius in domum Pauli purpureis ales oloribus 10 comissabere Maximi, si torrere iecur quaeris idoneum.

Ornate-throned immortal Aphrodite, wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, I entreat you: do not overpower my heart, mistress, with ache and anguish, but come here, if ever in the past you heard my voice from afar and acquiesced and came, leaving your father’s golden house, with chariot yoked: beautiful swift sparrows whirring fast-beating wings brought you above the dark earth down from heaven through the mid-air.375

Are you making war again, Venus, after so long a truce? Have mercy, I beg you, I beg you! I am not the man I was in the reign of Cinara the Good. Stop, o cruel mother of sweet Desires, stop driving one who after nearly fifty years is now too hardened to answer your soft commands. Away, and make for a place to which the young men with their coaxing appeals are calling you. If you seek a suitable heart to inflame, it will be more seemly for you to revel in the house of Paullus Maximus, riding there on the wings of your gleaming swans.376

372 Thomas 2011, 86. 373 Translations by Thomas 2011. 374 Text taken from PLF (Lobel and Page 1955). 375 Transl. from Campbell 2002. 376 Transl. from Rudd 2004 (LCL).

Love and Domination

103

Sappho’s prayer starts with an invocation to the goddess of love. So does Horace’s. Both second lines end with an expression of supplication λίσσομαί σε / parce precor, precor. Perhaps bella moues can be seen as a parallel to δολόπλοκε, the desine (l. 4) a reflection of μή … δάμνα (l. 3), and the mater of l. 5 as mirroring πότνια in l. 4 (πότνια is extremely often followed by μήτηρ in Homeric lyric). Sappho’s Aphrodite is accompanied by quick sparrows with whirling wings, while Horace’s Venus comes winged by swans. The most striking element is, however, the content of the supplication. Whilst Sappho implores Aphrodite to come and listen to her voice again, as in the past (ll. 5–7: ἀλλὰ τυίδ› ἔλθ›, αἴ ποτα κἀτέρωτα | τὰς ἔμας αὔδας ἀίοισα πήλοι | ἔκλυες), Horace, on the contrary, wants Venus to leave him and go to those who implore her (l. 7f.): abi, | quo blandae iuuenum te reuocant preces (call again!). It sounds as if he is sending the goddess straight off to answer Sappho’s prayer. Considering that Sappho fr. 1 was surely as famous in antiquity as it is today among scholars, Horace’s dialogue with it is hardly likely to be a coincidence. There is yet another subtle allusion to a certain category of archaic Greek lyric in 4.1. The word on which it is based is rursus in l. 2. Horace’s first two lines resemble a particular type of archaic Greek opening lines that has been identified as a kind of formula, perhaps even indicating a sub-genre of archaic love poems: a wording like “Eros … me, again!”, including the decisive particle δηὖτε (δή+αὖτε).377 I will first concentrate on the Greek instance alone.378 In her essay Eros the bittersweet, Anne Carson describes the underlying depth of meaning in the particle. The lover is “pinned in an impossible double bind, victim of novelty and of recurrence at once”, a state represented by this particle, “which itself presents, in microcosm, the temporal dilemma of eros” and “comes like one long, rather wild sigh at the beginning of the poem”.379 Carson assumes that those poets who used δηὖτε in their works were among the first poets in the period of transition from mere oral poetry to the habit of writing and reading. The durability of the written word deepened their reflection upon the possibility 377 For an elucidating analysis of this particle, cf. e.g. LeVen 2018, 226f., and Carson 1986, 118–9. 378 Interestingly, in Greek poetry, this phenomenon seems not to have survived the Archaic era. There is, for example, not even a single δηὖτε or αὖτε either in Callimachus or in the Carmina Anacreontea – although they are well-known for their numerous other patterns of repetition. The only instance of αὖτε combined with Ἔρως after the Archaic period is Bion of Smyrna, fr. 9 l. 10: ἢν δ’αὖτ’ ἐς τὸν Ἔρωτα καὶ ἐς Λυκίδαν τι μελίσδω. In the Carmina Anacreontea, there are only three instances (11.14, 13.2, 31.1f.) of Ἔρως and με in connection, of which only 31.1f. may have a distant similarity with the Archaic δηὖτε poems. Instead of δηὖτε, we find πάλιν (which is never used by Anacreon, as far as we know) in CA 25, 37, 49, 58, but only CA 58 provides an erotic context, and unlike δηὖτε, πάλιν always occurs towards the end or even in the last lines of these poems. It thus does not convey any of the immediacy of the explosive initial δηὖτε particle in archaic lyric. 379 Carson 1986, 118f.

104

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

of mingling present and past, so they started including δηὖτε as “a stark evocation of the present moment intersected by an echo from the past”.380 The article by Sarah Mace 1993 (‘Amour, Encore! The Development of δηὖτε in Archaic Lyric’) explores the evolution of the entire ‘Eros … me, again’ formula, its multiple implications, and the poets’ growing consciousness of its applicability and variability. Mace gives eight examples of opening lines, one respectively from Alcman (59a), Sappho (130), Ibycus (287), and five from Anacreon (358, 376, 400, 413, 428), where the words Ἔρως με δηὖτε381 appear in different orders to express “a renewed assault of love”.382 The striking similarities in style and structure of these poems (shortness, vivid metaphors) lead Mace to suppose that the poets followed this pattern consciously as “a distinct compositional form”, which was known among authors of several geographic regions and was thus even “in a sense the intellectual property of the poetic community at large”.383 According to her, the three successive uses of erotic δηὖτε in a prominent, but much disputed place, namely Sappho’s hymn to Aphrodite (l. 15/16/18), provide one more reason for considering the particle significant. Campbell classifies δηὖτε as “almost a catchword of Greek love poetry”, and its meaning as “in part humorous, in part pathetic”.384 Similarly, Snell observes differences in the application of erotic δηὖτε in Sappho and Anacreon, imputing to the latter a “stereotyped”, and so weaker and less authentic, use.385 Mace rejects this evaluation – rightly in my view; Anacreon’s use of δηὖτε is by no means weak. Instead Mace describes a “comic-ironic point of view” on the one hand (Anacreon) and an “inherent potential for pathos” on the other (Sappho).386 This can be briefly illustrated by a comparison of Sappho 130 with Anacreon 376 and 428: Sappho 130 Ἔρος δηὖτέ μ’ ὀ λυσιμέλης δόνει, γλυκύπικρον ἀμάχανον ὄρπετον Once again limb-loosening Love makes me tremble, the bitter-sweet, irresistible creature387

380 Carson 1986, 120. 381 Four of Mace’s eight examples diverge slightly from the exact wording (without diminst ishing the implications): a 1 person subject and ἔρως in the dative (Anac. 376) or accusative (Anac. 400), or the verb ἐρέω instead (Anac. 428), and once αὖτε instead of the compound δηὖτε (Ibyc. 287). 382 Thus Campbell 1982, 266. 383 Mace 1993, 337. 384 Campbell 1983, 9. 385 Snell 1982, 57f. 386 As she notes, this “distinction between ironic and pathetic δηὖτε slightly refines Campbell’s view.” (Mace 1993, 344 n. 33). 387 Transl. from Campbell 2002.

Love and Domination

105

Here we have the classic constitutive form ‘Eros … me, again’; the imagery is wild and contrastive (λυσιμέλης δόνει, γλυκύπικρον) and the speaker appears passive and helpless (ἀμάχανον).388 Anacreon PMG 376 ἀρθεὶς δηὖτ’ ἀπὸ Λευκάδος πέτρης ἐς πολιὸν κῦμα κολυμβῶ μεθύων ἔρωτι Once more, I leap up from the Leucadian Rock, and dive into the grey sea, drunk with love.

The classic form is slightly changed: Eros is in the dative, whereas the speaker is the subject. The famous “Sprung vom Leukadischen Felsen, den zu überleben vom Liebesleid befreit”,389 is repeated: that the narrator is jumping again gives the poem a preposterous notion.390 Anacreon PMG 428 ἐρέω τε δηὖτε κοὐκ ἐρέω καὶ μαίνομαι κοὐ μαίνομαι. Once again I am in love and not in love, I am mad and I am not mad.

Now the form is even more modified: both ‘Eros’ and ‘me’ are conflated in the verb. The accurately structured statement seems rather like “a cool and analytical appraisal”,391 or, in Bowra’s words, “[h]alf of him watches the other half, and is amused by the spectacle”.392 The three examples illustrate both the different tones of erotic δηὖτε and the possibilities of deviating from the primary form ‘Eros … me, again’. However, Anacreon’s PMG 413, a perfect example of this motif, does not lack ‘Sapphic’ pathos either: Anacreon PMG 413 μεγάλῳ δηὖτέ μ ’ Ἔρως ἔκοψεν ὥστε χαλκεύς πελέκει, χειμερίῃ δ’ ἔλουσεν ἐν χαράδρῃ. With a great axe Eros struck me once again like a blacksmith and washed me in a wintry torrent.

There is not only variation of, but also allusion to, this particular form which can be observed in archaic lyric. A very significant allusion is the triple δηὖτε in Aphrodite’s five questions to Sappho in fr. 1.15–20, already quoted above: 388 Mace 1993, 342 calls it “the darker side of this theme” and “a decidedly more serious use”. 389 Cf. Bernsdorff 2004, 36. 390 For a valuation of Anacreon’s humor and self-mockery in his δηὖτε poems, cf. Mace 1993, 349; on this particular poem, see also LeVen 2018, 231. 391 Mace 1993, 341. 392 Bowra 1961, 283.

106

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

ἤρε’ ὄττι δηὖτε πέπονθα κὤττι 15 δηὖτε κάλημμι κὤττι μοι μάλιστα θέλω γένεσθαι μαινόλαι θύμωι· τίνα δηὖτε πείθω .].σάγην ἐς σὰν φιλότατα; τίς σ’, ὦ Ψάπφ’, ἀδικήει; 20 (…) and you, blessed one, with a smile on your immortal face asked what was the matter with me this time and why I was calling this time and what in my maddened heart I most wished to happen for myself: ‘Whom am I to persuade this time to lead (?) to your love? Who wrongs you, Sappho?393

Irrespective of its implications for Aphrodite’s mood towards the speaker (impatience, irony, compassion, and in a way all-together), the triple δηὖτε in her mouth sounds like a mockery of the ‘Eros … me, again’ type, but also offers an invitation to compose exactly this type again as an answer to her questions. Horace seems to follow this invitation through in Odes 4.1.1–2. In this ode, we have already observed both the influences of Sappho 1 and, following Thomas, Ibycus 287 (which is a typical example of the compositional form, beginning with Ἔρος αὖτέ με).394 If we accept the plausibility of these influences as well as the widespread Greek tradition of poetry in the style of ‘Eros … me, again’, Horace’s Venus, … rursus? Parce (sc. mihi) might in fact be a Latin reflection of this tradition.395 More specifically, Sappho 1 looks like an inspiration not only for Horace’s idea for a reversal of the cletic hymn in general, but also for a surprising perversion of the ‘Eros … me, again’ form. In Sappho 1, δηὖτε is applied by the goddess of love to describe her victim’s state; in the classic compositional form, δηὖτε is applied by the victim to describe his love; and in Horace, rursus is applied by the victim against the goddess of love. Horace may be pictured as listening to Aphrodite’s ironic questions, yet, instead of accepting the role as passive victim and answering by a lamenting classic ‘Eros … me, again’, he plays the active rebel and throws the rursus back to the goddess, thus conflating the use of δηὖτε in Sappho 1 with an aggressive variant of the δηὖτε of the compositional form. 393 Transl. from Campbell 2002 with small alterations (without the conjecture in l. 19). 394 Thomas himself, however, does not mention the connection of αὖτε–rursus. 395 That Horace’s rursus picks up the δηὖτε of erotic lyric has already been observed on various occasions: Feeney 1998, 101 considers only the three δηὖτε of Sappho 1 and describes Horace’s technique, as a ‘reflexive annotation’ (cf. Hinds 1998, Ch. I); Barchiesi 2000, 172 calls δηὖτε “a password of lyric ideology”; Nagy 1994, 417–9 examines the three δηὖτε of Sappho 1, then lists the passages from Anacreon (a “strikingly plentiful set of examples”, 419) and compares the implications of repetition with Horace’s rursus, precor, precor, and reuocant. Bernsdorff 2020, 43 presents Sappho 1 as Horace’s “main model” and mentions Ibycus and “the Anacreontic usage of the adverb”.

Love and Domination

107

His words sound like a pouty accusation of her mockery ‘Oh poor lover, you suffer again?’ – ‘No, Venus, I stand up against the Greek pattern: it is you again, not me, it is all your fault, stay away!’. By transferring the classic compositional form into his rejoinder against Venus, Horace initiates a dialogue both with the whole ‘Eros … me, again’ tradition in general and with Sappho and her smiling Aphrodite (who, to a certain degree, is the same as his own Venus) in particular. He thus develops the motif to ascribe it with a higher level of complexity and abstraction. Erotic δηὖτε can thereby be traced from the very intimate and helpless ‘Eros … me, again’ message (whose earliest beginnings might be dated back to the preliterate past of which nothing has survived), through a more intellectual variation, allusion, and change of perspective with less emotional involvement in some of the archaic lyric examples, and finally to a refinement and total personal alienation in Horace’s rursus. Is Horace the first Latin poet to adopt the ‘Eros … me, again’ form? A search for the combination of rursus or iterum with Venus or Amor in ancient literature yields few results. Two occurrences which pre-date Horace’s Odes book 4 are, however, worth considering.396 (1) Catullus 68.79‒86 quam ieiuna pium desideret ara cruorem docta est amisso Laudamia uiro 80 coniugis ante coacta noui dimittere collum quam ueniens una atque altera rursus hiems noctibus in longis auidum saturasset amorem posset ut abrupto uiuere coniugio quod scibant Parcae non longo tempore abisse 85 si miles muros isset ad Iliacos. (2) Verg. Aen. 4.529‒536 at non infelix animi Phoenissa, neque umquam soluitur in somnos oculisue aut pectore noctem 530 accipit: ingeminant curae, rursusque resurgens saeuit amor, magnoque irarum fluctuat aestu. sic adeo insistit secumque ita corde uolutat: en quid ago? rursusne procos inrisa priores experiar, Nomadumque petam conubia supplex, 535 quos ego sim totiens iam dedignata maritos?

In his use of rursus and amorem, Catullus has the key terminology, and we have a person (Laodamia) who suffers from love in some way (in this case the loss of her beloved husband). But the following points play down a close association of 396 The other instances are either far later than Horace or do not feature a context of human love.

108

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

the passage with the specific δηὖτε motif: (1) that which returns rursus is not precisely love, but hiems, (2) love is in the accusative (this in itself is not yet a criterion for exclusion, but makes the association more difficult), and most significantly (3) love is being satisfied (saturasset). This context contradicts altogether the notion of yearning, painful desire, and the bittersweet or brutal affliction of love which is so decisive for archaic erotic δηὖτε poems. Vergil has a much more similar wording and imagery. Again, the key terms rursus and amor are present. Here, rursus is obviously connected with amor, which is in the nominative and personified as a powerful agent that clearly afflicts its victim Dido in a similar way to the δηὖτε poems (saeuit). As for rursus, it appears twice397 in the passage, a repetition which is fortified by the re- of resurgens (similar to Horace’s re- in reuocant), and, interestingly, the imagery includes metaphors of water and fire, or rather liquid and heat, at the same time: magnoque … fluctuat aestu. Admittedly, these are not surprising, but typical symptoms of unrequited love in ancient poetics. Although a direct link to Catullus’ flamma demanat and Sappho’s πῦρ ὐπαδεδρόμηκεν (31.10) and ἴδρως ψῦχρος κακχέεται (31.13) seems hard to prove, and even though the use of fluctuare in a figurative emotional sense is quite common, the presence of a slightly paradoxical liquid metaphor in the close surroundings of a rursus-amor context is indeed striking. I will return to this later. Certain Vergilian allusions in Odes 4.1 (and the connected odes 4.10 and 4.13) have been explored by McCallum (2015), especially the Cycnus myth of Aeneid 10 concerning amor and avian imagery (this will be discussed later).398 McCallum concludes that “[t]races of Vergil explored within this paper would suggest that there are others to be discovered throughout Odes 4”,399 and notes that it would be fruitful to conduct a thorough study of Horatian-Vergilian intertextuality for the last book of Odes. Perhaps the traces of the δηὖτε motif in both authors are another example of subtle intertextuality. Yet, despite all the similarities in wording, we cannot claim with certainty that Vergil’s passage aims at precisely this motif, also because Vergilian epos is generally far less suspected of imitating highly refined archaic Greek patterns than Horatian lyric. It is not Sappho alone, and perhaps not even mainly Sappho, who inspired the revival of the δηὖτε motif. Anacreon, the most prolific user of this form (at least to judge from the extant material), can hardly be overlooked in Horace’s

397 The second rursus, spoken by Dido, appears in an interestingly new setting: the problem here is the absence of amor on her part and the neglect of the amor of her suitors. She asks herself “rursusne?”, “Shall I try to awaken their love again?” In a certain way, we could say that Dido considers adopting Venus’ job to call male warriors back into the battle of love. 398 The allusions to the Cycnus myth have already been treated in Putnam 1986, 43–5. 399 McCallum 2015, 39f.

Love and Domination

109

words,400 not only because of the many examples of ‘Eros … me, again’,401 his specific irony (which is much closer to Horace’s than Sappho 130 and Ibycus 287), and his role as the potential inventor of the epithet “purple” for Aphrodite.402 In this connection, Horace’s very last words in 4.1, te per aquas, dure, uolubilis (l. 40), deserve closer attention. In his dreams, Horace follows Ligurinus, alias Eros, into these waters. They might signify more than a literal location (aquas uolubilis is commonly interpreted as the waves of the Tiber or the waters of the Euripus and Agrippa’s new baths on the Campus Martius, which is mentioned immediately before) and more than a general figurative statement about the unsteady nature of love.403 The words revive the imagery of two of the above-mentioned fragments with ‘Eros … me, again’, namely the perfectly shaped compositional form in Anacreon PMG 413: μεγάλῳ δηὖτέ μ ’ Ἔρως ἔκοψεν ὥστε χαλκεύς πελέκει, χειμερίῃ δ’ ἔλουσεν ἐν χαράδρῃ.

And the slightly altered compositional form in PMG 376: ἀρθεὶς δηὖτ’ ἀπὸ Λευκάδος πέτρης ἐς πολιὸν κῦμα κολυμβῶ μεθύων ἔρωτι

LeVen’s analysis of these lines could just as well be read as a commentary on Horace’s first and last stanza of Odes 4.1: “it is a metaphor for the recurrence of the same poetic persona, and a return to the same type of poetic production: the ‘here I go again’, I, veteran of love, jumping again into the same waters, highlights and simultaneously excuses the poet’s form of self-citation”. In a footnote, she says even more explicitly: “With this idea of a ‘once again’, we thus seem closer to the situation of the Neoteric Latin poets rather than to that of archaic oral culture: I am supposing utter consciousness about the notion of tradition, self-referentiality, and belatedness”.404 It is not only the Neoteric Latin poets, but

400 Cf. Barchiesi 2000, 173 n.19: “Thus when 4.1 sabotages its Sapphic model and delays the final onrush of love, the Anacreontic voice keeps whispering that yes, love and middle age can be reconciled in the poetics of love lyric, although Sapphic inspiration might be difficult for the aging author of book IV.” 401 Admittedly, the great imbalance in the number of examples (Alcman 1, Sappho 1, Ibycus 1, Anacreon 5) could be a coincidence due to the fragmentary tradition. 402 Cf. Anacreon PMG 357 (πορφυρῆ). 403 For both the literal and the figurative sense of aquas, cf. Thomas 2011, 102. Water in erotic contexts has strong specific implications, cf. e.g. Rosenmeyer 1992, 164 on CA 22: “River bathing is a notoriously dangerous context for erotic seduction or abduction”. In contrast with PMG 413, the speaker of CA 22 is not being bathed (ἔλουσεν) in uncomfortably cold water by Eros, but wants to be water himself in order to bathe his beloved comfortably (ὅπως σε χρῶτα λούσω, l. 10). 404 LeVen 2018, 231 with n. 43.

110

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

even more Horace who in fact possesses this “same poetic persona” and “utter consciousness”. The experiment of conflating the beginning and end of Odes 4.1 into one stanza can help to illustrate the Anacreontic frame of this poem: Intermissa, Venus, diu rursus bella moues?… Iam uolucrem sequor te per gramina Martii Campi, te per aquas, dure, uolubilis.

Looking back to the second possible Latin adaptation of δηὖτε in Vergil, we will recall that Amor in Dido is quite violent, since it fills her with floods of wrath (irarum fluctuat aestu) so that the thoughts in her heart roll like waves: secumque ita corde uolutat. Previously in book 1 of the Aeneid, Dido has been the victim of a winged Amor who impersonates not her beloved, but her beloved’s son, following Venus’ orders (1.689f. Paret Amor dictis carae genetricis, et alas | exuit, et gressu gaudens incedit Iuli). Dido’s act of falling in love is uniquely described as longumque bibebat amorem (1.749), an expression that could be inspired by Anacreon PMG 450 ἔρωτα πίνων (cf. above, PMG 376 μεθύων ἔρωτι).405 These aspects fortify the likelihood of another intertextual link in the case of rursus and amor in Aeneid 4. Horace follows (sequor, l. 38) in his dreams an impersonation of Venus (qua Amor/Eros) whom he had urgently asked to leave (abi, l. 7) and whom he believed at this point to be no longer threatening (me nec femina nec puer, l. 28). This is another way, which extends throughout the whole ode, of saying “I do not love – oh no, I do love!”, or in other words (Anacreon PMG 428): ἐρέω τε δηὖτε κοὐκ ἐρέω καὶ μαίνομαι κοὐ μαίνομαι.

According to Bernsdorff, “[w]hat he [sc. Anacreon] seems to express is the uncertainty whether he loves (and therefore is mad) or not”.406 For example, the notion of uncertainty or confusion about the persona’s own state of mind is stressed, as opposed to the idea of quick succession or an alternation between feeling and non-feeling. The formal lucidity of the parallel, in combination with its total semantic obscurity and contradictoriness, mirrors the persona’s confusion on the structural level.407 405 The connection of love and liquid – both love as liquid and love accompanied by liquid – itself counts as one of a vast field of metaphors that has been repeated and developed from the earliest Greek literature up to Augustan times. Both Anacreon and Horace also often make use of the motif of the ‘Sea of Love’. On the motif in general cf. Murgatroyd 1995. 406 Bernsdorff 2020, 749. 407 Cf. Mace 1993, 341, and especially Bernsdorff 2020, 749f.

Love and Domination

111

Now, in Odes 4.1, Horace’s state of mind seems to be confused in a very similar way. In the first two stanzas, he is obviously afflicted by love, or, in Greek, ἐρέω δηὖτε. Otherwise neither rursus bella nor the implorations parce precor, desine, abi would make sense. Through the eulogy of Paullus Maximus and his veneration in stanzas 3–7, Horace’s mind is turned away from his own feelings, and, under the impression of this digression, he believes himself to be finally freed from love in stanza 8: nec femina nec puer … nec spes … nec certare … nec uincire. This assertion includes not only a renunciation of love for girls and boys (οὐκ ἐρέω), but also one of drinking challenges and the symposiasts’ garland, a typical context for madness (οὐ μαίνομαι). But then the facade of self-restraint suddenly breaks down. Tears, a torpid tongue, and dreams of persecuting a flying and swimming boy are clear indicators of καὶ μαίνομαι. The poem where Aphrodite is “purple” for the first time, i.e. Anacreon PMG 357, does not contain an instance of δηὖτε (although its content would be extremely apt for this form), but the second prominent instance of “erotic purple”, PMG 358, is indeed another classic ‘Eros … me, again’ poem: σφαίρῃ δηὖτέ με πορφυρῇ βάλλων χρυσοκόμης Ἔρως νήνι ποικιλοσαμβάλῳ συμπαίζειν προκαλεῖται· ἡ δ’, ἔστιν γὰρ ἀπ’ εὐκτίτου 5 Λέσβου, τὴν μὲν ἐμὴν κόμην, λευκὴ γάρ, καταμέμφεται, πρὸς δ’ ἄλλην τινὰ χάσκει. Once again, throwing a purple ball at me, Eros with the golden hair challenges me to play with the girl with the colourful sandals. But she—for she comes from well-founded Lesbos—finds fault with my hair (for it is white), and she gapes instead at another (head of hair).

In this poem we come full circle by the reference to Anacreon’s purple and a first encouraged, then rejected old lover, returning to this Lesbian girl from whom Horace had dissociated himself at the beginning of Odes 4.1 (by reverting Sappho 1) and with whom he had identified at the end (by alluding to Sappho 31). On this point, I do not claim that Horace, while composing the first and the last stanza of Odes 4.1, must have had precisely these δηὖτε poems by Anacreon in mind, and these alone (who knows how many of his more fitting δηὖτε poems are lost). I do think, however, that the generic similarities with the ‘Eros … me, again’ form and Horace’s deliberate handling of it, especially through the peculiar connections with Sappho 1, point to a sophisticated play with more or less consciously interwoven intertextual allusions, a play in which Anacreon plays a highly significant role as one who combines a generally prolific use of the com-

112

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

positional form with individual instances of irony, the problem of old age, subtle or even doubtful allusions to other poets such as Sappho, and vivid metaphors of flying and water. All of these are elements of Odes 4.1. In describing the implications of δηὖτε, LeVen takes the image of a number of centrifugal ripples. The poem’s historical or invented event stands in the circle’s centre (the stone that plunges into the water), then the speaker’s repeated experience of this event corresponds to the first ripple, then its expression in a poem is the second ripple, then its performance and re-performance, and so on.408 She applies this image to “lyric historiography”, observing that even our oldest evidence of δηὖτε by Alcman “is ‘already’ a repetition, and it peers back into (and creates) something more remote, which we cannot have access to”.409 Later, she highlights Anacreon’s δηὖτε poems as “a new poetic event, an echo in dialogue with predecessors (…), all working with the same poetic parameters”.410 To this I would add that Horace’s rursus is a further ripple, chronologically far away from the others and in the currents of a different language, but having the effect that the δηὖτε of archaic lyric does not only “peer back” (in LeVen’s words) into a preliterate past,411 but also forward into a Latin present, thus creating a bridge through the history of lyric literature. Late in his own life, Horace plays with the motif of ‘love again’ and lets this archaic Eros breathe again through the beginning of the last book of his lyric oeuvre. Or, to use his own words (Odes 4.9.9f.): Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon, deleuit aetas: spirat adhuc amor.

2.3 Satire and Seniority After wine and love, the two most prominent features of Horace’s and Anacreon’s lyric poetry, I will now break the Anacreontic stereotype and turn to a less well explored area. In this chapter on satire, I am not concerned with the genre of satura, but the satirical and invective elements within Anacreon’s and Horace’s lyric (and iambic) poetry and their intertextual relationship.412

408 Cf. LeVen 2018, 228. 409 LeVen 2018, 228. 410 LeVen 2018, 230. 411 That is, into the first human experiences before their first written verbalisation, which is itself already the first repetition in mind (δηὖτε) of the eros experience. 412 For the dense relations and entanglements between Horatian satire and iambus, and how the Odes emerged from these earlier genres cf. e.g. Büchner 1983, 78–85 and later 105ff.

Satire and Seniority

113

2.3.1 Anacreon’s influence as an iambic poet “No modern critic wants to acknowledge Anacreon’s obscene or abusive fragments, preferring to consider them exceptions within the corpus”.413 This is Rosenmeyer’s diagnosis in The Poetics of Imitation (1992). Already in antiquity, the poetic reception of Anacreon after his death tended to concentrate on the symposiastic and erotic poems, so his more nasty verses were gradually marginalised; this process is vividly described in Rosenmeyer’s 1992 monograph414 and its result is especially palpable in the collection of the Carmina Anacreontea, where few invective poems are to be found. However, Anacreon’s invective was never completely overlooked;415 in fact it could hardly be ignored by ancient scholars who had access to much more of Anacreon’s oeuvre than we do today, because the invective was apparently quite integrated into the lyric genre, partly sharing the same metres and the same addressees,416 and was often based on the same topics: erotic love and the difficulties of aging and diminished sex appeal. Recent research has highlighted how these sparks of satire are a quite prevalent, but underestimated, part of Anacreon’s lyric oeuvre. Christopher Brown’s article “From Rags to Riches” (1983) on Anacreon’s Artemon poem (PMG 388) and other satiric fragments is seminal in this regard, to be followed in 1984 by his illuminative analysis of PMG 432 (‘Ruined by Lust’). More recent valuable contributions include Bernsdorff’s 2011 re-examination of P.Oxy. 3722, in which he identifies satiric patterns in Anacreon,417 and his subsequent study in 2016 on the swineherd Eubuleus in Anacreon, his mother Baubo, their entanglement

413 Rosenmeyer 1992, 21. This prejudice goes to such lengths that actual divergent details are simply invalidated. A much-quoted example is Fränkel 1960, 60 n.4: “Wenn der liebth enswürdige Mann einmal grob werden will, so mißlingt es”. Contrast with this the late 19 cent. view of Campe 1872, 681: “Für uns, die wir nach den originalen fragen, ist es hinreichend auf die scharfe und schneidende bitterböse schmähpoesie des Anacreon hinzuweisen”. But surprisingly, he does not allow for Horace’s awareness of this side of Anacreon (p. 681): “dem Anacreon hätte er keine iamben zugeschrieben”. 414 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 12–49 (chapter 1: “Origins: the role of Anacreon as model”), especially p. 20–21, where she also gives a list of satiric fragments (p. 21 n.3): PMG 388, 389, 399, 402a, 407, 416, 424, 427, 432, 437, 439, 458. 415 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 32: “The quotation of PMG 372 (ὁ περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων) in Ach. 850 shows that the satirical ‘iambographic side’ of Anacreon was perceived.” He specifies in n.159: “In the sense of conscious intertextuality, not in the sense of a development of comedy out of old iambus”. 416 Cf. e.g. Bernsdorff 2020, 14: “The verses addressed to Smerdies in PMG 366, probably an invective with obscene vocabulary, show that Anacreon could make one and the same person the object of love poetry and of invective, even in his lyric poetry”. 417 Cf. Bernsdorff 2011: the papyrus most probably provides a new verse by Anacreon which mentions the swineherd Eubuleus.

114

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

with the cult of Demeter, and Anacreon’s possible invective in this context (cf. his use of the verb ἀνασύρειν, attested in PMG 350).418 Thanks to this growing appreciation of Anacreon’s invective lyric, its possible influence on Horace has received slightly more attention. Already in 1985, Campbell tentatively wrote that Horace might not only have used Archilochus as an exemplar for his satiric Epodes, but that also “the parallels with Anacreon may be significant”.419 In this respect, Bernsdorff’s 2014 evaluation of a biographical anecdote on Anacreon, transmitted by Maximus of Tyre, is of considerable interest.420 The anecdote might stem from a lost Attic comedy, is akin to the Stesichorean palinode motif and seems to be a poetological explanation of Anacreon’s shift from iambic to lyric production. According to Bernsdorff, it might well have influenced Horace’s account of his own shift from the Epodes to the Odes, as it is adumbrated with reference to Stesichorus in Epodes 17, but even more so in Epodes 14 already, as I will argue later. In the following, I will take Campbell’s cautious claim as a starting point and collect the evidence for a potential relationship between Anacreon’s satiric side and Horace’s invective poetry.421 Horace’s Epodes are widely thought to be oriented mainly towards the famous iambographer Archilochus and, to a lesser degree, Hipponax. Horace himself testifies to this prevalence on two occasions, holding both predecessors in equal renown in Epodes 6.11–14: caue, caue, namque in malos asperrimus 11 parata tollo cornua, qualis Lycambae spretus infido gener aut acer hostis Bupalo. Take care now, take care! For I am utterly ruthless against villains, and now toss my horns in readiness, like the son-in-law rejected by the treacherous Lycambes, or the fierce enemy of Bupalus.422

418 Cf. Bernsdorff 2016: ‘Anacreon and Athens’. 419 Campbell 1985, 38. 420 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a: ‘Anacreon’s palinode’. 421 I should mention here the same development in Sapphic scholarship: the article ‘Sappho’s Iambics’ by Rosenmeyer 2006 constitutes a starting point for deeper consideration of invective in Sappho’s oeuvre too, as well as more recently Martin 2016 ‘Sappho, Iambist’. Discussion of the issue turns on the role of genre boundaries and the meanings of the term iambos, as problematised in Rotstein 2010. The degree of Sapphic influence on Horace’s invective poetry would be a field for further study. 422 Transl. taken from Rudd 2004 (LCL).

Satire and Seniority

115

In the famous passage of Epistles 1.19, where Horace reflects on his great achievements in Latin poetry, Archilochus in particular is mentioned (l. 21–25): Libera per uacuum posui uestigia princeps, non aliena meo pressi pede. Qui sibi fidet, dux reget examen. Parios ego primus iambos ostendi Latio, numeros animosque secutus Archilochi, non res et agentia uerba Lycamben 25 I was the first to plant free footsteps on a virgin soil; I walked not where others trod. Who trusts himself will lead and rule the swarm. I was the first to show to Latium the iambics of Paros, following the rhythms and spirit of Archilochus, not the themes or the words that hounded Lycambes.423

Such a clear and detailed statement of both the formal (numeros) and the ‘spiritual’ or atmospheric (animosque) emulation of one particular predecessor is quite extraordinary to find in Horace. Only the following lines, which first name both Sappho and Alcaeus and then focus on the latter, are comparable in their explicitness (l. 32f.): Hunc ego, non alio dictum prius ore, Latinus | uolgaui fidicen. Within 11 lines, Horace emphatically underscores his primacy three times (princeps; ego primus; non alio … prius) and connects it with the figures of Archilochus and Alcaeus. It is in light of this that Stephen Harrison has described Archilochus “the prime Greek archaic model for the iambic Epodes” and concluded: “This selection of a single appropriate generic model from a range of possibilities is very like the role of Alcaeus in the first collection of the Odes, as agreed by most scholars since Fraenkel”.424 Yet, despite this explicit pride of place given to Alcaeus in Odes 1–3, we have noted the significant underlying influence of Anacreon on these books in the chapters on wine and love as well. So, whilst Horace followed the numeros animosque of Archilochus and Alcaeus (the numeri would be iambus and Alcaic stanza), he also follows the wine-andlove animos of Anacreon in the Odes, and, I would argue, also the more satiric

423 Transl. taken from Fairclough 2005 (LCL). 424 Harrison 2001, 166, with references to Fraenkel 1957, 154–78 and Feeney 1993, 46– 51. For Archilochus’ prevalence in the Epodes cf. also Barchiesi 2001: ‘Horace and iambos: the poet as literary historian’. However, this Archilochean prevalence is far from exclusive. Barchiesi names Archilochus, Callimachus, and Catullus as “crucial literary predecessors” for Horace’s iambic poetry (p. 141). As to Callimachus, it has even been argued that Horace’s odd number of epodes (odd also in the literal sense), namely 17, could be inspired by Callimachus’ supposedly 17 iambic poems, if the doubtful attribution of frr. 226–29 Pf. to the preceding 13 iambi is correct. But Callimachus seems to have influenced the Satires far more than the Epodes (cf. Acosta-Hughes 2002, 9f.).

116

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

animos of the same Anacreon in both Odes and Epodes alongside Archilochus, as Campbell already suggested.425 As said above, in the case of Anacreon, we observe a blurring of generic boundaries. The dividing line between lyric and invective is unclear; satiric content is often included in lyric metres. Horace produces the opposite blurring effect in his Epodes: he has lyric themes in iambic metre, especially in the erotic Epodes 11, 14, and 15.426 Interestingly, the primary inspiration for this generic blend in its most dense appearance in Epodes 14 is precisely Anacreon. The liminal position of this poem between iambus and lyric has been subject to extensive scholarly discussion.427 Watson describes the generic crossing in his Epodes commentary as follows: “Certainly the exaggerated seriousness with which he treats his love-induced predicament, and, even more, the pose of emotional subjection to the loved one (15–16) markedly anticipate the Horace of the amatory Odes.”428 In an earlier article, Watson affirms the significance of Anacreon as a role model: “In this connexion the choice of Anacreon to illustrate Horace’s generic reorientation may not be entirely fortuitous. Although known primarily as a poet of love, Anacreon was also (…) quite a prolific writer of iambics”.429

2.3.2 Epodes 14 and Anacreon’s Palinode The mention of Anacreon in Epodes 14 has yet more implications. It is, for sure, his generic reorientation on the whole, his overall shift from iambic to lyric poetry, that Horace conducts with reference to his Teian predecessor. But Anacreon might serve as a role model in an even more concrete sense, namely in connection with a specific situation to which Horace alludes in the poem. This idea arises from the above-mentioned anecdote about Anacreon’s ‘palinode’, transmitted by Maximus of Tyre and thoroughly analysed and connected to Epodes 17 by Bernsdorff 2014. st In his 21 oratio, Maximus of Tyre gives a brief summary of what seems to be the archetype of all palinodes, Stesichorus’ famous poem (or poems) which 425 Cf. above. Campbell concludes his article with the statement: “The satirical element in Anacreon may not have been extensive, since he is so commonly referred to as the poet of love and wine; but he did write satiric poetry, and it may well have influenced the young Horace of the Epodes”. 426 For a thorough analysis of these Epodes cf. the monograph “Die erotischen Epoden des Horaz“ by Grassmann 1966. 427 Cf. Watson 2003, 440, n.16, with further bibliography. Christes 1990, 350 puts it in a nutshell: “Man kann den Ton dieses Gedichtes sicherlich nicht als jambisch-aggressiv, wohl kaum aber auch als vorherrschend lyrisch charakterisieren. Bestimmend ist vielmehr ein ironisches Verwirrspiel mit den Ebenen von Schein und Sein”. 428 Watson 2003, 440. 429 Watson 2001, 196.

Satire and Seniority

117

recants the earlier insults made against Helen. He then voices the concern that he himself might need such a palinode to reconcile the mighty god Eros. In what follows, Maximus recounts a story of how Anacreon of Teos once bumped into a wet nurse with a baby and, drunk as he was, insulted the baby. Instead of getting angry, the wet nurse simply prayed to a god (doubtlessly to be identified as Eros, the same deity to whom Maximus owes his palinode) that Anacreon should later praise the child much more than he had now offended it; in other words, he should recant his earlier insult. The baby was Cleobulus. Bernsdorff’s 2014 investigation of Maximus’ anecdote led to some interesting results. To begin with, it is highly probable that Anacreon’s insult against the baby Cleobulus should not be considered as a merely spontaneous outburst, but as properly versified iambi. This is plausible in itself, because already before and at the moment of collision with the wet nurse, Maximus apparently portrays Anacreon as singing (if we accept Davies’ conjecture ᾄδων for the manuscript reading ἄκων).430 Moreover, the end of the anecdote leaves little doubt that ‘Anacreon’s praise’ refers to his numerous lyric verses which were dedicated to Cleobulus.431 The scene thus has a poetological and aetiological dimension that goes beyond explaining the cause for Anacreon’s lyric production, but extends to his earlier invective as well. His words against Cleobulus are called a βλάσφημον ἔπος – a usual term in descriptions of iambic and comic verse, which also appears in the context of one of Anacreon’s scathing fragments against yet another beautiful boy (PMG 366).432 Maximus uses the anecdote as a further example of a kind of palinode, and a palin-ode needs some ode in the first place. The poetological dimension becomes more evident through comparison with another aetiological anecdote on Hipponax and the woman Iambe, whose spontaneous complaint by chance turns into an iambic verse.433 Bernsdorff therefore concludes that “the insulting of the baby reflects Anacreon’s iambi directed even against boys who are elsewhere praised by him”.434 The whole anecdote “can scarcely have been invented by Maximus himself”,435 nor can it plausibly stem from a lost poem by Anacreon. A poem in which the narrator praises Cleobulus and at the same time reports Eros’ curse which urges him to do so because of former insults is also hardly conceivable.436 430 Even if we reject the conjecture, it is virtually impossible to figure a drunken comast Anacreon who is not already a poet. Bernsdorff 2014a, 17 convincingly argues against the conception of an initial Musenweihe in this scene. 431 Cf. Max. Tyr. or. 21.2: ἀντὶ μικρᾶς ἀρᾶς ἔδωκεν ὁ Ἀνακρέων Κλεοβούλῳ δίκην δι’ ἐπαίνων πολλῶν. 432 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 18, and 19 for further analysis of the vocabulary. 433 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 15–7. 434 Bernsdorff 2014a, 22. 435 Bernsdorff 2014a, 22. 436 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 22.

118

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Not least, the praise, if enforced, would be reduced to absurdity. I would add the argument that, if Maximus had taken the story directly from Anacreon, he would probably not have introduced it by the words φασὶ καὶ τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα ἐκεῖνον. The wording rather points to a secondary tradition. Following Fowler,437 Bernsdorff argues that the setting could well originate from Hellenistic poetry, or, yet more plausibly, a lost Attic comedy. There is convincing evidence for this hypothesis: first, the involved persons (wet nurse, baby, poet) are typical comedy characters; second, the scene itself (a drunk poet bumping into a wet nurse) fits a comedy very well – a similar scene can be found in the Thesmophoriazusae.438 Third, Anacreon’s stay at Athens and the existence of comedies from several periods and featuring Aeschylus, Euripides and Sophocles, as well as several (not preserved) plays with Sappho – some even bear the title ‘Sappho’439 and include the appearance of Archilochus and Hipponax – make it very plausible that some comic play might have starred or at least included Anacreon as well. This idea has recently won further support from P.Oxy. 5410, which might contain a fragment from Middle Comedy starring Anacreon. If this assumption based on the arguments in Bernsdorff’s 2019 edition and Hutchinson’s 2020 note ‘Anacreon on Stage?’ is correct, we would have the first evidence for Anacreon in comedy. As Hutchinson writes, “Anacreon, like various other poets, would become a character in Attic Comedy; he is particularly apt to it, as his Athenian reception and his Athenian connections suggest”.440 Further, in P.Oxy. 5410, we find the name Smerdies and probably the location ‘on Samos’ (fr. 1 l. 4 and 5), so this potential comedy scene is also likely to include one of Anacreon’s most famous boy loves. Allusions to Anacreon’s oeuvre are pervasive throughout Old and New Comedy as well.441 With these results, we can now move on to consider a possible influence of this anecdote on Horace. Bernsdorff analyses the similarities with Epodes 17, the last epode of the collection which marks the transition to Horace’s lyric production. It is commonly considered a renunciation of the genre of iambus.442 The epode consists of a plea to the sorceress Canidia to stop her mighty magic, 437 Cf. Fowler 1990, 2. 438 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 23. 439 For an overview of dramas with Sappho cf. Yatromanolakis 2007, 298 n.57 and the list in Bernsdorff 2019, 22. 440 Cf. Hutchinson 2020, 5. He adds: “Here the genre would be joining itself with another genre in heady mixture. One could conceivably see the generic confusion as continuing into the future: so Propertius seeks in vain to forget his Cynthia at a party with two women (4.8.27–36, 47–8, 57–8), one of them the Anacreontic Teia”. 441 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 31–3 for Anacreon’s reception in tragedy and especially the comedy of the classical period. 442 For the pervasive perception of the epode as a palinode and a gesture of renunciation cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 19 with reference to Cairns 1978, 549 and Heyworth 1993, 91. The last word of the poem – and the whole book – is, not coincidentally, exitus (cf. Watson 2003, 584).

Satire and Seniority

119

followed by Canidia’s rude answer.443 The plea explicitly alludes to the form of a palinode with reference to Stesichorus and Helen. Whilst every palinode by definition includes the rejection of former bad statements and their substitution with good ones,444 the specific point of contact between Anacreon’s and Horace’s palinodes is clearly their poetological dimension, a feature that is, as far as we know, absent from Stesichorus’ prototype and other representatives of the tradition. In both Anacreon and Horace, the orchestration of a palinode provides the catalyst for the generic transition from iambic to lyric poetry. But apart from that, I see rather differences than similarities. In discussing Canidia’s sorcery in Epodes 17 and the paradox that Horace is “cursed by one of his own creations”,445 Bernsdorff notes that this is not the case with the wet nurse, but “in the anecdote we find at least a similar reversal of curse and being cursed”.446 This is, however, the essence of palinode anyway: a poet curses someone whose revenge contains another curse that leads to the poet’s recantation of his first curse. We therefore cannot identify any specific similarity on this basis. In contrast, the divergences between the stories are too significant to be simply overlooked. In Epodes 17, the poet Horace is described as once insulting his victim Canidia who took revenge by a spell; her wrath is enormous like Helen’s. Similarly, the poet Anacreon once insulted his ‘primary’ victim Cleobulus who did not understand anything, and the ‘secondary’ victim Eros, standing in for the baby Cleobulus, inflicted a punishment on him only on request by an almost uninvolved woman without anger. The wet nurse remains expressly and astonishingly calm (οὐδὲν ἐχαλέπηνεν), and her words are more prayer than curse. There is no god of love in Epodes 17, but Helen and her palinode are mentioned. In the Anacreon anecdote, there is no reference to Stesichorus or Helen,447 but the god of love is a driving force. 443 Due to Canidia’s prominent position at the end of both the books of Satires and Epodes, Oliensis 1991, 110 views her as “a structural counterpart to Maecenas”. In her polyvalent figure, Oliensis identifies several implications of her name: canities, canis, canere. Canidia therefore “embodies an indecorous poetics against which Horace tries to define his own practice” (Oliensis 1991, 110), and she unites in herself characteristics that remind us of the Dog Star Canicula. 444 For a list of core features of the palinode cf. Cairns 1978: ‘The genre palinode and three Horatian examples’. 445 Heyworth 1993, 92. 446 Bernsdorff 2014a, 19 n.33. 447 The connection is only made by Maximus of Tyre who juxtaposes the anecdote with Stesichorus as a further example of a recantation. Within the anecdote itself, there is no trace of the famous Helen palinode and no hint that the story’s putative source, a comedy, should have included any reference to Stesichorus. Of course, as soon as we consider that both Horace and Maximus might be depending on the same source, the appearance of Stesichorus and Helen in the wider context of Maximus’ narration, together with Horace’s clear mention in Epodes 17, would support the assumption that their common source also contained an allu-

120

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Horace’s conscious but dishonest palinode has a clear-cut objective (to be freed from Canidia’s punishment like Stesichorus from the inflicted blindness), and the recantation is a complete lie.448 In Anacreon’s case, Eros’ ‘punishment’ itself consists in numerous unconscious but very honest ‘palinodes’ by a poet in love who does not even seem to know that he is recanting an insult at all. These differences suggest that this might not be the first and closest adaptation of the poetological anecdote about Anacreon. In fact, we find a more similar setting in Epodes 14. In his discussion of Anacreon’s palinode, Bernsdorff briefly mentions this epode and points to its allusion to Helen (l. 13f.: ureris ipse miser: quod si non pulchrior ignis | accendit obsessam Ilion), which might also evoke the Stesichorean palinode, even though there no curse by any poet is mentioned.449 As I said above, Stesichorus and Helen are precisely those parts of Maximus’ oratio that are only connected to the anecdote by his juxtaposition, but that are not implied in the scene itself. Conversely, the comparison of Epodes 14 with the mere anecdote has a much more suggestive setting that strengthens the plausibility of a relation between them. First of all, we saw earlier that Horace’s choice of Anacreon and his example of his love for Bathyllus should be understood poetologically as an announcement of his shift to lyric poetry, and that this epode itself is already rather lyric than iambic poetry. Furthermore, the whole situation is extremely similar to Maximus’ anecdote. The key features of this anecdote, namely the description of Anacreon and its status as an example of Maximus’ own struggle with Eros, are split up between Horace himself and his example Anacreon in the epode. In sion to Stesichorus. However, as long as the shared dependence of Horace and Maximus is not proven, I consider any such reference to the palinode of palinodes in itself not remarkable enough to draw further conclusions. 448 Not only the promised sacrifice of centum iuuencos for Canidia (“a blatant piece of comic hyperbole”, Watson 2003, 561) and the mendaci lyra in l. 39 betray the acrimonious irony. Cf. Watson 2003, 562: “Mendaci lyra is to be taken by Canidia to mean, Stesichorus-fashion, ‘I lied when I insulted you’, but the meaning which will occur to the reader is that Horace’s recantation will be a lie”. Even more obviously forged, not to say pure sarcasm, is the negation in l. 46–48: o nec paternis obsoleta sordibus | neque in sepulcris pauperum prudens anus | nouendialis dissipare pulueres. By denying with a mendax lyra, Horace affirms his insult all the more harshly; no wonder that Canidia is raging. Cf. also Cairns 1978, 549: “[T]he passage is loaded with sordid details which insinuate about her everything Horace is denying”. Finally, if understood poetologically, mendaci lyra additionally conveys the message: this is false ‘lyric’ poetry, how could an epode ever be a true palinode? It is, in contrast, an anti-palinode. 449 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 21. That the comparison with Helen only concerns Maecenas’ beloved in the first place should not obscure its secondary connection to Horace’s Phryne; the libertina is directly contrasted with Maecenas’s love (cf. also Watson 2003, 454 on the contrast: “the antithesis tua: me gains in force from its coincidence with the sense-break and main caesura”) and thus compared indirectly with the pulchrior ignis as well. I will discuss this passage again below.

Satire and Seniority

121

other words, what is jointly applied to the secundum comparationis in Maximus is divided between a primum and secundum comparationis in Horace. Horace’s deus inflicts his power on the poet himself (who is part of the primum comparationis), whilst Maximus’ θεός interacts with Anacreon (who is part of the secundum comparationis). The common ground in both passages is naturally the tertium comparationis, which is represented by an anonymous god who can easily be identified with Eros through the involved boy, a famous beloved (Cleobulus in the anecdote, Bathyllus in the epode). In both cases, the god urges the poet to give up the genre of iambus and to embrace love lyric. The powerful statement of fulfilment in τελεῖ ταῦτα ὁ θεός corresponds to Horace’s deus, deus nam me uetat. In both cases, there is also no wrath on the part of a victim and no obvious reference to Stesichorus’ Helen. The palinode motif is not clearly broached; in contrast, both scenes evoke the impression that the poets are little more than semi-conscious about what is going on at the moment. We see, on the one hand, Anacreon’s drunkenness from wine that loosens his tongue, and his ignorance that he is cursing a future beloved, and, on the other hand, Horace’s helplessness and cluelessness in the phrases deus nam me uetat and (especially) pocula lethaeos ut si ducentia somnos … traxerim. The reason for Horace’s semi-consciousness is that he is, in a figurative sense, ‘drunk’ like Anacreon, and with the same effects: helpless honesty and the compulsion to express his inner emotions, as well as an inability to compose a proper sophisticated palinode. Moreover, the introductory words of Maximus and Horace are quite similar. Both refer to an event comparable to their own current situation by drawing a comparison followed by a third-person form of ‘to say’, which leaves the precise source of the story uncertain (Τοιαύτην φασί – Non aliter dicunt). Both then construe an accusativus cum infinitivo with Anacreon and his epithet of origin (καὶ τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα ἐκεῖνον τὸν Τήϊον – Anacreonta Teium). The description of what Anacreon was doing differs slightly in each context: it is rather abstract in Maximus (δοῦναι δίκην τῷ ἔρωτι) and precise in Horace (Samio arsisse ­Bathyllo), but in a sense, even though here it does not seem to be a paid penalty for earlier abuse, Anacreon’s arsisse seems to denote the same kind of suffering from unfulfilled love that hides behind Maximus’ δοῦναι δίκην and the likewise unfulfilled love for Cleobulus.450 Moreover, in both cases the quantity of 450 Cf. l. 11 caua testudine fleuit amorem: this lends to the earlier arsisse Bathyllo, which in itself yields no notion of poetic production, a poetological connotation as well; we may now understand it as scribere Bathyllo uersus ardentes. Exactly the same effect is implied in Maximus’ δοῦναι δίκην for Cleobulus. The identification of a beloved boy with the god of love himself is also a common feature. In Anacreon’s case, see Bernsdorff 2020, 453 on PMG 357: “Cleobulus (…) is called An.’s Eros because he is the person whom An. loves” and “the poem provides another example of the identification of Eros, the god of love, and the beloved boy, a technique well known from Hellenistic epigrams (…), but to be found already in Ibyc. PMG 287”; Bernsdorff 2020, 547

122

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Anacreon’s love poetry for one beloved boy is highlighted (δι’ ἐπαίνων πολλῶν; persaepe caua testudine). Whilst these similarities are partly accidental and due to the generalities of language use (such as the introduction of a story by ‘they say’, or the Teian epithet for Anacreon) and as such do not allow us to conclude a direct dependence of Maximus’ wording upon Horace’s, they do illustrate the strong similarity of both passages, and hint at a common source.451 In discussing the implications of dicunt, Watson concludes that “the verb, like φασί, ferunt and perhibent, is merely the poet’s way of saying that he is basing himself on a tradition”.452 Based on the discussed similarities of the two appearances of Anacreon, Maximus’ φασί and Horace’s dicunt might well refer to one and the same tradition on Anacreon that is now lost – and possibly, as Bernsdorff argues and P. Oxy. 5410 reinforces, an Attic comedy.453 If we assume that a common source joins the two stories in Horace and Maximus, the mention of Stesichorus and Helen in both contexts may point to their appearance and a problematisation of the palinode motif in this common source as well.454 In addition, the differences in the reception by Maximus and Horace now yield interesting insights. What slightly obfuscates the similarities is the above-mentioned fact that Horace apportions the elements of the anecdote between himself and Anacreon, i.e. as the primum and secundum comparationis, whilst Maximus concentrates them all on the secundum. The reason for this is plain: as a lyric poet, Horace identifies to a much higher degree with Anacreon than Maximus the rhetorician and therefore adopts features of his role model much more readily. on PMG 378; Bernsdorff 2020, 554 on PMG 379, which is transmitted as a quote in Luc. Herc. 8 who introduces it with ὁ Ἔρως ὁ σός, ὦ Τήϊε ποιητά. Williamson 1998, 73 offers an elucidating explanation for the deep sense of the identification ‘beloved = Eros’: “Only through abstraction and personification, in the figure of Eros, can the violence of passion be represented: no mere human could be permitted such a shattering impact on the aristocratic self”. Here we may even consider τῷ ἔρωτι (whose vicarious recipient of the poetry is Cleobulus) and Bathyllo as being in parallel. 451 They do so yet more than Epodes 17 does, and they thus fortify Bernsdorff’s conclusion: “An earlier version of the anecdote may have influenced Horace (…), who writes of his transformation from an iambographer into a lyricist by drawing on a palinode motif” (Bernsdorff 2014a, 24). 452 Watson 2003, 449. 453 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 24 on the anecdote: “From there [sc. the comedy] it might have been passed down to Horace and Maximus”. On the reception of metatexts about archaic poets alongside reception of their own works in general, Hutchinson 2007, 36 mentions “commentaries, lives, treatises” and supposes that “[s]uch works would hardly be ignored, as Horace’s evidence confirms, by someone planning to conquer a Greek genre”. This is also true, I argue, for potential comedies featuring those poets. 454 Cf. also the discovery by Bernsdorff 2014a, 24 n.51 that the same scholar Chamaeleon, to whom we owe some decisive knowledge about the Stesichorean palinode (especially of two more verses), also seems to have written about Anacreon’s love for Cleobulus.

Satire and Seniority

123

The most decisive difference is the object of love, who is Cleobulus in Maximus’ version, and Bathyllus in Horace’s. Both boys are among the most famous in the biographical tradition on Anacreon,455 but if Cleobulus was the one in the source text,456 we need to explain the reason for the Horatian variant Bathyllus. It has been suggested by many scholars that the love for which Maecenas burns in Epodes 14 (l. 13: ureris ipse miser) is the namesake of Anacreon’s boy, the pantomimic actor Bathyllus who is mentioned as Maecenas’ great love in Tac. Ann. 1.54.2: indulserat ei ludicro Augustus, dum Maecenati obtemperat effuso in amorem Bathylli.457 The beauty of the beloved is very favourably compared to that of Helen (l. 13f.: quod si non pulchrior ignis | accendit obsessam Ilion).458 So the pantomime Bathyllus, if it is him, is juxtaposed with Helen – just like Cleobulus in Maximus’ an 455 Cf. the often-quoted summary by Max. Tyr. 18.9 on Anacreon: καὶ γὰρ πάντων ἐρᾷ τῶν καλῶν καὶ ἐπαινεῖ πάντας· μεστὰ δὲ αὐτοῦ τὰ ᾄσματα τῆς Σμέρδιος κόμης καὶ τῶν Κλεοβούλου ὀφθαλμῶν καὶ τῆς Βαθύλλου ὥρας. Here, as ἐπαινεῖ πάντας indicates, Cleobulus and Bathyllus are represented as absolutely equal beloveds in Anacreon’s poetry. It is thus conceivable that the poetological scene with the intervening Eros might be transferred to the equally much-lauded Bathyllus. 456 This is the most plausible assumption, because Maximus just re-narrates the scene in prose and says explicitly τὸ γὰρ παιδίον ἐκεῖνο δὴ αὐξηθὲν γίγνεται Κλεόβουλος ὁ ὡραιότατος (note that this is the adjective whose respective noun, ὥρα, is attached to Bathyllus in 18.9); it is difficult to imagine any potential further reason for Maximus to change the name. Horace, in contrast, is far less explicit and may have several reasons to alter the name within a highly allusive and sophisticated epode. 457 Cf. Grassmann 1966, 132: ”Entscheidend ist dabei, daß die Liebe des Maecenas zu Bathyllos bei Tac. ann. 1,54,2 (…) als ebenso maßlos wie diejenige des Horaz und Anakreon geschildert wird. Dem aufmerksamen Hörer konnten solche Bezüge nicht verborgen bleiben”, and esp. Watson 2003, 449 with further literature and a plausible explanation for the time span between the publication of the Epodes (around 30 BC) and the year to which Tacitus’ ­remark applies (later than 23 BC). The Greek origin of pantomimic performances can be th traced back to the 4 cent. BC. In the theatres of Augustan Rome, the emerging genre replaced the classical staging of drama step by step; already by the time of Horace’s iambic production, the Italian version of the pantomime (a solo actor performing all roles in dance without speaking, but accompanied by a singing chorus and instruments) was developed and shaped significantly by its two most famous representatives Bathyllus and Pylades. It was about to become the prevalent kind of theatre performance in general. The actors’ popularity was probably as huge as that of, say, today’s Hollywood stars (cf. Jory 2002, 238–41 and Benz 2002 s.v. pantomime: “Bathyllus, the real father of Imperial pantomime (…), developed the comic pantomime as an art form in itself”). 458 Cf. Watson 2003, 452: “The grandiose periphrasis for Maecenas’ beloved throws into relief the unsatisfactoriness of Horace’s. The point of the particle was grasped by Porphyrio, ‘si non fuit Helena speciosior, iucunda haec miseria est’”. On the comparison of a male beloved with the female Helen cf. Watson 2003, 453: “A reference to Paris would accord better with the possibility that Maecenas’ beloved is a male (n. on Bathyllo), but the argument from symmetry is not a particularly cogent one in the sexually undiscriminating world of early Horace, where male and female achieve virtual equivalence as objects of desire”. I would add two arguments to this: first, Bathyllus is a pantomime, so it pertains to his very job to play roles, including

124

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

ecdote. With some imagination we could even envision Maecenas’ beloved Bathyllus on stage, miming Cleobulus in the comical scene with Anacreon bumping into the wet nurse. Even if this may seem all too speculative, the substitution of Anacreon’s Cleobulus with his rival Bathyllus marks a possible variation of a well-known anecdote, and Horace’s motivation behind it might be the great effect that the name Bathyllus has on Maecenas, and the new possibilities of comparisons that this opens up. Although one of the core elements of the anecdote, Anacreon’s iambic invective against Cleobulus, is lost in the substitution with Bathyllus who was not a victim of iambi, the scathing element that also belongs to a palinode is not altogether missing in the epode. The whole poem speaks of the impressive power of Eros, and in the words non pulchrior ignis | accendit obsessam Ilion (l. 13f.), which, as we saw, in this context might be a remote reminiscence of Stesichorus’ Helen, Horace casually and almost accidentally blames Helen for the burning and destruction of Troy.459 This seems a rather unconscious repetition of Stesichorus’ error,460 as unconscious as was the drunk Anacreon’s insult to Cleobulus. The comparison of Horace’s situation with Anacreon’s (non aliter) suggests a favourable parallel between Anacreon’s love and Horace’s, but at the end the person behind Horace’s tormenting love, Phryne, is disappointingly called a libertina nec uno contenta (l. 15f.). Being ‘not satisfied with one man’ is an inglorious character trait that she shares with Helen. The name Phryne (meaning ‘toad’) is not only a very common nickname for courtesans,461 but is also the th name of a particularly famous and beautiful 4 cent. BC Greek hetaira, who was a beloved of the sculptor Praxiteles.462 After the name-dropping and allusions female ones; second, even within the same epode, Horace compares his own love for the girl Phryne with Anacreon’s for the boy Bathyllus. 459 Cf. Mankin 1995, 232: “The comparison appears meant as a compliment to Maecenas, yet it is a peculiar one. The ‘flame’, however lovely, did destroy Troy, Rome’s ‘mother city’”. 460 In his palinode, Stesichorus then even recants Helen’s presence in Troy at all (οὐδʼ ἵκεο πέργαμα Τροίας). 461 Cf. Watson 2003, 454: “a typical courtesan’s name (…), there may be a jesting comparison with the non pulchrior ignis of Maecenas”. Gruner 1920, 33 (‘De carminum Horatianorum personis quaestiones selectae’) goes to such lengths that he says “nomen Phrynae, quasi nomen generale esset, totum meretricum genus denotare posse”. The re-use of the same nicknames often results in confusion; McClure 2003, 63 speaks, for instance, of “the confusion surrounding Phryne Saperdion (Little Fish) and Phryne Clausigelos (Teary Laughter)” in Athenaeus. On the significance and illustriousness of courtesans’ names in general see McClure 2003, 59–78. 462 Cf. DNP s.v. Phryne. Grassmann 1966, 141 discusses several interpretations of the name by earlier scholars; he argues in favour of a neutral interpretation “als Gattungsname einer Hetäre” and rejects overly sophisticated intellectual games such as the “Annahme der Pointe, Helena als Städtezerstörerin habe Phryne als Wiederherstellerin von Theben zum Antipoden” (cf. Harnecker, 431f.).

Satire and Seniority

125

to several celebrities throughout the epode (Anacreon; his Bathyllus; Maecenas’ Bathyllus; Helen of Troy), a further illustrious reference in the name Phryne may suggest itself to the attentive reader. However, given the pervasiveness of this name among hetairai, it is perhaps not an intended allusion. Supposing that the source of Maximus’ anecdote lies behind Epodes 14 can help to explain the otherwise somewhat nebulous and confusingly quick sequence of Anacreon, Maecenas, and the allusion to Helen, and how this all belongs to Horace’s initial deus, deus nam me uetat and the yet semi-conscious need for a transition from the iambic to the lyric genre. Through the anecdote of Anacreon’s palinode for Cleobulus and the god of love, the threads of Epodes 14 are knitted together. All in all, it seems that Epodes 14 contains the primary reception of the Anacreon anecdote rather than Epodes 17. The latter builds on this earlier allusion; Horace has already signalled his awareness that he himself might need to properly recant his earlier abuse, and so alludes to Anacreon’s urge to write palinodes in Maximus’ scene. Whilst Epodes 14 was only a forced recusatio of iambus with a rather remote reminiscence and blaming of Helen, but did not yet constitute a palinode of iambus, in Epodes 17 Horace has reached his final step in the struggle of transition from iambic to lyric poetry. Even though it is concerned with a victim that was never worthy of any love lyric and, as I said above, was only an ironically mock-palinode,463 Horace has by now realised what his own error was in Epodes 14, and why the deus deus was so mighty. His error was the same as Stesichorus’ and Anacreon’s; he had insulted Eros unknowingly through Helen and Phryne, and poetologically speaking through the choice of the scathing genre as a whole, and now categorically he needs palinodes, which means love lyric: the Odes. Among the Odes, there is one proper palinode expressis verbis, namely Odes 1.16. In its first line O matre pulchra filia pulchrior as well as by the Latin translation for παλινῳδία, recantatio, in the expression recantatis … opprobriis in the last lines (l. 27f.), the allusions to Helen, daughter of the beautiful Leda, and to Stesichorus’ palinode are quite obvious.464 What connects this palinode with Maximus’ anecdote in particular is again its poetological hints in the mention

463 As such it is even rather a re-affirmation of the earlier invective instead of its honest re-cantation; this is in fact a strong and self-assertive conclusion for a high-class book of ­epodes. 464 This has been a common scholarly opinion since antiquity; cf. Ps.-Acro 1.16.1. Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 202 limit the allusion: “That, it seems, is the whole extent of the borrowing” (i.e. the allusion to Helen and the word recantatis). However, as does Bernsdorff 2014a, 22 (and n.42) I follow Cairns 1978, 546 against Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 203 who overemphasize the ode’s “little discourse de ira” as its only valid title and negate that it is a palinode, although ira is a core topic of palinodes anyway.

126

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

of earlier written iambi.465 It seems that Horace’s process of realisation and the full-scale shift in his genre has come to its end here: from a helpless recusatio of iambs in the iambic Epodes 14, through a mock palinode of iambs in the still iambic Epodes 17, and finally to a proper lyric palinode in Odes 1.16. The allusion to Helen in the first line of 1.16 is uncontested. It is commonly considered a direct reminiscence of Stesichorus’ palinode466, as is confirmed by the surrounding odes: 1.15 deals with Paris’ guilt in the lead-up of the Trojan war (1f.: Pastor cum traheret per freta nauibus | Idaeis Helenen perfidus hospitam), and 1.17 contains a graceful invitation to a Tyndaris who sings about Penelope and Circe (cf. 1.17.19f.).467 It is remarkable that the last lines of 1.15, l. 35f. post certas hiemes uret Achaicus | ignis Iliacas domos and the immediately following first line O matre pulchra filia pulchrior produce a juxtaposition of those thoughts (the burning of Troy and Helen’s beauty) that are combined with partly identical words in Epodes 14.13f.: ureris ipse miser: quod si non pulchrior ignis | accendit obsessam Ilion. The crucial difference is that, now, the elements that constituted Helen’s blame in Epodes 14 – beauty and burning – are separated both structurally (with a poem division in-between) and logically (now Paris alone is blamed in Odes 1.15). I have consciously called filia pulchrior an allusion, not an address to Helen. The allusion is as certain as the addressee is uncertain. It might be the mythical Helen in a purely imaginative discourse, or an existing girl whom Horace, by coaxing and calculating, addresses as another Helen.468 The palinode retracts former iambi (cf. l. 2f. criminosis … iambis and l. 24 celeris iambos), but whilst the palinode of Epodes 17 is commonly thought to refer to its counterpart in Epodes 5,469 scholars mostly agree that there is no counterpart for Odes 1.16 among the Epodes and that we should rather assume that Horace

465 Cf. criminosis … iambis (l. 2f.) and celeris iambos (l. 24). 466 Cf. e.g. Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 204 (who compare it with Ov. epist. 16.85f. pulchrae filia Ledae | ibit in amplexus, pulchrior illa, tuos): “[T]hese words seem to be a typical Horatian ‘motto’ modelled on Stesichorus”. 467 Hahn 1939, 224 highlights the striking sequence of three odes dealing with Helen. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 81 follow Porphyrio’s identification of Tyndaris in Odes 1.17 with the addressee of Odes 1.16, which I take to be convincing as well. 468 Cf. Fraenkel 1957, 207: “In this playful poem Horace appears to be very anxious not to lift the veil of anonymity that shrouds the lady in question”. This very question has led to various speculations, so many that Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 203 cannot hide their aversion to the guesswork: “The question of who the girl is has been fantastically debated. (…) We need not pursue them [sc. these biographical extravaganzas] in multiplying fantasies on things the ode itself shows to be irrelevant”. 469 Cf. Cairns 1978, 548: “[I]t must refer to Epode, 5 with its attack on Canidia”; likewise Bernsdorff 2014a, 20 n.34: “[I]t is implied that these insults were expressed in poetry, namely Epod. 5”.

Satire and Seniority

127

speaks of unpublished iambi.470 Yet there are striking connections with Epodes 14 to be noted. This epode is the starting point of the reception of Anacreon’s poetological palinode and shares with 1.16 the allusion to pulchrior Helen. As shown above, in the end of 1.15 read together with the beginning of 1.16, the casual blame of Helen in Epodes 14.13f. is subliminally recanted. Although several commentators, such as Kießling and Heinze as well as Mayer, have argued against looking for the mentioned iambi of 1.16 among the published Epodes, recantatis only seems to makes sense if there were any iambs at all. We might find them in the olim promissum carmen, the unfinished iambs (inceptos … iambos) mentioned in Epodes 14. Perhaps the two contradictory methods of destruction that Horace proposes for his iambs in 1.16.3f. (siue flamma siue mari) also mirror his own Eros-inflicted suffering in Epodes 14, which oscillates between water and fire and between flowing and burning metaphors (diffundere; pocula; arente fauce; non aliter … arsisse, and finally macerare).471 Now, by singing the palinode, Horace distances himself from his earlier iambs and thus also detaches himself from the punishment: he can fully transfer onto his verses fire and water, the penalties for the hopeless lover and disrespectful iambic poet in Epodes 14.

2.3.3 Horace’s Artemon in Epodes 4 and 15 (PMG 388 and 372) One of the best known satiric poems by Anacreon, PMG 388, deals with the parvenu Artemon, who was formerly dressed very poorly, but now shows off his newly won riches and proudly drives around in a carriage.472 It is quoted by A ­ thenaeus directly after the only other preserved mention of Anacreon’s 470 Thus e.g. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 81: “Freilich darf man die celeres iambi, die der Dichter bereut, in der veröffentlichten Sammlung nicht suchen, die ja gewiß nur einen kleinen Teil der Jambenproduktion darstellt”, and Mayer 2012, 148: “Usually H. refers to published works, but the lampoons referred to here are not among the Epodes (though interpreters look there for clues). If they were, the woman could hardly put an end to published work by destroying a single copy of it”. Different, but not convincing, is Heyworth 2001, 127: “Horace is looking back to his published Epodes”. 471 Cf. Watson 2003, 455: “macerare, which is cook’s Latin, literally ‘to steep or soak in water or some other liquid’ (TLL viii. 8. 38 ff.), not only balances the opening diffuderit but effects a bathetic contrast with the elevated fire imagery of the preceding lines”. Cf. also the only other place where Horace uses macerare in his imitation of Sappho 31 (Odes 1.13.6–8): umor et in genas | furtim labitur, arguens | quam lentis penitus macerer ignibus. Admittedly, neither the metaphors for suffering from love nor the destruction of unwelcome verses in flames and water are new or extraordinary (Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 204f. relegate to Catullus 36.4–8 and further instances). 472 Bernsdorff 2020, 589 calls it “the most important example of An.’s ‘iambographic’ poetry (…) in the tradition of Archilochus and Hipponax”. For an analysis of the remarkably peculiar vocabulary describing Artemon’s outfits, cf. Bruce 2011: ‘A note on Anacreon 388’.

128

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

­ rtemon in PMG 372 and is cited to explicate the meaning of Artemon’s curious A epithet in these lines: ξανθῇ δ’ Εὐρυπύλῃ μέλει | ὁ περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων. However, the exact sense of the apparent neologism περιφόρητος, which was taken by some ancient commentators with reference to Artemon’s carriage in PMG 388.10 (νῦν δ’ ἐπιβαίνει σατινέων χρύσεα φορέων καθέρματα) to mean ‘carried around in a litter’,473 might well be deeper than that and remains obscure.474 PMG 388 has frequently been considered a model for Horace’s Epodes 4 on an anonymous nouveau riche. After specifying the comparable features in both poems (in the past: numerous slavish penalties, especially flogging; in the present: showing-off with rich clothes and the use of a carriage), Watson criticises the “unwisdom of overemphasizing the influence of Anacreon’s poem upon Horace’s” in agreement with Kießling and Heinze and against Meyer’s 1913 monograph.475 However, Watson’s argument – that the motif of the parvenu was too widespread476 and the similarities between Anacreon and Horace are too faint and unspecific to suggest direct influence – is not altogether convincing. Concerning the motif’s popularity in other genres, Horace’s first source of inspiration for a parvenu epode would not have been, say, Greek and Roman oratory anyway; on the contrary, precisely Anacreon’s Artemon was apparently so famous that his appearance in PMG 372, ὁ περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων, even became proverbial.477 473 This is, among others, Chamaeleon’s interpretation, which is “part of a larger Hellenistic discussion about the origin of the phrase ὁ περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων” (Bernsdorff 2020, 516). Cf. also Bernsdorff 2020, 579 on PMG 388: “φορέων (10) possibly alludes to Artemon’s epithet περιφόρητος in PMG 372.2”. 474 Bernsdorff 2020, 518 compares it with the similar compound adjective λεωφόρος for Herotime in PMG 346: “[T]hat adjective has a stricter sexual sense than περιφόρητος which seems to aim primarily at Artemon’s being an object of gossip”. Kurke 1997, 123 presents a threefold connotation, namely ‘carried around in a litter, in people’s mouths (i.e. infamous), and in their hands (as a prostitute)’. She concludes: “In either case, whether he is ‘borne around’ in mouths or hands, the epithet refers disparagingly to Artemon’s excessive circulation in the public domain”. 475 Watson 2003, 148; cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 501: “Anlehnung an ein bestimmtes literarisches Vorbild, etwa an Anakreons Jambus gegen Artemon (21), ist bei Horaz weder nachzuweisen noch auch nur wahrscheinlich”. According to Meyer 1913, 12, Epodes 4 is even virtually copied from PMG 388. 476 For a list of genres including parvenu stories and further examples of the typical parvenu characteristics mentioned in Horace cf. Watson 2003, 146f. 477 Cf. Brown 1983, 5 n.28. A proof for the proverb’s pervasiveness is given by Aristophanes, who calls the adulterous Cratinus ὁ περιπόνηρος Ἀρτέμων (Ach. 850), thus, as it seems, deftly conflating PMG 372.2 ὁ περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων with PMG 388.5 ὁ πόνηρος Ἀρτέμων. The scholia on Ach. 850 περιπόνηρος say that it stems ἀπὸ τῆς παροιμίας, the proverb that is commonly used for beautiful and available boys (ἐπὶ καλοῦ καὶ ἁρπαζομένου πρὸς πάντων παιδός, ‘pretty and snatched by everyone’); this is a hint at an obscene understanding of περιφόρητος. The literary significance of Artemon’s popularity is described by Bernsdorff 2020, 589f. (on the allusion in Aristophanes Ach. 850): “This passage shows that An.’s attacks

Satire and Seniority

129

Lutz Lenz has helpfully differentiated the characters of the poems as follows: “Das Ich bei Horaz legt in ganz anderem Maß persönliches Engagement an den Tag: (…) sein wie seiner Sekundanten Urteil ist ausdrücklich affektiv von discordia und indignatio getragen. Anakreons Gedicht spricht, ohne das Medium eines Ich, viel gelassener aus einer Zuschauerhaltung heraus”.478 However, a difference in the overall emphasis does not exclude the possibility of connections in detail. In fact, Horace’s wording is at some points strikingly close to Anacreon’s. For the whipping of the former slave, Anacreon formulates σκυτίνῃ μάστιγι θωμιχθείς (l. 8), while Horace has, also with the passive participle, sectus flagellis (l. 11). On the rich Artemon, Anacreon says νῦν δ’ ἐπιβαίνει σατινέων, χρύσεα φορέων καθέρματα (l. 10), while Horace says licet superbus ambules pecunia (l. 5). In both passages ‘wandering around’ is associated with a sign of richness.479 What is not close in wording, yet the most important similarity, is Horace’s hint at a carriage in l. 14 et Appiam mannis terit. Being carried around is precisely the detail that turned Artemon’s name into a famous proverb and, as it seems, even into the lasting parvenu prototype. Putting together the three observations that Anacreon is the originator of this prototype, that he is a highly influential model for Horace also elsewhere, and that PMG 388 shares some ­notable similarities with the epode, leads one to conclude that “it seems inevitable to regard the fourth epode as an important example of the impact of the iambographic part of An.’s oeuvre on the later tradition”.480 I would now like to point to a further possible impact of Artemon on Horace. In Epodes 15, Horace bewails the perfidy of his former girlfriend and faithless hetaira Neaera, who is now sleeping with an un-named other (cf. l. 13: adsiduas potiori te dare noctes).481 Horace pictures this unknown rival (l. 17: quicumque es) in his imagination in a worst-case scenario as possibly rich and proud, in words that are strikingly similar to Epodes 4. To the protagonist of Epodes 4, Horace addresses the line on Artemon were well known. This is true not only of the primary model, PMG 372.2, ὁ περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων, which became proverbial (…), but also of our fragment [i.e. PMG 388]. (…) The allusion is important since it not only illustrates the vivid reception of An.’s poetry in fifth-century Athens,139 but also how a poem which belongs to the ‘iambographic’ part of his oeuvre is adopted in a similar context of abuse in Old Comedy”. 478 Lenz 1994, 499. Cf. also Brown 1983, 7. 479 Bernsdorff 2020, 590 sees a further similarity in the fact that Artemon still wears the same kind, or genus, of jewellery, just from more precious material (χρύσεα φορέων καθέρματα vs. the earlier ξυλίνους ἀστραγάλους), whilst Horace states right after ambules pecunia: fortuna non mutat genus. 480 Bernsdorff 2020, 591. 481 Watson 2003, 459 stresses the epode’s “consanguinity (…) with archaic iambus” as “incontestable” and compares metre and themes with several Archilochean fragments. However, not only Archilochean but also Anacreontean iambus might have had a decisive impact here, as I will show in the following.

130

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

licet superbus ambules pecunia (l. 5) and later lets the spectators complain arat Falerni mille fundi iugera (l. 13). The imagined rival in Epodes 15 gets the lines et tu, quicumque es felicior atque meo nunc | superbus incedis malo (l. 17f.), and he, too, disposes of vast land ownership and money (l. 19f.): sis pecore et multa diues tellure licebit | tibique Pactolus fluat. In short: licet – licebit, superbus ambules – superbus incedis, pecunia – diues/Pactolus fluat, mille … iugera – multa … tellure are the notable correspondents.482 In Epodes 15, the following lines 21 and 22 describe the potential lover’s personal amenities: nec te Pythagorae fallant arcana renati seems to imply deep philosophical erudition,483 but it could also mean that the lover knows magic tricks (arcana) which influence Neaera’s emotions.484 Line 22 formaque uincas Nirea depicts him as beautiful. Nothing is said about the past of Neaera’s new lover, so there is no hint that Horace imagines him, like Artemon, as formerly poor or even a slave, but this cannot be excluded either: slaves and freedmen can be beautiful too. If the anonymous individual of Epodes 15 who vies with Horace for Neaera’s favour and love, and whom Horace apparently figures as a prototype of wealth and pride, is thus another representative of the Artemon-like parvenu motif, we can see in his success with Neaera a reflection of the famous PMG 372 that produced a proverb: ξανθῇ δ’ Εὐρυπύλῃ μέλει | ὁ περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων. Just as Artemon “is said to have been Anacreon’s rival for Eurypyle’s attentions”,485 the rich and proud prototype of Epodes 15 is Horace’s rival for Neaera’s attentions. Horace could have called him straightforwardly a περιφόρητος Ἀρτέμων in Latin, just as Aristophanes names and shames Cratinus with these words in Ach. 850, but such an evident verbatim reference might seem too blunt for Horace’s allusive style. 482 On the expression superbus ambules, Watson 2003, 155 remarks: “Ambulare, in combination with superbus, or terms of similar import, signifies a haughty bearing (…). In such cases, the verb approximates in sense to incedere”; he then points precisely to Epodes 15.17f. where he gives the description “the complacent strut of the successful rival” (Watson 2003, 474, quoting Shorey and Laing 1960 ad loc.). Cf. also Grassmann 1966, 162: “Inhaltlich entspricht incedo in epod. 15,18 dem licet superbus ambules pecunia in epod. 4,5”. 483 Thus Watson 2003, 476 ad loc. If this is correct, the aspect of erudition might play down the likelihood of his freedman status in parallel to Artemon. 484 Thus Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 545. They deem it unlikely that a hetaera like Neaera should be impressed by erudition. 485 Bernsdorff 2020, 14. Cf. also Brown 1983, 7 with n.34 where he lists many scholars who support the theory of an erotic rivalry between Anacreon and Artemon. In the discussion between Slater 1978 and Davies 1981 on whether Artemon is Anacreon’s dear boon companion and only winkingly abused (this is Slater’s somewhat exerted hypothesis), Davies’ answer, pointing to Horace’s overt enmity in Epodes 4, can be applied to Epodes 15 as well: “If someone objects that Horace was unaware that Anacreon was in reality on the best of terms with his transvestite friend, then I must retort that ignorance can be bliss, and that Horace is likely to have known and understood Anacreon’s poetry far better than we can” (Davies 1981, 298 n.25).

Satire and Seniority

131

Neaera is not only an adequate substitution for the name Eurypyle, since both are typical names for hetairai.486 It is particularly noteworthy that the name Νέαιρα probably appears in fr. 1 of the recently edited P.Oxy. 5410, which might well be a fragment from a Middle Comedy starring or including Anacreon.487 th There was a notorious hetaira with this name in the 4 century, who appeared in several comedies. In the fragment, her name is preceded by the name Λαμπρίαϲ, who might be identified with a famous cook,488 and followed by Smerdies of Samos. Discussing the implications of all these names and their forms in different dialects, Bernsdorff deems it “more probable that Smerdies was only mentioned (and with him Anacreon as his erastes, perhaps together with the Samian tyrant Polycrates), possibly as an example used to illustrate a story of jealousy”.489 If this is the case, and considering how well-known and virtually legendary the names and personalities of courtesans were throughout antiquity,490 it would be very fitting if in Epodes 15 Horace consciously chose the name Neaera for his Eurypyle-like treacherous hetaira in an extremely jealous poem including an Artemon-like rival, thus alluding to an Anacreontic comedy scene starring a Neaera, and this right after Epodes 14, with its mention of Anacreon and a probable allusion to a poetological comedy scene with Anacreon and the wet nurse.

2.3.4 Aeschrology: beastly women in Epodes 12 and PMG 424, 432, and 437 Horace’s most caustic poems are those which depict ageing or old women, often in combination with their exaggerated and unseasonable lewdness. Epodes 8 and 12 and Odes 1.25, 3.15 and 4.13 are central Horatian examples of the traditional topos of aeschrology (αἰσχρολογία) and its specific application to old women, the so-called ‘vetula-Skoptik’.491 486 For Eurypyle cf. Brown 1983, 7 with n. 39; for Neaera cf. Watson 2003, 472: “Neaera’s name, like Phryne’s in the preceding Epode, stamps her as a meretrix”, referring to further appearances of Neaera in Odes 3.14.21 and twice in Tibullus, and on the name and the personality of Neaera in general: Postgate 1914, Paoli 1953. For the widespread fame of (names of) hetairai in general cf. McClure 2003 ‘Courtesans at table’. 487 The name was conjectured by Martin West. Cf. Hutchinson 2020, 4: “To Neaera’s appearance word-division leaves little alternative”. 488 Cf. Hutchinson 2020, 4. 489 Bernsdorff 2019, 23. 490 Cf. McClure 2003, 59: “[T]he names of famous courtesans attracted much interest in the classical world, from fourth century Attic orators and comic poets, to the Alexandrian scholars who catalogued them, and later, to the Greek sophists of Imperial Rome”, and, I would add, even to those Latin poets whose declared aim it was to enforce and to perpetuate the trend that Graecia capta … artes | intulit agresti Latio. 491 For the main characteristics of ‘vetula-Skoptik’, see the main bullet points listed in Grassmann 1966, 176.

132

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Here I will first focus on Epodes 8 and 12. Both these epodes create a dialogue-scene between the young Horace and an ugly, old and lecherous woman who complains about his erotic sloth.492 In Epodes 8, only Horace’s part of the conversation is given, but the enervated exclamation493 at the beginning of the epode refers to the woman’s questions (l. 1f.): Rogare longo putidam te saeculo, | uiris quid eneruet meas. Also in l. 11–16 we can assume that Horace is reacting to the woman’s praise of her own financial amenities.494 In Epodes 12.14–26, the woman’s direct speech, introduced by Horace’s uel mea cum saeuis agitat fastidia uerbis (l. 13), occupies the entire second half of the poem. This conveys, in addition to the merely outward ugliness of the woman in Epodes 8, the aspect of her ugly character in Epodes 12.495 Archilochus and Hipponax are beyond doubt important models for aeschrology and ‘vetula-Skoptik’. Grassmann analyses Archilochus’ ‘aeschrological’ fragments, among others the Cologne Epode (fr. 196a West),496 and their possible influence on Horace, but is in many cases very reluctant to suppose any close imitation of Archilochus’ wordings on Horace’s part, and rightly so.497 Yet he concludes that the striking aeschrological resemblances show “wie nahe Horaz

492 The descriptions of the women are very similar in both form and content, leading some interpreters to suggest that the addressee in both epodes is one and the same (cf. e.g. Watson 2003, 382). 493 Cf. Watson 2003, 293 who perceives in the “exclamatory infinitive … both irritation and astonishment that the vetula, repulsive as she is, can ask why Horace is sexually immune to her”. 494 Cf. the question quid? in l. 15, which sounds like the rhetorical question “What are you saying?” as a reaction to the woman’s pointless remarks on her sophistication. Cf. also Watson 2003, 382: “The second half of both Epodes presents matters in part from the vetula’s perspective. It is apparent from Epodes 8. 11–16 that the lady has attempted to break down Horace’s indifference by pointing to her noble blood, wealth, and cultural refinement”. 495 Cf. Watson 2003, 383: “The vetula’s inadvertent revelation of her unlovely personality distinguishes Epodes 12 from 8”. 496 Cf. also Watson 2003, 383 and Bernsdorff 2020, 761, who compare the woman’s wild lust in Epodes 12.9 indomitam properat rabiem sedare with Archilochus’ description of Neobule as μαινόλις γυνή in fr. 196a.30 W. 497 Grassmann rebukes Lasserre 1950 (and Lasserre 1958) repeatedly for his premature claims of direct imitation: “[A]us inhaltlichen oder motivischen Übereinstimmungen sucht er die Quelle direkt zu bestimmen, während er sich mit dem Feststellen einer Topik hätte be­ gnügen müssen” (Grassmann 1966, 3). With reference to Horace’s own words on his imitation of Archilochus in Epistles 1.19.25 non res et agentia uerba, he writes: “Allein dieses Selbst­ zeugnis hätte Lasserre von seinen überkühnen Rekonstruktionsversuchen abhalten müssen” (Grassmann 1966, 11 n.85).

Satire and Seniority

133

dem Geist seines griechischen Vorbildes gestanden hat”, even without verifiable verbal echoes.498 The same holds true for Hipponax.499 But the two iambographers are not the only sources available to Horace in aeschrological settings. In the introductory essay on Epodes 8, Watson provides a succinct overview of various forerunners in the ‘vetula-Skoptik’ tradition for both Epodes 8 and 12, ranging from the archaic period down to Hellenistic Greek and then Augustan times.500 However, as he points out, “[s]uch insults are generally directed against (allegedly) ageing females who have been niggardly of their sexual favours, or to whom erotic access has been denied”.501 This is precisely the situation in Odes 4.13, whilst in Epodes 8 and 12 the poet himself is not only the verbally abusive derider, but at the same time the sexually (almost-) abused victim of the lecherous old woman. In the end, as Watson writes, “both parties are made to look ridiculous—the vetula, for her insensitivity to her lack of physical allure, Horace, for his bad taste in becoming involved with her in the first place”.502 This preposterous situation of the paralysed Horace in a bed with the raging woman, as captured in l. 8f. cum pene soluto503 | indomitam properat rabiem sedare, is evocative of Anacreon’s PMG 424 with its explicitly inverted word play (even though the aspect of age is not mentioned there): καὶ θάλαμος | οὗ κεῖνος οὐκ ἔγημεν ἀλλ’ ἐγήματo. The middle form γαμεῖσθαι, which is usually only applied to women, means ‘to give oneself in marriage’. Here it has a clearly sexual rather than simply a marital connotation and most probably implies effeminacy.504 In Epodes 12, Horace seems to have stumbled nolens volens into a similar ‘marital’ bed and into the same kind of medio-passive position,505 498 Grassmann 1966, 11. On numeros animosque secutus (Epistles 1.19.24) cf. Watson 2003, 383: “Whereas Epodes 11 adopts the metre of the First Cologne Epode (fr. 196a W.), Epodes 12 borrows from the poem its dialogue-form and a good deal of its subject-matter”. 499 For instance, Hipponax’ fr. 17 W. κύψασα γάρ μοι πρὸς τὸ λύχνον Ἀρήτη, “for Arete, having stooped over for me towards the Lamp”, transl. by LCL (Gerber 1999, 367), is commonly interpreted as an allusion to fellatio, as in Epodes 8.19f. Cf. Williams 1972, 7–8: “Epodes 8 and 12 are attacks on ageing women with gross physical details and sexual obscenities (αἰσχρολογία) that the ancient world thought characteristic of Hipponax even more than Archilochus”. 500 Cf. Watson 2003, 287–91. 501 Watson 2003, 288. 502 Cf. Watson 1995, 190–4. In 192 n.10 he lists further scholars who held this view. Watson 2003, 288 says that it is a “grotesque inversion of the usual pattern”, and Watson 2003, 395 notes that “[t]he vetula’s repulsiveness has made the youthful Horace into a sexual geriatric”. 503 Cf. Watson 2003, 400 for the interpretation of soluto as slackness out of fastidium. 504 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 735, and especially 737: “γαμεῖσθαι acquires a sexual meaning since the act takes place in a θάλαμος. Probably we have to assume a sexual position in which the woman dominates after bestriding the man”. 505 Cf. pene soluto (l. 8): Watson 2003, 400 understands this as “languido sc. propter fastidium tui”. The woman apparently is “so repulsive that Horace cannot achieve an erection in the first place”. See also the woman’s accusations langues … me (l. 14); mihi semper ad unum | mollis opus (l. 15f.); te | Lesbia quaerenti taurum monstrauit inertem (l. 16f.).

134

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

although his position and slackness are not the result of an embarrassing effeminate weakness on his part, but due to the indescribable ugliness of the woman. Only from her perspective is Horace unmanly, as she accuses him indirectly (and wrongly) of effeminacy. I will return to this indirect accusation later. In the area of aeschrology, Anacreon might have been inspired by Archilochus as well. One of Anacreon’s satiric fragments with aeschrological overtones is PMG 432. According to Brown, in this “epodic passage, we find Anacreon closest in form to the iambists”:506 κνυζή τις ἤδη καὶ πέπειρα γίνομαι σὴν διὰ μαργοσύνην. I become wrinkled and over-ripe because of your lust.

Bernsdorff observes a number of “verbal (…) and probably motivic and formal links”507 with Archilochus’ Cologne Epode 196a West. The metre is the same, and the contemptuous undertone of Anacreon’s πέπειρα is “confirmed by the only other archaic occurrence” of this form,508 namely from l. 26 of the Cologne Epode. Neobule’s state is vividly compared to the “faded blossom of youth” and “past grace” (l. 26–28). The two rare adjectives in PMG 432, κνυζή and πέπειρα, have been analysed thoroughly by Brown and Bernsdorff; both interpret κνυζή as something like ‘wrinkled’ or a similar sign of degenerated skin,509 while πέπειρα means ‘mature’ and ‘ripe’ like fruits, but not necessarily ‘old’.510 The fact that a woman is speaking here is remarkable. Direct speech by women is a rather rare feature in archaic poetry, but Anacreon was particularly known for it.511 In addition to our PMG 432, further examples include PMG 347 fr. 1.11–18 and PMG 385 (‘From the river I return, carrying all my bright washing’), and perhaps PMG 354 (‘and you will make me notorious among neighbours’), if we follow the assumption of several scholars, based on comparisons with similar texts and contexts, that the speaker is female.512 PMG 432 therefore 506 Brown 1984, 37. 507 Bernsdorff 2020, 760. 508 Bernsdorff 2020, 762. 509 Cf. Brown 1984, 37f. and Bernsdorff 2020, 761f. 510 Cf. Brown 1984, 40: “πέπειρα (…) refers to a woman who is mature in the sense that she is no longer a virgin”, and Bernsdorff 2020, 762: “[A] non-pathological interpretation of κνύζη in 1 (in the sense of ‘wrinkled’) seems preferable, although admittedly it seems to be used in a hyperbolic sense, given the fact that πέπειρα does not mean ‘old’”. 511 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 740 (commenting on PMG 427, where a woman is accused for babbling like a sea wave with her friend Gastrodore): “As for the depiction of female talkativeness, it might be relevant that direct speech by women was seemingly regarded as characteristic of An.”. 512 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 418 (with a list of these scholars): “The fragment would then be another example of a mulier loquens”.

Satire and Seniority

135

invites relation to Horace’s Epodes 12, in which the woman’s speech prominently occupies the entire second half of the poem.513 Both women accuse an addressee, both have a problem with lewdness, and both are ripe and wrinkled. Interestingly, in Epodes 12, despite its obvious propinquity to the ‘vetula-Skoptik’, it is only the adjective uietis (normally used for withered plants, here referring to membris)514 in l. 7 which gives any indication of the woman’s advanced age, just like κνυζή in PMG 432. There are, however, two important differences between PMG 432 and Epodes 12. The first is undeniably the woman’s awareness of her faded beauty in PMG 432515, as opposed to her total ignorance in Epodes 12. The second difference is more intricate. Horace’s woman accuses the poem’s persona of slackness, whilst Anacreon’s accuses the addressee for μαργοσύνη, wantonness. But who is the addressee and whose wantonness is actually meant? At first sight it looks as if the woman’s overly lecherous lover causes her decay, but Brown has explored at length the archaic motif of women’s dryness through their own (unfulfilled) exaggerated desire (as in, for instance, Neobule in the Cologne Epode) and suggests that in PMG 432 the woman is blaming her lover as the reason for her own tormenting lust.516 Perhaps the context of the fragment would have made the relations clear, but in itself, the term σὴν διὰ μαργοσύνην, directed towards a man, does not at all suggest this interpretation. The possessive pronoun σὴν would have to be understood abnormally as indicating the object instead of the subject of desire, but a genitivus objectivus with μαργοσύνη is otherwise un-attested.517 Bernsdorff therefore proposes the idea, supported by several parallels from archaic lyric, that Eros himself might be the addressee.518 On this interpretation, 513 Cf. Brown 1984, 37: “That she attributes the lust to someone else (σήν) seems to suggest a dramatic context. We may possibly imagine a poem, like the twelfth epode of Horace, which contains the complaints of a woman to her lover”, and Bernsdorff 2020, 761: “Horace’s twelfth epode (…) is also important from a formal perspective, since it contains in its second part (ll. 14–26) the woman’s accusation against her lover (the narrator)”. 514 Cf. Watson 2003, 399 s.v. uietis: “‘wrinkled’ (…) is the only explicit reference in Epodes 12 to the mulier’s age. The adjective is normally applied to fruits or flowers which have shrivelled (…). It is thus implied that the lady’s ὥρη has faded”. The transfer of the meaning from ‘withered plant’ to humans is vividly found in Ovid’s comparison (Ov. met. 10.190‒4): ut … liliaque … demittant subito caput illa uietum, … sic uultus moriens iacet. Of course in Anacreon’s poem there might have been more words indicating the woman’s age, but even so the similarity in the descriptions is striking. 515 This self-awareness is rather unusual, cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 761 and Degani et al. 2005, 263. 516 Cf. Brown 1984, 38–40, who concludes that “[i]t is, however, suggestive to note that the woman of Horace’s twelfth epode complains of sexual neglect. The woman of fr. 44 may be accusing someone of arousing her libido, the ultimate cause of her misfortune, and then abandoning her with the result that she has become κνυζή from the unfulfilled passion”. 517 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 764 n.138. 518 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 764–6.

136

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

the transfer of σὴν μαργοσύνην to the woman is much more plausible, since ‘Eros the god’ can just be the externalized version of ‘eros her emotion’. We find a similar double sense of (the god of) love in Anacreon’s PMG 357, where within a few lines the uncontrollable δαμάλης Ἔρως (l. 1) turns into τὸν ἐμόν δ’ ἔρωτ’ (l. 10f.), if this is to be understood as the speaker’s personal emotion (it is certainly something below the power of δαμάλης Ἔρως).519 If we can thus speak of the wrinkled woman’s externalized but still personal lewdness, then this comes very close to the uncontrollable indomitam … rabiem of Horace’s wrinkled woman. Even though this is rather a common motif and not necessarily a specific imitation of Anacreon, the similarity shows once more the close affinity of the two poets’ topics and their ways of dealing with love. I now return to a central topic of Epodes 12, namely the inversion of gender roles, and especially its manifestation in the animals appearing in the final lines. Throughout the whole epode we are confronted with so many animal comparisons and metaphors that, according to Watson, “the poem might with scant exaggeration be described as a bestiary”.520 The animals not only illustrate the lack of human culture and manners in the whole situation as well as the inhuman rage of sexual drive in the woman, but, especially at the end, they drastically showcase the reversal of traditional gender roles when the woman’s tirade culminates in the comparison (l. 25f.): o ego non felix, quam tu fugis, ut pauet acris | agna lupos capreaeque leones. Not only is Horace represented by the fearful animals that are usually metaphors for young shy virgins, but he is even described by the feminine forms agna and capreae. In the same way, the woman attributes to herself the masculine forms of the typical predators lupos and leones.521 This reminds us again of the inverted roles and effeminacy in PMG 424 (here without indication of an age difference): καὶ θάλαμος | οὗ κεῖνος οὐκ ἔγημεν ἀλλ’ ἐγήματo. But there is yet another fragment by Anacreon that has been related to these Horatian lines. PMG 437 ἐγὼ δ’ ἀπ’ αὐτῆς φεύγω ὥστε κόκκυξ marks a similar animal comparison, probably in the same context of a man fleeing a woman out of cowardice.522 Cavallini first suggested a connection between PMG 437 519 Thus Lear 2008, 70, Carey 2009a, 35 and others. For more discussion cf. Bowie 2013, 36–8; Bernsdorff 2020, 449–53. 520 Cf. Watson 2003, 385, who lists all the mentioned animals. 521 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 536: “Der sentimentale Schluß mit dem der erotischen Poesie geläufigen Vergleich (…), in dem hier Mann und Weib die Rollen tauschen, ist von grotesker Komik”. 522 Bernsdorff 2020, 775–7 discusses in detail three different interpretations that have arisen in scholarship on this fragment due to the uncertainty of what or who is meant by αὐτῆς (flight from a beloved or Aphrodite; flight from battle; flight from the home town). He comes to the conclusion that “the most natural understanding of the fragment in the context of quoting sources is to take the flight of the cuckoo as proof of its cowardice” (776) and that “the explanation of an erotic flight from a mortal female seems preferable even if the short-

Satire and Seniority

137

and the last two lines of Horace’s Epodes 12.523 There are numerous internal references that link the animal metaphors of the twelfth epode with precisely those three odes that are most strongly reminiscent of Anacreon’s filly and fawn metaphors: not only Odes 1.23, as Cavallini notes, but also 2.5 and 3.11. So, if Horace’s animal imagery is so clearly influenced by Anacreon in these three odes, it is even more plausible that the very same animal metaphors in the epode also derive from Anacreon’s inspiration, as I will now show. In Odes 1.23, which is almost a translation of Anacreon’s PMG 408,524 we encounter the shy Chloe being compared to a dam (l. 1: Vitas inuleo me similis, Chloe). Horace then tries to appease her fear by saying that he will not attack her like a tiger525 or a Gaetulian526 lion (l. 9f.): Atqui non ego te, tigris ut aspera | Gaetulusue leo, frangere persequor. It is hardly clear that the evocation of such a brutal image, even if presented with a negation, could ever produce more peace and confidence in the shy girl’s mind. But the combination of animals, the imagery of fleeing and persecution – here attached to the correct gender roles – is very similar to the epode, and frangere with its erotic connotations even slightly reminds us of the wildness of tenta cubilia tectaque rumpit. In Odes 2.5.3f. tauri ruentis | in Venerem … pondus, we find the same comparison of the lover to a bull that appears in the woman’s tirade in Epodes 12.16f. pereat male quae te | Lesbia quaerenti taurum monstrauit inertem. Whilst the bull as erotic metaphor is quite an established motif,527 it only occurs in these two occasions in Horace’s Odes and Epodes, as well as on one other occasion with a literal meaning (referring to Zeus the bull and Europa) in Odes 3.27 (cf. l. 25f.: Sic et Europe niueum doloso | credidit tauro latus). The third Anacreontic ode with similar animal metaphors is 3.11, which features another obvious transformation of Anacreon’s Thracian filly into the equa trima Lyde. Much later in the same ode, Horace tells the myth of the Danaids who killed their grooms in the wedding night, having Hypermestra illustrate her ness of the fragment and the lack of context do not allow certainty” (777). This interpretation is shared by, among others, Gentili 1958, 71 and 201 and Brown 1983, 4 n.20. 523 Cf. Cavallini 1985, 122: “In realtà, la ‘fuga’ di Orazio ha un precedente, non a caso in Anacreonte (dal cui fr. 28 [= PMG 408] dipende, come si è visto, Hor. Carm. I 23)”. 524 Cf. 2.2.3 Odes 1.23 and PMG 408: fearful fawns and Campe 1872, 673. 525 That the feminine form ‘tigress’ is used here has no particular significance, because this is the ordinary form in poetry. Cf. Georges s.v. tigris: “in Prosa gew. masc., bei Dichtern vorherrschend fem.” 526 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 270 on Odes 1.22.15f. (nec Iubae tellus generat, leonum | arida nutrix): “Lions, which are mentioned below, are conventionally Gaetulian”. There were various tales about Gaetulian lions, among others that “a Gaetulian woman begged some attacking lions for mercy, and was spared” (Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 270, cf. Plin. nat. 8.48). 527 Cf. Watson 2003, 410: “From earliest times an emblem of virility and fertility (…), the bull came to symbolize the sexual drive, or the robust sexuality, of the fully-grown human male”. Watson gives several instances for this understanding of taurus.

138

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

sisters’ brutal deeds with animal comparisons (l. 41f.): quae uelut nactae uitulos leaenae | singulos eheu lacerant. The quae uelut mirrors the earlier comparison of Lyde in l. 9f.: quae uelut latis equa trima campis | ludit exultim. In all these cases, the correct gender is deliberately chosen (Lyde as a female horse, the Danaids as lionesses, their grooms as calves), because, as opposed to the common feminine form tigris in 1.23, the forms equa and leaenae are not typical. This shows that here the gender roles are expressis verbis correct, instead of being perverted as in the epode. Hypermestra also dissociates herself from her sisters (l. 42–44): Ego illis | mollior nec te feriam neque intra | claustra tenebo. This is clearly parallel to 1.23.9f.: Atqui non ego te, tigris ut aspera | Gaetulusue leo, frangere persequor: a statement about the ego and a clear negation of violence towards the te (cf. non ego te and ego … nec te), once spoken by a man, once – paradoxically – by a woman. These two instances are the precise opposite of the even more paradoxical case in Epodes 12 where a woman speaks like a man and does not deny her violence, but in contrast denies her own happiness (ego non felix) because the tu flees the imminent danger. The structure of the sentence ego … quam tu fugis ut … agna intriguingly parallels PMG 437, which could be spoken in just the same situation from the man’s perspective: ἐγὼ δ’ ἀπ’ αὐτῆς φεύγω ὥστε κόκκυξ.528 To recapitulate these results: in Epodes 12, we find the widespread motif of ‘vetula-Skoptik’ and aeschrology interestingly modified, because the verbally abusive derider is at the same time the sexually (almost-) abused victim, who is pushed into a pervertedly passive and effeminate role in the bed like the man in PMG 424 (καὶ θάλαμος | οὗ κεῖνος οὐκ ἔγημεν ἀλλ’ ἐγήματo). The depiction of the woman as wrinkled, her direct speech, and her frustratingly unfulfilled lechery are all reflective of PMG 432 (if we take σήν as addressing Eros: κνυζή τις ἤδη καὶ πέπειρα γίνομαι | σὴν διὰ μαργοσύνην). And finally, the image of a man fleeing fearfully from a woman in an erotic context, expressed by animal comparisons which Horace later reuses in three particularly Anacreontic odes, finds a correspondence in PMG 437 (if we accept its most plausible interpretation as erotic flight: ἐγὼ δ’ ἀπ’ αὐτῆς φεύγω ὥστε κόκκυξ). Horace and Anacreon obviously share the same concepts in their animal metaphors on the oscillation of lovers’ roles between ‘manly’ and ‘effeminate’, which corresponds to pursuing and fleeing, aggression and fear, and in both Horace and Anacreon this is the same oscillation as in the active and passive roles (most palpable in ἔγημεν and ἐγήματo) in the sexual encounter.529 528 For the fragment’s iambic-satiric note cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 775 who compares Bacchyl. fr. 19.1–2 Maehler: Σὺ δὲ σὺν χιτῶνι μούνῳ | παρὰ τὴν φίλην γυναῖκα φεύγεις, “where it is a probable interpretation that an effeminate, silly male escapes from his beloved back to his wife”. 529 The quick variation of sexually connoted fleeing and pursuing is expressed through a  contrast of medio-passive and active verbs which also appears in, for instance, Sappho fr. 1 l. 21f.: καὶ γὰρ αἰ φεύγει, ταχέως διώξει | αἰ δὲ δῶρα μὴ δέκετ’, ἀλλὰ δώσει. However, here

Satire and Seniority

139

The three short Anacreontic fragments prove that all the above-mentioned core topics and peculiarities of the epode have significant counterparts in Anacreon’s oeuvre. We do not have enough material from Anacreon to establish clear-cut allusions in every case, but just enough to see how similar the satiric minds of Horace and Anacreon are, how much their topics overlap, and that Anacreon most probably had a significant impact on Horace’s shaping of the satiric poems.  

2.3.5 Lalage, Lyce, and PMG 427: garrulous birds A further prominent example of Anacreon’s satiric fragments is PMG 427, a harsh rebuke to an overly garrulous and bibulous woman and her friend. The primary reproach lies in the verb λάλαζε: μηδ’ ὥστε κῦμα πόντιον λάλαζε, τῇ πολυκρότῃ σὺν Γαστροδώρῃ καταχύδην πίνουσα τὴν ἐπίστιον. … and do not babble like the wave of the sea, together with the noisy Gastrodore, profusely drinking the hearth-cup.530

Now, in Horace’s Odes the figure of Lalage, whose name derives from Greek λαλαγεῖν and reminds one of the topical twittering of birds (usually described by the verb λαλαγεῖν),531 is clearly inspired by Catullus 51 and Sappho 31 in Odes 1.22.532 In Odes 2.5, however, Lalage is no less clearly a slightly altered embodiment of the famous Thracian filly in Anacreon’s PMG 417;533 indeed this marks one of Horace’s clearest imitations of an Anacreontic poem. In his as with Horace’s Lalage in 2.5 (l. 13: iam te sequetur), we have a positive development of the female role from a virgin’s shy fleeing to a courageous pursuit that is not foreign to nubile young women. This is no satire; it lacks the biting mockery of Horace’s and Anacreon’s completely inept effeminacy in the male development from pursuer to fugitive. Naturally, this depiction of the poet’s own (Horace) or another’s (Anacreon) inept effeminacy is not such a relevant topic for a female poet like Sappho. 530 On the nickname Gastrodore and its implications of gluttony and possibly lewdness, cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 744f. 531 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 103. 532 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 273 and Mayer 2012, 168 who analyse the ‘double allusion’ (for the term cf. McKeown 1987, 37–45) to Catullus 51.5 (with the same words dulce ridentem) and the original Sappho 31.3–5 (dulce loquentem = ἆδυ φωνείσας ὐπακούει; dulce ridentem = καὶ γελαίσας ἰμέροεν). 533 Already Lalage’s first appearance in Odes 1.22 is immediately followed by the very Anacreontic Chloe in 1.23 (an imitation of PMG 408). Both 1.22 and 1.23 also have in common the mention of Gaetulian lions in the context of love relationships.

140

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

article “Horaz und Anakreon” (1872), Campe comments on Odes 2.5 as follows: “Es ist nicht unwichtig, dass unter den fragmenten des Anacreon eins auch das verbum λαλάζειν giebt”.534 This is a vague statement, and I deem it more likely that this fragment PMG 427 is not the inspiration for Horace’s choice of the name Lalage, since, in his case, the young girl’s verbosity is judged positively especially in 1.22.23f. dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, | dulce loquentem, whilst in PMG 427 the loquacity is doubtlessly annoying. Yet Campe is not entirely wrong either, because, in principle, the motif of loquacity is surely of importance for Anacreon, and the opposite judgments of the same behaviour by Anacreon and Horace are not due to their different tastes, but relate to the respective attitudes of the persona towards the talkative woman. If she is young and tenderly loved, like in Odes 1.22, everything about her is automatically sweet, including her talking;535 but the opposite is the case if she is old and not loved as in PMG 427. We can thus find traces of both positive and negative judgments of verbosity in both authors, and similarities between the connected imagery. Anacreon knows and draws on the ‘loquacious bird’ image: in PMG 453 κωτίλη χελιδών, the rare adjective κωτίλη leaves the judgment on the verbosity open, but in my view appreciation is more plausible here than condemnation.536 PMG 394a ἡδυμελὲς χαρίεσσα χελιδοῖ is clearly positive. Bernsdorff surmises in this passage “a self-referential function of the swallow”, i.e. a human being (the poet himself) behind an animal metaphor.537 A third instance might be P.Oxy. 3722 fr. 19, where a swallow’s chatter apparently wakes up the persona and perhaps a reference to Philomela and Procne is intended.538 However, these 534 Cf. Campe 1872, 674. Harrison 2017, 90 writes that the Greek meaning “is clearly appropriate for a stereotypical male view of (young) female verbosity”. In his view, “here it is hard to tell whether Lalage is a pseudonym for a free-born Roman girl or the plausibly realistic name of a Greek-speaking freedwoman”. I share the view of Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 263 that it is a well-chosen pseudonym; as they write, “the name, and indeed the whole circumstance, is chosen because it suits the artistic needs of the poem”. However, I do not assume that the scenery is definitely fictive; some true experience could still underlie the ode. 535 Cf. Mayer 2012, 168: “The anaphora of dulce is emphatic: Lalage’s every utterance is charming”. 536 Bernsdorff 2020, 800f. mentions “the coaxing or beguiling effect” of the verb κωτίλλειν and the lemma in Hsch. κ 4889–90 (κωτίλη· λαλιστάτη, κώτιλον· ἡδύ. τρανές. λάλον. εὔστομον, κώτιλος· . . . ἀπατηλός) and then states “Whether in our fragment the adjective characterizes the bird’s song as pleasurable or as disturbing cannot be determined”. There are parallels for both interpretations; see the Anacreontic fragment PMG 394a quoted above. 537 See Bernsdorff 2020, 614, with reference to Nünlist 1998, 43–5. Bernsdorff argues that “[i]n the Anacreontea Sappho is called ἡδυμελής alongside An. (20.1–2), with the adjective also in the first position of the poem” and “χαρίεις is a favourite word of An.’s (seven times in the fragments; cf. PMG 380, n.), which the speaker applies to his own poetry in PMG 402c.2, χαρίεντα μὲν γὰρ ᾄδω, χαρίεντα δ’ οἶδα λέξαι, and is used of song already in Od. 24.197–8, ἀοιδήν | . . . χαρίεσσαν.” 538 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 288. Concerning the whole P.Oxy. 3722, he observes that, besides the usual predominance of wine and love, “the comic–satirical aspect, which plays a less im-

Satire and Seniority

141

examples from Anacreon only provide the image of the loquacious bird, and not a source for the name Lalage. In their comparison of Horace’s Lalage with the chattering beloved in a love th letter by the 6 century epistolographer Aristaenetus,539 Nisbet and Hubbard surmise that “Aristaenetus and Horace may have been influenced by a common source, presumably a lost Hellenistic poem”540 because of the congruence of λαλεῖν and Lalage’s description in Odes 1.22. As they note, ἔστω τοίνυν ἔργον ἓν μόνον ἐπιδέξιον ἐμοὶ φιλεῖν Δελφίδα καὶ ὑπὸ ταύτης φιλεῖσθαι καὶ λαλεῖν τῇ καλῇ καὶ ἀκούειν λαλούσης (Aristaen. 2.21) shares with 1.22 the idea that loving alone is the only decisive and meaningful task for the author (ἔργον ἓν μόνον ἐπιδέξιον ἐμοὶ and dum meam canto Lalagen). Another similarity is the close juxtaposition of loving and talking to the beloved, who is in both cases called by her name (φιλεῖν Δελφίδα … καὶ λαλεῖν τῇ καλῇ and Lalagen amabo | dulce loquentem). Even though a Hellenistic forerunner of precisely this Sapphic scenery, complete with the verb λαλεῖν, cannot be ruled out, we might follow this chain of thought into Hellenism and scrutinise the Carmina Anacreontea, which were doubtlessly influential on Horace, not so as to find there the model for both Aristaenetus and Horace, but to provide a proof of sweet λαλεῖν or λαλαγεῖν. The motif of the loquacious beloved and/or bird appears several times throughout the CA. Birds are found, for example, in CA 10, 15, 22, and 25, and the verb λαλεῖν or cognates appear in CA 10, 15, 16, and 17; however, only some of these poems are relevant for our interest in loquacious beloveds.541 In CA 16, the narrator gives instructions for a painting of his beloved girl (l. 5: γράφε τὴν ἐμὴν ἑταίρην); at the end he marvels at the breath-taking realism of the picture (l. 33f.): ἀπέχει· βλέπω γὰρ αὐτήν· | τάχα κηρὲ καὶ λαλήσεις. The following poem on another painting of Bathyllus (CA 17.1f.: Γράφε μοι Βάθυλλον οὕτω | τὸν ἑταῖρον ὡς διδάσκω) similarly speaks of the wax’s chatter in l. 25f.: τὸ portant role in the known fragments and is downplayed in the reception of the poet, seems to be present, too” (Bernsdorff 2020, 262, relating to further literature: Molfino 1998, 318–23 and Molfino and Porro 2016). 539 Aristaenetus’ sources are mainly Plato, Menander, Lucian, Alciphron, Philostratus, and Callimachus (cf. Weißenberger 2002 s.v. Aristaenetus). 540 Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 273. Cf. also Wilhelm 1902, 606 n.35: “Dass Horaz am Schlusse des Gedichts nicht bloss die Sappho (…), sondem auch einen hellenistischen Dichter, dem die Stelle der Sappho vorschwebte, nachahmt, lehrt Aristaen. II 21, wo der Jüngling der Geliebten die ganz ähnliche Schlussversicherung seiner Liebe giebt (…). Nach dem λαλεῖν des hellenistischen Vorbilds ist der Name Lalage gebildet, wenn ihn Horaz nicht schon dort vorfand”. 541 In CA 10, the speaker is highly annoyed by being woken up by a swallow (l. 2: τί σοι, †λάλευ† χελιδόν) who interrupts his dreams of Bathyllus. This is “the standard erotic theme (…) of a noisy bird (…) waking up a lover too early in the morning” (Rosenmeyer 1992, 104) and therefore does not pertain to our category of bird metaphors for humans.

142

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

δὲ πᾶν ὁ κηρὸς αὐτός | ἐχέτω λαλῶν σιωπῆι. These are only some of the meaningful examples of λαλεῖν indicating the speech of beloveds. More significant is CA 15, the poem on the ἐρασμίη πέλεια, Anacreon’s lovely dove. After answering the persona’s numerous questions in a lengthy monologue (which describes her task as a messenger of love letters and her life in intimate togetherness with her master Anacreon), she concludes somewhat rudely (l. 35–37): ἔχεις ἅπαντ’· ἄπελθε· λαλιστέραν μ’ ἔθηκας, ἄνθρωπε, καὶ κορώνης. You have everything: Go away; you have made me more loquacious, guy, than a crow.

In her discussion of this poem, Rosenmeyer analyses the bird as “a metaphor for the anacreontic poet who wishes to be the ‘slave’ or messenger of Anacreon, his favorite ‘pet’”.542 The bird thus serves as a metaphor for a human again, like Bernsdorff suggested for PMG 394a. The lovingly depicted intimacy between master and loquacious dove may generally resemble the sweetness of Horace’s love for the loquacious Lalage, but beyond this no specific similarity can substantiate any immediate link between the poems. All in all, even though we cannot trace Lalage’s name and the scenery around her unambiguously to any of the quoted Anacreontic and Anacreontean poems, we can see at least that the sweet λαλεῖν and λαλαγεῖν of birds and humans was significantly present in Anacreon as well as in the Anacreontea. Moreover, the name Lalage, which was suspected by Kießling and Heinze to carry the connotation of indicating a loquacious bird,543 is very much in line with the Anacreontic tradition and fits well the context of the Thracian filly adaptation in Odes 2.5. In this ode’s unnamed addressee (tuae), Horace’s and Anacreon’s personae merge in a playful and changeable (non-)identification, as I have argued in 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation. We might consequently assume a certain presence of Anacreon’s persona as well in the narrator of Odes 1.22 on meam Lalagen. Commenting on the theme of extraordinary peace and security in Odes 1.22, Nisbet and Hubbard point to the “other places where Horace claims to be under special protection”544 of the gods and the Muses, such as 1.17 – the deeply Anacreontean poem with the fide Teia –, 2.17, and 3.4, the poem with amabilis insania, where doves protect the tired boy Horace, beloved of the Muses, with a layer of fresh foliage (l. 11–13): ludo fatigatumque somno | fronde noua puerum palumbes | texere. This may remind us of the ἐρασμίη πέλεια and one of her ser-

542 Rosenmeyer 1992, 146. 543 As said above (Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 103). 544 Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 263.

Satire and Seniority

143

vices for her master Anacreon; she shades him with her wings while he is playing music (l. 31): καὶ δεσπότην κρέκοντα | πτεροῖσι συγκαλύπτω. CA 15 provides us with a further aspect of the ‘loquacious bird’ motif: the notorious chatter of the crow (κορώνη). The dove, in her last words, states that she is even more loquacious than a crow. This comparison implies that usually the crow would be even more loquacious than the famously garrulous dove. In addition, the crow, being a less beautiful bird and a traditional symbol of extreme old age, rather represents a less lovely kind of chatter, perhaps like the one of the addressee and Gastrodore in PMG 427. So let us now turn to these more satiric and abusive applications of the bird metaphor. Among Horace’s most bitterly satirical poems are those who deal with old or otherwise unattractive women who behave in a variety of inappropriate ways. These feature not only in the Epodes, as shown above in section 2.3.4 on aeschrology, but also among his lyric pieces. Odes 4.13 is a prime example for loosened genre boundaries and fierce iambus in lyric metre. According to Thomas, “[t] he abusive language at times moves the poem close to the nastiest of the Epodes”.545 For example, Horace’s old garrulous Lyce could well be an imaginary addressee of PMG 427. We encounter Lyce only once before, in Odes 3.10 where she is a married woman who spurns and disregards Horace’s advances while he is singing and begging on her threshold, shivering in the cold wind and rain: a typical paraclausithyron.546 Now, a couple of years later, Horace declares that he has prayed for Lyce’s humiliation, and he now celebrates sweet revenge for her earlier obstinacy547 (4.13.1–6):

545 Thomas 2011, 238. Syndikus 2001, 388 speaks of “ein so leidenschaftliches Sprechen, wie wir es bei Horaz selten finden”, but cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 452 who say that the poem is “dem reifen Alter des Dichters gemäß, frei von leidenschaftlichem Zorn”. Other invectives of a very similar kind, all against old women, are Epodes 8 and 12 and Odes 1.25 and 3.15. 546 For the motif of paraclausithyron in Horace, including a discussion of 3.10, cf. Mateo Decabo 2020: Politik der kleinen Form. Paraklausithyron und Recusatio bei Properz, Tibull, Horaz und Ovid. 547 Cf. Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 452. Concerning the identity of the two Lyces, Syn­ dikus 2001, 387 n.4 claims without any argument “an eine Verbindung der beiden Gestalten hat Horaz kaum gedacht”. Why not? The storyline from Lyce’s rejection of Horace’s love in 3.10 to his nasty revenge in 4.13 fits; in fact, Syndikus himself (p. 388) suggests the topos of the “verschmähte oder betrogene Liebhaber”. Horace must at the very least have foreseen that his readers might have identified the two Lyces as one and the same person. Moreover, the identity by use of the same name becomes all the more probable when we consider the two women Chloris and Pholoe. Both appear together in Odes 2.5.16f. and (as an old mother and daughter) in 3.15.7f., the nasty ode that is very similar to 4.13. Clearly the reuse of the same two names together is not a meaningless coincidence, but implies that the same two persons (whether merely fictive or pseudonyms or real) are meant.

144

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Audiuere, Lyce, di mea uota, di audiuere, Lyce: fis anus, et tamen uis formosa uideri ludisque et bibis impudens et cantu tremulo pota Cupidinem 5 lentum sollicitas (…) The gods, Lyce, have answered my prayers, the gods have answered them, Lyce: you are becoming a biddy, and still you want to look splendid, you play and drink impudently, and, boozed, you solicit the lame Cupido with a tremulous song.

At the end of 4.13, Horace contrasts old Lyce with his former love Cinara who died at a young age, and then compares her with an old crow (l. 22–25): Sed Cinarae breuis | annos fata dederunt, | seruatura diu parem | cornicis uetulae temporibus Lycen. The cornix is a traditional symbol not only of old age,548 but also of annoying talkativeness, as we saw already in the κορώνη of CA 15. Although this latter characteristic is not mentioned explicitly in Odes 4.13, it might well be activated by the comparison.549 She is characterised as an impudently drinking (bibis impudens), embarrassingly singing (cantu tremulo), ‘unseasonably’ lewd (Cupidinem lentum sollicitas), and crow-like (babbling?) wrinkly. This depiction shares the formal structure of PMG 427, namely the harsh address to a woman who misbehaves in several ways, and some core features of this misbehaviour. The most obvious is greedy drinking (bibis impudens and καταχύδην πίνουσα), and, if we assume that the cornix vetula may insinuate endless babbling as well, then the main vice of PMG 427 ὥστε κῦμα πόντιον λάλαζε is part of Horace’s chiding too. Directly before the comparison with the crow and the poem’s nasty conclusion, Horace suddenly changes his tone from sarcastic to regretful and remembers happier times filled with love for Lyce (l. 17–22):

548 Cf. also annosa cornix in Odes 3.17.13 and Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 217 on the crow’s ­longevity. Thomas 2011, 243 comments on uetulae: “of the crow, but very much humanized”. Cf. also the same epithet uetulam for Ibycus’ old wife Chloris in the very similar ode 3.15 (l. 16). 549 Consider that Lyce’s voice is mentioned already before in her tremulous song (l. 5). The use of epithets such as garrula and loquax with cornix is not uncommon. Cf. Georges s.v. cornix: “die Krähe, schon im Altertum bekannt durch ihre Geschwätzigkeit u. Gelehrigkeit in Nachahmung menschlicher Laute”, and ThLL s.v. 3: humanae linguae imitatrix et loquax, with examples: cornix garrula (Ov. am. 3,5,21); cornix loquax (Ov. fast. 2,89); cornix colore mire admodum nigro, plura contexta uerba exprimens et alia atque alia crebro addiscens (Plin. nat. 10,124).

Satire and Seniority

145

Quo fugit Venus, heu, quoue color, decens quo motus? Quid habes illius, illius, quae spirabat amores, quae me surpuerat mihi, 20 felix post Cinaram notaque et artium gratarum facies? Ah, what has happened to your bloom? Your graceful movement? What do you retain of her, yes her, whose very breath was love, who stole me from myself—the girl who, after Cinara, won my heart, and was a beauty also well known for her delightful skills?550

Kießling and Heinze comment that this passage is “in dem Rückblick auf das Einst weicher Stimmung zuneigend”.551 Syndikus gives a verbose interpretation of this sudden change and attaches importance to it. He speaks of a “Weheruf der betroffenen Fragen”, which lend to the Ode “menschliche Tiefe”.552 Above all, the gesture and Lyce’s position right post Cinaram, coming a close second after the preeminent Cinara, indicate how earnestly Horace once must have loved her. However, we know Lyce only from Odes 3.10, where she is in fact loved by Horace, but literally freezes him out. This cannot be the situation that Horace recalls here by his heu. So, if we assume that the name Lyce is another telling pseudonym, just like Lalage,553 we might speculate that Lyce is another pseudonym for the same girl that hides behind the pseudonym Lalage. This is not unthinkable; considered ex negativo, if Horace wanted to write about the same personality (fictive or real) that he had called Lalage in her youth, he could hardly keep the same girlish pseudonym for the domina in his paraclausithyron and then for an old woman, but the development from a lovely and loquacious Lalage to an annoying and crow-like Lyce would be an apt transition.554 And, even if a presumption of identity between Lalage and Lyce goes too far, it is ultimately an academic point if Horace had in mind one girl with two nicknames or two very akin women in different stages of their life. In any case, the following similarities between Lalage and Lyce are noteworthy. 550 Transl. taken from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 551 Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 452. 552 Syndikus 2001, 387. 553 For the fitting implications of the name meaning ‘she-wolf‘ and ‘whore’ cf. Thomas 2011, 239. 554 The name means ‘she-wolf’ and is often used for prostitutes. At least for Athenaeus and Greek hetairai, McClure 2003, 63 observes that “[o]ccasionally the same woman is referred to by different names” and gives several examples, for instance “the courtesan referred to by Sappho as Doriche and whom Herodotus later calls Rhodopis”, or a hetaira of Alcibiades called Damasandra or Timandra by Athenaeus, Epimandra by Aristophanes. Thus, giving several nicknames to one and the same beloved is in general not an unprecedented practice.

146

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

Lyce tries to hide her age and appear youthful through expensive clothes: Nec Coae referunt iam tibi purpurae … tempora (l. 13f.). Purple is not only precious and extravagant, but also the colour of Aphrodite.555 In the grape metaphor of Odes 2.5, Lalage is clothed in purple as well (l. 12): purpureo uarius colore. In Lyce’s case, the purple cannot bring back times of fresh ripeness, whilst in Lalage’s case the purple is announced as the indicator of precisely this fresh ripeness. The description of passing time is another point of contact: in terms of helplessness in the face of the inevitable fugacity of time, the tempora, quae semel … inclusit uolucris dies (4.13.14–16) correspond to currit enim ferox | aetas (2.5.13f.). This is admittedly not a very specific resemblance, but more particular is the “adding of years”: Sed Cinarae breuis | annos fata dederunt, | seruatura diu parem | … Lycen (4.13.22–25) and aetas et illi quos tibi dempserit | adponet annos (2.5.14f.). In l. 19, quae spirabat amores strongly reminds us of Odes 4.9.9f.: Nec siquid olim lusit Anacreon, | deleuit aetas: spirat adhuc amor. As I said in section 1.1.2 of the introduction, spirat adhuc amor can refer both to the preceding Anacreon and to the following Sappho, even though syntactically it is ordered more towards the latter.556 But the image of Lyce breathing little ‘loves’ stands very well in line with 1.22.23 dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, a Catullan-Sapphic image with Anacreontic shading. The following line 20 on Lyce, quae me surpuerat mihi, would also accord with the impression of Horace’s happy surrender to his tender love of Lalage in Odes 1.22, and the wording resembles especially Catullus’ words in 51.5f., even though Catullus’ enraptured state is not happy but distressed: dulce ridentem, misero quod omnis | eripit sensus mihi. In l. 21f., Lyce is described as notaque et artium | gratarum facies and ranks right post Cinaram, which seems to be the second-highest position in the chain of Horace’s female love affairs (if post indicates preference). If it rather indicates temporal succession (which is more plausible), we should understand that Lyce was number one among all Horace’s women after Cinara’s death.557 In both cases, the ranking would tally with Lalage’s being ‘in pole position’ in Odes 2.5.16, where Cinara is not mentioned, but Lalage is dilecta quantum non Pholoe fugax, | non Chloris.

555 Cf. e.g. Odes 4.1.10 on Venus purpureis ales oloribus; in Anacreon PMG 357.3 πορφυρῆ τ’ Ἀφροδίτη; PMG 358.1f. σφαίρηι δηὖτέ με πορφυρῆι | βάλλων χρυσοκόμης Ἔρως. 556 Thomas 2011, 242 s.v. spirabat amores also relates to 4.9.10 and notes the connection to “Sappho’s love poetry”. 557 Cf. Thomas 2011, 243 with arguments in favour of the temporal understanding of post.

Satire and Seniority

147

Finally, the women are similarly associated with two kinds of animals. Whilst Lalage, through her name, is identified by her sweet birdy loquaciousness, in the metaphor her associated animal is a cute young heifer. Lyce’s characterisation works the other way around. Her name implies a wolf and her animal metaphor is the loquacious old bird. Thus, in both cases, implication by a tell-tale name and implication by metaphor yield the same results, only in inverse order: a loquacious bird (Lalage) and a tetrapod (iuvenca); a tetrapod (Lyce) and a loquacious bird (cornix). Sweet Lalage becomes an annoying cornix, and the cute iuvenca develops into her own enemy: a wolf, the natural predator of calves.558 The line which describes Lalage iam te sequetur (2.5.13) thus gets a wholly new touch if we apply it notionally to Lyce. However, in order not to overemphasize these similarities, the identification of Lyce and Lalage must remain open. In any case, in the two examples of manners towards women, i.e. Lalage in 1.22 and 2.5, Lyce in 3.10 and 4.13, the affinity in wording and imagery is remarkable.559 In his introduction to his edition of Anacreon, Bernsdorff describes the following characteristic of Anacreon’s satiric poetry and perceives a possible imitation of this phenomenon by Catullus: “The presence of invectives in Anacreon’s μέλη (besides the ἰάμβοι mentioned in the Suda article, test. 1), even about persons who are glorified in love poems, may have had an important impact on Catullus, who shows a similar procedure within his lyric metres and writes iambics proper in addition to his melic poems”.560 Not only Catullus but also Horace seems to have borrowed from this Anacreontic pattern. Besides his lyric capers in the Epodes, for which Anacreon is explicitly named as the inspiration in Epodes 14, Horace has his iambic capers in the Odes, and they sometimes cater to the same persons who are adored in other odes. Here are four examples: (1) Odes 1.16 broaches the phenomenon in retrospect. This is the palinode discussed above in 2.3.2 Epodes 14 and Anacreon’s Palinode, addressed to a filia pulchrior (l. 1): fias recantatis amica | opprobriis (l. 27f.). Horace regrets his former angry iambics, which he mentions twice: l. 2f. quem criminosis cumque uoles modum | pones iambis, and l. 24f.: in celeres iambos | misit furentem.

558 Cf. the animal metaphors above around Epodes 12.25f. (tu fugis, ut pauet acris | agna lupos). 559 Mateo Decabo 2020, 140 describes Odes 1.23, the ode on the fearful fawn Chloe, as a “Pendant-Gedicht” for 3.10. If she finds “strukturelle[] Entsprechungen” (n.640) even with 1.23, the much more obvious similarities with Lalage from 2.5 should be taken even more seriously. 560 Bernsdorff 2020, 14.

148

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

As discussed above, we should surmise here that Horace meant proper iambi, i.e. iambic poetry also in the metrical sense. No satiric lyric poem is implied as a source of the recanted invective. However, this ode is a further example of the presence of one genre (iambus) featuring in the other (lyric), even if only by its denotation. The amalgamating effect is similar to talking about a lyric poet in an iambus (cf. Epodes 14.11 qui persaepe caua testudine fleuit amorem). (2) The first satiric ode aimed against an old woman is Odes 1.25. Here the victim is Lydia, who appears on three other occasions in the Odes: first in 1.8, where Horace accuses her of spoiling her lover Sybaris (he becomes too soft and effeminate through her); next in 1.13, a passionate plea to her that she should recognise the indecent brutality of her current lover Telephus; here, Horace clearly suffers from the typical Sapphic-Catullan symptoms of love and dreams of happier fates in the end (17f.): Felices ter et amplius | quos inrupta tenet copula. Last but not least, in 3.9, Horace and Lydia quarrel in a lively dialogue; they first remember the happiness of their former relationship, then try to outmatch each other by stating the success and depth of their respective current love affairs and new partners (Horace’s partner is Thressa Chloe, a woman with some significant Anacreontic features, cf. 2.2.3 on ‘fearful fawns’), and in the end they both cautiously explore the idea of rejecting their current partners, ‘scraping home’, and forming a couple again. In 1.25, however, Lydia is derided as an anus who sorely misses the frequent visits of suitors. The tone of the ode is not viciously abusive – it does not reach the level of the two following examples – but it does still contain a kind of derision that is unusual to the genre of lyric poetry, and its victim is a woman who is expressly loved in other poems, both earlier (1.13) and later (3.9) in the collection. (3) In Odes 2.5, the close imitation of PMG 417, Chloris is mentioned very favorably as a girl or woman who falls slightly below Lalage in her attractiveness (who is dilecta quantum … non Chloris albo sic umero nitens, l. 17f.). In Odes 3.15 (Uxor pauperis Ibyci) the same Chloris is the target of mean satiric mockery with many resemblances to Lyce’s Odes 4.13. This is the most obvious and unquestionable example of the same woman being glorified and cattily derided in the same lyric corpus. (4) It is clear from the fifth stanza of Odes 4.13 that Lyce is not only now a disdained victim, but once was a true love (i.e. more than the lordly domina of the paraclausithyron in 3.10). We do not possess more favourable lyric lines about her than Odes 3.10, but, if the personality behind the pseudonyms Lalage and Lyce is perhaps the same, this would be another very hidden instance of praise and contempt in the same corpus. I would therefore dare to say, borrowing Bernsdorff’s words on Anacreon’s invectives quoted above (cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 14), that these ‘invectives in Horace’s Odes (besides the Epodes), even about persons who are glorified in love poems’, are traces inspired by Anacreon’s poetry.

Satire and Seniority

149

2.3.6 Horace’s Baubo and Anacreon’s Eubuleus: poetological allusions? nd

Fr. 15 of the 2 century AD Anacreon-commentary in P.Oxy. 3722 almost certainly contains a (pherecratean) verse by Anacreon in l. 17, an invocation to the swineherd Eubuleus according to the articulation by Bernsdorff:561 Εὐ̣ ̣β[ο]υ ̣λ ̣εῦ τ ̣ε ̣ συβῶ ̣ τα. ̣ Eubuleus, son of Baubo and Dysaules and brother of Triptolemus and Eumolpus, belongs to the Attic version of the myth of Demeter and Kore; he informs Demeter, who stays in Baubo’s house after wandering around in search of her daughter, about Kore’s abduction by Hades (during which his swine were swallowed up in the underworld) and is rewarded by the goddess for this precious information with none less than the gift of agriculture. His name (‘good counsellor’), job, and task in the myth strongly resemble the swineherd Eumaeus in the Odyssey.562 Eubuleus’ profession also explains the ritual of throwing piglets into pits during the celebration of Demeter’s festival, the Thesmophoria.563 The appearance of this figure among Anacreon’s fragments meshes well with the poet’s other invocations to gods (also in pherecrateans) in PMG 348.3 (Artemis) and PMG 357.11 (Dionysus)564 and has far-reaching implications for our concept of both the figure itself and Anacreon’s poetry, some of which I will describe in the following. First, this is by far the earliest attestation of the swineherd Eubuleus, who was previously not mentioned before Clement of Alexandria (however, the name alone, without the peculiar profession, appears already in an inscription from th the mid-5 cent.).565 Second, Eubuleus’ presence in this fragment gives rise to the question when and where Anacreon in his various phases and locations of life wrote about this hero. Considering that in fr. 15 l. 18, the line following the Eubuleus quotation, the P.Oxy. commentary probably has ἐν Σ]άμῳ ὁ Ἀνακρέ[ων (thus supplemented by Maehler), we might see in this comment a statement on the origin of the poem.566 However, the name Eubuleus was also an epithet for Zeus and other gods 561 Cf. Bernsdorff 2011, 29. 562 Cf. Bernsdorff 2016, 1f. 563 Thorough information on the cult and the development and role of the swineherd Eubuleus can be found e.g. in: Clinton 1992; Foley 1994; Parker 1996; Parker 2005; Richardson 1974. 564 Cf. Bernsdorff 2011, 30 and 31. 565 Cf. Bernsdorff 2016, 2. According to him, it is hardly conceivable that Anacreon in his short lyric pieces founded the tradition of this mythical figure. We could therefore now tentatively date Eubuleus’ appearance in literature even earlier, perhaps in some lost pieces of longer hexametric poetry. 566 Thus Bernsdorff 2011, 30. See also n.14: “Note also that Anacreon’s hymn to the Magnesian Artemis has been connected to Anacreon’s stay at Polycrates’ court by modern interpreters” (e.g. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff 1913, 114). Even though there is almost no proof of a

150

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

probably before the swineherd even existed,567 and the well attested worship of Zeus Eubuleus, together with Demeter and Kore in the Ionian regions, rather rules out a coexistence with the homonymous swineherd. This particular cult of Zeus can be seen as an explanation of the swineherd Eubuleus’ emergence in a totally different region, namely Eleusis, where the god Plouton adopts the functions that are elsewhere ascribed to Zeus Eubuleus.568 Having lost its functions, the epithet develops into a person itself: Eubuleus the swineherd, a peculiar part of the local Attic version of the Demeter cult.569 This strongly supports the assumption that Anacreon wrote the Eubuleus poem during his time in Athens under the Peisistratid Hipparchus.570 Third, the mythical figure of Eubuleus is inseparable from the story of his mother Baubo, an elderly woman whom Demeter meets during her grievous search for her daughter and who is called Iambe in other versions of the myth. Baubo’s or Iambe’s name and features slightly vary in the different versions. Baubo seems to be the Orphic substitute for Iambe;571 what they have in common is that the old woman struggles to drag Demeter out of her depression, and after a while and some effort eventually makes her laugh. Sometimes the woman succeeds by telling obscene jokes (mostly Iambe), whilst in the versions featuring Baubo, speaking is not enough; only when she adds obscene gestures does Demeter start laughing.572 Baubo’s typical gesture consists in lifting her clothes and exposing her genitals to view, an act that is described with the verb ἀνασύρεσθαι in the Orphic Hymn to Demeter (Orph. fr. 52 Kern = PEG 395 F): ὣς εἰποῦσα πέπλους ἀνεσύρατο (l. 5). Whilst these probably postclassical verses573 seem to be the oldest preserved use of ἀνασύρεσθαι for Baubo’s actions, the verb itself specifically Samian Demeter cult, the island is very close to the Ionian shore with its big cities Miletus and Ephesus, where Demeter and the Thesmophoria were greatly celebrated. There is also archeological evidence for the figure of Baubo, Eubuleus’ mother, in the same region. Cf. Olender 1990: ‘Aspects of Baubo’. 567 Cf. e.g. Richardson 1974, 84: “Euboulos, or Eubouleus, is a title of Zeus and other ­deities in Greek cults, and especially of Hades. (…) In the Orphic Hymns he is also equated with Plouton”. 568 Cf. Clinton 1992, 60. Parker 2005, 337 explains: “What Zeus Eubouleus is in the Greek world at large, it has been plausibly argued, that Plouton is at Eleusis (…). At Eleusis, therefore, Zeus Eubouleus was redundant and had to be remodelled as a hero”. 569 Cf. e.g. Foley 1994, 152; Parker 1996, 99, Clinton 1992, 60. 570 The Peisistratids were known for taking special care of the Eleusinian mysteries. Even though filial cults in Ionia may at some later point have included the swineherd as well (cf. Bernsdorff 2016, 2f. with n.11), it is altogether more conceivable that, by writing about this particularly Eleusinian hero, Anacreon “counted on the interest of his host and his audience in Athens” (Bernsdorff 2016, 3). 571 Cf. Bernsdorff 2014a, 12. For a detailed evaluation of Baubo and Iambe see Rotstein 2010, 176–80. 572 On this distinction cf. also Rosen 2007, 49. 573 For the dating cf. Graf 1974, 166.

Satire and Seniority

151

is applied in similar contexts already much earlier, for instance in Herodotus, Histories 2.60.2 to describe Egyptian women performing a fertility rite.574 Interestingly, Photius attests in his lexicon that Anacreon uses the same verb (PMG 350): Ἀνασύρειν καὶ ἀνασεσυρμένην· εἰώθαμεν χρῆσθαι τῷ ὀνόματι ἐπὶ τῶν φορτικῶν ἢ ἀναισχυντούντων. Ἀνακρέων ἐν †αἰ†. Anacreon is hence not only the earliest source for the appearance of Eubuleus the swineherd, but also for the peculiar verb ἀνασύρεσθαι, and he might very well have used it to describe Eubuleus’ mother Baubo.575 Bernsdorff’s idea that the Eubuleus fragment “may point to the iambographic sphere, since Eubuleus was closely connected to Baubo”576 is thus even more plausible through the evidence of a further poem from the same context. The poetological dimension of the old woman becomes relevant, and not only of the obvious eponym Iambe, but also of her parallel Baubo. The depiction of her anasyrma in the Orphic hymn clearly “appears analogous to what Iambe does in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (200–204)”,577 and Anacreon’s “treatment of Eleusinian myth” was perhaps meant to “give an aetiology of Anacreon’s own iambic poetry”.578 Thus, “the motif of the anasyrma might also have possessed a deeper poetological and symbolical meaning in iambography”.579 As we saw above, Maximus’ anecdote of Cleobulus and the wet nurse is highly akin to other poetological narratives about Iambe/Baubo, so the two threads in Anacreon, Cleobulus with wet nurse and Eubuleus with Baubo, do not contradict each other or compete as possible aetiologies, but are rather tightly intertwined and complement one another. The fascination and inspiration that the Baubo figure seems to have provided to Anacreon is well captured in Maurice Olender’s rhetorical question about “this polysemous nurse”: “Is it because the name is so rich in associations that the ancients, followed by the philologists, made Baubo into a queen, a nurse, a maenad, a slave, and a demon of the night (…)?”580 Now I turn to two of Horace’s most nasty epodes, 8 and 12. Commenting on the old lecherous woman of Epodes 12, Watson suggests: “It is possible that, in her gracelessness, old age, grotesque ugliness, and obscenity of word and deed, we are meant to see in the vetula an analogue of Iambe (Baubo), the eponymous deity of iambic, who encompassed all these attributes”.581 This is a highly interesting and plausible idea. Moreover, we need not confine it to a vague similarity 574 Cf. Bernsdorff 2016, 10f. 575 Cf. Bernsdorff 2016, 11. 576 Bernsdorff 2014a, 12. 577 Bernsdorff 2016, 11: “This is commonly seen as an aition of iambic poetry”. 578 Bernsdorff 2014a, 12. 579 Bernsdorff 2016, 11. 580 Olender 1990, 84. 581 Watson 2003, 383.

152

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

with Iambe in Epodes 12: even though the depiction of an oversexed old woman in both Epodes 8 and 12 is a topos independent of the Demeter cult, there are more precise implications. First of all, we know that Horace was learned in the Demeter cult and its mysteries. In Odes 3.2.25–28, he cherishes the initiates’ faithful hush and condemns the divulgation of the cult’s secrets: Est et fideli tuta silentio 25 merces: uetabo, qui Cereris sacrum uolgarit arcanae, sub isdem sit trabibus (…). There is also a sure reward for loyal silence. I will forbid anyone who has divulged the secrets of mystic Ceres to be under the same roof. 582

As Suetonius informs us, Octavian himself was first initiated in the Eleusinian mysteries, and not a Roman adaptation;583 likewise, Horace here probably refers to the original mysteries from Attica (which were very popular in Rome at the time) rather than to a local Roman Ceres variant.584 That said, an identification of the vetula in Epodes 12 with Iambe/Baubo, a prominent figure of the Eleu­ sinian mysteries, is quite conceivable. In addition, the woman of Epodes 8, who has been considered by many scholars to be identical with the one in Epodes 12, is described in an obscene way that strongly evokes the impression of anasyrma. In particular, the detailed, almost anatomical description in l. 5f. hietque turpis inter aridas natis | podex uelut crudae bouis585 sounds as if the woman actively exposed her naked buttocks to view, rather than that Horace caught a glimpse of them during a mere face-to-face encounter. So in Epodes 8, the description 582 Transl. taken from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 583 Suet. Aug. 93: Athenis initiatus, cum postea Romae … de priuilegio sacerdotum Atticae Cereris cognosceret et quaedam secretiora proponerentur dimisso consilio … solus audiuit disceptantes. 584 In serm. 2.8.13f., Horace uses the specific example of Attic Demeter worshippers in his comparison: ut Attica uirgo | cum sacris Cereris. See also Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 33: “A temple of Ceres was dedicated in Rome in 493 BC (…), but her mysteries were probably confined to women (…) and played a much less important part in religious life than the Eleusinian mysteries”. 585 On the comparison with an old cow in Epodes 8, Watson 2003, 298 writes: “It is also possible that the coarse bovine analogy ironically inverts the familiar comparison of sexually uninitiated young girls to a πόρτις or vitula”, a comparison which in Horace’s poetry is obviously inspired by Anacreon. Likewise, commenting on the taurus metaphor in Epodes 12.17, Watson 2003, 411 says: “The bull-image is closely linked to the metaphor of the young girl as a πόρτις or vitula”, and here refers to the very Anacreontic Odes 2.5. Additionally, in Epodes 12, Inachia is named as the old woman’s rival with whom Horace has, to put it mildly, a very active erotic relationship (l. 15: Inachiam ter nocte potes). The mythical Inachia, “daughter of Inachus”, was Io, whose metamorphosis into a heifer gives Horace’s bull metaphor here “an ironic point: Horace is a taurus with Inachia (…), but a broken reed with the vetula” (Watson 2003, 408).

Satire and Seniority

153

of the woman’s exposure reminds the reader of anasyrma, and in Epodes 12 her monologue takes up half of the poem. These two characteristics, “word and deed”, as Watson says, or language and gesture, are also the two weapons with which the mythical Iambe or Baubo makes the mourning Demeter laugh. In both the myth and Horace’s poem, her appearance and her gestures provoke laughter, ridicule, and horror at the same time. The main difference lies in the roles of her addressees: whilst for the female goddess Demeter, Baubo’s anasyrma is just surprising and amusing, for the male human Horace it is shocking and disgusting, because in his case the woman is remonstrating against sexual fulfilment. Considering that the mythical Baubo tries to fulfil her task first by verbal, or oral, obscenity and then resorts to physical exposure, the last line of Epodes 8 gains a new twist: ore adlaborandum est tibi, in Horace’s case, Iambe/ Baubo succeeds neither with verbal nor with visual obscenity, but needs to take a third step and use her oral competence for something else than just words. Metapoetically speaking, among the different forms of poetry and the different levels of satire, such dirty iambic verses have the same function for the reader that Iambe’s mouth has for Horace. Furthermore, if we see in Horace’s vetula a reminiscence of the Eleusinian Baubo, the mother of a swineherd whose pigs were swallowed and for whose commemoration in the Demeter cult piglets were thrown into pits, then we might ask if Horace’s mention of a hidden pig is a mere coincidence (Epodes 12.4–6): namque sagacius unus odoror | (…) quam canis acer ubi lateat sus.586 Here Horace implies that the woman stinks like a pig (very fitting for a Baubo),587 and that his nose is better than that of a (swineherd’s) dog.588 586 In both Greek and Latin, the pig can also be a metaphor for the vulva. For the Latin metaphor, the word porcus is generally used instead of sus (which obviously shares an etymology with Greek ὗς, the common word for ‘swine’, also used for Eubuleus’ pigs e.g. in Clem. Al. protr. 2.17: τὰς ὗς τὰς Εὐβουλέως), and porcus appears predominantly in the context of nurseries and for young girls (cf. Adams 1982, 82 and 216; Varro says in Rust. 2.4.10: naturam qua feminae sunt in uirginibus appellant porcum). Both the word and its principal use in nursery contexts do not conform to our scenery. In the Demeter cult, swine were sacrificed as a replacement for the virgin sacrifices of non-Greek cultures; cf. Burkert 1972, 77 and 286: “das Schweineopfer hat den Charakter eines vorwegnehmenden Mädchenopfers”. It also symbolises the descent of the virgin Kore or Persephone into the underworld. But Horace’s hidden pig may remind the reader of the actual Thesmophoria piglets’ (χοῖροι) metaphorical meaning, cf. Burkert 1972, 286: “χοῖρος heißt vulgär der weibliche Schoß; nacktes Schweinchen und Sexualobjekt gehen ineinander über”. 587 Commenting on Horace’s swine comparison, Watson 2003, 385 paraphrases: “The mature and sexually active woman is a wild sow pawing to be unleashed” and points to Ar. Lys. 682f.: λύσω τὴν ἐμαυτῆς ὗν. Here ὗς is a metonymy for fury, not specifically for the vulva. The LSJ s.v. ὗς I 3 translates ‘I will give my rage vent (‘go the whole hog’)’. This is precisely parallel to the German colloquial proverb ‘die Sau rauslassen’ (‘to let the sow out’). 588 A swineherd’s dog is not attested for Eubuleus, but his colleague Eumaios (with whom Eubuleus might have been quite closely associated, cf. Bernsdorff 2016, 4f.) appears with dogs

154

And with the Teian lyre: Anacreontic Reflections in Horace

The drastic ‘vetula-Skoptik’, to use Grassmann’s coinage, and obscenity of the epode in general fits the context of the Demeter cult, because aeschrology was not only part of both the Thesmophoria and the mysteries,589 but this cult, with its prominent old woman, might even be the real source (and not just a later implemented aetiology) of the literary genres of iambic poetry as well as comedy. In his Poetics (1449a), Aristotle himself “traces comedy back to the phallic processions which persisted in some parts of Greece into and beyond his th own day”.590 Moreover, in Herodas’ 6 Mime, βαυβών (the masculine form of βαυβώ, which as a noun, according to Empedocles, means κοιλία – cavity of the body or belly)591 denominates an olisbos. In the Mime, “Metro asks her friend Koritto about the provenience of a dildo that Koritto had (…) lent to a woman called Eubule”;592 here, the names Metro and Koritto have been interpreted as allusions to Demeter and Kore, the βαυβών as a poetological symbol for Herodas’ iambic verses themselves.593 The ‘Iambic’ Baubo is thus etymologically strongly connected with phallic objects, just as iambus and comedy are conceptually inseparable from explicitly sexual language.594 In her monograph Sexualität als Rätsel (2021), Glaab detects similar mythical allusions in Martial 1.90, also pointing to the metapoetic meaning of Baubo’s behaviour,595 and contrasting the “superficial ugliness” in Martial’s epigram, in Stern’s words, with “hidden layers of meaning”.596 With the assumption that there are traces of the Demeter myth and especially old Baubo-Iambe in Epodes 8 and 12, we have a further point of contact between the iambic Horace and Anacreon: the treatment of central figures of the Demeter cult. In Horace’s case, the poetological implications are multiple. Following the logic of the Iambe aetiology, we may attempt an identification of the woman and the verse. Epodes 8 and 12, these two extreme examples of Horatian invective, constitute his core iambic poems. Iambe’s or Baubo’s ability in the in books 14, 16, and 17 of the Odyssey, e.g. in 14.21f.: πὰρ δὲ κύνες θήρεσσιν ἐοικότες αἰὲν ἴαυον | τέσσαρες, οὓς ἔθρεψε συβώτης, ὄρχαμος ἀνδρῶν. 589 Cf. Clinton 1992, 63. 590 Carey 2009b, 151. Earlier on the same page: “Aischrologia (indecent language and insult) played a part in the Eleusinian Mysteries and in other cults with a fertility aspect to them. Iambe’s role in the hymn is evidently an aetiology for cult practice at Eleusis, while her name suggests that iambos may have its origin in ritual mockery and ribaldry”. 591 Cf. Olender 1990, 84 with n.3. 592 Bernsdorff 2014a, 12 n.7. 593 Cf. Stern 1979, 252–4. 594 Cf. Carey 2009b, 151: “Iambos explicitly mentions body parts and describes processes which are avoided or mentioned allusively or fleetingly elsewhere. Like Old Comedy, iambos generally stresses sex where other genres stress love”, and “in its treatment of sex iambos is free to incorporate a degree of vulgarity which is otherwise rare in Greek poetry”. 595 Cf. Glaab 2021, 63f. 596 Stern 1979, 252.

Satire and Seniority

155

Demeter myth to provoke both laughter and horror is a characteristic of the two epodes as well. On a further level, Horace’s complex relationship with the old woman becomes poetological, and the woman to some degree self-referential: in describing an ugly Iambe, Horace is writing an ugly iambus. Or, in other words, Horace’s ugliest iambs consist precisely in, and emerge from, the description of ugliest Iambe. Watson’s observation that “both parties are made to look ridiculous — the vetula, for her insensitivity to her lack of physical allure, Horace, for his bad taste in becoming involved with her in the first place”597 can be transferred productively from the woman to the genre: his iambs are ridiculous per se due to their content’s lack of aesthetic allure; and does Horace even ask in the most iambic epodes why he ‘became involved with iambus in the first place’? If this reading appears to be going too far, at least it mirrors his generally split attitude towards iambic poetry, if we consider the many ‘un-iambic’ examples of primarily erotic-elegiac epodes, recusatio and palinode allusions. Perhaps iambus as a genre, alongside its attractions, always contained something repulsive to Horace; that is why he happily turns towards lyric. In this slight preponderance towards lyric, and in his being renowned more as a lyricist than an iambist, but still being a fierce iambist as well, Horace is a particularly faithful successor of Anacreon: not in the narrow sense of the softened stereotype, but broadly with regard to the monodic field of play that includes acrimonious satire.

597 Cf. Watson 1995, 190–4. In 192 n.10 he lists further scholars who have held this view. Watson 2003, 288 says that it is a “grotesque inversion of the usual pattern”, and Watson 2003, 395 writes: “The vetula’s repulsiveness has made the youthful Horace into a sexual geriatric”.

3. Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

3.1 Introductory Remarks 3.1.1 Dating the Anacreontea Being a blend of several formerly independent collections of Anacreontic imitations by anonymous authors, the Carmina Anacreontea pose some challenging riddles concerning their provenance and evolution. The question of dating is complex and full of uncertainties.598 We have no papyrological evidence at all, and there are barely any external hints at termini ante quos, except for the appearance of CA 4 in Aulus Gellius (ca. 180 AD). The Parisinus appendix seems to be a composition, or blend, of some formerly independent collections. Scholars largely agree on dating a first and perhaps a second collection back to the Hellenistic era; for CA 21‒34, the content and style suggest a single author who was quite well-versed and classical in metre and lexical usage.599 CA 1‒20 are probably still older, with 1 being the programmatic opening and 20 perhaps a closing poem, but without poems 2, 3, and 5 which are later insertions.600 CA 2 is considered another opening poem of a younger collection, and is therefore aligned to the first opening poem. The whole Parisinus collection is rounded off by CA 60, which many scholars consider to be a single piece of (at least) 36 lines, as transmitted in the manuscript.601 However, there are strong reasons 598 Bär et al. 2014, 158–60 give a succinct overview. The question is tackled at length in Brioso Sánchez 1970a: “Anacreontea: un ensayo para su datación”. Campbell 1988, 16ff. gives a list of different attempts at a chronology by Hanssen 1883, Sitzler 1913, Edmonds 1931, Brioso Sánchez 1970a, West 1984b. For further discussion cf. West 1990, Rosenmeyer 1992, 115–46, Lambin 2002, 24–36, Müller 2010, 121–3. 599 Hanssen 1888, 448 calls the author a “nachahmer des Anakreon, der spätestens dem anfang der römischen periode angehört, für jünger wird ihn wohl nicht leicht jemand halten”. Later (455), he speculates about an extremely early date of composition for the first group: “Stände also fest, dass nr. 2 1 — 3 2 aus dem zweiten vorchristlichen jahrhundert stammen, so dürften nr. 1. 3. 5 — 1 4 , wenn nicht in ihrer gesammtheit, so doch in der mehrzahl, kaum jünger sein als der anfang dieses jahrhunderts, können aber sogar in das dritte gehören.” This is one of the earliest dates ever suggested. 600 On CA 5 cf. e.g. West 1984b, 207: “The metre and prosody of this latter poem are degenerate”. He observes deviations in the quantities of the vowels α, ι, and υ, and compares the prosody with much younger poems such as CA 40, 41, 45, 49. 601 Thus West 1984b, Rosenmeyer 1992, Müller 2010, Zotou 2014.

158

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

for separating the last 13 lines as a self-contained poem, which then might even be dated independently from the first part.602 This question will be debated later. For now, I approve the separation and call the first 23 lines 60a and the last 13 lines 60b. I only use ‘60’ when tackling the question of division itself or when dealing with scholars who do not separate the poem. In any case, the request of CA 60b.7 τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ, which is addressed to the persona’s θυμός, can be considered as programmatic for the whole collection. Internal hints for dating have been looked for extensively, and frequently even to an implausible degree.603 The only reliable pointers can be made based on vocabulary,604 syntax, and metrical accuracy.605 In order to illustrate how special vocabulary or a peculiar use of words and dialect can impact the question of dating, and also to give an impression of the ‒ often underestimated ‒ artistry in some of the more refined Carmina, I will dwell briefly on a line from CA 11, which is part of the allegedly oldest group of poems within the anthology. In CA 11.6 ὃ δ’ εἶπε δωριάζων, the verb δωριάζειν, which usually means ‘dress like a Dorian girl, i.e. in a single garment open at the side’ (LSJ s.v.), takes on the meaning of δωρίζειν ‘to speak in the Doric dialect’. This use of δωριάζειν later appears twice again independently, namely in Philostratus’ Vitae Sophisnd rd tarum 1.24.2 (2 /3 cent. AD): ἔνθεν ἑλὼν ὁ Πολέμων καὶ ξυνιεὶς δωριάζοντος nd διελέχθη ἐς τὸν ἄνδρα πολλά, and Hermogenes’ De ideis 1.6.16 (2 cent. AD): ὁ γὰρ Θεόκριτος ἀχθόμενόν τινα πεποίηκε δωριαζούσαις γυναιξίν. In Hermogenes’ 602 Thus first Bergk 1882, followed more recently by Lambin 2002, Most 2014, and Bär et al. 2014. 603 Cf. e.g. Campbell 1988, 10f. on Edmonds’ attempt to date CA 14 “by the absence of Rome in the catalogue of love-affairs” as a sort of argumentum ex silentio on its decreased political influence. Similarly vague is the dating of CA 27 to the era of Parthian influence on the Greco-Roman world (ca. 247 BC-200 AD), only due to the mention of Parthian headgear; cf. Campbell 1988, 11, and Bär et al. 2014, 159, where the authors criticise the unscientific subjective reasoning of earlier scholarship in general (in categories like ‘bad’ or ‘infamous’). The exerted endeavour of Hanssen 1888, 447ff. to construe a high degree of kinship of CA 21‒34 with Pseudo-Phocylides merely on the basis of widespread topoi is justly criticised and rejected by Crusius 1889. 604 For details on the most uncommon words and the hapax legomena of the CA, cf. Vox 2006: ‘Osservazioni sul lessico degli Anacreontea’. 605 Even in the field of metre, some observations verge on absurdity. As to the different characters of the two most used metres, hemiambs and anacreontics, Hanssen 1888, 447 states that the first collection of the CA still respects the distinct attribution of light and jocular contents to hemiambs and slightly more grandiloquent attitudes to Anacreontic verses, whilst the poet of 21‒34 “hatte für das ethos der metra kein ohr mehr” and fills, undifferentiated, every metre with the hemiambic character ‒ although “[n]och in byzantinischer zeit wurde der unterschied der beiden metra lebhaft empfunden”. Consequently, Hanssen harshly criticizes the poet’s ignorance and comdemns him as a “zwar äusserlich von der griechischen kultur beleckten, aber innerlich dem hellenenthum fremden barbaren”. Needless to say, this is an overly sharp deduction from a very vague impression.

Introductory Remarks

159

case, the manuscript tradition also has the more usual variant δωριζούσαις. This variant occurs in manuscripts that all belong to one and the same family (called th ‘y’ by the 2012 editor Patillon)606 except for one late manuscript (13 cent., called Vk) from the other manuscript family, called ‘x’. The editor regards Vk as “témoin souvent fautif”.607 The lectio difficilior δωριαζούσαις, however, is not th th only attested in two (not interdependent) 11 and 13 cent. manuscripts from th the y family, but also, more importantly, in the lemma of the 5 cent. commentary on Hermogenes by Syrianus,608 which is independent from both x and y. Patillon nevertheless decides in favour of the lectio facilior, but I deem it highly improbable that the unusual δωριαζούσαις should erroneously have made its way both into the textual tradition of Syrianus and into two of many independent and late texts of the y family. It is much more plausible that the somewhat strange original δωριαζούσαις was levelled out by several copyists.609 So, we have a total of three independent instances for δωριάζειν in the sense of nd rd δωρίζειν; two are from the 2 and 3 cent. AD (Hermogenes and Philostratus), one (CA 11) of unclear dating, but most probably earlier, as I will now argue. CA 11 is rooted in the bucolic tradition: Rosenmeyer quotes Theocritus’ Idyll 2 as a comparison,610 but the appearance of a person who speaks in the Doric dialect and the use of δωριάζειν in this sense may also point to Idyll 15 (cf. l. 93 δωρίσδειν). This is the Idyll from which Syrianus takes his quotations to illustrate Hermogenes’ words about the δωριαζούσαις γυναιξίν. At the same time, we can hardly deny in CA 11 a slight nod to Anacreon and his use of the word δωριάζειν, despite its divergent sense.611 On this basis, the original sense of Anacreon’s word, ‘to dress like a Dorian girl’, might even lend to ὃ δ’ εἶπε δωριάζων an erotic connotation: the Eros-seller does not only speak Doric (this is the superficial meaning), but perhaps also wears clothes that provide an insight while he speaks – surely a witty tactic to attract the purchaser’s interest through word and deed alike. Even without a 606 In the following, I use the survey of the manuscript tradition (p. CXXXIII‒CXXXIX) and the stemma (p. CXXXIV) of the edition by Patillon 2012. 607 Cf. Patillon 2012, CXXXVI, who observes “une copie trop active”. 608 Syrianus illustrates Hermogenes’ words by quoting from Theokr. eid. 15.65/19/17 (in this order). Theokr. eid. 15.93 has the usual verb form without α: Δωρίσδειν δ’ ἔξεστι, δοκῶ, τοῖς Δωριέεσσι. Here, too, one of the manuscripts preserving Syrianus’ text, namely the codex Messanensis, has δωριζούσαις instead of δωριαζούσαις, but the editor Rabe 1892 declares in his preface (p. VIII): “correcti, immo prave mutati sunt in Messanensi saepissime ii loci, quibus Venetus praebet aut corruptam lectionem aut genuinam sed eam (…) diversam paulum a solito dicendi genere”, which is precisely the case with δωριάζειν. We should keep the lectio difficilior here as in Hermogenes. 609 I thus agree with several earlier editors in preferring δωριαζούσαις; see e.g. Walz 1834, 224 with n.64 and Spengel 1854, 291. Rabe 1913, 247 has δωριζούσαις. 610 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 170. 611 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 647 on Anacreon’s δωρίαζειν in PMG 399: “The occurrence of δωρίαζειν in Anacreont. 11.6 W. (…) may point to the authenticity of the word”.

160

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

reference to the possible erotic connotation of δωριάζων, Zotou hypothesises that the young boy not only sells a wax Eros, but implicitly himself.612 Inserting an α into the usual verb δωρίζειν, which describes a dialect notorious precisely for its many long α sounds, is fine irony. It thus fits the dialect even better than δωρίζειν, and its overlap with the original meaning ‘to dress like a Dorian girl’ creates an interesting connotation. In δωριάζειν, the Doric speaker’s mouth gapes for the α just like the Doric girl’s peplos gapes in default of a belt. If we presuppose that CA 11 points to both Anacreon’s δωριάζειν and Theocritus’ δωρίζειν, and a conflation of their meanings, then this reflects a sophisticated allusive pun of the kind typical for the Hellenistic era. Its wit could also fit into the later Roman Imperial era, but the fact that the pun presumes a clear awareness of dialects and that it plays with sharp dialectical distinctions points to the earlier context. Within the oldest group of Anacreontea we find a “consequent Ionic colouring” that “is supposed to highlight the affiliation to Anacreon”;613 CA 11 is outstanding in its handling of the Doric dialect. In his study of ‘Dialects in the Anacreontea’, Sens analyses this poem thoroughly and proposes a metapoetical reading of “the movement of the Eros figurine from a Doric speaker to the Ionic-speaking narrator (…). So interpreted, the poem constructs for itself a literary past that includes a tradition of love poetry written in Doric. Such a tradition is most obviously identifiable with later bucolic, whose authors treated Eros as one of the central themes of the genre they had inherited from Theocritus”.614 Sens nd st names Bion and Moschus (both 2 to 1 cent. BC) as typical representatives of this tradition. But considering that Theocritus’ δωρίζειν might also lurk behind the δωριάζειν of CA 11, this strongly (post-)Theocritean-bucolic setting suggests a compositional date from the Hellenistic period.

3.1.2 Character of the anthology and significance for Horace Already before the Hellenistic era, the reception of Anacreon takes in a long tradition in literature, sculpture, vase paintings, and mosaics.615 Recently, his fame and his imitators have even been compared with the phenomenon of Elvis 612 Cf. Zotou 2014, 71f. She claims that Rosenmeyer 1992, 171–3 argues for the same, but this seems to be a misunderstanding: Rosenmeyer only suggests the even more manifest thought that the wax Eros is a symbol for an actual sex slave; according to her, the seller’s words ὅπως δ’ ἂν ἐκμάθηις πᾶν are typical for slave sellers who are obliged to inform the customers about the slave’s deficiencies as well. 613 Both quotations are taken from Bernsdorff 2020, 38. 614 Sens 2014, 111. 615 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 12–49, a chapter of 38 pages (“Origins: The role of Anacreon as model”), in which she collects a great amount of traces of Anacreon from his lifetime up to the Hellenistic period and both in literature and arts (the latter esp. on pp. 22–36 “Anacreon and art“).

Introductory Remarks

161

Presley, whose impersonators intended to imitate not only the character of his songs and his voice, but a holistic representation of their hero, including clothes, gestures, and facial expression. In the case of Elvis, this process started already during his lifetime, and it tended to select the most popular traits while neglecting less celebrated features of his songs.616 Thus, probably in the late Hellenistic period, the first Anacreontea emerge from a long process of imitating and stereotyping and later flank this process themselves throughout the centuries. Their technique of imitation seems to be unique in ancient Greek literature, insofar as it is not, like elsewhere, either μίμησις of the writing style of a poet or μίμησις of the lifestyle of fictitious heroes, but conglomerates both kinds in a μίμησις of the whole lifestyle of the poet – exactly the kind of imitation that we find in the Elvis impersonators. From this practice, μίμησις of Anacreon’s writing style naturally follows, but only as one among several imitable aspects. The prior condition for this conflation is the fact that the author Anacreon himself has acquired the status of a hero and paradigm in the meantime. The decorous personal statements in his poems, carefully selected among the indecent ones, seem to be regarded as authentic by the imitators.617 Their image of Anacreon concentrates very selectively on the aspects of love, wine, and song, and ignores the satiric-aggressive features of the original.618 Due to this great popularity and the extent of Anacreon’s reception in general, and since Horace was doubtlessly inspired by Anacreon’s poetry in his Odes and Epodes, it is generally plausible to think that he, being an exquisitely literate ­poeta doctus, might have known the oldest Anacreontea as well. To date, only very few observations have been made sporadically on the topic of Horace’s relationship to the Anacreontea, and they do not go beyond the level of generalisations. For example, Acosta-Hughes states only vaguely that “Horace’s poetry shows reflections both of extant Anacreon and of the Anacreontea”.619 Robbins in the New Pauly suspects that Horace’s mention of Anacreon’s love for Bathyllus (Epodes 14.9–10) dates from the CA and other sources

616 Cf. Bing 2014, 35f. 617 Cf. Most 2014, 150ff. For this kind of imitation in the context of symposia, Most coins the term ‘Enacting Anacreon’. According to him, reciting dramatic literature and enjoyable plays performed by hired actors were conventional elements of the symposium, but “[t]he Anacreontic poet is not doing either of these. Instead, by singing Anacreontic poems, he is pretending to be Anacreon” (p. 155). 618 Robbins 2002 s.v. Anacreon (B): Works, style and subject matter) specifies violence, obsession, lack of self-control, dread of old age and death in the authentic fragments, then declares: “All these characteristics stand in clear contrast to the impression of introspective sensuality and mild decency, which are transmitted to us by the tradition and the Anacreontea”. 619 Acosta-Hughes 2010, 148.

162

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

rather than from Anacreon,620 while Nisbet and Hubbard detect a general tone of typically Anacreontic “rustic hedonism” in Horace, especially in Odes 1.17.621 There as well as in several other places, it is claimed that Horace “no doubt” considered these Anacreontea to be original Anacreontic.622 So much for the common view, which needs to be tested in the following. Firstly, we have to ask if there is any reliable indication in the very texts for a conscious reception of the CA by Horace, a reception that goes deeper, and can be pinned down more precisely, than the mere raking-up of widespread topoi. If so, proof can naturally only be found in those Anacreontea that are not beyond doubt creations of a later date. Therefore, particularly the two groups 1–20 (except for the later insertions 2, 3, 5 and perhaps 4) and 21‒34 will be considered, since all the other poems are either doubtlessly younger or would first have to be re-examined in terms of their dating. But even this part of the Anacreontic collection will prove very fruitful. Secondly, a highly important aspect of the common assumptions regarding Horace’s handling of the CA will be challenged. It is held in passing mention with an astonishing confidence that Horace did not differentiate between centuries-old original Anacreon and very recent imitations. To date, scholars have considered the appearance of CA 4 in Aulus Gellius’ Noctes Atticae (19.9.5‒6) as nd a sure proof of lost knowledge on authorship and (non-)authenticity in the 2 cent. AD, judging it as Gellius’ inadvertent attribution to the archaic Anacreon, because he introduces it as Anacreontis senis. However, the interpretation of Anacreontis senis is not unequivocal, in the sense that it is not absolutely clear th if Gellius speaks of the historical poet from 5 century Teos or perhaps more vaguely of the literary poet-hero as the founder of the whole Anacreontic tradition. Gellius could still have been aware of the fact that his quoted poem is not original Anacreon, but only a poem featuring his famous literary persona, and in this sense he might have referred loosely to Anacreontis senis. The passage in the Noctes Atticae is therefore not absolute proof that there must have been a general confusion between original Anacreon and Anacreontea in Gellius’ times. In fact, considered earnestly, the idea of Horace inadvertently blending original and imitation is practically unthinkable. If we, two millennia after the first Anacreontea, notice their derived and imitative nature by analysing and comparing their language, how would Horace, two to two hundred years after the oldest CA, not have perceived it? Even though he obviously did not have modern philological methods and tools for analysis and dating, he surely did have a 620 Cf. Robbins 2002 s.v. Anacreon (C): Reception and transformation. 621 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, XII. 622 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 215, quoted in Watson’s commentary on the Epodes (cf. Watson 2003, 451). Likewise Acosta-Hughes 2010, 148: “Horace in turn may have attributed the Anacreontea to Anacreon“.

Introductory Remarks

163

much more natural and sensitive feel for the archaic – and imitative – Greek language than we do. If we presuppose, also, the Alexandrian edition of Anacreon’s poems by Aristophanes of Byzantium and Aristarchus of Samothrace as the base for Horace’s verse crafting,623 and if we assume that exactly the same Hellenistic scholarly interest that led to the Alexandrian edition was also responsible for the rise of imitative Anacreontean poetry, perhaps based on this edition, then we cannot reasonably hypothesise a divulgence of the earliest CA alongside the originals in the same publication or in any other context of transmission in which a knowledge of their secondary nature could have become lost so quickly within only a few generations.624 On the contrary, the almost completely unconnected histories of transmission for Anacreon and the CA point to a high degree of independence.625 In addition, it is precisely the oldest collection of CA 1–20 in which Anacreon is named repeatedly (cf. CA 1, 7, 15, 20), and mostly he is clearly marked as different from the lyric persona.626 So, if Horace knew any of the CA at all, it were these. How should he have overlooked their overt imitative nature?627

623 Thus e.g. Santirocco 1986, 6, who then describes the huge difference between the rather technical poem arrangement in Alexandrian editions of the lyric poets and the aesthetic arrangement of new books by Hellenistic poets. 624 What Rösler says in a different context about the authenticity of Archilochus’ First Cologne Epode and the editions by the Alexandrian scholars holds true for Anacreon as well: “Nun hatte deren wissenschaftliche Aktivität gerade auch den Effekt, daß das Werk der von ihnen betreuten Autoren von nun an ,festgeschrieben‘ und damit für die künftige Überlieferung auf besondere Weise gesichert war. Es kann deshalb nicht verwundern, daß es (…) nicht gelungen ist, eine Parallele für die Aufnahme späthellenistischer Fälschungen in zeitgenössische ,Klassiker‘-Ausgaben zu nennen” (Rösler 1976, 292). 625 A way to explain a false attribution of a CA to Anacreon by Horace would be to argue that some scattered early imitations existed before the Alexandrian edition and perhaps even made their way into it. After all, very early Anacreontic patterns were found in Euripides’ Cyclops by Bing 2014 (‘Anacreontea avant la lettre’). However, if even the poeta doctus Horace – living in a time vastly influenced by, and connected with, Hellenism, and having access to the Alexandrian edition of Anacreon – took some of the CA to be authentic, how should this utter confusion have been resolved later, so that we, 2000 years later and with far less extant material, know it better than Horace? It is far more conceivable that, among our seemingly authentic fragments, there are still undetected (and, in fact, quite undetectable) imitations than that in Horace’s scholarly edition of Anacreon imitations had crept in which only much later were detected as such and isolated. 626 The only further name-dropping is in CA 60. The significance of this will be discussed later. On the plurality of voices in the CA cf. also Bär 2017: ‘Composition, Voices, and the Poetological Programme in the Carmina Anacreontea’. 627 I consider it possible that modern scholarship has inadvertently projected its own former error (i.e. considering the CA to be original) onto antiquity.

164

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

3.2 Horace’s Latin Anacreontea 3.2.1 CA 60: questions of unity and dating CA 60 is the closing poem of the whole collection, and as such a much-debated one ‒ if it is one at all and not rather a combination of two closing poems. The question of poem-division in CA 60 therefore needs to be discussed in detail. In 4 the manuscript, it is certainly transmitted as one continuing poem. Bergk 1882 was the first to separate the last 13 lines from CA 60, followed more recently by Lambin 2002, Most 2014, and Bär et al. 2014, whose arguments I incorporate into the first half of my discussion. Considering the conditions of transmission in general (mainly from one source only, while the other sparse sources partly transmit divergent poem divisions or conflations of poems and other versions)628 and the somewhat desolate state of the anthology’s end in particular (numerous textual problems, lacunae, a locus desperatus, perhaps even a completely missing end of CA 60),629 it does not seem too bold to ponder the possibility of a different poem division, although there is no visible hint of separation in the manuscript. Regarding structure, language, and content, there are many factors which point in favour of a separation. The end of the myth of Apollo and Daphne in v. 23 is a witty punch line that would do very well as a poem’s end. Apollo helplessly plucks leaves from the freshly metamorphosed Daphne-bush, believing in his blind desire that he thus serves Aphrodite.630 The self-stimulation in v. 24 ἄγε (and the rhetoric question) are highly common features of Anacreontic poem-beginnings (or at least important section-beginnings): PMG 356a ἄγε δὴ φέρ’ ἡμὶν ὦ παῖ; PMG 356b ἄγε δηὖτε μηκέτ’ οὕτω; CA 3.1 and 16.1: Ἄγε, ζωγράφων ἄριστε. These points do not yet justify the separation. However, more reasons can be given.

628 For instance, in the Planudean Anthology there is a conflation of poems 8 and 4; we also have three different versions of CA 4 itself. 629 In addition, the scribe displaced 14 lines at the very end of the anthology, after CA 60b.13. The lines were replaced by editors after being identified as belonging to CA 58 (ll. ­23–36). Rosenmeyer 1992, 131 calls CA 60 “by far the worst specimen in terms of transmission”, and Bergk 1882 ad loc. seems to consider this as a legitimate reason for separation as well: “Atque hoc quoque carmen [i.e. CA 60b] (…) detrimentum cepit: in extrema parte plura interciderunt, nec mirum, cum hoc carmen novissimum locum archetypi olim obtinuerit.” 630 Breaking off a poem in a myth without returning to the level of the persona’s reality is not unparalleled in the earlier lyric tradition; cf. Bernsdorff 2005: “Offene Gedichtschlüsse”. In addition, in arguing for CA 60a.23 ἐδόκει τελεῖν Κυθήρην as a final line, Bär et al. 2014, 133 point to the similar final line CA 36.16 τελεῖν τὰν Ἀφροδίταν, “das ebenfalls als Pointe ein Gedicht abschließt”.

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

165

The last 13 lines are semantically not connected to the first 23 in any perceptible way,631 and the overall length of the poem (at least 36 lines) would not exactly be unrivalled, but rather unusual for the CA. If we assume (with Most and against Bergk) that no lines are missing at the end, the pivotal name Anacreon would then end up standing at the very centre of the central line of the 13 verses. Admittedly, this is very speculative.632 But probably the most decisive argument th in this context is that the metrical irregularities that lead to a late dating (5 cent. AD) occur in the first part alone, while the last is metrically perfect for classical standards.633 Now let us consider the last 13 lines as a separate self-contained poem 60b. Although several scholars have done this before, the task of conducting a close comparison with other parts of the anthology in order to group it with one of them has not yet been undertaken exhaustively. In my view, it is highly note 631 Cf. Most 2014, 146 n. 4: “[I]ts link to what precedes is extremely unclear”. This is also Bergk’s main argument for separation: “Nam c. 58 [i.e. the first part of 60], quamvis inaequabilitate quadam partium, ut supra monui, laboret, consummatum est: quae deinceps sequuntur ab instituto argumento prorsus sunt aliena: neque enim ad Apollinem et Daphnes fortunam spectant, sed ad puerorum amores.” (Bergk 1882 ad loc.) Those who postulate the unity of CA 60 must naturally allow for the semantic cut. Rosenmeyer 1992, 134–5 interprets this as meaning that, by describing the hopeless love of Apollo, the persona escapes his own futile hopes and thus transforms his love into poetry just like the girl Daphne is transformed into a tree. Apollo’s act of plucking leaves is a compensation for erotic gratification as insufficient as writing and performing love poetry. The fact that Apollo does not even realise how much he falls short of his dream makes the scene at the same time amusing and – with its transfer to the persona in mind – even more frustrating. This frustration emerges already in the surprisingly rude, almost pouty music performance at the beginning: in the non-musical verbs κροαίνων and βοήσω, the comparison with a swan song (a well-known metaphor for imminent death) that is in unison with whistling wind, and in the less respectful order to the Muse to join the dance. If we cut off CA 60a here and consider it as ending suddenly with the myth, then it is in fact a very apt conclusion for the youngest CA collection to observe, in its astounding end of the myth, both the joy and the uselessness (in terms of actual erotic action) of imitating Anacreon by writing and performing in his style. Praising Bathyllus excessively does not bring the boy back into life, not to mention his availability for erotic adventures. 632 Cf. Most 2014, 146 n. 4. According to him, the view that this central position was due to hazard would mean for a “remarkable coincidence”; therefore he adopts Mehlhorn’s emendation to φύγωμεν in the last line, by which the poem’s grammatical structure would be rounded off. I do not deem the symmetry and central position a cogent enough argument for such an emendation, though. 633 Cf. Bär et al. 2014, 133, and Müller 2010, 135 n. 503: long syllables at the beginning of v. 9 and 17; a syllable wrongly long by position in v. 7. For the appreciation of the last 13 lines, cf. Lambin 2002, p. 176: “L’auteur est un poète habile et soigneux, respectant encore des ope positions de quantités que la langue populaire avait commencé à perdre dès le V siècle avant J.-C. à Athènes”. Bergk 1882 ad loc. renders a judgement quite contrary to ‘habile et soigneux’ without further explanation: “admodum inficeti versificatoris esse apparet”. But this does not touch the question of metrical correctness.

166

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

worthy that 60b provides a couple of features which otherwise occur only in the poems of the first and oldest collection (CA 1–20) or at least seem to be peculiar to it. (1) Happy mania. The artful figura etymologica in CA 60b.1f. ἄγε, θυμέ, πῆι μέμηνας μανίην μανεὶς ἀρίστην, which alludes to Plato’s famous definition of erotic mania as the best of all madnesses,634 is lexically the most evocative example of the “θέλω, θέλω μανῆναι” motif in CA 9.3/9/19 and 12.12 (where it is also connected with love for the ἑταῖρα). Apart from CA 60b, the verb μαίνομαι occurs six times in CA 9, two times in CA 12 and once respectively in CA 53 and in CA 57. In the latter, the participle is used as an attribute for τέχνα and has nothing to do with personal madness through drinking. In CA 53, χαριέντως τε μανῆναι does indeed illustrate the happy madness of a dancing and drinking old man. However, with this single late exception, a positive μανῆναι seems to be mainly a feature of the oldest collection. (2) Duel of archery. The announced fight with the arrow (obviously an amorous fight)635 in CA  60b.3f. τὸ βέλος φέρε κράτυνον, σκοπὸν ὡς βαλὼν ἀπέλθηις resembles CA 13.8–12 κἀγὼ λαβὼν ἐπ’ ὤμων θώρηχ’ (…) ἐμαρνάμην Ἔρωτι. ἔβαλλ’, ἐγὼ δ’ ἔφευγον. Eros’ arrows are found again in CA 28 and 33, but without any indication of a pugnacious duel. (3) Drinking words of love. L. 10 φιάλην λόγων ἐραννήν conveys the same notion of drinkable words as the list of ingredients (Anacreon, Sappho, Pindar) in CA 20, which were poured and mixed into a drink that even the gods might appreciate. Admittedly, the motif of drinking words is not exclusive to the CA; there are widespread variations of it in Greek as well as Latin literature (for example in the AP, Pindar, Horace, Vergil and others).636 However, in the CA, it occurs only in the poems 20 and 60b. In addition, the drink of CA 60b is called νέκταρος ποτόν in l. 11 – nectar being the typical drink of the Olympic gods, and hence perhaps precisely the same drink as in CA 20. If both poems are originally from the same collection, CA 60b might have immediately succeeded CA 20, whereby the identification of the two wordy drinks would have been even more obvious. 634 Plato, Phaedrus 265b; cf. e.g. Most 2014, 147 n. 6. 635 Cf. Most 2014, 147 with n. 7 for its interpretation as a “poetic and erotic missile”. 636 For instance Pindar Pyth. 9.104: ἀοιδᾶν δίψαν ‘thirst for songs’; AP 12,115: μεθύων μεγὰ μύθοις ‘heavily drunk from words’; Horace Odes 2.13.32: exactos tyrannos … bibit aure uolgus (cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 219 ad loc.), and further examples in ThLL 2.1966.41–45.

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

167

(4) Explicit mention of Anacreon Besides CA 60b.7 τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ, all the other explicit mentions of Anacreon are within the first group of poems, namely in poems 1, 7, 15, 20. Despite the amount of scholarship on these poems’ self-referentiality, this fact, as far as I can see, has never been stated explicitly as something very striking. (5) Peculiar combination of Anacreon, wine, song, and children CA 15 shares with CA 60b the combination of naming the idol Anacreon with his act of προπίνειν and his music. In CA 15.7f., Anacreon’s pigeon reports: ‘Ἀνακρέων μ’ ἔπεμψε | πρὸς παῖδα, πρὸς Βάθυλλον, and later (l. 25–32): τὰ νῦν ἔδω μὲν ἄρτον 25 ἀφαρπάσασα χειρῶν Ἀνακρέοντος αὐτοῦ, πιεῖν δέ μοι δίδωσι τὸν οἶνον ὃν προπίνει, πιοῦσα δ’ ἀγχορεύω 30 καὶ δεσπότην κρέκοντα637 πτεροῖσι συγκαλύπτω. For now, I eat the bread that I steal from Anacreon’s own hands, and to drink he gives me the wine with which he toasts (sc. me), and after drinking I start dancing and cover my boss with my wings while he plays music.

The imitation of Anacreon the singer in CA 60b consists in the item ‘lovely wordy bowl’ (love poetry) and the action of προπίνειν638 to children (potential ἐρώμενοι like Bathyllus?), that is, the very behaviour that the pigeon in CA 15 tells about her boss. (6) The concept of insupportable heat. The Dog Star motif of CA 60b does not appear elsewhere in the anthology, but the idea of fleeing the torrid heat of erotic desire by drinking wine in CA 18 is very akin to it, since the Dog Star is a typical symbol of ardent erotic passion.639 There are other metaphorical uses of fire in an amorous context in three further 637 Wahl conjectures in l. 31 δεσπότην κρέκοντα instead of the metrically wrong δεσπότην Ἀνακρέοντα in the manuscript, but even if the assumption of a hint at instrumental music here is not correct, we find the βάρβιτον in l. 34. The instrumental background is given in any case (most probably as accompaniment to love songs, e.g. for Bathyllus who is mentioned in l. 8). 638 This peculiar verb also appears in the original Anacreon: PMG 356.2f. ὅκως ἄμυστιν | προπίω; and with a beloved in PMG 407: ἀλλὰ πρόπινε | ῥαδινοὺς ὦ φίλε μηρούς. Discussing the verb’s specific metaphoric meaning in PMG 407, Bernsdorff 2020, 665 analyses three steps in establishing its basic meaning: “(i) drinking a full cup, (ii) filling it up again, (iii) handing it to another and so challenging him to drink too”. 639 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 135 n.55.

168

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

poems of the oldest collection (but none of this kind in the younger poems).640 Firstly, the persona of CA 11 buys a wax statue of Eros and commands it to inflame him immediately (πύρωσον, l. 15), otherwise the statue will be punished by melting itself in a flame (κατὰ φλογός, l. 16). Further, the two pictures of CA 16 and 17, one of a beloved girl, the other of Bathyllus, contain burning elements: the girl’s fiery eyes (ἀπὸ τοῦ πυρὸς ποίησον, l. 19), and Bathyllus’ fiery thighs (μηρῶν τὸ πῦρ ἐχόντων, l. 35). Now, all these subsuming features and repercussions of earlier CA motives in CA 60b could obviously be explained by the assumption that it was either composed for precisely this purpose by the late collector and composer of the anthology (but why should he then have focused so much on kinship with the oldest poems instead of all?), or deliberately put to this end by him because it rounds off the whole corpus so well. The latter possibility is endorsed by West,641 but since West does not suggest poem-division, he applies this approach to an undivided CA 60 which then has to be dated late as a whole. However, once divided from the definitely younger part, and bearing in mind its striking similarities with CA 1–20 in particular, I assume that CA 60b can be grouped together even chronologically with CA 1–20. If we take into account the common assumption of scholars that CA 2 is an introductory poem inserted into a later collection, we can justly consider CA 60b as a potential closing poem of the earliest collection (CA 1–20), inserted at the very end of the whole anthology in a ring-compositional arrangement. In fact, also CA 2 and 60a correspond to each other very well as opening and closing poems of the same collection. Both begin by taking up the lyre for song (CA 2.1: Δότε μοι λύρην; CA 60a.1: Ἀνὰ βάρβιτον δονήσω); both talk of rhythm and dancing (CA 2.4f.: νόμους κεράσσας, | μεθύων ὅπως χορεύσω; CA 60a.7 Φρυγίωι ῥυθμῶι and σὺ δὲ Μοῦσα συγχόρευε); and both feature a rather crude way of singing with similar wording and grammar (participle followed by future: CA 2.7f.: μετὰ βαρβίτων ἀείδων | τὸ παροίνιον βοήσω; CA 60a.6f.: λιγυρὸν μέλος κροαίνων | Φρυγίωι ῥυθμῶι βοήσω). The anthology would then be framed by two opening and two closing poems from collections A and B in an AB-BA pattern.642 640 There is one interesting exception in CA 24.12f. on the metaphorical victory of beautiful women over fire: νικᾶι δὲ καὶ σίδηρον | καὶ πῦρ καλή τις οὖσα. However, this fire is precisely not a metaphor for erotic attraction, but its counterpart. In comparison with a beauty’s fascinating scintillation, iron and fire are obviously used in their literal, not their figurative, sense. In some respects, this comparison can be seen as constitutive and a necessary prerequisite for the development of the metaphorical understanding. 641 Cf. West 1990, 273. 642 Most 2014 considers CA 60b as comparably elaborate in terms of intertextuality with earlier important Greek texts (Plato, Meleager, Hesiod, Alcaeus), ascribes to it “a relatively refined meta-literary taste”, and hypothesises whether its author could have been “also the collector and editor of at least some, or perhaps even of all, of these poems” (p. 146). I agree

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

169

3.2.2 Odes 1.17 and CA 60b: Horace and the Anacreontean Dog Star I now turn to the possible connection of CA 60b with Horace. In the apparatus of West’s Teubner edition, there are six instances where he identifies similia with Horace. Among them we find the following: CA 60.36 φλογερὸν φυγόντες ἄστρον

Odes 1.17.17f. hic in reducta ualle Caniculae uitabis aestus

In Odes 1.17, the uitabis aestus is immediately followed by et fide Teia, one of Horace’s three explicit references to Anacreon. The addressee Tyndaris is invited to avail herself of the Teian lute in order to flee the heat of the Dog Star. The very mention of the lute already gives the scenery a notably Anacreontic dimension. Almost equally tightly connected with the heat are the innocentis pocula Lesbii three lines later, which Tyndaris shall drink sub umbra and which obviously have a Sapphic-Alcaic taste.643 The heat of the Dog Star is a very common motif in both Greek and Latin literature, and there are many comparable passages for example in Homer, Hesiod, Vergil, and Tibullus.644 However, by Teian lute and Lesbian wine, Horace alludes particularly to the monodists; therefore, these should be considered the most plausible models for the present scene.645 Alcaeus says (347a Voigt): to the extent that he could have been an editor of the oldest collection, which would as such have been available to Horace. Later (p.  151f.), Most states the close kinship of CA 1 and CA 60b: “[A]s we have seen, CA 60(b) closes the collection of Anacreontic lyrics by bringing to a conclusion the (real or putative) symposium at which they were performed. So it will not be surprising to see that the very first poem, CA 1, corresponds precisely to CA 60(b): it opens the collection by initiating a (real or putative) symposium – one in which, by a typically Anacreontic σύγκρασις, wine, song, and desire are intimately connected with one another – and thereby, in an evident ring-composition with CA 60, names Anacreon in its very first word, as a kind of title.” In footn. 23, he adds: “No cogent evidence is available that could decisively support or refute the possibility that it was the same poet who wrote both CA 1 and CA 60b”. Similarly, Bär 2016b, 32 juxtaposes the two mentions of erotic madness in CA 1.16f. καὶ δῆθεν ἄχρι καὶ νῦν | ἔρωτος οὐ πέπαυμαι and CA 60b.1f. ἄγε, θυμέ, πῆι μέμηνας | μανίην μανεὶς ἀρίστην and says: “Hence, the entire collection is framed by a speaker who is clearly not envisaged as Anacreon”. 643 ‘Lesbian wine’ is, for sure, a common wine brand, but so soon after the Teian lute, it would be naïve not to notice the poetical allusion in Lesbii. 644 Cf. the examples given by Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 223f. s.v. Caniculae and uitabis, and additional parallels in Nisbet and Rudd 2004, 177f. s.v. te … nescit tangere. 645 In this poem, Sappho and Alcaeus are less important than Anacreon, though. Analysing a sequence of poems with clear allusions to several predecessors (1.12–18), Lowrie 2009, 339 emphasizes Anacreon as the most important lyric predecessor in 1.17: “In each ode a single lyric poet predominates (…). In order, Horace alludes to Pindar in C. 1.12, Sappho in C. 1.13, Alcaeus in C. 1.14, Bacchylides in C. 1.15, Stesichorus and Archilochus in C. 1.16, Anacreon and Homer in C. 1.17, Alcaeus again in C. 1.18”.

170

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

τέγγε πλεύμονας οἴνῳ, τὸ γὰρ ἄστρον περιτέλλεται and later κεφάλαν καὶ γόνα Σείριος ἄσδει. He connects the star’s heat, just like Horace, with an invitation to drink wine. Alcaeus’ version is an obvious imitation of the same scene in Hesiod’s Works and Days 582‒96. At first sight, both texts suggest themselves as sources for Horace’s scenery, and he surely knew them. However, besides the motif’s typical ingredients of excessive heat and soothing wine in Alcaeus and Hesiod, CA 60b even has three further aspects that are central in Odes 1.17 too.646 These are the relevant lines: τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ, τὸν ἀοίδιμον μελιστήν. φιάλην πρόπινε παισίν, φιάλην λόγων ἐραννήν· 10 ἀπὸ νέκταρος ποτοῖο παραμύθιον λαβόντες φλογερὸν φυγόντες ἄστρον Imitate Anacreon, the singer of songs. Drink a cup to young boys, a lovely cup of words, from the nectar’s drink taking comfort, and fleeing the fiery dog-star647

In the following, I analyse the three decisive aspects of flight, love song, and exhortation as objects of Horace’s imitation. Firstly, in describing the flight or hiding from the heat, the poems share a strikingly similar wording: the Caniculae … aestus clasp the uitabis in a hyperbaton just as φλογερὸν … ἄστρον surrounds the φυγόντες. The only other mention of the Dog Star in the Odes648 occurs in the hymn to the fons Bandusiae (Odes 3.13.9f.): Te flagrantis atrox hora Caniculae | nescit tangere. In addition to the similar hyperbaton flagrantis … Caniculae, the participle flagrantis is reminiscent, also in its sound, of φλογερόν.649 CA 60b is the only instance in ancient Greek literature where the Dog Star has the epithet φλογερόν. Secondly, the heat, or rather its avoidance, is connected with love poetry. Admittedly, whilst the love of CA 60b is pederastic, Alcaeus and Hesiod share with Horace the consideration of both women and men (Alcaeus fr. 347a.4f.: 646 As to a possible influence of the CA on 1.17 in general, Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 224 s.v. fide Teia note that the “pastoral note of the Anacreontea is even more relevant to our poem” (i.e. than Anacreon’s renown for love poetry). 647 Transl. from Rosenmeyer 1992, 266. 648 In the Epodes, the Dog Star is mentioned twice as sidus/sidera, once as astrum (epod. 1.27, 3.15, 16.61), but without any remarkable similarity to the CA. 649 The etymology of both words is not directly connected, but seems to be akin. Cf. Vaan 2008 s.v. flagro: “The verb is probably a denom. of an adj. * flagro- ‘burning’. Schrijver (1991: h 485) posits a rule PIE * R̥ DC > Latin RaDC, which serves to explain * flagro- < *b lg-ro-, h among other forms. The noun flamma reflects a noun * flag-ma from a zero grade *b lg-mh which is striking next to PIE * b log-mo- > Gr. φλογμός ‘flame’”.

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

171

νῦν δὲ γύναικες μιαρώταται, | λέπτοι δ᾿ ἄνδρες; Hesiod, Works and Days 586 μαχλόταται δὲ γυναῖκες, ἀφαυρότατοι δέ τοι ἄνδρες). However, there is not the slightest indication of song or poetry, which is so important in both 1.17 and CA 60b. By means of love songs, the metaphorical meaning of the star (erotic passion) becomes more evident in both poems; the persona of CA 60b suggests a φιάλην λόγων ἐραννήν as παραμύθιον against the heat. This παρα-μύθιον literally means “talking to someone” (cf. παραμυθέομαι), which fortifies the notion of a song being sung here. In Odes 1.17, Horace promises Tyndaris security from her dangerously hot-headed lover Cyrus while singing about love (of two mythical women).650 Thirdly – and this is the most interesting point on an intriguing metapoetic level –, Horace and the Anacreonteum share the exhortation to imitate Anacreon. To sum up: in CA 60b, Anacreon the famous singer shall be imitated; Horace’s Tyndaris shall take the Teian lute (i.e. imitate Anacreon) and sing. In CA 60b, the singing is combined with a lovely προπίνειν of words for the boys. The drink of words is called νέκταρος ποτόν and (as said above) perhaps alludes to the drink in CA 20, mixed from sweet Anacreon, Sappho, and Pindar, which is lovely even to the gods and hence like νέκταρ. Horace’s Tyndaris shall drink innocuous Lesbian (metaphorically speaking, Sapphic-Alcaic) wine. In CA 60b, by singing and drinking, the heat of the Dog Star, which symbolises consuming passion, will be avoided. Horace’s Tyndaris, by her singing and drinking, will thus flee the heat of the Dog Star, which symbolises consuming passion as well. I dare say that this is not a case of coincidence, but influence. It seems that Horace has taken ‘literally’ what he read in CA 60b. In a sense, he did ‘toast’ with a cup of words in the peculiar sense of προπίνειν (as discussed above in 3.2.1 CA 60: questions of unity and dating). After ‘emptying a full cup of words’ – that is, taking in a full load of Anacreontean inspiration – and ‘filling the cup again’ – that is, letting the inspiration flow out and overflow into his own Anacreontean poetry – the third step of this process consists in ‘giving the cup to another person (for example, Tyndaris) and provoking the person to drink as well’: Et fide Teia τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ ‒ and with the Teian lyre imitate Anacreon.

650 The description of Cyrus’ violence (scindat … | … immeritamque uestem) might itself be inspired by Anacreon’s PMG 441b: κὰδ δὲ λῶπος ἐσχίσθη, cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 42.

172

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

3.2.3 Insanire iuuat: welcome mania through drinking One of West’s six Horatian similia regards the wish to be mad from drinking. CA 9.3/9/19 and CA 12.12 θέλω, θέλω μανῆναι CA 53.14 χαριέντως τε μανῆναι

Odes 2.7.28 dulce mihi furere est Odes 3.4.5-6 an me ludit amabilis | insania? Odes 3.19.18 insanire iuuat Odes 4.12.28 dulce est desipere

Rejoicing in revelry and madness in an emphatically open- and lighthearted way is something quite specific of Hellenistic lyric in general and of the CA in particular.651 The five Anacreontic loci mentioned by West all refer undoubtedly to a madness acquired through excessive drinking, as the preceding lines show: CA 9.2 πιεῖν, πιεῖν αμυστί, 9.8 πιὼν δ’ ἐρυθρὸν οἶνον, 9.16 ἐγὼ δ’ ἔχων κύπελλον, 12.9f. ἐγὼ δὲ τοῦ Λυαίου … κορεσθείς, 53.13 δεδαηκότος δὲ πίνειν. Only in CA 12 love is involved too (12.11 καὶ τῆς ἐμῆς ἑταίρης). Except for Odes 3.4, where no drinking context is given, Horace’s loci also suggest a connection of madness and drinking. In 2.7.26f., the inebriation is most obvious: Non ego sanius | bacchabor Edonis – “I will not rave more sanely than the Edoni”. In 3.19, a symposium is hastily prepared, and before our insanire iuuat, the number of cyathi that ought to be emptied is discussed; and in 4.12, Horace promises the addressee his wine and invites him to forget his everyday worries. The appeal just before dulce est desipere in loco is evocative of the mixing of water and wine: misce stultitiam consiliis breuem – “mix a little foolishness into your plans.” The μανῆναι of the CA and Horace’s insanire, furere, desipere are hence basically the same kind of welcome mania through drinking; but is it reasonable to claim that Horace took the idea and elaborated it from the Anacreontea? In the case of CA 53.14 χαριέντως τε μανῆναι, this is impossible, considering the late date of composition. The conspicuous θέλω, θέλω μανῆναι in the early poems 9 and 12 can come into consideration, though. We will first have to settle the question of madness as a topos and the possibility that topical influences can be a sufficient explanation for similarities. The sort of ‘welcome mania’ which is visible in Horace and the CA was already well captured and described in Garrison’s Mild Frenzy (1978), the title of his monograph on the sweetening effect of Hellenistic poetry.652 Garrison depicts 651 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 196–9. 652 The title is a translation of Luck’s German coinage “sanfte Raserei” (Luck 1967, 405).

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

173

the transition from a mostly frightening madness in archaic lyric to a ‘domesticated’, or in his words, “‘civilized’”, folly653 in the Hellenistic era, especially in Asclepiades, Callimachus, Meleager. The concept of mild frenzy is obviously widespread. However, it is always erotic frenzy: eros is the core of the softened, domesticated madness. In the similia between the CA and Horace, in contrast, we deal with mild frenzy emphatically through drinking, not eros. The reception of PMG 356a in Odes 2.7 bacchabor (cf. 2.1.2 Odes 2.7 and PMG 356a: madness through inebriation) shows that Horace took the motif of ‘welcome mania’ at least in part directly from Anacreon himself, where we have already seen the motif of frenzy through drinking that is appreciated (or at least declared as a purpose by ὡς). A further original fragment provides a positively judged drunkenness (PMG 373): ἠρίστησα μὲν ἰτρίου λεπτοῦ μικρὸν ἀποκλάς, οἴνου δ’ ἐξέπιον κάδον· νῦν δ’ ἁβρῶς ἐρόεσσαν ψάλλω πηκτίδα τῇ ϕίλῃ κωμάζων †παιδὶ ἁβρῇ†. I had a meal by breaking off a small piece of thin sesame cake, and I drank out a jar of wine. Now I tenderly strike my lovely harp celebrating the dear (soft girl?).

Anacreon combines explicitly cautious eating with greedy drinking, which is then followed by delicate music and a κῶμος for someone dear (perhaps a gentle girl). The emptying of a whole κάδος brings to mind Horace’s exhortation in 2.7.19f.: nec | parce cadis tibi destinatis. Furthermore, on a papyrus with a list of lyric and tragic incipits, we have the fragment εμανηνδευτεπιων (P.Mich. inv. 3250c r. col. ii.). Bernsdorff 2014 reads ἐμάνην δηὖτε πιών and attributes this convincingly to Anacreon rather than to the Anacreontea.654 This would mean that not only the concept of positive ebriety in κωμάζων and ἀναβασσαρήσω, but also its lexical expression, the combination of μανῆναι and πίνειν (although not positively judged here), can be traced back to Anacreon himself.655 However, nowhere in Anacreon is the expression (or rather insinuation) of pleasure and delight in this drunken mania as strong as in the wording of Horace’s versions, i.e. the dulce est of 2.7 and 4.12 and the iuuat in 3.19. The impatience of the repeated imperative da in 3.19 finds an equivalent in CA 18,

653 Garrison 1978, 1. 654 Bernsdorff 2014b, 7–10. 655 Bernsdorff 2014b, 10 comments: “This is all the more important since nowadays we usually force ourselves to realize the big gap between the original Anacreon and his image in the later tradition. This new fragment, for a change, would exemplify what is natural enough, namely that the later Anacreontic movement also had deep roots in the original works of their master.”

174

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

where the repeated hectic imperative δότε is striking: Δότε μοι, δότ’ ὦ γυναῖκες | Βρομίου πιεῖν ἀμυστί (l. 1f.), δότε δ’ἀνθέων (l. 5, cf. 3.19.22 sparge rosas), στεφάνους δότ’ (l. 6). In his apparatus of similes on CA 18.2, West takes note of PMG 356a because of the very rare word ἀμυστί. It is a technical term for drinking “at one draught” (cf. LSJ s.v.) and appears only once elsewhere in the CA, precisely before the first appearance of θέλω, θέλω μανῆναι in CA 9.2 πιεῖν, πιεῖν ἀμυστί. If these two instances of the adverb ἀμυστί in the CA are indeed inspired by the occurrence of the noun in PMG 356a l. 2f. (ὅκως ἄμυστιν | προπίω), then this clearly speaks in favour of the assumption that the motif θέλω, θέλω μανῆναι, following πιεῖν, πιεῖν ἀμυστί, is an ‘Anacreontean’ evolution of ὡς … ἀνὰ … βασσαρήσω from the same 356a. This strengthened element of wish and appreciation in the repeated verb θέλω (and later the adverb χαριέντως) reflects the pervasive phenomenon in the CA of “sweetening” the original Anacreon. We then observe the same evolution and the same sweetening process condensed in the sequence of Odes 2.7 from bacchabor (Anacreon) to dulce mihi furere est (Anacreontea), which is reworked in Odes 4.12.27f. (misce stultitiam consiliis breuem: | dulce est desipere in loco),656 and elaborated in Odes 3.19 through its resemblances to Anacreon’s PMG 356, 383, 396 (cf. 2.1.2 Odes 2.7 and PMG 356a: madness through inebriation) and its insanire iuuat and cognation of the triple da with CA 18 (Anacreontea). But even in those sweetened versions of madness through drinking, there is in fact a μανῆναι, there is a little stultitia among the sober consilia, and there is a desipere. Here, in Odes 3.19, 4.12, and the CA, the persona shows an attitude that ignores or derides the danger of losing control of which PMG 356b and its imitation in Odes 1.27 still display an awareness. This suggests that Horace does in fact differentiate consciously between original archaic Anacreon and his comparably recent stereotyping imitators; it seems that he even plays with their somewhat contradicting conceptions of frenzy, fun, and danger. In the case of Odes 3.19, these aspects can now help us to interpret one of its most problematic aspects: the question of the addressee, which has been tackled already in 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation, where this ode was cited as one of the few Horatian comparanda for the anonymous addressee of Odes 2.5. As I wrote there, 3.19 could be the only instance of another interior conversation comparable to 2.5, and the insertion of first-person verb forms and the presence of an ‘I’ next to the ‘You’ creates an interior dialogue, almost like a split personality. In Odes 2.5, I found an address to the Anacreontic persona behind the ‘You’, which is at the same time a Horatian ‘self-address’ to the same

656 Cf. also Bernsdorff 2020, 37 who says that this typically Anacreontean “slightly paradoxical twist of a controlled and voluntary ecstasy” is “adopted in Hor. carm. 4.12.28”.

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

175

degree to which Horace identifies with the Anacreontic persona. Now, having analysed the play with both Anacreontic and Anacreontean allusions in Odes 3.19, I propose to transfer this play to the addressee and consider what Bär says in his review of Zotou’s commentary on the anonymous Anacreontean poets who sometimes do, and sometimes do not, fully adopt Anacreon’s persona: “Daraus erwächst in der Summe eine Spannung bezüglich der Identität des Ichs in den einzelnen Gedichten”, which demands a distinct “Unterscheidung zwischen der Stimme eines vorgeblich ‚echten‘ Anakreon und der eines Anakreon-Imitators”.657 Of course, Horace, as a renowned poet with a distinct personality, and as a Latin poet, cannot fully pretend to be the true Anacreon redivivus to the degree that his poems could be mistaken for originals (as happened in the case of the CA). But his lyric persona can and does play with the whole range between identification and delimitation.

3.2.4 Eros and the pouring puer: Anacreontean and Anacreontic wine and love CA 32 is a typical representative of the anthology’s core topics and atmosphere. Wine, perfume, flowers, and Eros; a locus amoenus, ephemeral thoughts about the limited time span of life, light-heartedness in the face of old age and dissipation of sorrows: these are all quintessentially Anacreontean themes.658 Several lines of the poem are quoted by Nisbet and Hubbard in their commentary on Odes 2.11 as a comparandum for its second half.659 In fact, the three last stanzas of this ode demonstrate a thoroughly Anacreontean character that distinguishes the scenery stylistically from other descriptions with the same sympotic-erotic content.660 The last three stanzas of Odes 2.11 and CA 32 deserve a close parallel reading:

657 Bär 2016a, 1069. 658 West 1990, 273f. takes this poem as the first “specimen of the genre” in his short presentation of the anthology, and it has been considered exemplary since Henricus Stephanus’s first publication; Pierre de Ronsard chose it for a very close imitation in 1587 (‘Pour boire dessus l’herbe tendre’ in ‘Poésies diverses’). On this imitation cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 231f. 659 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 169: “Horace’s themes are particularly common in the Anacreontea (…) Here as in our poem we have open-air repose with wine, perfume, roses, and a girl; here too we have the dum licet motif, the uncertainty of the future, and the dissipation of cares”. 660 Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 202 call the style “geflissentlich leicht” and contrast it with the “völlig abweichende Stilisierung der inhaltlich sehr ähnlichen Verse II 3, 9‒16”. Bernsdorff 2020, 636 also speaks of “a particularly Anacreontic context”.

176

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

Ἐπὶ μυρσίναις τερείναις ἐπὶ λωτίναις τε ποίαις στορέσας θέλω προπίνειν· ὁ δ ’ Ἔρως χιτῶνα δήσας ὑπὲρ αὐχένος παπύρωι     5 μέθυ μοι διακονείτω.  τροχὸς ἅρματος γὰρ οἷα βίοτος τρέχει κυλισθείς, ὀλίγη δὲ κεισόμεσθα κόνις ὀστέων λυθέντων.     10 τί σε δεῖ λίθον μυρίζειν; τί δὲ γῆι χέειν μάταια;   ἐμὲ μᾶλλον, ὡς ἔτι ζῶ, μύρισον, ῥόδοις δὲ κρᾶτα πύκασον, κάλει δ’ ἑταίρην·   15 πρίν, Ἔρως, ἐκεῖ μ’ ἀπελθεῖν ὑπὸ νερτέρων χορείας, σκεδάσαι θέλω μερίμνας. On tender myrtles and on lotus grasses, I wish to spread my couch and drink toasts. And let Eros, fastening his tunic with a cord below his neck, act as my wine steward. For just like the wheel of a chariot life runs rolling along, and we shall soon lie, a bit of dust from crumbling bones. What use is it to shower myrrh on a stone? What use to pour libations in vain to the earth? For me, rather, while I am still alive, give me myrrh, crown my head with roses, and call forth a girl. Before going down there, Eros, to join the choruses of the dead, I wish to banish my cares.661

Cur non sub alta uel platano uel hac pinu iacentes sic temere et rosa      canos odorati capillos,               15      dum licet, Assyriaque nardo potamus uncti? dissipat Euhius curas edacis. Quis puer ocius      restinguet ardentis Falerni      pocula praetereunte lympha?       20 Quis deuium scortum eliciet domo Lyden? Eburna dic, age, cum lyra      maturet, in comptum Lacaenae      more comas religata nodum.

Why don’t we lie down, without more ado, beneath a tall plane tree, or better this pine here, while there is still time, and drink, our grizzled hair smeared with Syrian nard and garlanded with sweet-scented roses? Euhius dispels gnawing anxieties. Which of you slaves will be the first to quench the cups of burning Falernian with water from the stream that’s flowing by? Who will entice Lyde, that discreet prostitute, from her house? Go on; tell her to grab her ivory lyre and hurry up, tying her uncombed hair in a knot, Spartan style.662

Both the ode’s section and the CA start with the persona’s plan to lie down and drink in a locus amoenus, and both mention two kinds of plants in this locus (sub alta uel platano uel hac | pinu and Ἐπὶ μυρσίναις τερείναις | ἐπὶ λωτίναις τε ποίαις). Only the situation of the speakers is different. Horace’s persona addresses a friend and suggests his plan in a hortative question (cur non … iacentes

661 Transl. taken from Rosenmeyer 1992, 252. 662 Transl. taken from Rudd 2004 (LCL).

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

177

… potamus?), while the Anacreontean speaker seems to be alone663 and just states his wish (στορέσας θέλω προπίνειν). From here on, the different order of thoughts in Horace and the CA as well as the different arrangement of speaker/subject and addressee may obscure the otherwise astonishing closeness of content in most of the described parts of the picture. What Horace depicts within the opening stanza in l. 14‒17 in (future) perfect participles is uttered as a command to Eros towards the end of CA 32; however, both poets not only correspond with each other in the mention of the same two features, roses on the head (rosa | canos odorati capillos and ῥόδοις δὲ κρᾶτα | πύκασον)664 and the unction with oil (Assyriaque nardo | … uncti and ἐμὲ μᾶλλον … | μύρισον). They also both weave the same constraint or condition as a parenthesis into their sentences, namely dum licet and ὡς ἔτι ζῶ, a casual memento mori. The projected consequence from the drinking plan (potamus ‒ θέλω προπίνειν) is the same as well: dissipat Euhius | curas edacis shares the verb’s notion of ‘to scatter’ with σκεδάσαι θέλω μερίμνας. Horace poses the question quis puer will take care of the wine, and Kießling and Heinze see here the “παῖς der anakreontischen Dichtungen”,665 pointing to PMG 396 φέρ’ ὕδωρ, φέρ’ οἶνον, ὦ παῖ, φέρε δ’ ἀνθεμόεντας ἧμιν στεφάνους. Later the question follows quis deuium scortum eliciet domo | Lyden? In CA 32, precisely these two jobs are given to Ἔρως. He is exhorted first to serve the wine like a typical παῖς, a slave at the symposium (l. 4‒6: ὁ δ ’ Ἔρως … μέθυ μοι διακονείτω), and then to call for a hetaira (l. 15 κάλει δ’ ἑταίρην). Last but not least, the CA’s explicit memento mori in the central lines on life conceived as running like a wheel (l. 7f. τροχὸς ἅρματος γὰρ οἷα | βίοτος τρέχει κυλισθείς) finds a correspondence in Horace’s words of the fleeing youth (l. 5f.: fugit retro | leuis iuuentas).666 These similarities are so numerous and so strong that a direct influence of Anacreon’s poem on Horace seems clear-cut. In the commentary on PMG 396 (quoted above as a parallel to Horace’s puer and imitated by the late CA 52a δὸς ὕδωρ, βάλ’ οἶνον ὦ παῖ), Bernsdorff also adduces Odes 2.11 as a similar exhortation to dispel worries by drinking. In PMG 396 the worries were of an erotic nature (battle with Eros: ὡς μὴ πρὸς Ἔρωτα πυκταλίζω). Here, however, they concern the proper military wars mentioned in the first stanzas, leading Bernsdorff to ponder “the possibility that Horace 663 Cf. West 1990, 274: “The trappings of the symposium are there, but where is the company? The singer sounds as if he is on his own”. 664 Cf. Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 174 ad loc.: “not perfume but garlands”, and Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 74 for the collective singular rosa. 665 Kießling and Heinze 1984b, 204. 666 It is perhaps carrying the comparison too far, but the CA’s questions about vain actions in the face of death in l. 11f. τί σε δεῖ λίθον μυρίζειν; | τί δὲ γῆι χέειν μάταια; could be broadly mirrored in Horace’s dissuasion from vain worries, also in the face of human caducity, in the question quid aeternis minorem | consiliis animum fatigas? (l. 11f.).

178

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

had transferred the motif of fighting from erotic imagery in An. (πυκταλίζω) to fighting in the proper sense”.667 I consider this a very likely possibility and regard the deeply Anacreontean Odes 1.17 as a preparatory poem for this transfer. In its third last stanza, Tyndaris shall come to Horace’s secure shelter, drink wine, take the Teian lute, and sing about other women’s unhappy love668 instead of suffering from it herself. Fleeing the Dog Star’s heat (uitabis aestus) is, of course, also an erotic metaphor, as the last two stanzas show (l. 21‒28): hic innocentis pocula Lesbii duces sub umbra nec Semeleius cum Marte confundet Thyoneus proelia nec metues proteruum suspecta Cyrum, ne male dispari 25 incontinentis iniciat manus et scindat haerentem coronam crinibus inmeritamque uestem. Here in the shade you will drink cups of innocuous Lesbian; the son of Semele Thyone will not combine with Mars to stir up a fight; and you will not have to worry in case the lustful Cyrus, in a fit of jealous suspicion, lay his wild hands on one who is ill-equipped to stand up to him, tearing the garland you have on your head and also your unoffending dress.669

The proelia of Mars and Bacchus (Thyoneus) in l. 24 are rather wine- than love-induced quarrels, but Cyrus’ brutality in the last stanza is ‘erotic fighting in the proper sense’ and as such stands between the metaphor of PMG 396 πρὸς Ἔρωτα πυκταλίζω and the military battles of Odes 2.11. Apart from the possible connection of scindat … | … immeritamque uestem to PMG 441b κὰδ δὲ λῶπος ἐσχίσθη,670 we can place side by side PMG 396 and these lines about Cyrus – ne male dispari | incontinentis iniciat manus | et scindat haerentem coronam – and detect a reflection of the negation ὡς μή in ne, the boxing (πυκταλίζω) in iniciat manus, and the garland on the drinker’s head (ἀνθεμόεντας … στεφάνους) in haerentem coronam.671 The avoidance of erotic quarrel in Odes 1.17, in this 667 Bernsdorff 2020, 636. He continues: “The rejection of real fighting seems also to be stressed in the Autun mosaic where PMG 396 is probably combined with PMG 429 (ὁ μὲν θέλων μάχεσθαι, | πάρεστι γάρ, μαχέσθω)”. A fight with the god Eros (but with arrows instead of fists) appears also in CA 13. 668 For the peculiar verb laborantis (l. 18) in the context of love, Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 224 adduce CA 33 as a comparandum (l. 15f.): πόσον δοκεῖς πονοῦσιν, | Ἔρως, ὅσους σὺ βάλλεις; 669 Transl. taken from Rudd 2004 (LCL). 670 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 42. 671 The advocates of ὡς δή with its positive connotation of πρὸς Ἔρωτα πυκταλίζω as a fight to be won might see in ἀνθεμόεντας … στεφάνους an allusion to a garland of victory, in addition to its sympotic use. However, in PMG 396 the garland is brought in preparation for

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

179

highly allusive Anacreontic-Anacreontean poem, thus strongly supports the reading ὡς μή and the accompanying interpretation of the boxing metaphor, and all this stands in perfect accord with the typical sympotic motif of drowning lovesickness in wine.672

3.2.5 CA 18: Bathyllus, Phyllis, and shadowing hair In light of the distinctly Anacreontean influence in Horace alongside that of the archaic original, the first appearance of Anacreon in Horace’s poetry, Epodes 14.9f., develops a new colouring: non aliter Samio dicunt arsisse Bathyllo | Anacreonta Teium. Here, Anacreon, like his lyre in the later Odes 1.17, has his usual epithet Teius. This corresponds to the very first lines of the opening poem of the oldest CA collection: Ἀνακρέων ἰδών με | ὁ Τήϊος μελῳδός. Horace describes him as burning from love for his ἐρώμενος Bathyllus, who, intriguingly, is not praised anywhere in the extant poems of the original Anacreon, but is mentioned on numerous occasions in the biographical tradition, including the CA.673 Watson observes: “dicunt has sometimes been taken to mean that Anacreon’s poems to Bathyllus were never formally worked up for publication (non elaboratum), with the result that knowledge of their relationship was transmitted exclusively at second-hand”.674 As I have argued in 2.3.2 Epodes 14 and Anacreon’s Palinode, this second-hand transmission, as adumbrated in dicunt, may well be Anacreon’s palinode and derive from a lost comedy scene with Anacreon, but it could additionally point to the collection of the oldest Carmina Anacreontea which Horace consciously incorporated in his imitation of Anacreon. Indeed there is one Anacreonteum, namely CA 18 (mentioned above in connection with amystide and under (6) The concept of insupportable heat in 3.2.1 CA 60: questions of unity and dating), that combines the fire of love with ­Bathyllus. According to Bernsdorff, “Anacreont. 18 W. may serve as an example the scene and together with water and wine, thus in a clearly and exclusively sympotic setting, and a victory over Eros is not at all implied in the lines. 672 See Bernsdorff 2020, 635: “Thus if we take πρὸς Ἔρωτα πυκταλίζειν as a metaphor for the pains caused by Eros in this fight and construe the final sentence with the negative μή we would get a sufficient sense: drinking and other sympotic joy will take the narrator’s mind off the erotic worries from which he suffers when sober”. For Odes 1.17, we could substitute in this sentence Cyrus for Eros and Tyndaris for the narrator. 673 Cf. also Rosenmeyer 1992, 3–4. In the CA, Bathyllus’ name occurs 7 times, but only within the oldest collection 1–20: once respectively in CA 4, 10, 15, and 18 and three times in CA 17. This leads Robbins in the New Pauly to state: “Horace speaks of the love of A. for Bathyllus (Epod. 14.9–10), but here as in other places this presumably derives more from the influence of the Anacreontea and Greek anthology than from A. himself” (Robbins 2002 s.v. Anacreon (C): Reception and transformation). 674 Watson 2003, 449.

180

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

of the artful blending of different motifs and images with an obvious prominence in Anacreon’s poetry”.675 Δότε μοι, δότ’ ὦ γυναῖκες Βρομίου πιεῖν ἀμυστί· ἀπὸ καύματος γὰρ ἤδη προδοθεὶς ἀναστενάζω· δότε δ’ ἀνθέων, ἑλίνου· 5 στεφάνους δότ’ οἷς πυκάζω τὰ μέτωπά μου, ’πικαίει. τὸ δὲ καῦμα τῶν ἐρώτων, κραδίη, τίνι σκεπάζω; παρὰ τὴν σκιὴν Βαθύλλου 10 καθίσω· καλὸν τὸ δένδρον, ἁπαλὰς δ’ ἔσεισε χαίτας μαλακωτάτωι κλαδίσκωι·676 παρὰ δ’ αὐτὸ νέρθε ῥοιζεῖ πηγὴ ῥέουσα Πειθοῦς. 15 τίς ἂν οὖν ὁρῶν παρέλθοι καταγώγιον τοιοῦτο; Give me, give me, you women, the wine of Bromios to drink without pausing for breath. For already from the heat, betrayed I groan aloud; give me some blossoms, a vine tendril; give me garlands with which I may cover my forehead, which burns. Yet dear heart, how shall I protect myself from the scorch of lovers? By the shade of Bathyllus I will sit myself down ‒ the tree is lovely, and tosses its soft locks on a most delicate little branch; next to it, underneath, gushes a fountain, flowing with persuasion. Who could now pass by, seeing such a resting place?677

This passage marks a detailed elaboration of the motif ‘flight from parching love’ which is only adumbrated in the Dog Star of CA 60b. In it the persona urgently demands an ἄμυστις of wine in order to suffocate his passion for the beloved, who, through a curious metamorphosis based on a somewhat folk-­ etymological analysis of his name, himself becomes a shady tree and hideaway: βαθύς ‘deep’ and ὕλη ‘wood’,678 or, what is perhaps more fitting for the shading effect, an apocope of φύλλον (cf. the double λ in the name and παρὰ τὴν σκιὴν 675 Bernsdorff 2020, 38. 676 Commenting on Smerdies’ long hair in PMG 346, Bernsdorff 2020, 367 renders a part of CA 18 up to this verse as a parallel: “Anacreont. 18 W. probably echoes this imagery and intensifies it”. Then he quotes Odes 2.5.23–4 about the Anacreontic Gyges: discrimen obscurum solutis | crinibus, which Nisbet and Hubbard 1991, 92 describe as denoting “the shadowing effect of long hair”. 677 Transl. from Rosenmeyer 1992, 248. 678 Cf. Rosenmeyer 1992, 199; she calls him ‘Mr. Thickwood’.

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

181

right before it: underwood does not produce proper shadow to sit in). The ‘fountain of Persuasion’679 in l. 15 may hint at the fulfilment of the erotic desire which thereby cools down. As pointed out above, the repeated impatient δότε is similar to the triple da in Odes 3.19.9f., and the peculiar ἀμυστί that recurs in CA 9.2 πιεῖν, πιεῖν ἀμυστί (there followed by the influential motif θέλω, θέλω μανῆναι) is perhaps significant for Horace’s amystide in Odes 1.36.14. This suggests a certain influence of CA 18 on Horace. Of this there is even more indication: bacchic wine, fresh flowers, a shady tree and a convincingly burbling spring are all elements that are present as well in Odes 3.13, the only other poem of Horace that features the Dog Star (cf. above under 3.2.2 Odes 1.17 and CA 60b: Horace and the Anacreontean Dog Star). Odes 3.13 is a hymn to the fons Bandusiae which is described in l. 2 as dulci digne mero (cf. the bacchic wine of CA 18) non sine floribus (cf. fresh flowers) and next to a cavis impositam ilicem saxis (l. 14f., cf. the shady tree), from where its loquaces lymphae (l. 15f., cf. the convincingly burbling spring) flow down. Together with 1.17, this ode mirrors a bucolic locus amoenus that is strikingly similar to CA 18.680 If we assume the etymology βαθύς ‘deep’ plus φύλλα ‘leaves’ behind the shading Bathyllus in CA 18, this reminds us of a further character in Horace whose atmosphere is very Anacreontic: the girl Phyllis (according to Bernsdorff “a name which implies youth and freshness”,681 but perhaps also “shadegiving foliage”682 in reminiscence of Bathyllus). The aged Horace of book 4 calls Phyllis meorum | finis amorum (Odes 4.11.31f.), and if we may identify her with the Phyllis of Odes 2.4, the noble slave-girl that is loved by Xanthias, then there is a certain irony in Horace’s declaration of love. In 2.4.21‒24 he had still declared himself too old to be erotically interested: Bracchia et uoltum teretisque suras | integer laudo: fuge suspicari | cuius octauum trepidauit aetas | claudere lustrum. Obviously in Odes 4.11 he has changed his mind, although now he is even so old that he can assume her to be his last love. This reflects the typical “grouping of the older lover and the young beloved which is so prominent in the original

679 Cf. Bernsdorff 2020, 38. 680 Cf. in addition the programmatic opening ode of the whole collection, 1.1.19‒22, which also features this combination of napping at noontime, a locus amoenus, a shading tree and a burbling spring. The fact that this very Anacreontean idyll is among the list of rejected lifestyles may point to the fact that the sweet Anacreontea alone are emphatically not enough for the lusty and ambitious Horace. Yet these similarities motivated Nisbet and Hubbard 1985, 215 to remark on 1.17 that “[t]he same tone recurs in the Anacreontea, which Horace no doubt attributed to Anacreon”. Of course, I completely agree with the first part of this sentence, but I have my doubts about the second (attribution to Anacreon). 681 Bernsdorff 2020, 43. 682 Bernsdorff 2020, 38 thus describes Bathyllus’ hair in CA 18.

182

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

fragments of Anacreon and in his image in the later tradition”.683 Phyllis is subtly connected to Anacreontic reminiscences in several ways. In Prop.  4.8, for example, “the two girls with whom Propertius tries to get over Cynthia are called Phyllis and Teia”,684 and in Odes 4.11, which is highly similar to Odes 1.17, Phyllis is invited like Tyndaris into yet another very sympotic and Anacreontean locus amoenus. Especially the final verses 34‒36 condisce modos, amanda | uoce quos reddas; minuentur atrae | carmine curae sound like a renewed exhortation to take the fides Teia and sing, and thus follow the advice of CA 60b.7f. τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ, | τὸν ἀοίδιμον μελιστήν.

3.2.6 From Anacreon through the CA to Horace: literature at the third degree The previous chapter sections have shown in what a sophisticated way Horace combines allusions to the original Anacreon and to the Carmina Anacreontea. In order to position these findings within the broader conceptual discussion of Horace’s art, I briefly zoom out from a merely Anacreontic focus. Regarding Horace’s reception of Hellenistic writings both alongside and even mingled with the reception of archaic literature, Denis Feeney has spoken of a “twin inheritance”685 and alerts us to an unduly polarising view of Horace as being now archaic, now Hellenistic. In this “twin inheritance” we also find examples of Thomas’ allusive category of a ‘window reference’, whereby a reference to a more distant text (archaic) is channelled through the medium of a closer one (Hellenistic). The role-playing scene with its two imitated idols Alcaeus and Callimachus in Epistles 2.2.91–101 should not be taken too seriously in its sharp dichotomy. It is meant as a mockery of rather mediocre poets who, thirsty for fame, search for catchy but blunt labels. According to Feeney, a simplistic view of this kind could “blur important continuities”, such as Callimachus’ great interest in Pindar, leading one to draw a striking stylistic similarity of Horace’s “homage to Callimachus” and his “homage to Pindar”.686 Here we already find faint traces of a double literary reception, or ‘reception of the reception’ through two different eras, when Horace imitates both Callimachus, who is inspired by Pindar, and Pindar, being inspired by Callimachus. Furthermore, it is widely acknowledged that Horace imitates not a direct and unmediated archaic literature, but one which was necessarily mediated through 683 Bernsdorff 2020, 43, quoted also above in 2.2.5 Love reloaded: Odes 4.1 and the erotic δηὖτε motif. 684 Bernsdorff 2020, 44. 685 Feeney 1993, 44. 686 Cf. Feeney 1993, 44.

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

183

Alexandrian scholarly editions and commentaries. Scattered mention of this fact has existed for decades now. Feeney rightly regards Hellenistic Greek culture as the only means through which the archaic culture was accessible to Horace, and in 1978 James Zetzel already wrote “[t]hat Roman poets used commentaries to understand the Greek texts that they employed is not new”.687 Porro implies the same for Horace,688 as does Hutchinson.689 Concerning the use of commentaries, I want to briefly veer away from Horace and amplify the focus. Especially in the case of Homeric scholia and their reception by later poets, research conducted in the past decades has yielded far-reaching results. To give some examples from within Greek literature: in his article on “The Art of Reference” (1986, reprinted 1999), Richard Thomas observes the technique of interweaving primary and secondary, i.e. scholarly, texts in Alexan­ drian poets and identifies this as “a direct result of the intrusion, during that cultural period, of the scholar into the world of the poet”.690 Antonios Rengakos similarly expounds the exegetical nature of Apollonius Rhodius’ ‘philological epos’.691 In the field of Roman literature, Tilman Schmit-Neuerburg’s monograph proves the extensive use and incorporation of Homeric commentaries in the epic poetry of Vergil.692 Knowing Hellenistic scholarship was a matter of course not only for a Latin poeta doctus, but also for the educated Roman reader; one symptom of this awareness was, for example, the admiration of Aristarchus, nd the influential Alexandrian grammarian and librarian in the 2 century BC.693 Aristarchus’ writings apparently influenced the translations of individual Homeric verses by Cicero and Horace. Schmit-Neuerburg’s study is notable in going beyond the mere observation of Homeric scholarly influence on Vergil and considering the question of its quality, that is, precisely what understanding of Homer and his heroes, formed by scholarly discussion, we have to suppose for both the imitating author and his readers. Schmit-Neuerburg sees Vergil “mit dem gängigen Homerverständnis seiner Zeitgenossen konfrontiert”,694 and this is quite different from our modern analytical approach. Ancient literature and its scattered mentions of Homer reveal a great appreciation of the ethical values conveyed by his epics. Homer 687 Zetzel 1978, 333. 688 Cf. Porro 1994, 23. 689 Cf. Hutchinson 2007, 36: “Papyri show abundant metatexts to archaic poetry in circulation: commentaries, lives, treatises. Such works would hardly be ignored, as Horace’s evidence confirms, by someone planning to conquer a Greek genre.” 690 Cf. Thomas 1999, 115. 691 Cf. Rengakos 1994, 12. The term is coined by Livrea 1980: ‘L’épos philologique: Apollonios de Rhodes et quelques homérismes méconnus’. 692 Schmit-Neuerburg 1999: Vergils Aeneis und die antike Homerexegese. 693 Cf. Schmit-Neuerburg 1999, 14. 694 Schmit-Neuerburg 1999, 4.

184

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

seems to be considered something like the first “Lehrer der Ethik”,695 as two Horatian quotations confirm: in Epistles 1.2, Horace holds Homer in higher esteem than teachers from the Stoa and the Platonic Academy,696 while in Epistles 2.2, he refers to his own Roman education as a teaching in Achilleus’ noxious wrath,697 thereby proving the outstanding importance of this kind of topic in the literary lessons of his time. Hence, such ethical interpretations of Homer seem to provide an ‘exemplary core’ in the epic scenes, some basic ethical equipment, which can be traced in Vergil’s opus as a subtle underground beyond the more obvious structural imitations such as those analysed exhaustively by Knauer 1964.698 On the basis of this new focus on Homer’s scholarly reception in Hellenistic Greece and Augustan Rome, Schmit-Neuerburg pursues a new evaluation of Vergil’s Homeric scenes and his poetic artistry in general. Now back to Horace and his imitative techniques. In his comprehensive study ‘Lyrik als Philologie’ (2012), Bitto tracks all the traces of Hellenistic Pindar commentaries that made their way into Horace’s Odes. His title is a homage to the same phenomenon that was detected for Vergil and Homer commentaries, namely that Augustan lyric poetry apparently did not shrink from finding inspiration in Hellenistic philological work. Bitto tellingly describes this as a “Rückverwandlung von Literaturwissenschaft in Literatur”,699 and refers to Barchiesi’s section title in his chapter ‘Lyric in Rome’, where he calls Horace’s Odes “secondary lyric”.700 In order to specify this phenomenon, Bitto enhances Genette’s definition of intertextuality as “the actual presence of one text within another”701 by formulating “sich wechselseitig beeinflussende Präsenz zweier Texte (Pindar und Kommentierung) in einem anderen (Horaz)”.702 Recently, an essay-collection entitled ‘Philologie auf zweiter Stufe’ (2019) has been published by Bitto and Ginestí Rosell. It is dedicated to the above-mentioned phenomenon of scholarly reception and includes research on several Roman authors and their philological inheritance from the Hellenistic era. In the introduction, the editors adopt Jonathan Lethem’s apposite coinage “ecstasy of

695 Schmit-Neuerburg 1999, 7. 696 Cf. Epistles 1.2.3f.: qui, quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, | planius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit. 697 Cf. Epistles 2.2.41f.: Romae nutriri mihi contigit atque doceri | iratus Grais quantum nocuisset Achilles. 698 Knauer 1964: “Die Aeneis und Homer. Studien zur poetischen Technik Vergils mit Listen der Homerzitate in der Aeneis”. 699 Bitto 2012, 12. 700 Barchiesi 2009, 326 On p. 327, he observes that “no doubt research on Greek discussions of lyric will contribute to a richer approach to Horace, one that does not just pit isolated fragments of verse against the Latin text in search of a fit”. 701 Genette 1997, 2. 702 Bitto 2012, 31.

Horace’s Latin Anacreontea

185

influence”703 and spotlight Dubischar’s concept of commentaries as ‘auxiliary texts’, that is, as mediators between author and reader through time, space, and culture.704 They describe the importance and influence of scholarship in Alexan­dria, referring to this as a ‘philological turn’.705 Then, they analyse the rich use of this philological material in late Republican and early Augustan Rome, such as ancient descriptions of the tasks of a grammaticus (not only explanation of the grammar but also interpretation), Cicero’s use of both Latin and Greek philological technical terms for illustrative analogies, and his references to Aristarchus as a great scholar. In view of Horace’s ‘Latin Anacreontics’, we have, in the words of Bitto, an interactive presence of two texts (Anacreon and the Anacreontea) within another (Horace). The qualitative phenomenon of the reception described by Schmit-Neuerburg for Vergil and Homer applies here too: by resorting to the CA alongside authentic Anacreon, Horace meets to a certain degree his readers’ stereotypical image of Anacreon as a popstar, just as Vergil encounters especially ethicising interpretations of Homer. As I pointed out in this chapter, in Horace’s case as in Vergil’s, this process is conscious and intentional rather than a random commingling of primary and secondary sources. In this light, the notion of commentaries (such as the Homeric scholia, but also Anacreon-commentaries that show an awareness of Anacreon’s more rough and iambic traits)706 as well as other secondary texts (like the CA) as being mere ‘auxiliary texts’ (Dubischar) and “Korrektiv bei der Rezeption eines Primärtextes” (Bitto/Ginestí Rosell)707 is thrown into question. Besides the auxiliary function by which a secondary text of any kind serves as a mediator and perhaps corrector, there also inevitably emerges an interpretative function by which it serves as an influencer. “Secondary lyric” ‒ “Lyrik als Philologie” ‒ “Philologie auf zweiter Stufe” – and “secondary lyric” anew: these notions form a perfect circle which reveals a new layer of ‘intertextual texture’ in Roman and especially Horatian poetry. On this layer we can now add a further step: tertiary lyric, lyric as reception of the reception. In Horace’s handling of Anacreon and the Anacreontic tradition, we have not only a mingled double reception in full consciousness, but even an artistic play with this very consciousness; let us call it consciousness cast in poetry. Horace does not only imitate both Anacreon and the Anacreontea, and 703 Bitto and Ginestí Rosell 2019, 9. 704 Cf. Bitto and Ginestí Rosell 2019, 10, referring to Dubischar 2010. 705 Cf. also the extensive bibliography on p. 12 n.15. 706 See the commentary fragments of P.Oxy. 3722 and Bernsdorff’s evaluation (Bernsdorff 2020, 262), also discussed above in 1.1.2 Anacreon: an underrepresented predecessor in Horatian scholarship. Yet, to date we cannot prove any influence of Anacreon-commentaries on Horace’s lyric, not least because the commentarial material we have is extremely fragmentary. 707 Bitto and Ginestí Rosell 2019, 10.

186

Imitate Anacreon: The Influence of the Carmina Anacreontea

Anacreon through the Anacreontea, but he even imitates the exhortation of the Anacreontea to imitate Anacreon. This marks a new level of poetic imitatio and aemulatio, or, in the words of Gérard Genette, “Littérature au troisième degré”.

4. Conclusion

In this Conclusion I will review the three instances of Horace’s explicit mention of Anacreon given in the first part of the introduction (1.1 State of Research and Objective of this Study) and take them as starting points for a short recapitulation of some important results of my investigation. The first instance came in Epodes 14.9–11: Non aliter Samio dicunt arsisse Bathyllo Anacreonta Teium, qui persaepe caua testudine fleuit amorem. Not differently, they say, did Anacreon the Teian, who most often bewailed love on the curved cithara, burn for the Samian Bathyllus.

These lines remind us of the primarily Anacreontean Bathyllus and the possible influence of the CA on this epode. In any case, the signpost dicunt implies a source text of a rather rumoured or written tradition younger than the original; furthermore, the lines evoke the Roman Bathyllus, Maecenas’ beloved pantomime, and above all Maximus’ metapoetic anecdote with Cleobulus and Anacreon’s iambic verses followed by lyric recantation. In this quotation and its poetological background, the whole Horatian-Anacreontic satiric-lyric mixture and their dilemma of vacillation between two genres is condensed. Odes 1.17.17–19 was the second, and first properly lyric, appearance of Anacreon, where he is appropriately represented by his lyre: […] Et fide Teia dices laborantis in uno Penelopen uitreamque Circen. And with the Teian lyre you will sing about Penelope and opalescent Circe, who exerted themselves for one and the same man.

This instance makes us contemplate specifically the Hellenistic call to imitate Anacreon and above all its formative and potent verbalisation in CA 60b.7 τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ. It touches on the metapoetical force of this imitated exhortation, the idea of imitating the imitation, which is put into practice not only in Odes 1.17, but, as we saw, in many topoi and Hellenistic refinements of archaic imagery throughout Horace’s lyric oeuvre. The Teian lute, which is mentally ‘handed over’ to a young girl, illustrates the mediated and secondary presence of the archaic poet through the lens of the Carmina Anacreontea: Horace’s Latin Anacreontea, or ‘lyric in the third degree’.

188

Conclusion

Last but not least, Anacreon is personally present in Odes 4.9.9f. Nec si quid olim lusit Anacreon, deleuit aetas: spirat adhuc amor. Nor, whenever Anacreon once played something, has age wiped it out: love is still breathing.

These two verses are representative of the ‒ too often overemphasised, yet not negligible ‒ significance of Anacreon’s almost omnipresent eros in Horace’s reception (we remember Cicero’s exaggerated impression in Tusc. 4.71: nam Anacreontis quidem tota poesis est amatoria). These verses also underline the immortality of the Teian predecessor through perpetual reproduction in a somewhat self-referential way: just by the very act of proclaiming his poetry immortal, it is made a bit ‘more immortal’ in cultural memory through this added reference itself. Furthermore, by considering how the stanza continues with the Aeolia puella and her share in the breathing amor of l. 10, the lines bring home to us the admonition that we should not be too fast in attributing an imitated motif, image, or topos to one single predecessor exclusively, but we should be open to explore a more complex multiplicity of underlying allusions. Additionally, the stanza shows how, also in Horace, Acosta-Hughes’ observation applies that “Anacreon comes in a sense to be Sappho’s male counterpart”.708 Anacreon himself was said to allude to Sappho,709 so, when Horace unequivocally imitates her, he is close to Anacreon in sharing the same source of inspiration. Even by the very act of imitating Sappho, Horace does something Anacreontic. The two following introductory chapters expounded both the prerequisites and conceptual approach behind my enquiry (1.2 Conceptual Approach) and the preconditions and self-conception of Horace’s poetic production (1.3 Horace’s Choice of Lifestyle). Then the core chapters 2 And with the Teian lyre first detected, collected, and evaluated the abundant signs of Anacreontic inspiration in Horace, while the Anacreontean chapters in 3 Imitate Anacreon gave a new perspective on the Augustan poets’ knowledge and awareness of the derivative nature of the Hellenistic Carmina Anacreontea, as well as deeper insights into the extent of inspiration that Horace took from this collection. I do not want to divide my conclusive remarks, as I did through this book’s structure for the sake of a step-by-step analysis, between Anacreon and Anacreontea. Instead, I will use the space of this conclusion to provide a synthesis of both, modelled on Horace’s own artistic technique of compound allusion to the original and later traditions, that is, a realisation of his literature in the third degree. 708 Acosta-Hughes 2010, 145. 709 Cf. Acosta-Hughes 2010, 144f. He identifies as shared features of Anacreon and Sappho among other things the “use of the iterative δηὖτε, … the imagery of play, and the assertive use of color terms”, and the depiction of old age.

The Conceptual Approach Revisited

189

4.1 The Conceptual Approach Revisited Looking back, it should be clear why I primarily chose the philological approach displayed in chapter 1.2, rather than an “intertextuality of an aesthetic[s] of reception” that allows for “the relative openness of the literary text’s capacity to generate meaning”,710 a capacity that, by the way, does not exist. Since meaning needs some sort of consciousness to be perceived, and basically does not exist without consciousness, the production of meaning needs a consciousness in the first place. Meaning cannot be generated by a subject-less and unconscious text, but only on the basis of a text by a subject, who is first of all the author, and on a second level a conscious reader. I, as a scholarly reader of Horace, have not been interested in generating ‘my personal meaning’ out of his texts, but in discovering in a scientific context his authorial intentions, communicative purposes, and artistic agenda. However, when seeing Horace as an artistic reader and ‘receiver’ of Anacreon, I do respect and discuss the aesthetics of reception, asking what meaning Horace personally ‘generated’ from Anacreon’s texts for his own purposes, independently of ‒ and perhaps against ‒ Anacreon’s original intentions. This was the case wherever Horace’s interpretation and appropriation of Anacreontic and Anacreontean imagery went beyond simple imitation and Horace’s version lent a new colouring to the source text. Examples would include 2.2.3 Odes 1.23 and PMG 408: fearful fawns, when I detected hints of Horace’s own understanding of the much-debated Anacreontic expression in PMG 357.10f. τὸν ἐμὸν δ’ ἔρωτ’, | ὦ Δεόνυσε, δέχεσθαι as accepting a love song (cf. Odes 3.11.7f. dic modos Lyde quibus obstinatas | applicet auris), or 2.2.1 Odes 1.36 and PMG 357: Δαμάλης Ἔρως and beloved Damalis, when I explored Horace’s personal twist in the allusion to δαμάλης Ἔρως by the tough girl Damalis. As to the relevance of reception within antiquity for reception studies in general, Thorsen points out in the introduction to Roman Receptions of Sappho that “the reception of ancient authors within the period of antiquity is as important as, if not more important than, the reception of the same authors in postclassical periods, as postclassical receptions tend to be informed not only by the ancient author, but also by that ancient author’s ancient reception”.711 It should be added here that not only postclassical but even ancient receptions, like Horace’s of Anacreon, are informed by both the ancient author and the ancient author’s ancient reception.

710 Bendlin 2002, s.v. intertextuality (B): Intertextuality and classical philology. 711 Thorsen 2019, 5. She refers to Porter 2008 and his section on ‘reception in antiquity’ in Hardwick and Stray 2008: A Companion to Classical Receptions.

190

Conclusion

I hope to have produced “a more exact account of allusive inexactitude” in Hinds’ sense,712 inasmuch as Horace’s allusions to both the original and the later tradition of Anacreon (alongside many other predecessors) weave, at times very deliberately, at times more accidentally, a complex web of threads of different colours, characters, and intensities. To give some examples, the wording of Odes 4.9.9‒12 creates an inexactitude that leaves open whether spirat adhuc amor is to be attributed only to Sappho, or only to Anacreon, or to both; the mixture of Anacreontic and Anacreontean inspirations in the Odes and Epodes is sometimes difficult to segregate precisely into the ingredients, as in the case of happy versus exaggerated frenzy through drinking. Further, it is occasionally unclear to what degree two different sources of inspiration from the later tradition have influenced Horace’s imagery together, as in the case of the Anacreontean ­Bathyllus poems in Epodes 14 and the comical anecdote about Anacreon’s palinode. The motif of erotic δηὖτε that wafts through archaic lyric and into Horace’s rursus is another prime example of allusive inexactitude, as is, in another sense, the nameless tu in Odes 2.5 that addresses an externalised Anacreontic persona, a proper alter ego as dialogue (or monologue?)-partner for the Horatian persona. This enigmatic identity-play itself is a thoroughly Anacreontean gesture, and a standard repertoire of the poets of the CA. 713 This changing identity is also the realisation of Russell’s demand quoted above that “acknowledgement, of course, must be combined with appropriation”.714 In Odes 2.5, Horace’s acknowledgement of Anacreon’s filly metaphor and the role as an experienced older lover is combined with his appropriation of the Anacreontic persona. In this and numerous other instances, Anacreon is for Horace far more than a modello-esemplare, a provider of sporadic “source-passages”,715 of apt poetic situations, images, wordings to be imitated incoherently. Anacreon’s attitude towards the sorrows of life, war, epos and its recusatio, wine and the symposium, erotic and sympotic frenzy and restraint, beloved boys and girls alike, and his peculiar way of dealing with – and partly avoiding or distorting – scathing iambic poetry constitute a thorough modello-codice or modello-genere716 for Horace’s lyric-satiric persona and his poetic self-conception.

712 Hinds 1998, 25. 713 Cf. Bär 2016b, 33 who notices “the disproportion between the non-identification of the poetic speaker with Anacreon … and the insinuated identification in this poem” (i.e. CA 17). 714 Russell 1979, 12. 715 Hinds 1998, 41. 716 Cf. Conte 1986, 31 and Barchiesi 1984, 91–122.

Wine and Inebriation

191

4.2 Wine and Inebriation In the broad field of sympotic poetry, Horace has surely countless sources of inspiration at hand, and many of his descriptions feature such commonplace ingredients of symposium-settings (such as a locus amoenus, slaves serving water and wine, garlands, dancing, music, expulsion of sorrows through drinking, descriptions of the mixing ratio of water and wine, and so on) that we cannot (and need not) identify any precise predecessor for every single scene. Sometimes the number and intensity of similarities allow the detection of a probable source of inspiration in the orbit of Anacreon, as for instance the comparison of Odes 2.11 with CA 32; but beyond these occasional individual reminiscences, Anacreon and his tradition have left their mark particularly in one specific section of the complex topic of wine. It is the Horatian handling of drunken frenzy that is unmistakably Anacreontic and Anacreontean; this is also the topic that constitutes one of the clearest and most studied Anacreontic imitations in Odes 1.27, the Thracian affray with drinking vessels. To pick up Thomas’ categories of allusion from the introductory chapter 1.2 Conceptual Approach and apply them to our present case, we may observe that the most decisive allusions that serve as an initial ignition for the discovery of Horace’s and Anacreon’s sympotic kinship are those of the category of ‘single reference’. These can consist in a “morphological oddity”717, as is the case in bacchabor ~ βασσαρήσω, or in highly unusual vocabulary like the amystis in Horace, which reflects the word’s use in Anacreon as well as the CA.718 In both of these allusions, not only is the single word of the predecessor overheard, but the whole scenery of the source text which thus provides a more ‘spatial’ or three-dimensional background to Horace’s scene. The theme of frenzy through drinking can also serve as a prime example of the coalescence of original Anacreon and the Carmina Anacreontea in Horace’s inspirational repertoire. Here we have a textbook example of Thomas’ ‘window reference’, with the CA serving as the window frame through which the ultimate source of both Horace and the CA, Anacreon, is visible. It is therefore at the same time an example of the category of ‘correction’, alias Kuiper’s oppositio in imitando: in the quick succession of Anacreon and the Anacreontea in Odes 2.7.26‒28 Non ego sanius | bacchabor Edonis: recepto | dulce mihi furere est amico, the Anacreontic madness and the Anacreontean sweetness of drinking melt intriguingly into one stanza. Moreover, in the juxtaposition of the most Anacreontean insanire iuuat (~ θέλω θέλω μανῆναι) in Odes 3.19.18 next to the 717 Thomas 1986, 179. 718 A “rhetorical figure” as core of the reference is found – if my theory of inspiration is correct ‒ in the very peculiar image of Zeus being deduced from the sky in bad weather (PMG 362 and Epodes 13).

192

Conclusion

rich Horatian self-references (another of Thomas’ categories) throughout 3.19 to the dangerously violent Thracian revelry in Odes 1.27, the Anacreontean exhortations to a ‘disarmed’, mitigated frenzy, on the one hand, and the Anacreontic restrictions of exaggerated drinking, on the other hand, clash remarkably. In his reception of the sympotic Anacreon and the Anacreontea, Horace thus sweetens the archaic power of the former with Hellenism, and empowers the Hellenistic sweetness of the latter with Archaism.

4.3 Love and Domination The most extensive and well-known use of Anacreontic imagery by Horace is, almost needless to say, his adaptation of the filly and fawn metaphors. But this direct adaptation is only the visible surface of a kinship that is built on much deeper roots. Of course Anacreon’s and Horace’s concepts of love are not simply identical: whilst Anacreon’s Eros often appears as a mighty god, Horace’s amor is never personified to a comparable degree. However, what they clearly share in particular, and distinctively as opposed to other influential predecessors, is the characteristic of erotic taming and reining, the shaping of love’s power in detail, and especially its bisexual expansion to boys and girls alike. I first focus on the shape and power of Anacreon’s Eros. In PMG 346.1, Cypris frees her horses from the yoke; in PMG 360, a boy with a girlish glance, the object of love, bridles the persona’s soul; and in PMG 417, a filly, again the object of love, will soon be bridled by the persona. Bridling and (not) being bridled, taming and (not) being tamed, keeps switching from lover to beloved, from beloved to lover. This is especially striking in PMG 357: the god δαμάλης Ἔρως at the end of the first line is mirrored in the personal emotion τὸν ἐμόν γ’ ἔρωτ’ at the end of the penultimate line. This is a clearly parallel positioning, but a drastically divergent re-use of the word, as Leo points out: “la finale ripresa del termine ἔρωc (…) tramuta il dio del r. 1 nel sentimento dell’io poetico, comportando una laicizzazione dei valori religiosi tradizionali che, sottratti al divino, sono affidati all’autonomia del comportamento umano”.719 The god, a form of active and superior love, is now reduced to a passive, helpless, and needy emotion. In view of the distinct second use of ἔρως in l. 10 and the distribution of ‘taming’ and ‘untamed’ notions through all the mentioned fragments, we can trace a significant feature of Anacreon’s concept of love. Eros-god is, as it were, the ‘externalised’ emotion; as a god, this Love is mighty and subduing, and ‘inbound’ in the sense that it afflicts its victim. The eros-emotion, however, is the personal or ‘internal’ emotion, ‘outbound’ love that is untamed and wild, but also dependent on acceptance. Now, who is the victim that will be subdued? This 719 Leo 2015, 94.

Love and Domination

193

depends on the question which of the two, the subject or object of the eros-emotion, can ‘use’ Eros-god for his or her own purposes. If the subject is self-reliant enough (as in PMG 417), it can put into service Eros’ power and, with the help of the god, tame and subdue the beloved. If, however, the subject is ‘subject’ to its own overwhelming emotion (as in PMG 360), the beloved has Eros in his service and subdues through him the lover. Thus, the personal love can be the subduing instrument of the object or of the subject, and for the respective other one, this Love appears as a mighty god. In her 1998 essay on Anacreon’s Eros figure, Williamson puts the archaic concept of love and masculinity in a nutshell, describing it as “a stance we can characterise as culturally masculine: real men only give in to gods”.720 As the ring composition and the repetition of ‘eros’ in PMG 357 illustrates, Anacreon’s plea aims at turning the current circumstances upside down. ‘Anacreon begs Dionysus to make Cleobulus accept his love’ means: Anacreon begs Dionysus (who is the ἄναξ even of this Ἔρως!) to subdue his untamed subduer, to effect a labefaction of the beloved’s divine power and deification of his own personal love instead. Williamson’s comparison of Anacreon’s concept with Sappho 31 yields the observation that the female Sappho suffers an “overwhelming sense of fragmentation and collapse”721 in the presence of a merely human, not deified beloved. This ‘feminine’ attitude is emulated by Catullus and the other Neoterics: their modelling of the exclusus amator at the doorstep of a domina totally contradicts the archaic conception, which is why Catullus, despite being a man, can translate Sappho 31 into his own perspective at all. How and to what extent is Horace inspired by this portrayal of Eros and gender dynamics? There are two significant instances roughly at the beginning and the end of his iambic and lyric corpus: in Epodes 14.6, Horace says deus, deus nam me uetat, while in Odes 4.1.1f. he says Venus (…) | rursus bella moues. Even though Horace also alludes to Sappho 31 several times in his oeuvre (among other instances, also at the end of Odes 4.1 with Ligurinus), in the quoted lines it seems that he generally turns back to archaic masculinity and a deification of the emotion. When Horace admits in Epodes 14.16 that Phryne macerat, it is still the deus who bears the blame of subjugation. When Horace shows himself totally abandoned in (Sapphic) love for the boy Ligurinus at the end of Odes 4.1, this is still dependent on the initial declaration that the goddess Venus is the driving force, and Ligurinus is basically a materialised Eros.

720 Williamson 1998, 73. 721 Williamson 1998, 74.

194

Conclusion

We also notice a common ground in Horace’s and Anacreon’s differentiation between female and male beloveds. Whilst their attractiveness is rather comparable and their appearance is sometimes even hardly distinguishable (as in Gyges’ case in Odes 2.5, mirroring Anacreon’s παρθένιον βλέπων boy), the animal metaphors that include mastery and reining on the part of the persona are only applied to young girls, never to boys. Likewise, in Horace, wild predatory animals such as lions, bulls, and wolfs are almost exclusively allegories for men, while their shy fleeing counterparts (iuvenca, agna, caprea, equa and the like) refer to women. Degrading the object of love to a lower species, and in addition a fearful one, automatically gives the speaker greater supremacy, no matter whether he remains in the human role or chooses a lordly animal species for comparison. This relation is turned upside down and women get the aggressive roles either in a very specific scene that is conceived as exceptional anyway (as in the case of the Danaids who kill their bridegrooms in Odes 3.11) or in an altogether satiric and ironic context (as in Epodes 12). Hence, what Rosenmeyer observes for Anacreon’s filly in PMG 417, namely that due to “the fact that the object of love here is female, (…) Anacreon automatically takes on the active, dominating role”,722 is at least in part equally true for Horace’s concept of love. However, Horace does not draw this differentiation on every occasion. On the one hand, the strongly bucolic colouring of some love scenes such as the invitation to Tyndaris in Odes 1.17 or the very sweet account of Horace’s protection by the Muses in nature due to his tender love for Lalage in Odes 1.22 is a trace of Hellenistic Anacreontean influence, and wholly incompatible with the harsher Anacreon. On the other hand, whilst the line Me nunc Thressa Chloe regit (Odes 3.9.9) does not yet mark a major break from the principle that ‘real men only give in to gods’ and remains far from the Sapphic and Neoteric degree of dramatic subjection to a woman,723 the case is different in the classic paraclausithyron of Odes 3.10. Perhaps an even more striking deviation is also the Horatian transfer of one of Anacreon’s central eros poems, PMG 357 with δαμάλης ἔρως and the boy Cleobulus, to the tough woman Damalis. There ends the sphere of Anacreon’s archaic influence on Horace’s concept of love, and there begins the Hellenistic and contemporary Roman, the ‘updated’, less deified, more readily conquered, Horatian love. Compared to the Neoterics, Horace does in fact return partly to Anacreon’s idea of love, but he still remains a child of his time. 722 Rosenmeyer 1992, 45, also quoted above in 2.2.2 Odes 2.5 and PMG 417: untamed temptation. 723 Though the regit can be compared to Anacreon’s ἡνιοχεύεις, as I pointed out in 2.2.3 Odes 1.23 and PMG 408: fearful fawns, Horace does in fact shift the blame to Venus again in l. 17 Quid si Prisca redit Venus. West 1995a, 103 comments: “A mere man can scarcely hope to resist the goddess Venus and her yoke of bronze”.

And Horace with the Teian lyre imitates Anacreon

195

4.4 Satire and Seniority Astonishingly many of Horace’s satiric elements find counterparts in Anacreon’s oeuvre. The recusatio of Epodes 14 is explicitly justified with Anacreon; the motif of the palinode in Epodes 14 and 17 derives in part from the Anacreontic tradition, perhaps from comedy; and Horace’s Artemon, aeschrology, metapoetical figures such as the Iambe-like vetula, ridiculous masculine passivity and scathing animal metaphors are all at least marginally, if not largely, signs of Anacreontic and Anacreontean inheritance. The satiric Horace not only embraces the content, in the shape of specific allusions, but even more the habitus of the iambic Anacreon, writing almost permanently on the verge of lyric. Anacreon can be described as no less than the central pivot between Archilochus and Hipponax, on the one hand, and Alcaeus and Sappho, on the other. In other words, he represents the tie between Horace’s iambic and lyric personae and is thus a much more encompassing predecessor than any one of the other four above-mentioned counterparts. This point is well captured in Schmid’s judgment on Anacreon’s oeuvre, since this judgment can be transferred without alteration to Horace: “Denn er ist nicht nur Erbe der Lesbier, wo er von Wein und Liebe singt, sondern auch Erbe des archilochischen Spottgeistes”.724 From all the scrutinised evidence of satiric kinship between the two poets, it seems that Horace’s reception of Anacreon is both much more subtle and at the same time more encompassing than the usual way of dealing with Anacreon, i.e. the Carmina Anacreontea and the whole Anacreontic tradition which merely focuses on a playful love and wine reception that is easy to digest. Horace often does not allude to Anacreon as clearly as other Anacreon-inspired poets, but nevertheless he integrates more facets of the Anacreontic persona into his own than in their case.

4.5 And Horace with the Teian lyre imitates Anacreon Finally, I wish to sum up the results by answering two questions: first, what makes Horace’s reception of Anacreon noteworthy, as opposed to Horace’s reception of other predecessors? And second, what makes Horace’s reception of Anacreon noteworthy, as opposed to Anacreon’s reception by other successors? Firstly, Anacreon is a universal role model. Even though his presence in Horace’s lyric and iambic poetry is not overwhelmingly obvious, nor compellingly striking, he is a more comprehensive model for the Augustan poet than any other Greek predecessor. As I said above, the elements in Horace that are 724 Schmid and Stählin 1929, 435.

196

Conclusion

often attributed separately to Sappho and Alcaeus, on the one hand (love poetry, lute music, symposium), and Archilochus and Hipponax, on the other hand (iambus, acrimonious satire), can be found united in the one exemplary persona of Anacreon. In focussing on the two Lesbians who are certainly the closest rivals to Anacreon in claiming that Horace’s monodic lyric persona borrows from theirs, we find Sappho’s generally homo- and Alcaeus’ heterosexual tendencies combined in Anacreon’s bisexuality, which Horace mirrors. Furthermore, Sappho diverges more than Anacreon from Horace’s personality just by being a woman; Alcaeus diverges more by being a warrior. Secondly, Horace is a universal imitator. In her study on the Carmina Anacreontea, Rosenmeyer examines the strange gap in the judgments of this collection by scholars versus poets. After quoting Wilamowitz-Moellendorff’s famous scathing verdict on the CA,725 she observes: “[F]or centuries scholars have held remarkably consistent views: they either condemn and denounce, or they omit mention of the anacreontics altogether. Poets, on the other hand, have done everything in their power to keep the tradition alive”. Moreover, in the preface to the CA edition of 1554, Henricus Stephanus “claimed that the poems would not appeal to those who were philoponoi, fond of hard work like critics or scholars, but rather only to philomousoi, those who love or are loved by the Muses, in other words poets and admirers of poetry.”726 It seems that the philomousoi are happy with the Anacreontean stereotypes and find poetic satisfaction in the coverage on love and wine; they care less about propinquity with the original and more about aesthetic expression. The philoponoi, in contrast, miss the style, the standard and literary completeness in the emulation of Anacreon. Now, if we consider Horace’s holistic imitation of Anacreon which clearly goes beyond the stereotypes of sweet wine and love songs that are so prevalent in the remaining Anacreontic tradition, we might say that he unifies the philomousos and the philoponos into the poeta doctus. His oeuvre, and especially the iambic and lyric gems, is obviously not the suddenly inspired product of a mere philomousos, but the polished and sophisticated result of a scholarly poet who is also philoponos.727 725 Cf. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff 1995, 44 on the collection of the CA versus the original poems by Anacreon: “wem diese matte Limonade nicht unausstehlich ist, der soll nicht nach dem hellenischen Weine greifen”. 726 Rosenmeyer 1992, 1. 727 Accordingly, Fiske 1920, 30 observes that “the Augustan age perhaps stood closest to the Italian renaissance in its insistence on the union in the man of letters of critical theory and creative practice”. Or in Campe’s flowery words: “Denn das wird doch jeder zugestehen, dass die oden des Horaz nicht wie aus einer tiefen innerlichen quelle hervorströmen, sondern ein künstliches product eines der feinsten und gebildetsten männer sind, in welchem sich verständige berechnung, gefühl für das schickliche und massvolle im leben wie im dichten, feiner ästhetischer sinn, durch das studium nicht blos der Alexandriner, sondern auch der

And Horace with the Teian lyre imitates Anacreon

197

How genuine is the impression of archaic Greek lyric in general and Anacreon in particular that the poeta doctus Horace conveys? Does he disclose a deeper insight into these otherwise extremely fragmentary works? According to Acosta-Hughes, “Horace, as reader and imitator of Anacreon, has left a significant mark on the later appreciation of Anacreon”.728 Campe, on the other hand, censures the expectation of obtaining an authentic archaic impression through Horace as “wirklich mehr als lächerlich”; his judgment on Horace’s capacity to transport the pure archaic art is outright annihilating. According to him, the whole of Horace’s oeuvre pales beside only a few authentic archaic lines of poetry.729 To a certain extent, this judgment has a true core, because Horace does not even try to be an authentic Greek poet. As a successor who seeks a Latinized incorporation of archaic Greek art about half a millennium after his predecessor, Horace has the status of both one who is intimately versed in Greek lyric poetry and a distant observer with a high degree of objectivity and ability to judge. In this way, in the Odes, we enjoy Anacreon’s poetry indirectly through the lens of Horace’s observations and adaptations, and we meet Anacreon mediated and updated through Horace’s persona.730 The comparison of Horace’s sometimes close, sometimes vague, but always versatile reception of Anacreon with the more usual kind of reception, as we encounter it in the Carmina Anacreontea and other partial imitations of selected character traits, yields a result that could be summarised as follows: Horace is not a ‘look-alike’ of Anacreon, but a ‘panto-mime’, which means in literal translation an ‘imitator of everything’. As a professional literary pantomime, it is his job to play several different roles, among them Sappho’s, Pindar’s, and Anacreon’s. To take Anacreon’s persona casually as an alter ego, or to become an alter Anacreon occasionally, is not the core, but only one part of his pantomimic artistry. Horace is not a double of Anacreon in the sense that in his oeuvre he never fixates on Anacreon alone. ‘Full-time’ or exclusive Anacreon imitators, that is, poets who have specialised in him alone, have their predilections in parts of his complex persona and art, Anacreontic extracts which they then fully incorporate and exploit while disregarding other Anacreontic parts; this is the case with the Anacreontean poets who take sweet wine and love, but reject bitter satire. Their technique is grossen alten meister gebildet, und die vollendete herrschaft über sprache und vers auf das glücklichste vereinigten” (Campe 1872, 667f.). 728 Acosta-Hughes 2010, 148. 729 Cf. Campe 1872, 667: “Ein fragment des Alcaeus oder der Sappho, ein paar winzige verse des Archilochus, geschweige denn eine ode des Pindar, leisten dies besser; sie leisten dies so, dass die ganze horazische lyrik vor ihnen verblasst”. 730 Again in Campe’s words: “So romanisirt er das griechische, so hellenisirt er das römische. Diese Verschmelzung ist das eigene an Horaz, und sein verdienst wie seine schwäche” (Campe 1872, 684).

198

Conclusion

legitimate, even though it is stereotyping: they simply follow their interests and in fact nowhere claim to represent a totalist or all-encompassing copy of the original Anacreon. Their motto is: ‘What we showcase is an authentic part exclusively of Anacreon, but just a part.’ This is more imitatio, less aemulatio; more dependence, less originality. In a nutshell, the whole corpus of the Carmina Anacreontea is Anacreontic, but not the whole Anacreon is in the CA. Horace, in contrast, is not committed to Anacreon alone. His focus in the Odes is broader, his mind more variegated, his inspiration more universal. He therefore does not pick and choose only a tiny stereotypical fragment of Anacreon’s personality and art for deep and thorough imitation, but here and there freely and nonchalantly takes many different inspirations from all of Anacreon’s bright characteristics. Horace does not have a sophisticated personal ‘agenda’ for a directed and controlled embodiment, or re-enactment, of Anacreon; he rather just gets into this role almost automatically: it is so familiar, so akin to at least a significant part of his own character as a lyric and iambic poet; that is why he distorts the original much less. Whilst the Anacreontea and similar works of art in the Hellenistic tradition feature a selective, but within the selected elements intensive imitation, Horace offers a non-selective but extensive emulation. Or to adopt a Horatian motto of imitation contrary to the CA motto above: ‘What I showcase is a collection of archaic predecessors, among many others also, in bits and pieces, the whole authentic Anacreon’. That is (to re-use my own words from above) less imitatio, more aemulatio; less dependence, more originality. And again in a nutshell: by far not the whole corpus of Odes and Epodes is Anacreontic, but the whole of Anacreon is in the Odes and Epodes: And Horace with the Teian lyre imitates Anacreon.

5. Works Cited

Acosta-Hughes, B. 2002. Polyeideia. The Iambi of Callimachus and the archaic Iambic tradition. Hellenistic culture and society 35. Berkeley. ———. 2010. Arion’s lyre. Archaic lyric into Hellenistic poetry. Princeton. Adams, J.N. 1982. The Latin sexual vocabulary. London. Arkins, B. 1993. “The Cruel Joke of Venus: Horace as Love Poet.” In Horace 2000: A celebration. Essays for the Bimillennium, edited by N. Rudd, 106–19. London. Baldo, G. 2009. Eros e storia. Orazio, Carm. 1. 1–20 e 2. 1–10. Verona. Bär, S. 2016a. “A. Zotou, Carmina anacreontea 1–34.” Göttinger Forum für Altertumswissenschaften 19:1067–95. ———. 2016b. ““Come, Second Best of Painters!”: Irony, Ambiguity, and Voices in Carmina Anacreontea 16 and 17.” Phoenix 70:23–39. ———. 2017. “Composition, Voices, and the Poetological Programme in the Carmina Anacreontea.” Symbolae Philologorum Posnaniensium Graecae et Latinae 27(1):17–40. Bär, S., M. Baumbach, N. Dümmler, H. Sitta, and F. Zogg, eds. 2014. Carmina Anacreontea. Griechisch/deutsch. Stuttgart. Barbantani, S. 1993. “I poeti lirici del canone alessandrino nell’ epigrammatistica.” Aevum antiquum 6:5–97. Barchiesi, A. 1984. La traccia del modello. effetti omerici nella narrazione virgiliana. Pisa. ———. 2000. “Rituals in ink. Horace on the Greek lyric tradition.” In Matrices of genre. ­Authors, canons, and society, edited by M. Depew, and D. Obbink, 167–82. Center for Hellenic Studies colloquia 4. Cambridge, MA. ———. 2001. “Horace and iambos: the poet as literary historian.” In Iambic ideas. Essays on a poetic tradition from Archaic Greece to the late Roman Empire, edited by A. Cavarzere, A. Aloni and A. Barchiesi, 141–64. Greek studies. Lanham. ———. 2009. “Lyric in Rome.” In The Cambridge companion to Greek lyric, edited by F. Budelmann, 319–35. Cambridge companions to literature. Cambridge. Bartman, E. 2001. “Hair and the Artifice of Roman Female Adornment.” American Journal of Archaeology 105(1):1–25. ———. 2002. “Eros’s Flame: Images of Sexy Boys in Roman Ideal Sculpture.” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome. Supplementary Volumes 1:249–71. Bartol, K. 1993. “TON ANAKPEONTA MIMOY. Einige Bemerkungen zum “Carmen Anacreonteum” 1 W.” Antike & Abendland 39:64–72. Batstone, W.W. 2006. “Provocation. The Point of Reception Theory.” In Classics and the uses of reception, edited by C. Martindale, and R.F. Thomas, 14–20. Classical receptions. Malden, MA, Oxford. Bauer, B. 1992. “Aemulatio.” In Historisches Wörterbuch der Rhetorik. 1. A – Bib, edited by G. Ueding. Darmstadt. Becker, C. 1963. Das Spätwerk des Horaz. Göttingen. Beekes, R. 2010. Etymological Dictionary of Greek. vol. 1. Leiden. Bendlin, A. 2002. “Intertextuality.” In Brill’s new Pauly. Encyclopaedia of the ancient world, edited by H. Cancik, H. Schneider, C.F. Salazar, B. Egger, J. Derlien, D.A. Smart, M. Landfester, F.G. Gentry and A. Pauly. Leiden.

200

Works Cited

Benz, L. 2002. “Pantomime.” In Brill’s new Pauly. Encyclopaedia of the ancient world, edited by H. Cancik, H. Schneider, C.F. Salazar, B. Egger, J. Derlien, D.A. Smart, M. Landfester, F.G. Gentry and A. Pauly. Leiden. th Bergk, T., ed. 1882. Poetae lyrici Graeci. vol. 3: Poetas melicos continens. 4 ed. Leipzig. Bernsdorff, H. 2004. “Taucher aus Liebe (Zu Poseidipp 19, 7–8 A.-B. und Moschos Fr. 3 G.).” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 150:36–8. ———. 2005. “Offene Gedichtschlüsse.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 153:1–6. ———. 2011. “Notes on P.Oxy. 3722 (Commentary on Anacreon).” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 178:29–34. ———. 2014a. “Anacreon’s Palinode.” In Imitate Anacreon! Mimesis, Poiesis and the Poetic Inspiration in the Carmina Anacreontea, edited by M. Baumbach, and N. Dümmler, ­11–24. Millennium-Studien / Millennium Studies 46. Berlin. ———. 2014b. “Notes on P.Mich. inv. 3498 + 3250b recto, 3250a and 3250c recto (List of Lyric and Tragic Incipits).” Archiv für Papyrusforschung 60(1):3–11. ———. 2016. “Anacreon and Athens.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 198:1–13. ———. 2018. “Antike Literatur. Von der Altphilologie zur New Philology.” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. https://www.faz.net/aktuell/karriere-hochschule/antike-literatur-von-der-altphilologie-zur-new-philology-15593405.html. ———. 2019. “5410. Fragments Mentioning Anacreontic Topics (Comedy?).” The Oxyrhynchus Papyri lxxxiv:22–7. ———. 2020. Anacreon of Teos. Testimonia and Fragments. Edited and Translated with Introduction and Commentary. 2 vols. Oxford. Bing, P. 2014. “Anacreontea avant la lettre: Euripides’ Cyclops 495–518.” In Imitate Anacreon! Mimesis, Poiesis and the Poetic Inspiration in the Carmina Anacreontea, edited by M. Baumbach, and N. Dümmler, 25–45. Millennium-Studien / Millennium Studies 46. Berlin. Bitto, G. 2012. Lyrik als Philologie. Zur Rezeption hellenistischer Pindarkommentierung in den Oden des Horaz ; mit einer rhetorisch-literarkritischen Analyse der Pindarscholien. Zugl.: Rostock, Univ., Diss., 2011. Litora classica 4. Rahden/Westf. Bitto, G., and A. Ginestí Rosell. 2019. Philologie auf zweiter Stufe. Literarische Rezeptionen und Inszenierungen hellenistischer Gelehrsamkeit. Palingenesia 115. Stuttgart. nd Bloom, H. 1997. The anxiety of influence. A theory of poetry. Oxford paperbacks. 2 ed. New York. Bowie, E. 2009. “Wandering poets, archaic style.” In Wandering Poets in Ancient Greek ­Culture. Travel, Locality and Pan-Hellenism, edited by R. Hunter, and I. Rutherford, ­105–36. Cambridge. ———. 2013. “The Sympotic Tease.” In The Muse at Play. Riddles and Wordplay in Greek and Latin Poetry, edited by J. Kwapisz, D. Petrain and M. Szymanski, 33–43. Beiträge zur ­A ltertumskunde 305. Berlin. nd Bowra, C.M. 1961. Greek lyric poetry: from Alcman to Simonides. 2 ed. Oxford. Braghetti, G. 1994. “Anakreon. Edition und Kommentar.” Diss. Bremer, J.M. 1975. “The Meadow of Love and Two Passages in Euripides’ “Hippolytus”.” Mnemosyne, Fourth Series 28(3):268–80. Breuer, J. 2008. Der Mythos in den Oden des Horaz. Praetexte, Formen, Funktionen. Zugl.: Mainz, Univ., Diss., 2006/2007. Hypomnemata 178. Göttingen. ———. 2019. “Ita dictum accipe: Pomponius Porphyrio on Early Greek Lyric Poetry in Horace.” In The Reception of Greek Lyric Poetry in the Ancient World. Studies in Archaic and Classical Greek Song, Vol. 5, edited by B. Currie, and I. Rutherford, 516–32. Mnemosyne, Supplements Ser. Boston. Brioso Sánchez, M. 1970a. Anacreontea: un ensayo para su datación. Theses et studia philologica Salmanticensia 15. Salamanca. ———. 1970b. “Estoicos y Anacreónticas.” Emerita 38:311–24.

Works Cited

201

———. 1972. “Las Anacreónticas y su división estrófica.” Cuadernos de filología clásica 4:427– 40. ———, ed. 1981. Anacreónticas. Madrid. Brown, C. 1983. “From Rags to Riches: Anacreon’s Artemon.” Phoenix 37(1):1–15. ———. 1984. “Ruined by Lust: Anacreon, Fr. 44 Gentili (432 P M G).” The Classical Quarterly 34(1):37–42. Bruce, W. 2011. “A note on Anacreon 388.” The Classical Quarterly, New Series 61(1):306–9. Büchner, K. 1983. Die römische Lyrik. Texte, Übersetzungen, Interpretationen, Geschichte. nd 2  ed. Stuttgart. Budelmann, F., ed. 2018. Greek lyric. A selection. Cambridge Greek and Latin classics. Cambridge, New York. Burkert, W. 1972. Homo necans. Interpretationen altgriechischer Opferriten und Mythen. ­Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten 32. Berlin, New York: De Gruyter. Buschmann, A. 2016. “NS-Vergangenheit Philologie. Führer und Geführte.” Der Tagesspiegel. https://www.tagesspiegel.de/kultur/ns-vergangenheit-philologie-fuehrer-und-gefuehrte/ 13733894.html. Cairns, F. 1975. “‘Splendide Mendax’: Horace ‘Odes’ III. 11.” Greece & Rome 22(2):129–39. ———. 1978. “The genre palinode and three Horatian examples: Epode, 17; Odes, I, 16; Odes, I, 34.” L’Antiquité Classique 47(2):546–52. Calame, C. 1999. The poetics of Eros in Ancient Greece. Princeton. Campbell, A.Y. 1924. Horace. A new interpretation. London. Campbell, D.A., ed. 1982. Greek lyric poetry. A selection of early Greek lyric, elegiac and iambic poetry. London. ———. 1983. The golden lyre. The themes of the Greek lyric poets. London. ———. 1985. “Horace and Anacreon.” Acta Classica 28:35–8. ———, ed. 1988. Greek Lyric. Vol. II: Anacreon, Anacreontea, choral lyric from Olympus to Alcman. The Loeb classical Library 143. Cambridge, MA. Campbell, D.A., ed. 2002. Greek Lyric. The Loeb classical Library 142. Cambridge, MA. Campe, C. 1872. “Horaz und Anakreon.” Philologus 31. Cantarella, E. 1992. Bisexuality in the ancient world. New Haven. Carey, C. 2009a. “Genre, Occasion and Performance.” In The Cambridge companion to Greek lyric, edited by F. Budelmann, 21–38. Cambridge companions to literature. Cambridge. ———. 2009b. “Iambos.” In The Cambridge companion to Greek lyric, edited by F. Budelmann, 149–67. Cambridge companions to literature. Cambridge. Carson, A. 1986. Eros the bittersweet. An essay. Princeton legacy library. Princeton. Cavallini, E. 1985. “Hor. epod. XII.25s.” AION(filol) 7–8:121–2. Cavarzere, A., A. Aloni, and A. Barchiesi, eds. 2001. Iambic ideas. Essays on a poetic tradition from Archaic Greece to the late Roman Empire. Greek studies. Lanham. Chantraine, P. 1933. La formation des noms en grec ancien. Paris. Christes, J. 1990. “Die 14. Epode des Horaz – ein Vorbote seiner Liebeslyrik?” Gymnasium 97:341–56. Citroni, M. 2005. “Orazio, Cicerone, e il tempo della letteratura.” In “La représentation du temps dans la poésie augustéenne”. Heidelberger Kolloquium … vom 15. bis zum 17. April 2004] = “Zur Poetik der Zeit in augusteischer Dichtung”, edited by J.P. Schwindt, 123–39. Bibliothek der klassischen Altertumswissenschaften Reihe 2 N.F., 116. Heidelberg. ———. 2009. “Occasions and levels of address in Horatian lyric.” In Horace. Odes and Epodes, edited by M. Lowrie, 72–105. Oxford readings in classical studies. Oxford. ———. 2013. “Horace’s Epistle 2.1, Cicero, Varro, and the ancient debate about the origins and the development of latin poetry.” In Augustan poetry and the Roman Republic, edited by J. Farrell, and D.P. Nelis, 180–204. Oxford.

202

Works Cited

Clinton, K. 1992. Myth and cult. The iconography of the Eleusinian mysteries : the Martin P. Nilsson lectures on Greek religion, delivered 19–21 November 1990 at the Swedish institute at Athens. Göteborg. Commager, S. 1957. “The Function of Wine in Horace’s Odes.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 88:68–80. Conte, G.B. 1986. The rhetoric of imitation. Genre and poetic memory in Virgil and other Latin poets. Cornell studies in classical philology v. 44. Ithaca. Conte, G.B., and A. Barchiesi. 1989. “Imitazione e arte allusiva. Modi e funzioni dell’intertestualità.” In Lo Spazio letterario di Roma antica, edited by G. Cavallo, P. Fedeli and A. Giardina, 81–114. Rome. Crusius, O. 1889. “Zu den Anakreonteen.” Philologus 47:235–41. Currie, B., and I. Rutherford, eds. 2019. The Reception of Greek Lyric Poetry in the Ancient World. Studies in Archaic and Classical Greek Song, Vol. 5. Mnemosyne, Supplements Ser. Boston. Cyrino, M. 1996. “Anakreon and Eros Damalês.” The Classical World 89(5):371–82. Danielewicz, J. 1986. “Anacreontics as a Literary Genre.” Acta Classica Universitatis Scientiarum Debreceniensis 22:41–51. Davies, M. 1981. “Artemon Transvestitus? A Query.” Mnemosyne, Fourth Series 34(3/4): 288– 99. Degani, E. 2002. “Asclepiades.” In Brill’s new Pauly. Encyclopaedia of the ancient world, edited by H. Cancik, H. Schneider, C.F. Salazar, B. Egger, J. Derlien, D.A. Smart, M. Landfester, F.G. Gentry and A. Pauly. Leiden. Degani, E., G. Burzacchini, and M. Magnani. 2005. Lirici greci. Antologia. Eikasmos Studi nd 11. 2 ed. Bologna. Dihle, A. 1967. “The Poem on the Cicada.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 71:107–13. Doblhofer, E. 1992. Horaz in der Forschung nach 1957. Erträge der Forschung 279. Darmstadt. ———. 1993. “Horazens tria nomina als autobiographische Zeugnisse.” Würzburger Jahrbücher für die Altertumswissenschaft 19:131–43. Dover, K.J. 1989. Greek homosexuality. Cambridge, MA. Dubischar, M. 2010. “Survival of the Most Condensed? Auxiliary Texts, Communications Theory, and Condensation of Knowledge.” In Condensing texts – condensed texts, edited by M. Horster, and C. Reitz. Palingenesia 98. Stuttgart. Edmonds, J.M., ed. 1931. Greek elegy and iambus. Being the remains of all the Greek elegiac and iambic poets from Callinus to Crates, excepting the choliambic writers; with the Anacreontea; in two volumes. The Loeb classical Library 258. London. Fairclough, H.R., ed. 2005. Satires, Epistles and Ars Poetica / Horace. The Loeb classical ­Library. Cambridge, MA. Fantham, E. 1979. “The mating of Lalage: Horace Odes 2.5.” Liverpool Classical Monthly 4:47–52. Feeney, D.C. 1993. “Horace and the Greek Lyric Poets.” In Horace 2000: A celebration. Essays for the Bimillennium, edited by N. Rudd, 41–63. London. ———. 1998. Literature and religion at Rome. Cultures, contexts, and beliefs. Roman literature and its contexts. Cambridge. ———. 2002. “The odiousness of comparisons.” In Horace and Greek lyric poetry, edited by M. Paschalis, 7–18. Rethymnon Classical Studies 1. Rethymnon. Fiske, G.C. 1920. Lucilius and Horace: a study in the classical theory of imitation. Wisconsin. Foley, H.P., ed. 1994. The Homeric hymn to Demeter. Translation, commentary, and interpretive essays. Mythos. Princeton. Fowler, R.L. 1990. “Two more new verses of Hipponax (and a spurium of Philoxenus?).” ­Illinois Classical Studies 15(1):1–22.

Works Cited

203

Fraenkel, E. 1957. Horace. Oxford. th ———. 1983. Horaz. 6 ed. Darmstadt. Fränkel, H. 1960. Wege und Formen frühgriechischen Denkens. Literarische und philosophiend geschichtliche Studien. 2 ed. München. Fraser, P.M., and E. Matthews. 2005. A lexicon of Greek personal names. Vol. IV: Macedonia, Thrace, northern regions of the Black Sea. Oxford. Garrison, D.H. 1978. Mild Frenzy. A reading of the Hellenistic epigram. Wiesbaden. Genette, G. 1997. Palimpsests. Literature in the Second Degree. Lincoln. Gentili, B., ed. 1958. Anacreon. Rome. Gerber, D.E. 1997. A companion to the Greek lyric poets. Brill’s companions to classical studies 173. Leiden. ———. 1999. Greek Iambic Poetry. From the seventh to the fifth centuries BC. Loeb Classical Library 259. Cambridge, MA. Geue, T. 2019. Author unknown. The power of anonymity in ancient Rome. Cambridge, MA. Giangrande, G. 1967. “‘Arte Allusiva’ and Alexandrian Epic Poetry.” The Classical Quarterly 17(1):85–97. ———. 1970. “Hellenistic Poetry and Homer.” L’Antiquité Classique 39:46–77. Glaab, A. 2021. Sexualität als Rätsel. Fallstudien zur Darstellung der Ambiguität des ­Geschlechtlichen in der antiken Literatur. Frankfurt am Main. Graf, F. 1974. Eleusis und die orphische Dichtung Athens in vorhellenistischer Zeit. Berlin. Grassmann, V. 1966. Die erotischen Epoden des Horaz. Literarischer Hintergrund und sprachliche Tradition. Zetemata 39. München. Gruner, A. 1920. De carminum Horatianorum personis quaestiones selectae. Coburg. Hadjimichael, T.A. 2019. The emergence of the lyric canon. Oxford. Hahn, E.A. 1939. “Epodes 5 and 17, Carmina 1.16 and 1.17.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 70:213–30. Hanssen, F. 1883. “Die Gliederung der im Cod. Palatinus erhaltenen Sammlung der Anakreontea.” In Verhandlungen der 36. Versammlung Deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner, edited by Versammlung Deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner, 284–93. Verhandlungen der … Versammlung Deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner. Leipzig. ———. 1888. “Zur Kritik der Pseudoanakreontea.” Philologus 46:445–57. Hardwick, L., and C. Stray, eds. 2008. A companion to classical receptions. Blackwell companions to the ancient world. Malden, MA. Harnecker, O. “Der 14. Epodus des Horatius.” Zeitschrift für Gymnasialwesen 1882(36):428-. Harrison, S.J. 2001. “Some Generic Problems in Horace’s Epodes: Or, On (Not) Being Archilochus.” In Iambic ideas. Essays on a poetic tradition from Archaic Greece to the late Roman Empire, edited by A. Cavarzere, A. Aloni and A. Barchiesi, 165–86. Greek studies. Lanham. ———, ed. 2007. The Cambridge companion to Horace. Cambridge companions to authors. Cambridge. ———, ed. 2017. Horace, Odes. Book II. Cambridge Greek and Latin classics. Cambridge. Hexter, R. 2006. “Literary History as a Provocation to Reception Studies.” In Classics and the uses of reception, edited by C. Martindale, and R.F. Thomas, 23–31. Classical receptions. Malden, MA, Oxford. Heyne, M. 2021. “Sappho’s gloom in Horace’s Ship Ode. Hor. carm. 1.14.17–20 and Sappho’s Brothers Poem.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 218:17–22. Heyworth, S.J. 1993. “Horace’s Ibis: on the titles, unity and contents of the Epodes.” Papers of the Leeds International Latin Seminar 7:85–96. ———. 2001. “Catullian Iambics, Catullian Iambi.” In Iambic ideas. Essays on a poetic tradition from Archaic Greece to the late Roman Empire, edited by A. Cavarzere, A. Aloni and A. Barchiesi, 117–40. Greek studies. Lanham.

204

Works Cited

Hinds, S. 1998. Allusion and intertext. Dynamics of appropriation in Roman poetry. Roman literature and its contexts. Cambridge. Holzberg, N. 2009. Horaz. Dichter und Werk. München. Houghton, L.B.T., and M. Wyke, eds. 2009. Perceptions of Horace. A Roman poet and his readers. Cambridge. Hullinger, D. 2016. “Chasing a Dark Horse. Pursuit and Identity in Anacreon’s ‘Thracian Filly’ Fragment [417 PMG].” Mnemosyne 69:729–41. Hunter, R. 2007. “Sappho and Latin Poetry.” In I papiri di Saffo e di Alceo. Atti del convegno internazionale di studi, Firenze, 8–9 giugno 2006, edited by G. Bastianini, and A. Casanova, 213–25. Studi e testi di papirologia N.S., 9. Firenze. Ist. Papirologico “G. Vitelli”. Hutchinson, G.O. 2001. Greek Lyric Poetry. A commentary on selected larger pieces; Alcman, Stesichorus, Sappho, Alcaeus, Ibycus, Anacreon, Simonides, Bacchylides, Pindar, Sophocles, st Euripides. 1 ed. Oxford. ———. 2002. “The Publication and Individuality of Horace’s “Odes” Books 1–3.” The Classical Quarterly 52(2):517–37. ———. 2007. “Horace and Archaic Greek Poetry.” In The Cambridge companion to Horace, edited by S.J. Harrison, 36–49. Cambridge companions to authors. Cambridge. ———. 2008. Talking books. Readings in Hellenistic and Roman books of poetry. Oxford. ———. 2020. “Anacreon on Stage? A Note on P. Oxy. LXXXIV 5410.” Zeitschrift für Papyro­ logie und Epigraphik 213:4–5. Jenkyns, R. 1989. “Virgil and Arcadia.” Journal of Roman Studies 79:26–39. Johnson, T. 2002. “Horace, Carmina 1.36.13: Should Damalis Outdrink Bassus?” Philologus 146(1):187–9. Johnson, T.S. 2012. Horace’s iambic criticism. Casting blame (iambike poiēsis). Mnemosyne Supplements 334. Leiden. Jory, J. 2002. “The masks on the propylon of the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias.” In Greek and Roman actors. Aspects of an ancient profession, edited by P.E. Easterling, and E. Hall, 238–53. Cambridge. Kantzios, I. 2005. “Tyranny and the Symposion of Anacreon.” The Classical Journal 100(3):227–45. Kennedy, D.F. 1995. “Roman Literature.” Greece & Rome 42(1):83–8. th Kießling, A., and R. Heinze, eds. 1984a. Q. Horatius Flaccus. Briefe. 11 ed. ———, eds. 1984b. Q. Horatius Flaccus. Oden und Epoden / erkl. von Adolf Kiessling ; Teil 1. th 14 ed. Hildesheim. Kirkwood, G.M. 1974. Early Greek monody: the history of a poetic type. Ithaca, London. Klingner, F. 2009. “Horace’s Letter to Augustus.” In Horace: Satires and Epistles, edited by K. Freudenburg, 335–59. Oxford readings in classical studies. Oxford. Knauer, G.N. 1964. Die Aeneis und Homer. Studien zur poetischen Technik Vergils mit Listen der Homerzitate in der Aeneis. Hypomnemata 7. Göttingen. Krasser, H. 1995. Horazische Denkfiguren. Theophilie und Theophanie als Medium der poetischen Selbstdarstellung des Odendichters. Zugl.: Tübingen, Univ., Diss., 1989. Hypomnemata 106. Göttingen. Kristeva, J. 2002. The Portable Kristeva. New York. Kuiper, K. 1896. Studia Callimachea. Vol. I: De hymnorum I–IV dictione epica. 2 vols. Leiden. Kurke, L. 1997. “Inventing the “Hetaira”: Sex, Politics, and Discursive Conflict in Archaic Greece.” Classical Antiquity 16(1):106–50. La Penna, A. 1955. “ΤΊΣ ἌΡΙΣΤΟΣ ΒΊΟΣ; INTERPRETAZIONE DELLA PRIMA ODE DI ORAZIO.” Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa. Lettere, Storia e Filosofia, Serie II 24(3/4):161–81. Lambin, G. 2002. Anacréon, Fragments et imitations. Collection interférences. Rennes. Lasserre, F. 1946. “La figure d’Éros dans la poésie grecque.” diss.

Works Cited

205

———. 1950. Les épodes d’Archiloque. Paris. ———, ed. 1958. Archiloque, Fragments. Paris. Lear, A. 2008. “Anacreon’s “Self”: An Alternative Role Model for the Archaic Elite Male?” The American Journal of Philology 129(1):47–76. Lefèvre, E. 1968. “RURSUS BELLA MOVES? Die literarische Form von Horaz, c. 4, 1.” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie, Neue Folge 111(2):166–89. Lefèvre, E. 1993. Horaz. Dichter im augusteischen Rom. München. Leigh, M. 2010. “The Garland of Maecenas (Horace, Odes 1.1.35).” The Classical Quarterly, New Series 60(1):268–71. Lenz, L. 1994. “Zwei Flaneure. Anakreon 54 D (= 388 PMG) und Horaz’ 4. Epode.” Gymnasium 101:483–501. Leo, G.M. 2015. Anacreonte. i frammenti erotici; testo, commento e traduzione. Dissertation. Quaderni dei Seminari romani di cultura greca 18. LeVen, P.A. 2018. “Echo and the Invention of the Lyric Listener.” In Textual Events. Performance and the Lyric in Early Greece, edited by F. Budelmann, and T. Phillips, 213–33. Lewis, C.S. 1961. An Experiment in Criticism. Cambridge. Livrea, E. 1972. “Una ‘tecnica allusiva’ apolloniana alla luce dell’ esegesi omerica alessandrina.” Studi italiani di filologia classica 44:231–43. ———. 1980. “L’épos philologique: Apollonios de Rhodes et quelques homérismes méconnus.” Acta Classica 49:146–60. Lobel, E., and D.L. Page, eds. 1955. Poetarum lesbiorum fragmenta. Oxford. Lowrie, M. 1992. “A Sympotic Achilles, Horace Epode 13.” The American Journal of Philology 113(3):413–33. Lowrie, M. 1997. Horace’s Narrative Odes. Oxford. Lowrie, M., ed. 2009. Horace. Odes and Epodes. Oxford readings in classical studies. Oxford. Luck, G. 1967. “Witz und Sentiment im griechischen Epigramm.” Entretiens Fondation HARDT 14:389–408. Lyne, R.O.A.M. 1995. Horace. Behind the public poetry. New Haven. ———. 2005a. “Horace Odes Book 1 and the Alexandrian Edition of Alcaeus.” The Classical Quarterly, New Series 55(2):542–58. ———. 2005b. “Structure and Allusion in Horace’s Book of “Epodes”.” The Journal of Roman Studies 95:1–19. Mace, S.T. 1993. “Amour, Encore! The Development of δηὖτε in Archaic Lyric.” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 34(4):335–64. MacLeod, C. 1984. Collected essays. Oxford. Mankin, D., ed. 1995. Horace, Epodes. Cambridge Greek and Latin classics. Cambridge. Martin, R.P. 2016. “Sappho, Iambist: Abusing the Brother.” In The newest Sappho (P. Sapph. Obbink and P. GC inv. 105, frs. 1–4). Studies in archaic and classical Greek song, vol. 2, ­edited by A. Bierl, and A.P.M.H. Lardinois, 110–26. Mnemosyne Supplements volume 392. Leiden, Boston. Martindale, C. 1986. John Milton and the transformation of ancient epic. London: Croom Helm. ———. 1993. Redeeming the text. Latin poetry and the hermeneutics of reception. Roman literst ature and its contexts. 1 ed. Cambridge. ———. 2006. “Introduction. Thinking Through Reception.” In Classics and the uses of reception, edited by C. Martindale, and R.F. Thomas, 1–13. Classical receptions. Malden, MA, Oxford. Martindale, C., and R.F. Thomas, eds. 2006. Classics and the uses of reception. Classical receptions. Malden, MA, Oxford. Mateo Decabo, E.M. 2020. Politik der kleinen Form. Paraklausithyron und Recusatio bei Properz, Tibull, Horaz und Ovid. Heidelberg.

206

Works Cited

Mayer, R., ed. 2012. Horace, Odes. Book I. Cambridge Greek and Latin classics. Cambridge. McCallum, S.L. 2015. “Heu Ligurine: Echoes of Vergil in Horace Odes 4.1.” Vergilius 61:29–42. McClure, L. 2003. Courtesans at table. Gender and Greek literary culture in Athenaeus. ­Oxfordshire, England, New York. McKeown, J.C. 1987. Ovid: Amores. Text, prolegomena and commentary. 1. Text and prolegomena. Arca. Leeds, Liverpool. Mette, H.J. 2009. “‘Slender Genre’ and ‘Slender Table’ in Horace.” In Horace. Odes and Epodes, edited by M. Lowrie, 50–5. Oxford readings in classical studies. Oxford. Meyer, E. 1913. Der Emporkömmling. Ein Beitrag zur antiken Ethologie. Gießen. Molfino, M. 1998. “Lusit Anacreon. Esegesi anacreontea antica in P.Oxy. 3722.” Maia 50:317– 28. Molfino, M., and A. Porro. 2016. “edition of P.Oxy. 3722.” In Commentaria et lexica Graeca in papyris reperta. (CLGP), edited by G. Bastianini, 32–142. Berlin, Boston. Morgan, K. 1977. Ovid’s Art of Imitation: Propertius in the Amores. Leiden. Most, G.W. 2014. “Τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα μιμοῦ: Imitation and Enactment in the Anacreontics.” In Imitate Anacreon! Mimesis, Poiesis and the Poetic Inspiration in the Carmina Anacreontea, edited by M. Baumbach, and N. Dümmler, 145–59. Millennium-Studien / Millennium Studies 46. Berlin. Mühll, P. von der. 1940. “Zu Anakreon 43 Diehl und den Lyrikern.” Hermes 75(4):422–5. Müller, A. 2010. Die Carmina Anacreontea und Anakreon. Ein literarisches Generationen­ verhältnis. Classica Monacensia Bd. 38. Tübingen. Mundt, F. 2018. Römische Klassik und griechische Lyrik. Transformationen der Archaik in augusteischer Zeit. Zetemata Heft 155. München. Murgatroyd, P. 1995. “The Sea of Love.” The Classical Quarterly, New Series 45(1):9–25. Nagy, G. 1994. “Copies and Models in Horace “Odes” 4.1 and 4.2.” The Classical World 87(5):415–26. th Nisbet, R.G.M., and M. Hubbard. 1985. A commentary on Horace: Odes. Book I. 4 ed. ­Oxford. ———. 1991. A commentary on Horace: Odes. Book II. Claredon paperbacks. Oxford. st Nisbet, R.G.M., and N. Rudd. 2004. A commentary on Horace: Odes. Book III. 1 ed. Oxford. Nünlist, R. 1998. Poetologische Bildersprache in der frühgriechischen Dichtung. Zugl.: Basel, Univ., Diss., 1996. Beiträge zur Altertumskunde Bd. 101. Stuttgart. Olender, M. 1990. “Aspects of Baubo: Ancient Texts and Contexts.” In Before sexuality. The construction of erotic experience in the ancient Greek world, edited by D.M. Halperin, J.J. Winkler and F.I. Zeitlin, 83–113. Princeton, N.J., Oxford. Oliensis, E. 1991. “Canidia, Canicula, and the Decorum of Horace’s Epodes.” Arethusa 24(1):107–38. Paoli, U.E. 1953. Die Geschichte der Neaira und andere Begebenheiten aus der alten Welt. Bern. Parker, R. 1996. Athenian religion. A history. Clarendon paperbacks. Oxford. ———. 2005. Polytheism and society at Athens. Oxford, New York. Paschalis, M. 1995. “Names and Death in Horace’s “Odes”.” The Classical World 88(3):181–90. Pasquali, G. 1942. “Arte allusiva.” Italia che scrive 25:185–7. Patillon, M., ed. 2012. Corpus rhetoricum. Tome IV. Collection des universités de France. Sér. grecque 491. Paris. Pfeiffer, R., ed. 1949. Callimachus. Oxford. Phillips, T. 2014. “A New Sapphic Intertext in Horace.” Archiv für Papyrusforschung 60(2):283–9. Porro, A. 1994. Vetera Alcaica. L’esegesi di Alceo dagli Alessandini all’età imperiale. Biblioteca di Aevum antiquum 6. Milano. Porter, D.H. 1975. “The Recurrent Motifs of Horace, Carmina IV.” Harvard Studies in ­Classical Philology 79:189–228.

Works Cited

207

Porter, J. 2008. “Reception studies: future prospects.” In A companion to classical receptions, edited by L. Hardwick, and C. Stray, 469–81. Blackwell companions to the ancient world. Malden, MA. Postgate, J.P. 1914. “Neaera as a Common Name.” The Classical Quarterly 8(2):121–2. Pretagostini, R. 1982. “Anacr. 33 Gent. = 356 P.: Due modalità simposiali a confronto.” Qua­ derni Urbinati di Cultura Classica 10:47–55. Putnam, M.C.J. 1986. Artifices of eternity. Horace’s fourth book of Odes. Cornell studies in classical philology The Townsend lectures v. 43. Ithaca. Quinn, K., ed. 1991. Horace: The Odes. Classical series. Basingstoke. Rabe, H., ed. 1892. Syriani In Hermogenem commentaria. 1. Commentarium in libros Peri ideōn : accedit Syriani quae fertur in Hermogenis libros Peri ideōn praefatio. 2 vols. Leipzig. ———, ed. 1913. Hermogenis opera. Leipzig. Rengakos, A. 1994. Apollonios Rhodios und die antike Homererklärung. Zugl.: Freiburg i.Br., Univ., Habil.-Schr., 1992. Zetemata 92. München. Richardson, N.J., ed. 1974. The Homeric hymn to Demeter. Oxford. Robbins, E. 2002. “Anacreon.” In Brill’s new Pauly. Encyclopaedia of the ancient world, edited by H. Cancik, H. Schneider, C.F. Salazar, B. Egger, J. Derlien, D.A. Smart, M. Landfester, F.G. Gentry and A. Pauly. Leiden. Rosen, R.M. 2007. Making mockery. The poetics of ancient satire. Classical culture and society. Oxford. Rosenmeyer, P.A. 1992. The Poetics of Imitation: Anacreon and the Anacreontic Tradition. Cambridge. ———. 2004. “Girls at Play in Early Greek Poetry.” American Journal of Philology 125(2):163– 78. ———. 2006. “Sappho’s Iambics.” Letras Clássicas 10:11–36. Rosenmeyer, T.G. 1988. Deina ta polla. A classicist’s checklist of twenty literary-critical positions. Arethusa monographs 12. Buffalo. Rösler, W. 1976. “Die Dichtung des Archilochos und die neue Kölner Epode.” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie, Neue Folge 119(4):289–310. Ross, D.O. 1975. Backgrounds to Augustan Poetry: Gallus, Elegy and Rome. Cambridge. Rotstein, A. 2010. The Idea of Iambos. Oxford. Rudd, N. 1960. “Patterns in Horatian Lyric.” The American Journal of Philology 81(4):373–92. ———. 1982. “Horace.” In The Cambridge history of classical literature. 2. Latin literature, edited by E. Kenney, 370–404. Cambridge. ———, ed. 2004. Horace: Odes and Epodes. Loeb Classical Library 33. Cambridge, MA. Rumpf, L. 2017. “Poetische Gewissheit. Liebesdreieck und Futur in den Oden des Horaz.” Antike & Abendland 63:105–24. Russell, D.A. 1979. “De imitatione.” In Creative imitation and Latin literature, edited by A.J. Woodman, and D. West, 1–16. Cambridge. ———, ed. 1982. Longinus: On the sublime. Ed. with introd. and commentary. Oxford. Russell, D.A., and M. Winterbottom, eds. 1972. Ancient literary criticism. The principal texts in new translations. Oxford. Santirocco, M.S. 1986. Unity and design in Horace’s Odes. Chapel Hill, NC. Schmid, W. 1942. “Die Rede des Apostels Paulus vor den Philosophen und Areopagiten in Athen.” Philologus(95):79–120. Schmid, W., and O. Stählin. 1929. Geschichte der griechischen Literatur. Erster Teil: Die klassische Periode der griechischen Literatur. Erster Band: Die griechische Literatur vor der attischen Hegemonie. München. Schmit-Neuerburg, T. 1999. Vergils Aeneis und die antike Homerexegese. Untersuchungen zum Einfluß ethischer und kritischer Homerrezeption auf ‘imitatio’ und ‘aemulatio’ Vergils.

208

Works Cited

Zugl.: Bonn, Univ., Diss., 1998. Untersuchungen zur antiken Literatur und Geschichte Bd. 56. Berlin. Sens, A., ed. 2011. Asclepiades of Samos. Epigrams and fragments. Oxford. Serrao, G. 1968. “L’ode di Erotima: da timida fanciulla a donna pubblica (Anacr. fr. 346.1 P. = 60 Gent.).” Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica 6:36–51. Shackleton Bailey, D.R., ed. 2008. Horatius: Opera. Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et th Romanorum Teubneriana. 4 ed. Berlin, New York. Shorey, P., and G.J. Laing. 1960. Horace: odes and epodes. Series in the humanities. Pittsburgh. Sitzler, J. 1913. “Zu den Anakreonteen.” Wochenschrift für klassische Philologie:809–814. nd Skinner, M.B. 2010. Sexuality in Greek and Roman culture. Ancient cultures. 2 ed. Malden, MA. Slater, W.J. 1978. “Artemon and Anacreon: No Text without Context.” Phoenix 32(3):185–94. Smith, J.M. 2015. “Horace Odes 2.7 and the Literary Tradition of Rhipsaspia.” American Journal of Philology 136(2):243–80. Snell, B. 1982. The discovery of the mind. In Greek philosophy and literature. New York: Dover. Solmsen, F. 1948. “Propertius and Horace.” Classical Philology 43(2):105–9. Spelman, H.L. 2014. “Placing Aphrodite: Alcaeus fr. 296b and Horace C. 4.1.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 189:53–63. Spengel, L., ed. 1854. Rhetores Graeci. Vol. II. Leipzig. Steidle, W. 1962. “Das Motiv der Lebenswahl bei Tibull und Properz.” Wiener Studien ­75:100–40. Stern, J. 1979. “Herodas’ Mimiamb 6.” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 20:247–54. Strauss Clay, J. 2010. “Horace and Lesbian Lyric.” In A Companion to Horace, edited by G. Davis, 128–46. Blackwell companions to the ancient world. Chichester, West Sussex, United Kingdom, Malden, MA. Syndikus, H.P. 2001. Die Lyrik des Horaz: eine Interpretation der Oden. vol. 1: Erstes und rd zweites Buch. 3 ed. Darmstadt. Thomas, R.F. 1986. “Virgil’s Georgics and the Art of Reference.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 90:171–98. ———. 1999. Reading Virgil and His Texts. Studies in Intertextuality. Ann Arbor. ———, ed. 2011. Horace, Odes. Book IV and Carmen saeculare. Cambridge Greek and Latin classics. Cambridge. Thorsen, T.S. 2019. “Introduction: Ecce Sappho.” In Roman Receptions of Sappho, edited by T.S. Thorsen, and S.J. Harrison, 1–26. Classical Presences. Oxford. Tsomis, G.P. 2001. Zusammenschau der frühgriechischen monodischen Melik. (Alkaios, ­Sappho, Anakreon). Zugl.: Frankfurt (Main), Univ., Diss., 1999. Palingenesia 70. Stuttgart. Vaan, M. de. 2008. Etymological dictionary of Latin and the other Italic languages. Leiden. van der Valk, M., ed. 1979. Eustathii archiepiscopi Thessalonicensis commentarii ad Homeri Iliadem pertinentes. vol. III (lib. Κ—Π). Leiden. Vischer, R. 1965. Das einfache Leben. Wort- und motivgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu einem Wertbegriff der antiken Literatur. Göttingen. Vogel, F. 1918. “Redende Namen bei Horaz.” Berliner Philologische Wochenschrift 38:404–6. Vox, O. 2006. “Osservazioni sul lessico degli Anacreontea.” Eikasmos 17:293–306. Walz, C., ed. 1834. Rhetores Graeci. Vol. III. Stuttgart, London, Paris. Warnke, G. 1987. Gadamer: Hermeneutics, Tradition and Reason. Cambridge. Watson, L. 1995. “Horace’s Epodes: The Impotence of Iambos?” In Homage to Horace. A ­bimillenary celebration, edited by S.J. Harrison, 188–202. Oxford. ———. 2001. “Epode 14. Horace’s Carmen Inconditum?” In Iambic ideas. Essays on a poetic tradition from Archaic Greece to the late Roman Empire, edited by A. Cavarzere, A. Aloni and A. Barchiesi, 187–204. Greek studies. Lanham. ———. 2003. A commentary on Horace’s Epodes. Oxford.

Works Cited

209

Wehrli, F. 1944. “Horaz und Kallimachos.” Museum Helveticum 1(2):69–76. Weinreich, O. 1942. “Religionswissenschaftliche und Literaturgeschichtliche Beiträge zu Horaz.” Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte 61:33–74. Weiss, I.M. 1989. Un nuovo approccio alle Anacreontiche. Urbino. Weißenberger, M. 2002. “Aristaenetus.” In Brill’s new Pauly. Encyclopaedia of the ancient world, edited by H. Cancik, H. Schneider, C.F. Salazar, B. Egger, J. Derlien, D.A. Smart, M. Landfester, F.G. Gentry and A. Pauly. Leiden. West, D. 1995a. “Reading the Metre in Horace, Odes 3. 9.” In Homage to Horace. A bimillenary celebration, edited by S.J. Harrison, 100–7. Oxford. West, D.A. 1995b. Carpe diem. Horace, Odes 1. 3 vols. Oxford. ———. 1998. Vatis amici. Horace, Odes 2. 3 vols. Oxford. ———. 2002. Dulce periculum. Horace, Odes 3. 3 vols. Oxford. West, M.L., ed. 1984a. Carmina Anacreontea. Leipzig. ———. 1984b. “Problems in the Anacreontea.” The Classical Quarterly 34(1):206–21. ———. 1990. “The Anacreontea.” In Sympotica. A symposium on the Symposion, edited by O. Murray, 272–6. Oxford. Wheeler, A.L. 1930. “Tradition in the Epithalamium.” The American Journal of Philology 51(3):205–23. Wheeler, A.L., and H.C. Nutting. 1934. Catullus and the Traditions of Ancient Poetry. Sather th Classical Lectures 9. 2019 ed. Berkeley, CA. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, U.v. 1913. Sappho und Simonides. Untersuchungen über griechi­ sche Lyriker. Berlin. ———. 1995. “Die griechische Literatur des Altertums.” Die Kultur der Gegenwart. 3. Aufl. Teil 1, Abt. 8. Wilhelm, F. 1902. “Zur roemischen Elegie.” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 57:599–609. Williams, C.A. 1999. Roman homosexuality: ideologies of masculinity in classical antiquity. New York. Williams, G.W. 1972. Horace. Greece & Rome. New surveys in the classics no. 6. Oxford. Williamson, M. 1998. “Eros the blacksmith: performing masculinity in Anakreon’s love ­lyrics.” In Thinking men. Masculinity and its self-representation in the classical tradition, edited by J.B. Salmon, and L. Foxhall, 71–82. Leicester-Nottingham studies in ancient society v. 7. London, New York. Wimmel, W. 1960. Kallimachos in Rom. Die Nachfolge seines apologetischen Dichtens in der Augusteerzeit. Hermes Einzelschriften 16. Wiesbaden. Yatromanolakis, D. 2007. Sappho in the making. The early reception. Hellenic studies 28. Washington, DC, Cambridge, MA. Zetzel, J.E.G. 1978. “A Homeric Reminiscence in Catullus.” The American Journal of Philology 99(3):332–3. Zotou, A. 2014. Carmina anacreontea 1–34. Ein Kommentar. Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 332. Berlin.

Index of Passages Discussed

Alcaeus 296b Voigt�������������������������������������������������99 338 Voigt��������������������������������������� 67, 69, 70 347a Voigt���������������������������������70, 169, 170 Alcman PMGF 59a�����������������������������������������������104 Anacreon PMG 346.1��������������������� 74, 77, 80, 94, 192 PMG 347.1�������������������������� 75, 98, 100, 134 PMG 348������������������������������������������������� 149 PMG 350������������������������������������������ 114, 151 PMG 354��������������������������������������������������134 PMG 356a����������������� 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 74, 78, 164, 173, 174 PMG 356b����������������������� 59, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 74, 78, 164, 174 PMG 357�������������������� 74, 75, 76, 79, 83, 93, 94, 96, 98, 99, 111, 136, 149, 189, 192, 193, 194 PMG 358�����������������75, 83, 92, 98, 104, 111 PMG 359����������������������������������������75, 78, 98 PMG 360������������������� 75, 77, 79, 80, 88, 89, 90, 92, 98, 192, 193 PMG 362����������������������������������������67, 68, 70 PMG 366������������������������������������������� 75, 117 PMG 372����������������������������������������� 128, 130 PMG 373��������������������������������������������63, 173 PMG 376������������������� 75, 104, 105, 109, 110 PMG 381b��������������������������������������������������66 PMG 383�������������������������������������������������� 174 PMG 385��������������������������������������������������134 PMG 388�������������������������113, 127, 128, 129 PMG 394a����������������������������������������140, 142 PMG 396����������16, 65, 66, 77, 174, 177, 178 PMG 398����������������������������������������������75, 77 PMG 400�������������������������������������������75, 104 PMG 408������������������������ 74, 80, 91, 94, 137 PMG 413��������������������������� 77, 104, 105, 109 PMG 417�������������������� 74, 75, 77, 80, 81, 82, 83, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 98, 100, 139, 148, 192, 193, 194 PMG 418����������������������������������������������75, 98 PMG 422���������������������������������������������75, 98 PMG 424�������������������������������� 133, 136, 138

PMG 427������������������� 74, 139, 140, 143, 144 PMG 428���������������������������75, 104, 105, 110 PMG 429��������������������������������������������������� 16 PMG 432������������������������� 113, 134, 135, 138 PMG 437������������������������������������������136, 138 PMG 441b����������������������������������������������� 178 PMG 450������������������������������������������������� 110 PMG 453�������������������������������������������������� 140 PMG 455���������������������������������������������������� 74 PMG 465���������������������������������������������������60 P.Oxy. 3722 (comm.)���������������� 16, 91, 113, 140, 149 Archilochus 196a West����������������������������������������132, 134 Aulus Gellius Noctes Atticae 19.9�������������������������������� 162 Callimachus Aetia, prologue����������������������������������������� 50 Carmina Anacreontea 1������������������������������������������53, 157, 163, 167 2�������������������������������������������������������� 157, 168 3�������������������������������������������������������� 157, 164 4�������������������������������������������������������� 157, 162 5���������������������������������������������������������������� 157 7��������������������������������������������������������163, 167 9����������������������������������������166, 172, 174, 181 10�������������������������������������������������������������� 141 11������������������������������������� 158, 159, 160, 168 12������������������������������������������������������166, 172 13�������������������������������������������������������������� 166 15��������������������� 141, 142, 143, 144, 163, 167 16����������������������������������������������141, 164, 168 17������������������������������������������������������ 141, 168 18������������������������������ 167, 173, 174, 179, 181 20������������������������������157, 163, 166, 167, 171 22�������������������������������������������������������������� 141 25�������������������������������������������������������������� 141 32���������������������������������������������� 175, 177, 191 52a������������������������������������������������������������ 177 53����������������������������������������������� 64, 166, 172 57�������������������������������������������������������������� 166 60������������������������ 22, 53, 157, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 180, 182

212

Index of Passages Discussed

Catullus 8������������������������������������������������������������������86 51������������������������������������������������99, 139, 146 68�������������������������������������������������������������� 107 Cicero Tusculanae 4.71�������������������������������������� 188 Euripides Bacchae������������������������������������������������������ 63 Eustathius of Thessalonica Commentaries on Homer����������������������68 Herodotus Histories 2.60����������������������������������������� 151 Hesiod Theogony�������������������������������������������������� 77 Works and Days�����������������������������170, 171 Horace, Epistles 1.2�������������������������������������������������������������184 1.19���������������������������������������� 13, 50, 56, 115 2.1���������������������������������������������������������25, 42 2.2���������������������������������������� 25, 51, 182, 184 2.3 (Ars poetica)���������������������������������25, 45 Horace, Epodes 4������������������������������������������������� 85, 128, 129 5����������������������������������������������������������������126 6���������������������������������������������������������� 85, 114 8���������85, 131, 132, 133, 151, 152, 153, 154 11������������������������������������������������ 97, 100, 116 12���������������������������� 131, 132, 133, 135, 136, 137, 138, 151, 152, 153, 154, 194 13����������������������������������������������67, 68, 69, 70 14��������������������������������������� 17, 29, 53, 93, 97, 100, 114, 116, 120, 123, 125, 126, 127, 131, 147, 148, 161, 179, 187, 193, 195 15��������������������������������������116, 129, 130, 131 17������������� 114, 116, 118, 119, 125, 126, 195 Horace, Odes 1.1������������������ 11, 13, 47, 48, 49, 51, 90, 101 1.8������������������������������������������������������������� 148 1.9���������������������������������������������18, 67, 69, 70 1.13����������������������������������������������������������� 148 1.14������������������������������������������������������������� 18 1.15���������������������������������������������������126, 127 1.16���������������������������� 85, 125, 126, 127, 147 1.17������������������� 17, 29, 52, 53, 70, 126, 142, 162, 169, 170, 171, 178, 179, 181, 182, 187, 194 1.22����������������������� 50, 86, 87, 139, 140, 141, 142, 146, 147, 194 1.23�������������������� 74, 80, 91, 94, 96, 137, 138 1.25��������������������������������������������������� 131, 148 1.26������������������������������������������������������������� 50

1.27�����������������������59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 74, 174, 191, 192 1.31������������������������������������������������������������� 51 1.32������������������������������������������������������������� 52 1.36����������������71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 78, 80, 181 1.37������������������������������������������������������������� 72 1.38������������������������������������������������������������� 49 2.4������������������������������������������������������������� 181 2.5������������ 74, 80, 81, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 137, 139, 142, 146, 147, 148, 174, 190, 194 2.7�����������������������61, 62, 64, 66, 73, 74, 172, 173, 174, 191 2.9���������������������������������������������������������������84 2.11�����������������������������49, 175, 177, 178, 191 2.17����������������������������������������������������������� 142 2.18�������������������������������������������������������������84 2.19������������������������������������������������������������� 75 3.1��������������������������������������������������������������� 49 3.2������������������������������������������������������������� 152 3.4�����������������������������������������������������142, 172 3.7��������������������������������������������������������������� 91 3.9���������������������������������������������� 92, 148, 194 3.10���������������������������143, 145, 147, 148, 194 3.11���������������������� 70, 74, 80, 92, 93, 94, 96, 137, 189, 194 3.13��������������������������������������������������� 170, 181 3.14������������������������������������������������������������� 73 3.15��������������������������������������������������� 131, 148 3.19����������64, 65, 66, 85, 172, 173, 174, 181 3.24�������������������������������������������������������84, 85 3.26������������������������������������������������������������� 92 3.27����������������������������������������������������������� 137 3.28������������������������������������������������������������� 70 3.30�����������������������������������47, 48, 56, 57, 101 4.1�����������������������98, 99, 100, 102, 103, 106, 108, 109, 110, 111, 193 4.2������������������������������������������������������������� 101 4.9��������������������17, 19, 29, 51, 101, 112, 146, 188, 190 4.10������������������������������������98, 100, 102, 108 4.11��������������������������������������������������� 181, 182 4.12������������������������������������ 64, 172, 173, 174 4.13���������� 108, 131, 133, 143, 144, 147, 148 Horace, Satires 2.3��������������������������������������������������������������� 96 2.6��������������������������������������������������������������� 50 Ibycus PMG 287�������������������������102, 104, 106, 109 Macrobius Saturnalia 5����������������������������������������������� 24

Index of Passages Discussed Maximus of Tyre Orations 21�������������������������������������116, 120 Orphica 52 Kern = PEG 395��������������������������������150 Plato Republic 581c��������������������������������������������48 Propertius 3.1‒5������������������������������������������������������������40 4.8������������������������������������������������������������� 182 Pseudo-Longinus On the Sublime 13����������������������������������� 24 Sappho 1������������������������� 99, 102, 103, 105, 106, 111 31��������������������������������99, 108, 111, 139, 193 130����������������������������������������������������104, 109

213

Seneca the Elder Suasoriae 3������������������������������������������������ 24 Seneca the Younger Epistles 88������������������������������������������������� 75 Tacitus Annals 1.54���������������������������������������������123 Tibullus 1.1��������������������������������������������������������������� 39 1.10������������������������������������������������������������� 39 Vergil Aeneid 1��������������������������������������������������� 110 Aeneid 4������������������������������������������� 107, 110