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 311010363X, 9783110103632

Table of contents :
Vorwort
Inhalt
Sprache und literatur (literatur der julisch-claudischen und der flavischen zeit)
Caratteristiche della letteratura giulio-claudia
The Rider and the Horse: Politics and Power in Roman Poetry from Horace to Statius
Manilius als Astrologe und Dichter
Germanico e il suo poema astronomico
The ‘Aetna’: Thought, Antecedents, and Style
Il ‘Saggio sul Sublime’. Una interessante pagina di retorica e di estetica dell’antichità
Etat présent des travaux sur l’‘Histoire Romaine’ de Velléius Paterculus
Valerius Maximus and Roman Historiography. A Study of the exempla Tradition
Phaedrus the Fabulist
The Elder Seneca and Declamation
The Elder Seneca and Declamation Since 1900: A Bibliography
Der Traum des Historikers: Zu den ‘Bella Germaniae’ des Plinius und zur julisch-claudischen Geschichtsschreibung
Tiberius and Gaius: their Influence and Views on Literature
Claudius – the Erudite Emperor

Citation preview

AUFSTIEG U N D NIEDERGANG DER RÖMISCHEN WELT 11.32.1

AUFSTIEG UND NIEDERGANG DER RÖMISCHEN WELT GESCHICHTE UND KULTUR ROMS IM SPIEGEL DER N E U E R E N F O R S C H U N G

II HERAUSGEGEBEN VON

HILDEGARD T E M P O R I N I UND

WOLFGANG HAASE

W DE G WALTER DE GRUYTER · BERLIN · NEW YORK 1984

PRINCIPAT ZWEIUNDDREISSIGSTER BAND (1. TEILBAND) SPRACHE U N D LITERATUR (LITERATUR DER J U L I S C H - C L A U D I S C H E N U N D DER FLAVISCHEN ZEIT)

HERAUSGEGEBEN VON

WOLFGANG HAASE

W G DE

WALTER DE GRUYTER · B E R L I N · NEW YORK 1984

Herausgegeben mit Unterstützung der Robert Bosch Stiftung, Stuttgart

CIP-Kurztitelaufnähme

der Deutschen

Bibliothek

Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt: Geschichte u. Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung / hrsg. von Hildegard Temporini u. Wolfgang Haase. — Berlin, New York : de Gruyter. N E : Temporini, Hildegard [Hrsg.] 2. Principat. Bd. 32. Sprache und Literatur / Hrsg. von Wolfgang Haase. 1. Teilbd. - 1984. ISBN 3-11-010363-X N E : Haase, Wolfgang [Hrsg.]

© 1984 by Walter de Gruyter & Co., Berlin 30 Printed in Germany Alle Rechte, insbesondere das der Ubersetzung in fremde Sprachen, vorbehalten. O h n e ausdrückliche Genehmigung des Verlages ist es auch nicht gestattet, dieses Buch oder Teile daraus auf photomechanischem Wege (Photokopie, Mikrokopie) zu vervielfältigen. Satz und Druck: Arthur Collignon G m b H , Berlin 30 Einbandgestaltung und Schutzumschlag: Rudolf Hübler Buchbinder: Lüderitz & Bauer, Berlin Reproduktionen: Terra-Klischee, Berlin 30

Vorwort Mit dem vorliegenden Band II 32 des Gemeinschaftswerks ' A u f s t i e g u n d N i e d e r g a n g d e r r ö m i s c h e n W e l t ' ( A N R W ) wird innerhalb der Rubrik 'Sprache und Literatur' des II. Teils ('Principat') die Veröffentlichung der literaturgeschichtlichen Bände (II 30—II 35) fortgesetzt. In vier Teilbänden wird hier die Literatur der julisch-claudischen und der flavischen Zeit behandelt: in Bd. II 32,1 nach zwei weiter ausholenden Beiträgen die Literatur unter Tiberius, Gaius und Claudius, in Bd. II 32,2 Seneca (und möglicherweise Pseudo-Seneca), in Bd. II 32,3 die Literatur unter N e r o und in Bd. II 32,4 die Literatur unter Vespasian, Titus und Domitian. Für Inhalt und Aufbau der literaturgeschichtlichen Bände sei im übrigen auf das Vorwort des Herausgebers zu Bd. II 30,1 (Berlin—New York 1982, S. Vff.) verwiesen. Von dem dort Gesagten sei hier nur das eine ausdrücklich wiederholt, daß die Bände II 30—II 34 in sich und unter sich von der Zeit des Augustus bis zur Zeit Aurelians fortlaufend chronologisch gegliedert sind, während in Bd. II 35 allgemein literaturwissenschaftliche sowie form-, gattungsund motivgeschichtliche Beiträge erscheinen werden. — Bd. II 32 wird vor Ende des Jahres 1985 mit dem vierten Teilband abgeschlossen sein. Auch der vorliegende Band verdankt sein Entstehen nach der materiellen Seite der Förderung durch den Präsidenten der Eberhard-Karls-Universität Tübingen, ADOLF THEIS, und die Robert Bosch Stiftung, Stuttgart, vertreten durch ihren Geschäftsführer BERNHARD PAYER. Diesen sowie den Herren KARLERNST PETZOLD v o m A l t h i s t o r i s c h e n u n d KONRAD GAISER v o m

Philologischen

Seminar der Universität Tübingen sei für ihre Unterstützung, den Mitarbeitern d e r R e d a k t i o n , ALEXANDER FRIEDEMANN WENSLER, MANFRED GERHARD SCHMIDT

und L u c DEITZ, für ihre sachliche, Frau LUISE BELTHLE vom Philologischen und Frau DORIS RAIDT vom Althistorischen Seminar für ihre technische Hilfe aufrichtig gedankt. Tübingen, im September 1984

W. H .

Inhalt Vorwort

V SPRACHE U N D LITERATUR (LITERATUR DER JULISCH-CLAUDISCHEN U N D DER FLAMSCHEN ZEIT) Band II. 32.1:

L. (Pavia) Caratteristiche della letteratura giulio-claudia

ALFONSI,

AHL, F. M. (Ithaca, Ν . Y.) The Rider and the Horse: Politics and Power in Roman Poetry from Horace to Statius, with an Appendix by J. GARTHWAITE (Dunedin, New Zealand): Statius, Silvae 3.4

HÜBNER, W . (Trier)

3-39

40-124

Manilius als Astrologe und Dichter

126—320

A. (Roma) Germanico e il suo poema astronomico

321—343

F. R. D. (London) The 'Aetna': Thought, Antecedents, and Style

344—363

(Napoli) Il 'Saggio sul Sublime'. Una interessante pagina di retorica e di estetica dell'antichità

364-403

(Paris) Etat présent des travaux sur P'Histoire Romaine' de Velléius Paterculus

404-436

(Sydney) Valerius Maximus and Roman Historiography. A Study of the exempla Tradition

437—496

TRAGLIA,

GOODYEAR,

MARTANO, G .

HELLEGOUARC'H, J .

MASLAKOV, G .

CURRIE, H . MACL. (Middlesbrough, Great Britain)

Phaedrus the Fabulist

497-513

Vili

INHALT

J . (Cambridge) The Elder Seneca and Declamation

FAIRWEATHER,

514-556

SUSSMAN, L. A. (Gainesville, Florida) The Elder Seneca and Declamation Since 1900: A Bibliography

557—577

(Mainz) Der Traum des Historikers: Zu den 'Bella Germaniae' des Plinius und zur julisch-claudischen Geschichtsschreibung

578 — 601

SALLMANN, K .

GOODYEAR, F . R . D . ( L o n d o n )

Tiberius and Gaius : their Influence and Views on Literature . . HUZAR, E. (East Lansing, Michigan) Claudius - the Erudite Emperor

Band II. 32.2: ABEL, K . (Marburg)

Seneca. Leben und Leistung (Bologna) Seneca e lo stile

SETAIOLI, A .

ATKINSON, J . E. (Cape Town) Seneca's 'Consolatio ad Polybium' (Frankfurt a. M . ) Senecas 'Apocolocyntosis': Ein Forschungsbericht 1959—1982

BRINGMANN, Κ .

Β. (Hamburg) — A R M S T R O N G , D. (Austin, Texas) Seneca Tragicus 1878-1978 (with Addenda 1979ff.)

SEIDENSTICKER,

O . (Münster) Seneca als Tragödiendichter in der Forschung von 1965 bis 1975

HILTBRUNNER,

(Tübingen) Senecas Tragödien: Vorbilder und poetische Aspekte

DINGEL, J .

TANNER, R . G . (Newcastle, Ν . S. W . )

Stoic Philosophy and Roman Tradition in Senecan Tragedy

MACGREGOR, A. (Cincinnati, Ohio) The Manuscripts of Seneca's Tragedies: A Survey

603—610 611—650

INHALT

IX

LEFÈVRE, E . (Freiburg) D i e politische Bedeutung der römischen Tragödie und Senecas Oedipus' LEFÈVRE, E . (Freiburg) Die philosophische Bedeutung der Seneca-Tragödie am Beispiel des 'Thyestes 5 BOYLE, A . J . (Clayton, Victoria, Australia) In Nature's B o n d s : A Study of Seneca's 'Phaedra' ROZELAAR, M . ( T e l A v i v )

N e u e Studien zur Tragödie 'Hercules Oetaeus'

SCHMIDT, P. L . (Konstanz) D i e Poetisierung und Mythisierung der Geschichte in der Tragödie Octavia'

Band II. 32.3: RUTZ, W . f (Bad Segeberg) Lucans 'Pharsalia' im Lichte der neuesten Forschung NARDUCCI, E .

(Firenze)

Ideologia e tecnica allusiva nella 'Pharsalia' LAUSBERG, M .

(Münster/Westf.)

Lucan und H o m e r SMITH, M . S . (St. Andrews) A Bibliography of Petronius SULLIVAN, J . P . ( B u f f a l o ,

1945-1982

Ν.Υ.)

Petronius' Satyricon and its Neronian C o n t e x t PETERSMANN, H .

(Heidelberg)

U m w e l t , Sprachsituation und Stilschichten in Petrons rica' SOVERINI, P .

(Bologna)

Il problema delle teorie retoriche e poetiche di Petronio

MARTIN, R .

(Paris)

Etat présent des études sur Columelle

'Saty-

INHALT

χ VERDIÈRE, Κ . (Bruxelles)

L e genre bucolique à l'époque de N é r o n : Les 'Bucolica' de T . Calpumius Siculus et les 'Carmina Einsidlensia'. Etat de la question et prospectives

SQUILLANTE SACCONE, M .

(Napoli)

La poesia di Persio alla luce degli studi più recenti (1964—1983) PASOLI, E . F ( B o l o g n a )

Attualità di Persio

BARZANÒ, A . ( B e r g a m o )

Cheremone di Alessandria

MORFORD, M . P. O . (Columbus, Ohio) N e r o ' s Patronage and Participation in Literature and Arts NÉRAUDAU, J . P . (Paris)

N é r o n et le nouveau chant de Troie

B a n d II. 32.4: SERBAT, G . (Paris)

Pline l'Ancien. Etat présent des études sur sa vie, son oeuvre et son influence KÁDÁR, Z . ( D e b r e c e n — B u d a p e s t ) - BERÉNYI-RÉVESZ, M . ( B u d a p e s t )

Die Anthropologie des Plinius Maior FEARS, J . R . (Bloomington, Indiana) Q u i n t u s Curtius R u f u s and the Evolution of the Image of Alexander in Antiquitiy RUTZ, W . F (Bad Segeberg)

Zur Erzählkunst des Q . Curtius Rufus SCAFFAI, M . ( B o l o g n a )

Rassegna di studi su Valerio Fiacco (1938 — 1983) KLEYWEGT, A . J . ( A m s t e r d a m )

D i e Dichtersprache des Valerius Flaccus A H L , F . M . (Ithaca, Ν . Y . ) - DAVIS, M . (Ithaca, Ν . Y . ) -

A . (Ithaca, N . Y . ) Silius Italicus

POMEROY,

INHALT

XI

O'CALLAGHAN, J . (San Cugat de Vallès —Roma) Tlias Latina' con notas interlineales ( w . 960—1070) en el còdice 13 del Archivo capitular de Barcelona SZELEST, H .

(Warszawa)

Martial — eigentlicher Schöpfer und hervorragendster Vertreter des römischen Epigramms TANNER, R . G . ( N e w c a s t l e , Ν . S. W . )

Levels of Intent in Martial CANCIK, H .

(Tübingen)

Statius, 'Silvae'. Ein Bericht über die Forschung seit Friedrich Vollmer (1898) VAN DAM, H . J . (Leiden) Statius, 'Silvae'. Forschungsbericht 1975 — 1984 AHL, F . M . (Ithaca, Ν . Y.) Statius' 'Thebaid'. A Reconsideration KYTZLER, Β . ( B e r l i n )

Zum Aufbau der statianischen 'Thebais'. Pius Coroebus, T h e b . I 557-692 ARICÓ, G .

(Palermo)

L ' 'Achilleide' di Stazio ADAMIETZ, J .

(Gießen)

Quintilians Tnstitutio oratoria' HÂKANSON, L . ( L u n d )

D i e quintilianischen und pseudoquintilianischen tionen' in der neueren Forschung

'Deklama-

CALBOLI MONTEFUSCO, L . ( B o l o g n a )

La dottrina degli 'status' e Quintiliano COUSIN, J .

(Besançon)

Quintilien et la musique

FRANCHET D'ESPÈREY, S . ( P a r i s )

Vespasien, Titus et la littérature COLEMAN, Κ . M . (Cape T o w n ) T h e Emperor Domitian and Literature DURET, L . (Paris) Dans l'ombre des plus grands I I . Poètes et prosateurs mal connus de la latinité d'argent

SPRACHE U N D LITERATUR (LITERATUR DER J U L I S C H - C L A U D I S C H E N U N D DER F L A V I S C H E N ZEIT)

Caratteristiche della letteratura giulio-claudia di

LUIGI ALFONSI,

Pavia

Sommario Sguardo generale

3

A. D a Tiberio a Claudio

4

I. Poesia, scienza, grammatica

4

II. Storiografia

9

B. L'età neroniana

13

I. Persio, Petronio, Columella e minori 1. Persio

13 14

2. Petronio

16

3. Columella e minori

18

II. Seneca e Lucano

21

1. Seneca

21

2. Lucano

27

C. Sintesi dei valori

30

I. Pompeo Trogo: crisi di identità del m o n d o romano nel I secolo d. C II. Altri aspetti della letteratura giulio-claudia

30 37

Sguardo generale Tacito, parlandoci in Annales I, 3,7—4 e I, 9—10 dello stato d'animo prevalente negli anni intorno alla morte di Augusto, ha messo splendidamente in evidenza il mondo nuovo che si contrapponeva a quello che con Augusto di fatto moriva; nuove aspirazioni, nuove incertezze senza più rimpianti, nostalgie, memorie di passate e sanguinose guerre che il governo dell'Imperatore aveva fatto cessare (cfr. M. L E N C H A N T I N , Augusto e Tacito, Riv. di fil. cl. 66, 1938, pp. 337—345 e: Cornelius Tacitus, Annalen, Band I, Buch 1—3, erläut. von E. KoESTERMANN, Heidelberg 1963, pp. 73 e 96-104) 1 . 1

V. ancora H. TRÄNKLE, Augustus bei Tacitus, Cassius Dio und dem älteren Plinius, Wiener Studien N F 3, 1969, pp. 1 0 8 - 1 3 0 .

4

LUIGI A L F O N S I

Ma si veda soprattutto in Ann. I, 3,7: domi res tranquillae, eadem magistratuum vocabula; iuniores post Actiacam vittoriani, edam senes plerique inter bella civium nati: quotus quisque reliquus qui rem publicam vidisset?

A. Da Tiberio a Claudio I. Poesia, scienza,

grammatica

E di fatto con Tiberio comincia anche letterariamente, se pur preannunciato da qualche sporadica manifestazione, un nuovo periodo letterario: quello impropriamente detto dell'età argentea con denominazione che include una valutazione negativa, come di età di decadenza, mentre sarebbe più proprio parlare di trasformazione negli istituti politici e nei sentimenti d'animo. L'impero, come forma di governo, si consolida sia per opera di imperatori che l'opposizione aristocratica rappresentò a tinte fosche come tiranni, sia di quelli che poi apparvero ottimi principi. I confini sono in sostanza tutelati, un'amministrazione in complesso efficiente garantisce la vita anche nelle provincie, si affermano ceti nuovi, quasi una specie di borghesia, favorita dagli imperatori contro i privilegi della nobiltà. N o n si può attribuire, per lo meno esclusivamente o in gran parte, alle mutate condizioni politiche la mancanza di grandi geni della poesia: di fatto non mancarono autentici geni della prosa e veri poeti, ma non sono gli eventi esteriori quelli che condizionano solamente il sorgere del supremo artista. Piuttosto è che ci si trova in un'età di profonda trasformazione, di passaggio dall'antico al nuovo, di travaglio immenso che non favorisce la distesa serenità della creazione pura, anche se ne pone le premesse. E' l'età in cui sorge il Cristianesimo, ed in cui gli animi sono preparati ad accoglierne la voce rinnovatrice: „quando Gesù era per nascere, il mondo era preparato a riceverlo" (PASCOLI). Vediamo gli aspetti nuovi di questo mondo che affiora, di questa che appare decadenza ed è piuttosto metamorfosi e preparazione. La scuola estende ovunque la sua influenza educatrice: massimo ideale è essere uomo di cultura, perfino dei bimbi è ascritta a gloria l'ingeniositas e la sapientia. E questo ardore di cultura, che si esprime tanto nel desiderio dei viaggi e delle conoscenze quanto nella brama del sapere, ha un nome: curiositas. La scuola umanizza ed universalizza l'Impero alla luce di alti ideali, e l'Impero d'altra parte fa della scuola uno strumento validissimo della propria affermazione 2 . Di qui una patina

2

Si veda in generale: Le classicisme à Rome aux Iers siècles avant et après J.-C., ed. H . FLASHAR, Fond. Hardt, Entretiens sur l'Antiquité classique 25, Genève 1979, passim; G. WILLIAMS, Change and Decline. Roman Literature in the Early Empire, Sather Class. Lectures 45, Berkeley—Los A n g e l e s - L o n d o n 1978; LORETTA BALDINI MOSCADI, Il poeta fra storia e ideologia: Manilio e le guerre civili, in: Cultura e ideologia da Cicerone a

CARATTERISTICHE DELLA LETTERATURA GIULIO-CLAUDIA

5

di culturalismo su ogni manifestazione d'arte, ed il prepotere della retorica: intesa come studio della parola, come esercizio del sapere, ed insieme come palestra di educazione civica e di sentimenti umani. La cultura dell'età imperiale universalizzandosi si fa bilingue: imperatori e prosatori romani scrivono in greco, greci sanno il latino ed abbracciano l'ideale imperiale romano. Anche l'Oriente entra di pieno diritto in Roma: e fa sentire tumultuosa la sua presenza nell'irrompere dei culti e delle superstizioni, nonché nell'afflato mistico che essi comportano. Assistiamo ad un fenomeno unico: potremmo dire che contro tutte le apparenze, se c'è stata una Roma pervasa di passione morale (quasi un giansenismo avant-lettre), è stata la Roma imperiale, quella che poeti e storici antichi e moderni ci hanno con tanta accesa indignazione dipinta come Babilonia del vizio. Ma lo stoicismo che gradualmente soppianta l'epicureismo, ma lo zelo mistico di pagani e cristiani, ma lo stesso rigore delle condanne moralistiche, ma l'amore inflessibile per la libertà che porta alcuni - e non sono pochi alla morte, ma lo stesso prodigioso diffondersi ed affermarsi del Cristianesimo e la testimonianza immensa del martirio provano che ci troviamo davanti ad un mondo tutt'altro che decadente, logoro e consunto, bensì ricco di interiori energie e capacità. Il conflitto fecondo degli spiriti, quel dissidio tra la tradizione e il pensiero, tra la prassi e la coscienza è espresso nel 'barocco' imperiale: dove la complicazione delle forme, le stesse ricercatezze e lambiccamenti della retorica, le stesse arguzie e concettini, le stesse tortuosità stilistiche esprimono le incertezze e le antinomie degli animi. Si afferma un senso sociale nuovo, più umano nei confronti degli schiavi stessi, visti e giudicati come simili. E la polemica politica tende sempre più a spersonalizzarsi, a diventare polemica ideologica, finché, attenuandosi ed ardore di libertà e disgusto della tirannide, e sostituendosi paura dell'una e noia dell'altra, essa sfocerà in polemica di cultura e di fede. Avremo poi ciceroniani ed anticiceroniani, tra i cristiani e tra i pagani. E' un mondo in cui si rompe l'equilibrio classico, e prevale l'irrazionale, 1'άλογον; anche la critica d'arte, come è visibile dal 'Sublime', è partecipe di questi valori e criteri. Di tale società, che rifiuta la norma della ragione o per lo meno ne avverte angosciosamente i limiti, sono manifestazione da una parte il taedium vitae, 1'άθυμία, e dall'altra il Cristianesimo nella ricerca di una superiore armonia e misura in una nuova coerenza morale. L'immensa Romanae pacts maiestas, (Plinio, Nat. hist. XXVII, 1) non ha fatto luogo a decadenza, ma, piuttosto, a fecondi conflitti tra ius ed humanitas, tra singolo e collettività: per il rinnovamento dello Stato e della coscienza individuale e collettiva. Più della politica e dell'edonismo estetico di marca alessandrina ora interessa l'abisso della propria coscienza. E' questo, ripetiamo, il mondo all'avvento del Cristianesimo. Questo movimento, individuato subito nella sua novità dapprima con diffidenza turbata e poi con sempre più attenta perplessità, subirà successivamente le calunnie dei

Seneca — Quaderni di filologia latina, Firenze 1981, pp. 39—69; C. SALEMME, Introduzione agli „Astronomica" di Manilio, Napoli 1983; F. CUPAIUOLO, Itinerario della poesia latina nel I secolo dell'impero, Napoli 1978. 2 ANRW II 32.1

6

LUIGI ALFONSI

volghi, gli sdegni dei filosofi, le interpretazioni del medico Galeno, che studia il paradosso della vita e della morte cristiana. Ed infine tutto ciò sboccerà in vigorosi attacchi culturali, o filosofici, o anche semplicemente dettati da ragioni politico-morali o sentimentali: in un rimpianto dell'antica συνήθεια e del puro naturalismo classico, ed in una difesa del culto pagano interpretato alla luce della filosofia. Ed è significativo che la letteratura romana di questo periodo così ricco di interiore travaglio si apra con Manilio, il poeta che scruta il mistero dei cieli, e con Fedro, il poeta che soffre le persecuzioni degli umili sulla terra. Anche taluni impertori si preoccupano della cultura e talora in maniera illuminata: e ne seguono le sorti, favorendo ora questo ora quell'indirizzo e partecipando pure attivamente alle lettere. Per di più, segno di impegni umani nuovi, di un popolarizzarsi della letteratura, è il diffondersi di scritti tecnici, geografici, agricoli, medici, scientifici in genere. Si imitano sì i grandi modelli augustei come Vergilio, Ovidio, i poeti satirici, e Cicerone stesso: ma con lo sguardo rivolto al presente più che al passato. Omnem potentiam ad unum conferri pads interfuit (Tacito, Hist. 1,1,2): ma era una pace che covava i germi della guerra più aspra, quale è quella che si combatte negli spiriti. A ciò si deve l'esuberante, il passionale, il cupo di tanta parte della produzione letteraria di questo periodo, in cui irrompono nella vita culturale le provincie, portando i fremiti di una barbarie destinata all'avvenire, in una società matura ormai solo per parole universali. Tiberio (14 d.C. — 37 d.C.), l'imperatore enigmatico che storici antichi e moderni diversamente valutarono e valutano, riconoscendone le doti militari, dotto nella letteratura greca e latina, allievo del retore Teodoro, di gusti alessandrini, arcaicizzanti, appassionato di quisquilie antiquarie, purista rigoroso, intervenne piuttosto pesantemente nei confronti di alcuni letterati, esponenti di quella opposizione aristocratica e stoicheggiante al principato che egli cercava di stroncare (Cremuzio Cordo, Scauro, Saturnino, Paconiano). Il panorama della lettaratura della sua età offre il più stridente contrasto con quello del periodo augusteo immediatamente precedente. E si capisce perciò come si sia parlato di decadenza, e come il problema sia stato sentito già dai contemporanei. Così l'autore del 'Sublime' accenna alla decadenza morale in conseguenza della perdita della libertà: ma altrettanto nel vero è Velleio Patercolo quando con vivo senso storico avverte la conclusione di un ciclo, ed individua una legge generale per cui i capolavori sono sempre circoscritti artissimis temporum claustris (Velleio Patercolo 1,17,4), e sono favoriti nel loro nascere da uno spirito di aemulatio (Velleio Patercolo 1,17,5—7). Era naturale che all'età augustea, la ristretta età dei geni quasi in gara, succedesse un periodo che poteva sembrare di stasi, per il mutamento e quasi il trapasso degli interessi e dei sentimenti, per la sensazione di irraggiungibilità che quei capolavori ispiravano, per il desiderio stesso di cambiare. Montano può nella sua opposizione a Vergilio valere come simbolo di nuove istanze: Montano, il 'poeta tollerabile' (Seneca, Ep. ad Lue. 122,11), epico ed elegiaco (Ovidio, Ep. ex Ponto IV, 16,11 — 12), amico di Tiberio, recitatore di suoi poemi ricchi di digressioni retoriche. Tiberio stesso scrisse tra l'altro una 'Conquestio de morte L. Caesaris', cioè un 'treno' per la morte del

CARATTERISTICHE DELLA LETTERATURA GIULIO-CLAUDIA

7

nipote di Augusto, figlio di Agrippa (Suetonio, Tib. 70). Compose anche un 'De vita sua', memorie scritte summatim breviterque (Suetonio, Tib. 61). Così Germanico coi suoi 'Aratea', in cui parafrasa i 'Fenomeni' di Arato già tradotti da Cicerone e ripresi da Ovidio, togliendo, interpretando, integrando il testo greco alla luce di più mature concezioni e specialmente di personali sentimenti e di uno spiritualismo più elevato, denuncia un cambiamento di gusti e di moda: nella noia per vecchie forme, alla mitologia epica trattata da epigoni ovidiani se ne sostituisce una moderna a base scientifico-naturalistica, quasi un passare dalle remote lontananze del tempo a quelle immense dello spazio celeste.3 L'altro poeta didascalico-scientifico che si crede di questa epoca è Manilio, di cui tutto è incerto anche il nome (oscillante tra le forme Manilius e Manlius). Interessanti nella sua opera le coincidenze con libri del 'Corpus Hermeticum'. Ma le premesse estetiche sono alessandrine: nell'ambizione di aver trovata una via nuova per cantare il deus immanente nelle cose (1,9), di cui il fato è manifestazione, nel rifiuto dell'epica e della tragedia, nella volontà di partecipare a pochi eletti una materia, che ornavi . . . ipsa negat, contenta doceri (111,39), Manilio sente lucrezianamente la difficoltà dell'esprimere in latino concetti difficili, quali moti dell'universo e vicende di costellazioni; e talvolta ricorre ai grecismi, qualche volta ad arcaismi, o anche a volgarismi, tecnicismi e neologismi. Ma il suo stile, che non ignora i lenocinli della retorica (antitesi, parallelismi, ecc.) o la prosaicità del trattato con scrupoli di precisione, è in complesso squisito come la sua metrica ispirata a Lucrezio, Vergilio, Ovidio. Il suo ardore ha la sua giustificazione artistica nella poetica del πάθος, per il legame sentito tra armonia cosmica ed armonia lirica. Il centro vivo del suo interesse è nei rapporti tra la divinità e l'uomo, che di essa partecipa, ed appunto perchè pars ipse deorum può reperire deum (Manilio II, 116, passo che commosse GOETHE); ed ancora nel senso della labilità della nostra vita che deve essere ancorata a qualcosa di più alto (il famoso nascentes morimur finisque ab origine pendet; Manilio IV, 16), nella coscienza della ratio che omnia vinài (Manilio IV, 932) cioè dell'anima che su tutto regna, nel legame tra destini di uomini e popoli ed il corso delle stelle, infine nel brivido con cui il poeta ricerca con la sua ragione Dio, affisandosi sull'ignoto, nell'ansia con cui indaga il problema del male e della storia anche romana, in rapporto al determinismo stoico. Ma il panteismo stoico può suscitare entusiasmo carminis et rerum (Manilio 1,22): più difficilmente può suscitare la poesia. Ed essere il primus (Manilio I, 4) a cantare un argomento, come dichiara Manilio, anche se fosse vero, non sempre vuol dire essere il migliore. Il più notevole poeta dell'età di Tiberio è Fedro, uno schiavo greco della Macedonia, nato forse a Filippi verso il 15 a.C., divenuto liberto di Augusto, e latinizzatosi per cultura e per anima. E' significativo che sia nato, su suolo ellenico, proprio in questa età di cultura universale greco-latina, di maggior sensibilità sociale e di più caritatevole interesse per gli umili. Fedro all'inizio attribuisce ad Esopo il merito della materia, a sè solamente la veste latina in senari giambici. Anzi la 'politura' latina: con che rivela il canone della sua arte basata sull'eleganza e la brevitas (II, 3

2*

C. SANTINI, Il segno e la tradizione in Germanico scrittore, Roma 1977.

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Auetor 12), anche se alcune favole sono oscure e complicate e lunghe sì da costituire quasi un racconto. In seguito Fedro insiste maggiormente sulla sua originalità, sulla personalità della sua espressione, sul suo contributo allo sviluppo e 'perfezionamento' della favola esópica, concepita come reazione al silenzio imposto alla servitus obnoxia (III, Ad Eutychum 34). Egli cioè „del sentiero di Esopo fece viam" ed inventò di suo et cogitavi ρ Iura quam reliquerat (III, Ad Eutychum 3δ—39), facendo parlare pure le piante ed introducendo aneddoti relativi a personaggi reali dell'epoca, o storici, e anche spunti novellistici. Nel mondo irreale di Esopo egli porta la sua soggettiva esperienza, la vita yissuta, la storia. Il mondo degli animali rimane fantastico ma acquista una luce di concretezza e di realtà: Fedro storicizza, si direbbe, il mitico del greco Esopo. Le Aesopifabellae, che al dire di Quintiliano fabulis nutricularum proxime succedunt (I, 9,2), e che ducere ánimos soientpraecipue rusticorum et imperitorum (V, 11,19), in Fedro, anche se composte per la scuola conforme alla probabile funzione di pedagogo del loro autore, cambiano prospettiva e si animano di passione morale. Per questo qui hanno parte maggiore ed epimythion e promythion, pur artisticamente spesso infelici e talvolta non troppo ben agganciati al resto; per questo il motivo della giustizia perseguitata e della sofferenza dei semplici è così ribadito, per questo la poesia fedriana, anziché sorridente e distesa, è così di frequente polemica, per questo vi sono echi di diatriba filosofica ed un inizio di studio psicologico. Scopo di Fedro è di far ridere sì ma più ancora di ammonire, non tanto bollando i singoli quanto mostrando ipsam vitam et mores hominum (III, Ad Eutychum 50). Egli poi sente la sua profonda novità, le res novae (IV, Ad Parti culonem 13), ed alla fine di un suo libro (il II) si mette alla pari di Esopo stesso: quella del greco è una priorità puramente cronologica rispetto a Fedro, che può essere vittoriosamente 'opposto alla Grecia'. E noi moderni siamo i più indicati per cogliere i valori di quest'arte dove la cultura si fa così raffinata e tenue da rasentare e raggiungere la ingenuità popolare. C'è una nudità essenziale, nei momenti migliori, di solito nelle favole più brevi; ed infine prevale un tono distaccato ed amaramente rassegnato con cui il poeta attraverso le bestie, umanizza, rimpicciolisce, mitiga quasi la tragica vicenda umana dell'oppressore e dell'oppresso (1,1,14—15), del forte che prevale sulle veritatis vires (1,1,9) di cui sole dispone il debole, dell'ingiusto che trionfa sul giusto, del furbo che la fa all'ingenuo, del vanesio e del vuoto che costituiscono tanta parte della società. Ma il poeta non ha simpatia per il personaggio puramente furbo: ne ha più per l'intelligente ed aperto, per il saggio, come il topo e la volpe, che bada all'essenziale delle cose. Fedro è nemico della nuda falsità altrettanto che della stoltezza. In questa umana galleria di tipi — quasi i caratteri teofrastei sotto apparenze animali — non è ignorato, anche se non è esasperato, anzi allegoricamente ed argutamente enunciato, il dramma della fame dei servi che sbranano il padrone: postquam esurire societas coepit fera (cioè dei feles lecticarii) / discerpsit dominum . . . (Appendix Perottina, XVIII, 6 - 7 ) . Proprio per queste antitesi profonde dell'anima, che si esprimono alle volte in tinte cupe, Fedro è poeta del 'barocco' imperiale: in lui la favola più che evasione è sotto apparenza di scherzo meditazione (ioculari tibi videmur), e la poesia è ascetica missione che può risolversi anche in calamitas (III, Ad Eutychum 40).

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Si è detto che in questo periodo ha sviluppo la letteratura tecnica. Il primo cospicuo rappresentante ne è, all'epoca di Tiberio, Aulo Cornelio Celso, autore di una vasta enciclopedia, 'Artes' o 'Cesti', in molti libri non solum de his omnibus conscripserit artibus (come Catone e Varrone) sed amplius rei militaris et rusticae et medicinae praecepta reliquerit, dignus vel ipso proposito, ut eum scisse omnia illa credamus (Quint. XII, 11,24). Egli, che proveniva dalla scuola dei Sestii, riprende l'ideale catoniano in ispecie, ed anche varroniano, dell'universale sapere: associando però scienze pratiche a discipline teoriche. Attinge per la medicina a fonti greche (Ippocrate ed Asclepiade), tenendo conto dei risultati conseguiti dalle due scuole dei razionali e dei pratici. Intende come medicina sia la dietetica e la patologia, sia la terapia e la chirurgia. Originale forse più nel disegno generale che nei libri particolari rimastici, mediocri vir ingenio (XII, 11,24), è apprezzato per la chiarezza e la purezza del suo stile: scripsit . . . non sine cultu ac nitore dice Quintiliano (X, 1,124) dei libri filosofici. Nonostante qualche inevitabile fiore retorico, la sua lingua sobria e garbata, vicina alla migliore latinità, non decade in genere ad arido tecnicismo. Celso può essere considerato campione di un umanesimo tecnico con ambizioni di sapere universale, anche per l'impostazione filosofica, mai astratta però, che dà alla sua opera: in ciò sta l'importanza di essa che è utilissima per la storia della medicina antica. Minori scrittori di argomenti tecnici, autori di manuali, furono Cepione che scrisse di botanica, Giulio Attico di viticoltura, così come Giulio Grecino. Un tal Gavio soprannominato Apicio scrisse di gastronomia: ma il 'De re coquinaria' in 10 brevi libri di ricette, che noi ora possediamo sotto il nome di Apicio, è certamente una ri elaborazione di epoche successive. Grammatici illustri furono Giulio Modesto che scrisse 'Quaestiones confusae' e 'De feriis' calcando orme varroniane ed iginiane anche se con aderenza a bisogni presenti; Niso e Pomponio Marcello exactor molestissimus (Suetonio, De gramm. 22,1) di solecismi, critico anche di Tiberio. Figura caratteristica è Remmio Palemone di Vicenza, grande maestro di grammatica, quanto censurato come uomo arrogante e borioso, amante del lusso. Tra i giuristi emersero Masurio Sabino, onde ebbe origine la scuola sabiniana del diritto, e Cocceio Nerva, omnis divini humanique iuris sciens (Tacito, Ann. VI,26,1), amico di Tiberio e tuttavia suicida nel 33, ira et metu per il disgusto dei mala rei publicae (Tacito, Ann. VI,26,3). Si è già iniziata la formazione dello ius novum dovuto „all'attività creativa e innovatrice degli imperatori" ( R I C C O B O N O ) mediante lo ius extra ordinem. „Attraverso vie nuove O degenerazioni delle antiche" si allarga „notevolmente la cerchia del diritto, quale risultava dai due complessi giuridici costituiti, dal ius civile e dal ius honorarium" ( B I O N D I ) .

II.

Storiografia

Il moralismo caratteristico dell'epoca si rivela appieno nella storiografia, che è tutta rivolta allo ethos, anche nei minori scrittori. Più della storia di Roma

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e del popolo romano interessano vicende di singoli uomini, o l'insegnamento esplicito degli eventi, i fatti risolti in esempi, in 'moralità'. Un primo documento di ciò abbiamo nell'opera di Velleio Patercolo, i 2 libri dedicati Ad M. Vinicium, scritti come compendio al console del 30 d . C . L'opera di Velleio, scritta nel 30, è il compendio ampio e frettoloso {in hac tam praecipiti festinatione 1,16,1) di una più vasta opera da lui disegnata dalle guerre civili ai suoi tempi. Ma esso si è esteso nel piano: e partendo dalla guerra di Troia, accennando anche a storia orientale e greca, giunge alla conclusione delle guerre puniche (I libro), e di lì al principato di Tiberio e ai tempi dello scrittore, al consolato di Vinicio, lui pure di nobile famiglia campana, con un'invocazione alla divinità in favore della preservazione di hunc station, hanc pacem (11,131,1). Mutilo ne è l'inizio, e così la fine, nè manca qualche lacuna. Quanto più si avvicina all'epoca dell'autore, tanto più la narrazione si fa diffusa. Questo è il primo grande sommario di storia, in cui le vicende di tutto il mondo sono viste gravitare e sfociare nella quies, nella pax, nella tranquillitas dell'impero a base romano-italica (11,88,3; 11,89,3; 11,98; II, 128 e II, 130,2 per diversi personaggi e ancora 11,126,1—3 e 11,6,3 il contrario riguardo a Tiberio Gracco). Ma questa narrazione dalle origini del mondo greco-romano non è annalisticamente ordinata, bensì logicamente ed organicamente collegata (nos . . . universam imaginem . . . subiecimus: 11,89,6 relativamente al principatus di Augusto). N o n è solo e tanto storia del popolo romano, quanto piuttosto della civiltà greco-romana, culminante in Roma. A tal proposito meritano particolarissima menzione le notizie di storia letteraria che egli ha inserite nella sua opera, attingendo anche alla 'Cronaca' di Cornelio Nepote, ed a fonti atticiste, nonché a circoli culturali coevi; ed ancor più la complessa problematica sulla decadenza della letteratura, che a fasi culminanti alterna per legge di natura fasi di decadimento, di stasi, di declino. Anzi il culturalismo di Velleio è tale che, nonostante il suo lealismo imperiale, egli esalta la gloria eterna di Cicerone, deprecandone l'uccisione. 4 E' caratteristico del 'personalismo' romano, e tanto più in questo periodo, il suo gusto ed attenzione per i singoli, lo sbozzare quadri e ritratti, il che dà alla sua opera l'aspetto di „una galleria" (AMATUCCI). Famosa la caratterizzazione panegiristica di Tiberio, che può essere compresa e giustificata tenendo presente la devozione di Velleio al principe ed il reale valore militare di questo, come Velleio aveva avuto modo di ammirarlo (altri ritratti celebri sono quelli di Cesare, Seiano, Mummio, Cleopatra, Antonio, ecc.). Questo è un tratto tipicamente retorico dell'opera, che nei panegirici, nei biasimi ed invettive, nelle invocazioni ed apostrofi, nelle antitesi, nelle clausole ed altrettanto in certo moralismo sentenzioso di moderato senza sicuri fondamenti filosofici, rivela la presenza della scuola. Ma forse è eccessivo farne un agente di propaganda: è semplicemente un militare onesto e non sprovveduto, un uomo d'ordine convinto del bene dell'impero e della bontà dell'imperatore. Bene Tacito ha definito Vinicio, il dedicatario dell'opera, mit is ingenio et comptae facundiae (Tacito, Ann. VI, 15,2); lo stesso giudizio potrebbe valere per Velleio Patercolo suo amico.

4

E. NOÈ, Gli excursus letterari di Velleio Patercolo, Clio 18, 1982, p p . 5 1 1 - 2 3 .

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Negli stessi anni in cui Velleio pubblicava la sua storia, Valerio Massimo, di cui solo sappiamo che fu protetto ed aiutato da Sesto Pompeo col quale fu in Asia, terminava, dopo la caduta di Seiano (31 d.C.), la sua opera Tactorum et dictorum memorabilium libri IX', dedicata e Tiberio, visto come „salvezza certissima della patria", autore e tutore della comune incolumità, fautore delle virtù e vindice dei vizi. Si tratta di una silloge di aneddoti, riguardanti fatti e detti, disposti sotto 95 sezioni de religione, de ampiáis ecc., de fortitudine, de moderatione, depudicitia ecc. e relativi vizi, ed all'interno di ogni rubrica divisi in due gruppi, uno di esempi romani, uno di stranieri. Molteplici le fonti principali, greche e latine. Liviana è certo l'idea della virtus, e l'esaltazione morale e patriottica; ma Valerio Massimo si avvicina piuttosto a Cornelio Nepote (autore anche di exempla) e pare, sia pur con ben differente potenza creativa, preparare Plutarco, per il concetto della σύγκρισις, della comparazione. Mondiale ed universale è l'opera anche in questa visione, documento della curiositas contemporanea. L'idea del compendio, più che mostrare un depauperarsi della coltura del tempo, ne rivela il popolarizzarsi, l'estensione, il diffondersi presso vasti ceti: la realtà degli homines novi. Il manuale, per cui Valerio Massimo stabilì di digerere facta simul atque dicta memoratu digna, ab inlustribus electa auctoribus (Praefatio), ha quindi un fine morale ed educativo, nonché patriottico, nel mostrare l'eccellenza spirituale romana, e retorico. E' quasi un repertorio ut documenta sumere volentibus longae inquitisionis labor absit (ibid.). Ma spesso Valerio Massimo cade in errori. Piuttosto l'idea di risolvere la celebrità, i facta e dicta memoratu digna, in moralità è interessante, e quest'opera è nella sua ampiezza la prima cospicua raccolta di exempla gravitanti su un centro, Roma, i cui facta domestici sono esposti prima degli stranieri — gli externa utili solo ad evitare la satietas, — e per di più animata dal desiderio di educare proponendo l'esempio degli avi. Letterato conservatore Valerio Massimo è lealissimo verso il principato, con un'acredine anche eccessiva verso gli ultimi campioni della repubblica. L'opera che trattava pure argomenti di antiquaria, utile per i circoli colti, fu epitomata in un volume tra il IV e V sec., da Giulio Paride, e con qualche aggiunta „togliendone il superfluo" da Januario Nepoziano (ma questa epitome si interrompe al III libro). Le due epitomi ci servono ad integrare le lacune del testo di Valerio Massimo. Si allinea bene ai due storici precedenti, sia per il lealismo monarchico sia per l'atteggiamento moraleggiante sia per l'impostazione retorica, Curzio Rufo, probabilmente da indentificare con il retore Q. Curzio Rufo, di cui parlava Suetonio nel 'De rhetoribus' dopo Porcio Latrone e prima di Valerio Primano. E' autore di 'Historiarum Alexandri Magni Libri X', opera mancante dei primi due libri e con qualche lacuna nel resto. Essa si inizia coll'anno 333 a.C. e termina con la morte di Alessandro ed i suoi funerali. Improprio sarebbe parlare di storia: è piuttosto un romanzo storico, e può essere definito il primo vero romanzo che noi conosciamo della letteratura latina. C'è tutta un'atmosfera fiabesca che si esprime nelle scene patetiche, nel tentativo di una psicologia dei personaggi, nel gusto del meraviglioso specialmente geografico, dello strano, del miracoloso. Per di più l'influenza retorica si

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fa sentire nella coloritura accentuata dei sentimenti e nel gusto dei discorsi. Infine c'è una diffusa atmosfera di moralismo che circola per tutto il libro: l'eroe è epicamente messo in una prospettiva di eticità, e l'autore non rinuncia mai, neppure per il personaggio più illustre, Alessandro, a valutare, secondo virtù e vizi, figure, costumi, vicende. Lo stesso Curzio Rufo ha coscienza di questa sua realtà di narratore favoloso: ed afferma equidemplura transcribo quam credo (IX, 1,34). Le fonti dell'opera, greche, sono pur esse in parte romanzesche: Clitarco e Callistene, poi i memorialisti greci della spedizione asiatica di Alessandro, da Tolomeo rivalutatore delle attività politico-militari del re a Nearco, che ne colse l'anima insonne ed irrequieta, e ad Aristobulo, infine Timagene. Così queste tradizioni composite si trovano in Curzio Rufo, se non sempre felicemente, pure abbastanza organicamente fuse: assieme agli spunti polemici della tradizione avversa ad Alessandro rappresentata dai filosofi cinici e stoici. Pure per lui Alessandro è l'uomo della vittoria, della generosità, della magnanimità, della gloria, ed insieme preso dal desiderio (πόθος λαμβάνει αύτόν), dalla έπιθυμία του πρόσω ίέναι, che ai suoi soldati sfiniti presso l'India propone di giungere, terrarum spatia emensi, ad finem simul mundi laborumque perveniant . . . Iam prospicere se Oceanum, iam perflare ad ipsos auram maris. Ne inviderent sibi laudem quam peteret . . . (IX,4,19—21). Ma è pure l'uomo agitato da impulsi irrazionali, protetto dalla fortuna. Però quale attualità potè avere al tempo di Caligola e Claudio l'opera di Curzio? Più di quanto non sembri, sia per la 'frenesia5 dei viaggi e per la curiositas orientaleggiante di cui è presa la società imperiale, sia perchè nella celebrazione della universale monarchia di Alessandro era implicita quella dell'impero romano che ne appariva erede, sia infine perchè nello scoppio dei bella civiltà dei Macedoni, che dovevano concludersi con la rovina dell 'insociabile regnum, lo storico vede un avvertimento ed un monito per il popolo romano che iure meritoque . . . salutem se principi suo debere profitetur, il quale lucem caliganti reddidit mundo, cum sine suo capite discordia membra trepidarent (X,9,1—4). Anche stilisticamente l'opera ha interesse perchè segna il trapasso dai modi liviani alla rottura tacitiana: ed è notevole in Curzio Rufo la presenza, sotto le retoriche bellurie, di qualche costrutto popolare come il nominativo assoluto. Rari gli arcaismi: la sua latinità è corretta. Un certo movimento dà al suo stile l'accumularsi delle interrogazioni, la preferenza per singole frasi staccate anziché connesse nella struttura periodica, la mescolanza dei tempi, l'uso dell'infinito storico, le frequenti ellissi. L'età di Claudio vede un fiorire di storici, sotto l'influenza dello stesso imperatore, che si occupò di antichità etnische e cartaginesi in greco, e fu autore di memorie e di storie. Aufidio Basso narrò gli eventi forse da Cesare a Claudio, nonché scrisse una storia delle 'Guerre germaniche'; Servilio Noniano pure compose un'opera di storia, minus pressus quam historiae auctoritas postulat (Quint. Χ, 1,102). In età neroniana poi — e se ne parla qui per opportunità tecnica nella storia del genere letterario — Corbulone narrò le sue imprese militari; Trasea Peto nella biografia di Catone Uticense ribadì i propri ideali di libertà; Fabio Rustico espose i fatti del regno di Claudio e di quello di Nerone, con animo favorevole a

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Seneca, ed è giudicato da Tacito fra gli storici più eloquenti. Cluvio Rufo vissuto sotto Nerone scrisse una storia che pare memorabile per fides e schiettezza: nobile anche perchè dives et eloquentia clarus nulli unquam sub Nerone periculum facessisset (Tacito, Hist. IV,43,2). Emilio Sura fu forse autore di una storia universale. Pomponio Mela nato in Ispagna, a Tingentera, rappresenta uno di quei provinciali che vengono da lontano a rinsanguare con nuovi impulsi anche scientifici la letteratura latina. E' il primo organico scrittore di argomento geografico che abbia Roma. Scrisse probabilmente al tempo di Claudio, intorno al 44, in 3 libri una 'Chorographia'. Attingendo ai geografi prevalentemente greci (Posidonio) ed a notizie orali, e riservandosi di comporre un'opera maggiore e più esatta, dà una descrizione della terra in tono conversevole, breve e chiara, a mo' di periplo, partendo lungo le coste nostri maris (1,15) dall'Africa all'Asia, da questa all'Europa sino all'Oceano Atlantico ingens infinitumque pelagus et magnis aestibus concitum (111,1,1), ed al Nord Europa, con informazioni di ogni genere sui luoghi, e — in ossequio ad idee filosofiche — sulla natura degli abitanti in relazione ad essi (ad esempio Germani ecc.), additis quae in natura regionum incolarumque memoranda sunt (1,2). L'autore, espressione della società del suo tempo, fonde l'interesse scientifico con la preoccupazione morale e lo scrupolo retorico. Anzi si lamenta che la sua opera sia facundiae minime capax (1,1): ma pure non le si può togliere il vanto di una forma attraente, piacevole, curata. E' anche lui un narratore di terre lontane, affine a Curzio Rufo, manifestazione di un'età in cui lo spirito di indagine in ogni campo del sapere scientifico conquista vasti ceti, e perfino gli imperatori. Non sarà inutile ricordare che proprio a quella spedizione britannica di Claudio, ricordata da Mela perchè aveva aperta „la Britannia per tanto tempo chiusa", partecipò Scribonio Largo medico pratico (o fisico?), autore di 'Compositiones' dedicate a Callisto liberto dell'imperatore, cioè di ricette „per la maggior parte composte dall'autore che ne constatò l'efficacia nei casi descritti".

B. L'età neroniana 5

I. Persio, Petronio, Columella e minori

L'imperatore Claudio con i suoi studi di antiquaria, di linguistica, di oratoria, e poi Nerone con le sue velleità poetiche e l'istituzione di gare oratorie rappresentano momenti di rinascita e di speranze nuove nella letteratura latina. Gli studi vengono favoriti a tal punto che già Claudio crea un ufficio speciale a studiis. Le tendenze più vive dell'epoca sono orientate verso la filosofia — di cui 5

Si veda Neronia 1977, Université de Clermont II, Centre de recherches sur les Civilisations antiques, 1982.

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risente largamente anche la poesia — come donatrice di quiete interiore, come ponte gettato oltre la morte ed il destino, come conquista di libertà contro quella che sembrava, ed era anche spesso, tirannide. Nell'antitesi che viene posta tra res dissociabiles, principatus ac libertas (Tacito, Agricola 3,1) quest'ultima parve impersonata e difesa dalla filosofia. Così l'opposizione senatoriale divenne opposizione filosofica ed intellettuale. Ma questo stesso stoicismo e pitagorismo repubblicaneggianti non sdegnarono di assurgere al vertice dell'impero, e vagheggiarono di guidarne le sorti. Sicché dall'antitesi, che in certi momenti parve irriducibile, scaturì alla fine la conciliazione. Cospicuo ruolo nella cultura contemporanea ebbero i due filosofi esiliati da Nerone, Cornuto e Musonio Rufo. Il primo fu filosofo, grammatico e poeta. Seguendo gli stoici compose un 'De enunciatione vel orthographia', lesse e commentò Vergilio applicando il metodo allegorico, e scrisse tragedie, diventando l'anima di una secta poetica (Vita Aulis Persi Flacci, de commentario Probi Valeri sublata, r. 23 ROSTAGNI). In greco scrisse un 'Compendio di teologia greca' dedicato forse a Persio (non a un Giorgio come erroneamente è nella tradizione), comprendente una rassegna allegorica dei vari dei, maggiori e minori, visti come dipendenti dal dio unico. Musonio Rufo fu italico, e divise la sua esistenza tra Roma ed Oriente, dove frequentemente fu cacciato in esilio da Nerone e forse poi da Vespasiano. Filosofo e retore, in διατριβαί greche supera il 'luogo comune' e svolge l'antico stoicismo nel senso di una interiore ascesi, di una rigida coerenza tra vita e pensiero, di un esame minuto di tutti i problemi posti dalla vita contemporanea, con accenti alle volte vicini a quelli dei Vangeli. Fortificatore di anime ed assertore della dignità dell'uomo nell'incertezza dell'esistenza fu nobile apostolo di virtù per la vita e di coraggio per la morte.

1. Persio 6 Il caso più cospicuo di influenza esercitata dalla filosofia sulla poesia in quest'epoca è certo quello rappresentato da Persio. Anche lui stoico, anche lui pervaso dal senso del divino, disgustato dell'immoralità, convinto della necessità di una interiore redenzione e purificazione. Sulla sua vita siamo informati da un'antica biografia premessa come introduzione alle 'Satire', e di cui è autore in ultima analisi il celebre grammatico M. Valerio Probo. Da essa risulta, oltre i dati biografici fondamentali, che Persio, cavaliere romano, studiò prima a Volterra e poi a Roma alla scuola di Remmio Palemone e di Virginio Flavo, e che a 16 anni entrò in amicizia con Anneo Cornuto ita ut nusquam ab eo discederet (Vita, r. 16 ROST.), e sotto l'influenza di questo avvenne il suo passaggio alla filosofia. Visse in ambiente elevato di coltura: amico di Cesio Basso, di Servilio Noniano, conobbe e fu ammirato da Lucano. Avvicinò pure, ma sero, Seneca, però non fu attratto eius ingenio (Vita, r. 27—28 ROST.). Nel circolo di Cornuto apprezzò ed emulò due eminenti medici che praticavano acriter la filosofia (Vita, r. 30 6

Si veda A. BARTALUCCI, Persio e i poeti bucolici di età neroniana, Riv. di cult, class, e med. 18, 1976 ( = Miscellanea di studi in memoria di M. Barchiesi, vol. I), pp. 85 — 116.

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ROST.). Fu amatissimo, anche per legami familiari, da Trasea Peto. U o m o riservato, di costumi mitissimi, affezionato „alla madre alla sorella alla z i a " (Vita, r. 38—9 ROST.), parve riassumere ogni esemplare virtù. La 'Vita' ci informa altresì che Persio aveva scritto una pretesta dal titolo per noi incomprensibile (forse etrusco o Veiiì) 'Vescio', un libro di carmi odeporici e versi in lode di Arria maggiore. Ma Cornuto ne sconsigliò la publicazione. Infine la biografia conclude rendendoci edotti della morte di Persio sulla trentina vitio stomachi (Vita, r. 58 ROST.), della sua sepoltura a R o m a lungo l'Appia, e garantendoci il successo delle satire. Questo ci è confermato anche da altri giudizi: di Quintiliano che affermava la gloria „grande e vera" meritata da Persio, quamvis uno libro ( X , 1,94), e di Marziale che si esprime in termini affini. Abbiamo quindi nella 'Vita' i tratti fondamentali per conoscere questo poeta vissuto in ambiente aristocratico, nel chiuso della casa, tra libri e maestri, alimentato di idealità stoiche, nutrito di sentimenti repubblicani e tradizionalisti, che si esprimono in frecciate forse anche dirette allo stesso imperatore Nerone, in quanto poeta. C o l t o , delicato come un fiore di serra, la severità che egli usò con se stesso dovette applicarla anche agli altri. Quel tono aggressivo e duro può essere il portato della timidezza di chi non è troppo vissuto nel mondo, l'amarezza di chi, abituato a proprie libere fantasie, vivendo giovanilmente di astratti ideali, li vede troppo sonoramente smentiti dalla realtà. Pereat mundus sed fiat iustitia sembra dire consequenzialmente anche Persio, dimenticando che se perisce il mondo non ha più luogo neppure la giustizia. Più quindi che l'espressione di un temperamento acre la satira di Persio rivela un animo appartato e deluso, ma energico e consapevole. Fu indotto a scrivere le sue satire, secondo una notizia sospetta della 'Vita', letto il X libro di Lucilio. Fatto sta che qui si coglie un dato dell'opera di Persio: la sua origine eminentemente letteraria, ma non per questo meno sincera, in un tempo in cui la letteratura incise profondamente sulla vita. Sei sono le satire in esametri, precedute o più probabilmente seguite (a seconda della tradizione manoscritta) da 14 o 15 coliambi. Stoici gli argomenti e la impostazione: ed i procedimente espressivi sono quelli della retorica, delle declamazioni e della diatriba stoico-cinica. Quindi questo poeta è assai differente da Orazio, da cui, come da Lucilio, parecchio desume: eppure il paragone tra i due è diventato un luogo comune, quand'anche non si converta in condanna per il Volterrano. Piuttosto le differenze tra i due possono indicare la distanza della due epoche: tra la classica serenità, armonia, il sorridente distacco di un poeta augusteo, ed il torbido, il cupo, il sofferto {nostrum istud vivere triste 1,9), il complicato e tortuoso di un poeta del 'barocco' imperiale, già alle soglie di una sensibilità nuova (largire inopi! V I , 32). Per questo forse, oltre e più che per pure ragioni morali ed erudite, Tertulliano, Lattanzio, Girolamo, Agostino, Prudenzio ecc., il Medio Evo e le età successive hanno amato Persio; per questo, dopo condanne recenti, la critica moderna ne sente la potente originalità. Tradotto dal MONTI, prediletto dal grande poeta italiano contemporaneo EUGENIO MONTALE. E ' oscuro, è letterato, è aduggiato di moralismo indubbiamente il puerulus stoicus, come fu chiamato. Ma ha una sua individualità nella forza espressiva, schietta, virile di certe immagini improvvise, nel linguaggio vivace, comico ed allusivo (con termini talvolta pure

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della lingua popolare) anche se difficile, nel verismo di certe situazioni, nella mistione di toni dal sarcastico all'affettuoso, nei rapidi e balenanti trapassi, nella commossa partecipazione della sua coscienza morale a quanto espone. La sofferenza della sua anima e del suo stile è testimoniata dal biografo che ci attesta la lenta maturazione (scriptitavit et raro et tarde; Vita, r. 47 ROST.) da cui scaturivano le sue satire, che pur parrebbero essere frutto di improvvisazione cui manchi 1 'extrema manus. No, esse dovevano sgorgare così dal rigor della sua anima, che non amava — sono sue parole nei coliambi — la poesia di repentina ispirazione, di grandi pretese e di interessati compensi, ma quella che educa alla luce delle grandi idee: non equidem hoc studeo, pullatis ut mihi nugis pagina turgescat, dare pondus idonea fumo (V, 19—20) come dice nella V satira. Valerio Probo commentò le satire di Persio considerandolo quindi un 'classico': numerosi i commentari medioevali il cui nucleo primo si deve ad epoca costantiniana.

2. Petronio 7 All'epoca di Nerone appartiene certo Petronio, uomo raffinato, di cui Tacito ha tracciato un quadro indimenticabile nei suoi 'Annali' (XVI, 18—19). Costui passava il giorno per somnum e la notte officiis et oblectamentis vitae, eppure non era stimato un gaudente e dissipatore come quelli che dilapidavano il patrimonio, ma un signore di lusso raffinato, erudito luxu. Ad altri aveva dato fama la attività, a costui l'ignavia. E le sue parole e le sue azioni quanto più erano libere e rivelavano una certa 'négligence' tanto gratius in speciem simplicitatis accipiebantur. Eppure da proconsole in Bitinia e poi da console si era mostrato pari al suo compito. Poi, datosi ai vizi seu vitiorum imitatione, nel ristretto numero degli intimi di Nerone fu elegantiae arbiter. Perciò incorse nell'invidia di Tigellino quasi adversus aemulum et scientia voluptatum potiorem, che gli eccitò contro crudelitatem principis, accusandolo di essere legato a membri della congiura pisoniana. Petronio allora non tulit ultra timoris aut spei moras. Ma senza precipitazione a Cuma si incise, si legò, si riaprì le vene conversando con amici non di cose serie aut quibus gloriam constantiae peteret, non de immortalitate animae et sapientium placitis, ma sentendo ripetere levia carmina et faciles versus. Alcuni servi premiò, altri punì. Pranzò, dormì, affinchè la morte sebbene coatta sembrasse fortuita. Nè per lettera, codicillis, adulò come la maggior parte dei morenti Nerone o Tigellino o altri, sed flagitia principis sub nominibus exoletorum feminarumque et novitatem cuiusque stupriperscripsit atque obsignata misit Neroni. Indi ruppe l'anello perchè non servisse tosto a creare pericoli. 7

Si veda E. FLORES, Petronio e lo 'Schedium Lucilianae humilitatis', in: Prosimetrum e Spoudogeloion, Università di Genova, Facoltà di Lettere, Istituto di Filologia classica e medioevale, 1982, pp. 63 — 82; E. RATTI, L'età di Nerone e la storia di Roma nell'opera di Petronio, Bologna 1978.

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Noi abbiamo d'altra parte, oltre brevissimi frammenti, estratti lacunosi dal X V e X V I libro di un'opera che contava almeno 16 libri intitolata 'Satyricon' o 'Saturae' di un certo Petronio Arbitro. E ' l'autore di essa la medesima persona che nel 66 trovò la morte, e che Tacito ci descrive come il raffinato gaudente della vita ed epicureo elegante, o altra persona? La discussione fu aperta e ritorna attuale ogni tanto. Anche recentemente si è proposta per il romanzo data posteriore. Comunque non si può negare che certi tratti dell'opera rivelino, anche in qualche espressione, atteggiamenti che a nessuno avrebbero potuto convenire meglio che all'elegantiae arbiter. Aggiungiamo che il panorama culturale e morale presentato è vicino a quello dell'età neroniana; infine il cognome di Arbitro potrebbe essere una trasformazione del qualificativo che forse implicava un gioco di parole. Perciò noi manteniamo a Petronio il posto tradizionale. La sua opera, certo di estensione notevolissima, doveva svolgersi in vari luoghi: Marsiglia, dove alcuni pensano sia nato lo stesso Petronio, una Graeca urbs della Campania (Pozzuoli, o Napoli, o Cuma?), infine Crotone. Nella narrazione è presentata una compagnia di discutibile moralità, costituita da un certo Encolpio, giovane inquieto, che novello Odisseo attraverso la terra e per cani Nereos aequor (139, 2, v. 7) è perseguitato dall'ira di Priapo, e poi dal ragazzo Gitone suo amante, da Ascilto e da un bizzarro poetucolo, Eumolpo. Nelle avventure di questa brigata si inseriscono spunti e sviluppi di novelle (la matrona di Efeso), e la descrizione di tutto il mondo complesso che gravita durante la cena attorno a Trimalchione, il volgare arricchito, geniale, presuntuoso e grandioso, che non conosce l'elegantia. E ' tutta un'umanità, varia ed atteggiata nei modi più diversi (comprese parecchie donne di ogni tipo), il populas, che Petronio descrive con aria apparentemente impassibile, distaccata, sovranamente impersonale ed obiettiva, senza apprezzamenti o critiche. Ma è appunto qui che si pone il problema artistico. Cos'è questo 'Satyricon'? Strutturalmente esso appartiene al genere della satira menippea per la commistione di prosa e versi (una trentina di brani di varia estensione e metro). Ma nel suo fondo esso è un vero e proprio romanzo, con il motivo amoroso invertito (maschile) e le avventure di viaggio, con inserzioni novellistiche; e può rivelare vera e propria influenza della Milesia, che già con Sisenna era conosciuta in Roma. Aggiungiamo che i legami non troppo saldi fra le parti, che si sviluppano l'una dall'altra, ricordano la tecnica 'farraginosa' della satira: cui si avvicina pure per l'implicito sottinteso (anche se non voluto) moralistico, e per l'ironia sovrana su un mondo di lordura. E della satira l'opera pare avere anche le note della contemporaneità: se le allusioni che si possono trovare a Nerone sono assolutamente generiche (e ciò esclude che il 'Satyricon' sia da vedere nei codicilli mandati a Nerone da Petronio prima di morire), i riferimenti parodici all'umanitarismo di Seneca (Epist. ad Lue. 47 = Petronio 71,1) e più i problemi letterari dibattuti sono quelli dell'età neroniana: la decadenza delle arti (causam desidiae praesentis; 88,1) dovuta all'infiacchimento morale della società, la necessità di tornare ai grandi esempi classici del passato, infine le discussioni sulla educazione, sulla scuola, sulla poesia. A questo proposito vanno rilevati sia i 295 esametri del Bellum civile (119—124), che sono una risposta piena di echi vergiliani a Lucano, il quale aveva introdotto un nuovo tipo di epopea, ed una

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difesa dell'ideale vergiliano-aristotelico (sed per ambages deorumque ministeria et fabulosum sententiarum tormentumpraecipitandus est liber spiritus . . . 118,6), sia la Troiae halosis (89) in 65 trimetri giambici, che pare una parodia del poema neroniano durante l'incendio di Roma. E questa stessa serietà di convinzioni artistiche mostra che in Petronio è da vedere, molto più di quanto non consenta quella sua raffinata e distratta indifferenza e 'negligenza', una coscienza morale che vigila e reagisce: nella caricatura misurata, quasi inavvertita, del mondo plebeo di bassezza immonda, di furfantesca astuzia, di spirito volgare, di massiccia ricchezza senza stile, di pretese umanitarie da orecchiante esibizionista, di assenza di scrupoli. Petronio è un creatore di 'grotteschi' grandiosi, che proprio nella loro grandiosità suscitano perplessità e ribrezzo. E' pur egli uno scrittore del 'barocco' imperiale coi dissidi, le preoccupazioni etiche riflesse in potenti chiaroscuri: ogni suo personaggio vive di antitesi per cui si è osservato come anche i più elevati discendano alle cose più atroci, e viceversa quelli che più trascurano vita ed averi altrui non sdegnino di piangere davanti alla sventura ed alla morte. E ritorna in mente il dubbio di Tacito che sotto l'apparenza epicurea e cinica Petronio non fosse un vizioso ma un imitatore di vizi. Alla complessa struttura volutamente slegata, propria del romanzo (per quanto noi poco se ne possa giudicare nello stato frammentario della tradizione), dà movimento anche il racconto in prima persona con quel che di conversevole esso comporta. Stilisticamente l'opera interessa per la presenza di latino parlato, volgare, messo studiatamente in bocca a tanti personaggi. Ma in altre parti la prosa di Petronio è caricaturalmente colta (come quella di Encolpio) oppure raffinata, come rivelano altresì le clausole del periodo. In questo autore dalla fisionomia sfuggente la lettaratura latina ha uno dei suoi artisti più consumati (novae simplicitatis opus può definirsi bene con sue parole [132, 15, v. 2] il suo capolavoro) ed aristocratici, ed uno scrittore dallo stile più esperto e sofferto, verba atroci stilo effodere (4,3)! Il tipo umano da lui impersonato ha sempre esercitato grande fascino: basti ricordare il 'Quo vadis?' di SIENKIEWICZ e il film 'Satiricon' del regista F E L L I N I . Sotto il nome di Petronio sono pervenuti anche alcuni epigrammi.

3. Columella e minori Anche i minori rivelano le tendenze fondamentali dell'epoca: il gusto e l'interesse per l'indagine scientifica, la raffinatezza letteraria esasperata, l'evasione nel mondo del pensiero o dell'arte dai mali del presente e la speranza di più sereni dì. Lo spagnolo L. Giunio Moderato Columella, di Cadice, contemporaneo di Seneca, visse in Italia dove possedeva vasti terreni. Scrisse un libro 'Adversus astrologos' perduto: noi abbiamo un 'De arboribus', che è il libro rimasto di un'opera che ne contava 4. Il contenuto del trattato più breve si è esteso poi in 10 libri 'De re rustica', cui egli ne aggiunse altri 2. Questi 12 libri pure noi possediamo. Vi si tratta del fondo rustico e del relativo personale,

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della coltivazione dei campi, delle viti e degli alberi, dell'allevamento degli animali grossi, piccoli e da cortile, delle api, dei giardini (il cui lusso allora era in gran voga), dei compiti del fattore e della villica. Interessante è che il X libro De cultu hortorum sia in versi (430 esametri), perchè Columella ha voluto a questo proposito accogliere l'invito vergiliano del IV delle 'Georgiche' (v. 148): praetereo atque aliis post me memoranda relinquo. Nell'XI poi tratta lo stesso argomento in prosa. Per comporre la sua opera egli si è servito di fonti, specialmente trattatistiche, greche (Senofonte) e latine (Catone, Varrone, Igino, Celso, Vergilio stesso), ma anche moltissimo della sua esperienza di agricoltore appassionato, afflitto che tanti si dedichino a studi letterari, a scrutare rerum naturae latebras (IX,2,4) trascurando l'agricoltura, fonte di moralità e di benessere. Egli lamenta i danni dell'urbanesimo, è pieno di fede nella terra che, lavorata, rende generosamente, si scaglia contro l'idea che i campi siano stanchi ed invecchiati. Sa inoltre che infinita è la materia, che molto ha dovuto omettere e che qualcosa gli è sfuggito. Lo stile è chiaro e perspicuo, rifugge dalle ripetizioni; anche in lui il tecnicismo e l'arcaismo dei trattatisti non uccidono la sensibilità umanistica, nutrita pure di cultura filosofica. Una viva passione anima il suo dettato per la convinzione che la res rustica sia sine dubitatione próxima et quasi consanguinea sapientiae (Praef.). Notevole la rinascita di interessi scientifici anche per la poesia. Così Cesio Basso, ricordato pure da Quintiliano, amico di Persio, di Cornuto, di Lucano, è autore di carmi lirici, 'Lyricorum libri', di squisitezza neoterica, e di un trattato di metrica 'De metris', in cui egli sosteneva la teoria varroniana della derivatio dei metri latini dall'esametro dattilico e dal trimetro giambico. L'opera pervenutaci frammentaria, e che sarebbe stata poi seguita dai metricologi e poeti posteriori, era dedicata ad Neronem, quasi auspicio e speranza di una nuova poesia. Ed altrettanto notevole è il rinnovato culto per la bucolica. Calpurnio Siculo, protetto di Calpurnio Pisone, autore di 7 ecloghe, riprende il sogno dell'Arcadia vergiliana per celebrare il nuovo secolo d'oro che Nerone pareva dischiudere al mondo (aurea secura cum pace renascitur aetas Bue. 1,42). Temi di queste composizioni, che risentono di Vergilio (anche del Vergilio delle 'Georgiche' e dell"Eneide'), di Orazio, degli elegiaci (Tibullo) e meno dei bucolici greci, sono i lamenti d'amore e le gare di poesia: i personaggi sono allegorici. Ma nel convenzionale della imitazione classicheggiante e della rifinitura formale c'è con la contaminazione dei modelli un certo gusto del pittorico, un uso di espressioni tecniche che rinnova il vecchio materiale. Interessanti i contatti con Seneca. A Calpurnio, liberto di Calpurnio Pisone (il capo della congiura antineroniana del 65), si attribuisce anche un carme panegiristico giunto anonimo, 'Laus Pisonis', in 261 esametri. E' l'invocazione di un cliente, ma non vi mancano accenti sinceri. Di chi siano i cosiddetti 'Carmina Einsiedlensia', due ecloghe anonime così denominate dal codice di Einsiedeln, non si sa: forse di Calpurnio Pisone stesso. Resta che l'autore è un aristocratico e che il sogno pastorale è il medesimo di Calpurnio Siculo, animato dalle speranze e dalle illusioni del nuovo

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regno (con qualche eco anche da Lucrezio, cfr. W. SCHMID, Panegyrik und Bukolik in der neronischen Epoche, Bonner Jahrbb. 153, 1953, pp. 63—96). Nerone stesso ha un posto nella storia della poesia: autore di inni agli dei, e di carmi di vario tipo, di un poema epico-storico 'Troica', di cui forse faceva parte la Troiae halosis (cioè la „presa di Troia"), recitata durante l'incendio di Roma. Da qualche frammento risulta la sua abilità di virtuoso e la sua raffinatezza di neoterizzante. Istituì gare musicali cui partecipò di persona. Del resto che i poemi omerici tornassero di moda è provato dalle traduzioni letterali dell"Iliade' e dell'Odissea' di Attio Labeone, nonché dalle garbate traduzioni in prosa latina di Omero e in prosa greca di Vergilio, compiute da Polibio. Un Baebius Italicus 8 , di cui recentemente si è ricostruita la carriera (fu console nel 90), ha tradotto e sunteggiato e parafrasato per la scuola l"Iliade' in un'opera che noi possediamo sotto il titolo di 'Homerus Latinus', 'Homerus' o 'Pindarus Thebanus', in realtà una 'Ilias Latina' di 1070 esametri. I versi iniziali danno l'acrostico Italic(u)s (= Italicus}), quelli finali scripsit, per cui si era pensato a Silio Italico come autore. Una poetessa, Sulpicia, doctior et pudica è celebrata da Marziale (X, 35,16): si discute se a lei si debba attribuire la paternità di un carmen in 70 esametri, una declamazione in cui Sulpicia è introdotta a lamentarsi della condizione dello Stato all'età di Domiziano, ma prevale l'opinione negativa (si pensa alla fine del IV sec. per chi ha scritto il carme; cfr. ora A. GIORDANO RAMPIONI, Sulpiciae conquestio, Bologna 1982). Tragediografo e grammatico fu Pomponio Secondo, di insigne ingegno, apprezzato per la erudizione e lo stile. Scrisse, tra l'altro, un 'Aeneas', probabilmente una pretesta. Tra gli eruditi, o meglio grammatici, si segnala Asconio Pediano, forse di Padova: sappiamo che compose una biografia di Sallustio, un 'Symposium' ed un libro 'Contra obtrectatores Vergili' in difesa del poeta contro critici arcaicizzanti (?, ma potrebbe trattarsi anche di 'moderni'), e di lui possediamo il commento, dedicato ai figlioli, di 5 orazioni ciceroniane. Si occupò quindi dei due massimi classici. Nella sua esegesi prevale il lato storico e si segue il metodo pergameno. N o n è suo il commento alle 'Verrine'. Ma „il più erudito dei grammatici", „dotto ed esperto nel leggere e pesare le antiche scritture", anche se si è esagerato nel celebrarne la grandezza, fu M. Valerio Probo di Berito, vissuto verso la metà del I sec. Si diede agli studi taedio (Suetonio, De gramm. 24,1), avendo a lungo aspirato al grado di centurione. E si applicò al lavoro che più propriamente si chiama filologico sui testi: cioè collazione degli esemplari, emendare, distinguere, adnotare (Suetonio, De gramm. 24,4). N o n ebbe discepoli ma seguaci: e tenne un insegnamento discontinuo. Pubblicò nimispauca et exigua de quibusdam minutis quaestiunculis (Suetonio, De gramm. 24,5), ma lasciò un'ingente massa di osservazioni sull'antica lingua. Riportò quindi in onore la letteratura arcaica, introdusse i metodi della filologia alessandrina, e specialmente è notevole per il tentativo di risalire all'edizione prima di ogni opera, segnando anche le varianti di autore. Forse curò il testo critico di Vergilio, Lucrezio, Persio, Orazio, Terenzio. Abbiamo 8

Cfr. Baebii Italici, Ilias Latina, introduzione, edizione critica, traduzione italiana e commento a cura di M. S C A F F A I , Bologna 1982.

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di lui un 'De notis' estratto di un trattato sulle abbreviazioni. Non è suo un commento alle 'Bucoliche' e 'Georgiche5 che va attribuito ad un Probo del IV sec., autore anche di altri trattati retorico-grammaticali.

II. Seneca e Lucano 1. Seneca Accenniamo qui ai caratteri fondamentali per cui Seneca e Lucano appaiono tra le figure più significative della letteratura giulio-claudia nella reazione anticlassicistica ed antiaugustea tipica nell'età neroniana. In essi emergono sia dal punto di vista artistico sia da quello spirituale le note di una differenziazione profonda dal mondo di Cicerone e di Vergilio. Si sente realmente che qualcosa di diverso è nell'aria, che un genus bominum nuovo è comparso sulla terra, che un conflitto decisivo per le sorti dello spirito umano sta per scoppiare, tra una concezione ancorata allo Stato ed alla terra, ed un'altra che supera lo Stato e guarda oltre la terra, per cui gli uomini επί γης διατρίβουσιν άλλ' έν' ούρανφ πολιτεύονται (A Diogneto V, 9), abitano nel mondo ma sono cittadini del cielo. Seneca e Lucano, zio e nipote, legati anche da comuni ideali filosofici ed artistici, sono i documenti più suggestivi di questo trapasso, operatosi nell'ambito dell'impero romano. Dapprincipio l'autorità politica parve tollerante verso i Cristiani, subito individuati in Antiochia nella loro originalità e novità, mentre poi scatenò contro di essi la più violenta delle persecuzioni. Di conseguenza all'„ottimismo verso Roma" (BREZZI) dell'evangelista più colto, Luca, anteriore al 63, si sostituì la condanna per la Babilonia di tutti i vizi, centro dell'impero mondano. Ed il trapasso tra le due civiltà divenne quanto di più complesso, doloroso, profondo si possa immaginare, tra sacrifici di sangue e lotte di idee. Di L. Anneo Seneca nato, forse il 4 a. C., a Cordova, figlio di Seneca retore, è notevole per noi anche il fatto che fu fratello minore di quell'Anneo Novato proconsole d'Acaia, ricordato però col nome di Gallione in Act. Apostol. 18,12, che giudicò San Paolo a Corinto, e fratello maggiore di Anneo Mela, padre di Lucano. La sua formazione intellettuale e spirituale è però romana, e risente del clima della Roma imperiale. E' infatti educazione culturale greco-latina, retorico-filosofico-scientifica secondo un ideale di curiositas largamente seguito. Suoi primi maestri furono Papirio Fabiano, Sozione, Demetrio ed Attalo, che gli proposero, influenzati da dottrine pitagoriche e stoiche, un ideale ascetico di vita. Di poi trascorse un periodo in Egitto, donde trasse materia per meditazioni scientifico-geografiche. Tornato nel 31, ed iniziata la carriera politica, incappò nell'invidia di Caligola con i suoi discorsi in senato. L'imperatore, che avrebbe definita barena sine calce (Suetonio, Caligula 53) il suo stile, si sarebbe astenuto dal mandarlo a morte perchè rassicurato della sua prossima fine per consunzione. Ma sotto Claudio nel 41, per le mene di Messalina, fu relegato in Corsica, pare coinvolto nell'accusa di adulterio rivolta a Giulia Livilla, sorella di Caligola. Passò nel duro esilio 8 anni. Nel 49 rientrò a Roma richiamato da 3 ANRWII32.1

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Agrippina per assumere l'incarico di precettore di Nerone destinato alla successione imperiale. Seneca ed Afranio Burro, prefetto del pretorio, furono così dal 54 i consiglieri dell'imperatore, ed esercitarono per un quinquennio circa una salutare influenza, anche se non esente da malevole critiche di contemporanei, sui primi anni del principato, servendo quasi da legame ed armonizzazione tra aristocrazia senatoria e casa imperiale: con uno sguardo molto aperto pure verso altri ceti, verso gli umili, verso gli stessi schiavi. Ma la morte di Agrippina, ad opera di Nerone già colpevole di fratricidio, e poi di Burro segnarono per Seneca l'avvicinarsi della propria fine: nel 62 si ritrasse dalla vita pubblica dedicandosi allo studio della filosofia. Questo isolarsi, agli occhi dell'imperiale discepolo, in cui gli insegnamenti dell'etica maturarono in frutto di delitti, doveva apparire critica e condanna: coinvolto nella congiura pisoniana fu costretto a darsi dolorosa morte nel 65. La seconda moglie Paolina fu risparmiata da Nerone. Prima di morire, emulando Socrate, advocatis scriptoribus pleraque tradidit quae in vulgus edita verbis invertere supersedeo, dice Tacito, Ann. XV, 63,4. E' un luogo fisso, a proposito di Seneca, parlare della coerenza della sua vita col pensiero, delle contraddizioni (τα ένανχιώτατα οϊς έφιλοσόφει ποιών dice Cassio Dione LXI, 10,2), della viltà ed ingenerosità (ma fu anche uomo politico) che parvero macchiare la sua dignità, del cumulo di ricchezze e del carico di onori contrastanti con la vocazione filosofica stoica. E spesso le ragioni addotte per giustificare il comportamento del Nostro non sono più valide delle accuse. Gli è che Seneca non ha preteso di mostrare se stesso come realizzazione del suo ideale o come modello esemplare da imitare. Anzi ha diffusamente parlato delle sue contraddizioni, della lotta tra desideri e ragione, tra realtà ed ideale, tra pratica e teoria; e in lui la filosofia ha avuto proprio il compito, se non anche la giustificazione, di perfezionare l'imperfetto e di guidare l'incerto. Precisamente queste antitesi profonde del suo carattere sono quelle che danno alla sua personalità il fascino e l'attrattiva delle cose vive, della materia non inerte; e la stessa asistematicità conferisce al suo pensiero quel senso di concretezza che ne assicura la modernità. Spirito inquieto è la più ricca espressione del 'barocco' imperiale, ed è appunto il filosofo realmente esistenzialista (nella linea romana) del mondo antico. Sentì l'antinomia di otium e negotium, di tranquillitas animi e di taedium vitae, di passione e di ragione, sentì soprattutto imperioso il richiamo della vita ed il pensiero della morte: ed avvertì che può capitare qualche momento in cui, nonostante cari vincoli ed altri pur nobili motivi, è necessario saper assumere la responsabilità suprema e saper affrontare la fine. Tacito, riferendoci che egli sine ullo funeris sollemni fu cremato, aggiunge una frase illuminante, che coglie la coerenza fondamentale di Seneca, secondo cui egli può essere giudicato: ita codicillis praescripserat cum etiam tum praedives et praepotens supremis suis consuleret (Ann. XV, 64, 5—6). Nel colmo della ricchezza (ebbe possessi in Roma e vicinanze, nonché in Egitto) e della potenza Seneca pensava dunque alla morte. A questo pensiero egli è stato sempre fedele, e perciò ha potuto vivere in mezzo agli onori ed alle ricchezze senza legarsi ad esse, ha potuto vivere senza servire la vita. Parecchie opere di Seneca sono andate perdute: orazioni, 'Exhortationes', 'De situ et sacris Aegyptiorum', 'De officiis', 'De situ Indiae', 'De superstitione',

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'Libri moralis philosophiae', 'Epistulae ad Novatum' (in almeno 10 libri), ' D e matrimonio', 'De immatura morte', 'De remediis fortuitorum ad Gallionem', ' D e forma mundi', 'De piscium natura', ' D e motu terrarum', ' D e lapidum natura'. Già da questi titoli è visibile l'inclinazione del suo spirito per le indagini geografico-etnografico-scientifiche, nonché per la filosofia morale, discutendo problemi pratici o religiosi, o soffrendo l'incertezza della vita. E ' ancora constatabile la scarsezza di interessi puramente ed astrattamente metafisici, anche se non si debba credere che il suo pensiero morale manchi di fondamenti teoretici; inoltre il tono epistolare, cordiale quasi, che qualche opera rivela nel suo titolo stesso. Ci sono rimasti i cosiddetti 'Dialoghi', cioè 10 scritti filosofici composti in epoca difficilmente determinabile con sicurezza. Veramente di dialogico, nel senso nè platonico nè aristotelico-ciceroniano, questi scritti hanno ben poco: il nome è dovuto ed a reminiscenze filosofiche, dei Σωκρατικοί λόγοι ο διάλογοι ο διατριβαί, ed alla maniera espositiva eminentemente colloquiale, intima di Seneca, quasi un dialogo con se stesso o con un amico, ed alla tecnica di origine diatribica dell'interlocutore fittizio. Essi sono nell'ordine dato dai manoscritti: I — 'Ad Lucilium de providentia'; II — 'Ad Serenum de constantia sapientis'; III — 'Ad Novatum de ira libri tres'; IV — 'Ad Marciam de consolatione': Seneca attingendo alla tradizione della consolatoria dimostra che la morte è implicita già nella vita, e che quindi è irrazionale il lutto, tanto più che l'aldilà è migliore dell'aldiqua; V — 'Ad Gallionem de vita beata'; VI — 'Ad Serenum de otio' (lacunoso all'inizio ed alla fine): consiglia di dedicarsi alla vita contemplativa, che è fonte di bene per il prossimo, fin dalla prima età o di rifugiarsi in essa dopo esperimentate le traversie dell'attività; VII — 'Ad Serenum de tranquillitate animi': vero dialogo, in cui si danno norme anche pratiche per raggiungere quella che i Greci da Democrito a Panezio dissero ευθυμία; V i l i - 'Ad Paulinum de brevitate vitae' ; I X — 'Ad Polybium de consolatione' (mutilo all'inizio); X — 'Ad Helviam matrem de consolatione': originale opera in cui l'autore consola la madre di un male, l'esilio capitato a se stesso, cioè l'interessato consola un altro dei propri guai. Altre opere filosofiche non comprese tra i 'Dialogorum libri' sono: X I — 'Ad Neronem Caesarem de dementia', scritto nel 55—56, dedicato a Nerone diciottenne, constava di 3 libri di cui sono pervenuti solo il I ed il principio del I I : tratta del perdono e della clemenza, nonché dei modi come l'anima perviene a questa virtù; X I I — 'De beneficiis libri V I I ' , dedicati ad Ebuzio Liberale, vogliono essere una trattazione completa, ricca di casistica sul beneficio, sulla riconoscenza, sull'ingratitudine, sull'istinto di fare e ricevere del bene; X I I I — 'Ad Lucilium naturalium quaestionum libri V I I ' , indirizzati all'amico che forse potrebbe essere l'autore dell"Aetna' pseudovergiliana. Attin3»

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gendo a Poseidonio e Lucrezio, e riprendendo studi della giovinezza, in questa vasta enciclopedia, che abbraccia Tuniverso celeste, sublime, terreno' (II, 1) Seneca tratta di astronomia (I libro), lampi e tuoni (II), acqua (III), grandine e neve (IV), vento (V), terremoti (VI), comete (VII). Tratta cioè di meteorologia e geografia fisica prevalentemente, ma con squarci retorici e con sviluppi morali che sembrano il centro dell'opera. X I V — Infine il capolavoro di Seneca, ' A d Lucilium epistulae morales'. Si tratta di 124 lettere distribuite in 20 libri: ma certo altre debbono essere andate perdute. Rappresentano il culmine dell'evoluzione interiore di Seneca. N o n c'è problema, anche quelli dello stile, dell'arte, della scienza, che qui Seneca non tratti in maniera approfondita ed insieme cordialmente aperta, umana „ c o m e si danno i consigli". Q u e s t o sembra essere il lato più appariscente dell'opera: in cui il nostro Autore tanto frequentemente ama servirsi di citazioni pure epicuree, superando, in nome dell'umanità, ogni angustia di scuola. E ' proprio questo aspetto che ha fatto parlare di 'umanesimo assoluto' a proposito di Seneca. T o r nano qui purificati i grandi temi dei singoli dialoghi: della vita e della morte, della servitù e della libertà. Si direbbe che in queste epistole, che pur non ordinate sistematicamente hanno però una loro unità interiore, Seneca, rivolgendosi nell'intimità della lettura attraverso Lucilio agli uomini tutti, ai posteri (posterorum negotium ago, E p . ad Lue. 8,2), ribadisca il suo appello, di meditazione, il suo richiamo alla solitudine pensosa, all'amicizia nello spirito, all'indipendenza dell'anima. C ' è un'atmosfera di contenuto pessimismo per la continua presenza della morte, ma non mancano speranze di immortalità. L'aldilà, l'aldiqua, l'attimo e l'eterno, la missione ascetica della filosofia sono i grandi temi di quest'opera in cui Seneca appare un p o ' come il padre spirituale pronto a vagliare e discutere continuamente, pazientemente, con lunga opera di affinamento, tutti i casi di coscienza proposti dall'allievo. Non tanquam transfuga sed tanquam explorator (Ep. ad Lue. 2 , 5 ) egli raccoglie da tutti i sistemi il meglio ma unificandolo alla luce di una problematica aperta, ricca di contraddizioni feconde e di sensibilità personale. Le fonti del suo pensiero sono complesse, perchè vanno molto al di là della stretta cerchia degli stoici. Si è già accennato ai debiti che egli riconosce verso Epicuro e gli epicurei; si può aggiungere la tradizione aristotelica, particolarmente certi sviluppi topici di dottrine del primo Aristotele platonico e della sua scuola (Teofrasto), nonché la tradizione diatribica stoico-cinica, anche per certa tecnica formale e spunti scolastici generici (ad esempio de exilio, π ε ρ ί φυγής). U n ruolo importante nel pensiero di Seneca hanno Panezio, Ecatone, e specialmente Poseidonio: nonché più recenti, Atenodoro, i Sestii ed altri. Pure l'influenza speculativa di Cicerone non può essere sottovalutata: altrettanto come il largo impiego della citazione poetica anche allusiva, specialmente da Vergilio. Filosoficamente è da osservare che la filosofia, per Seneca Studium virtutis, vertice supremo del sapere, è pervasa da uno sforzo, da uno slancio di adesione sempre più profonda alla realtà di lui soggettiva e dell'umanità intera, ed alla situazione concreta dei suoi tempi. Dalle riflessioni sul governo — la monarchia del rex iustus, costituzionale si può ben dire, basata sulla dementia — a quelle sulla quotidiana vita dell'individuo nel suo continuo contrastare e combattere di

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λογικόν e di αλογον, dall'interesse scientifico non tecnicizzato ma umanizzato in insegnamento e precetto morale, a quello retorico e letterario non di arte pura ma sempre in funzione dell'anima e delle sue esigenze, dalla preoccupazione per la giustizia positiva a quella per una giustizia sociale anche per gli umili e per gli schiavi (col che il suo individualismo rifuggente dalla „massa" va certo messo in prospettiva più giusta), egli ci appare un genio universale che ha saputo veramente dire una parola agli uomini dei suoi tempi ed a quelli di tutti i tempi. Piace a noi la sua concretezza, la sua asistematicità, il suo senso del mistero illimitato, il continuo richiamo alla morte, gli stessi suoi dubbi anche sui problemi sommi, quell'affrontare direttamente ed immediatamente le situazioni nel loro nascere, quell"essere' puro che comporta un senso amaro della nostra vita come comune colpa e dolore, come comune malattia da cui è necessario reciprocamente e cordialmente medicarsi. Questo motivo profondo di solidarietà che emana dall'insegnamento di Seneca pare garantito dal panteistico senso del divino (egli vuole causam deorum agere, de prov. 1,1) e dalla coscienza di una superiore giustizia. Stilisticamente Seneca ha un posto spiccato nella prosa dell'età imperiale, come colui che è riuscito a fare arte della nuova eloquenza instaurata dalle scuole e dai declamatori. Prevale in lui la segmentazione stilistica, è tutto un pullulare di periodi minuti, di minutissimae sententiae (Quintiliano, Inst. or. X, 1,130), con preferenza per la paratassi, con accostamenti improvvisi e lì per lì sconcertanti. E' uno stile caratterizzato dalla asimmetria, ma musicale, àûYinconcinnitas che sembra riflettere però gli ondeggiamenti, e le contorsioni dell'animo: uno stile che era come il suo ingenium, amoenum et temporis eius auribus accommodatum (Tacito, Ann. XIII, 3,1), riflettente cioè appieno l'atteggiamento barocco dello spirito. Ricerca di motti, di clausole, di assonanze, inversioni ed interruzioni volute sono sì retorica: ma retorica che esprime un reale stato di turbamento, di disordine, di complessità interiore, fatta per incidere sulle anime. Un'opera a sè stante nella produzione di Seneca è l"Apocolocyntosis' (da κολοκύντη = „zucca"), cioè la „zucchificazione" o „inzuccamento": il termine è coniato su apotheosis (άποθέωσις) cioè „deificazione" o „indiamento". Essa, come dice il titolo 'Divi Claudi Apotheosis per satiram', è un 'Ludus de morte Claudi', uno scherzo irriverente sulla morte dell'imperatore Claudio (54 d . C . ) e sulla sua apoteosi. Lo strano è che di trasformazione in zucca non è parola nel componimento: onde si è pensato di interpretare il titolo in diverse maniere, forse anche come allusione equivoca. Certo appare ingeneroso che Seneca, il quale aveva scritto per Nerone l'elogio altamente adulatorio di Claudio da pronunciare in senato (parlava perfino di providentiam sapientiamque [Tacito, Ann. XIII,3,1] suscitando le risate dell'assemblea), poi ne schernisse così violentemente la memoria: ma forse è giusto pensare che già l'esagerazione palese delle lodi fosse a fine parodico. L'opera è una menippea, mista di prosa e versi, di grande scioltezza, varietà e libertà compositiva: ma forse è troppo amara e polemica per poter raggiungere le vette dell'arte. Interessa l'enunciazione indiretta del programma politico senecano. C'è poi un certo gruppo di epigrammi, 70, che potrebbero essere di Seneca: ma solo 3 portano il suo nome. E' aperta quindi la questione dell'autenticità pur se sembri che prevalgano ora i sostenitori di questa. Gli epigrammi suoi

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„contengono qualche spunto tragico" (AMATUCCI), O hanno contenuto autobiografico parlando dell'esilio, o esaltano personaggi come Pompeo e l'Uticense, o sono invocazioni, o celebrano la spedizione britannica di Claudio nel 43 d.C. Quintiliano parlando di Seneca dice che egli compose anche poemata (Inst. or. X , 1,125): in questi si debbono vedere certamente, più degli epigrammi, le tragedie, della cui autenticità non è lecito dubitare. Eccole nell'ordine tramandato: 'Hercules furens'; 'Troades'; 'Phoenissae'; 'Medea'; 'Phaedra'; Oedipus'; 'Agamemnon'; 'Thyestes'; 'Hercules Oetaeus'. Come si vede, i temi sono quelli tradizionali della tragedia greca dai cicli troiano, tebano, di Eracle: ed anche le fonti sono costituite dai grandi tragici magari con qualche contaminazione, nè è esclusa l'eco e la traccia di tragici e di poeti romàni. Così la 'Phaedra' dipende dai due 'Ippolito' di Euripide, come pure da Euripide dipendono e le 'Troiane' e T'Ercole furente'; di Euripide contaminato con Ovidio risente la 'Medea'; di Sofocle T'Edipo' e l"Ercole Eteo'. Ma non è nel soggetto la novità del teatro senecano, come neppure nella struttura, nonostante qualche innovazione, quale ad esempio la rappresentazione di Medea che uccide i figli sulla scena. E' un teatro fatto prevalentemente per la lettura anche se qualche tragedia potè essere recitata, e quindi difetta nell'azione: curata ne è la psicologia. Si è insistito molto sulle tirate filosofiche, sulle sentenze, sulle botte e risposte, sulle azioni brillanti, sulla retorica insomma, sull'orrido di questo teatro, dimenticando che è la tragedia di un filosofo, a tesi; e che l'orrido ed il patologico sono voluti, che l'atroce, l'assurdo, il truce, il passionale esasperato e l'ossessivo, come si dice, servono a mettere in evidenza con colori barocchi, in omaggio alla poetica del πάθος sublime, la barocca antitesi di furor e di mens bona o ratio, di pazzia e di saggezza. Aggiungiamo che bene si è rilevata l'evoluzione spirituale e l'idea centrale contenuta in Ercole, il modello dei cinici, che da furens, da pazzo per la passione, attraverso l'espiazione e la sofferenza, diventa degno del cielo. Inoltre il tema stoico del saggio unico signore degli eventi, l'aspirazione alla dulcís quies (Thyestes, V. 313), la visione della morte liberatrice dopo il dolore, il senso del divino così cupo, una coscienza esasperata dell'umanità e libertà, la stessa sentenziosità aspra, l'orrore del male ed il patetico danno a queste tragedie, le uniche intere superstiti del teatro romano, una loro forza impressionante. Non per niente il teatro italiano del Rinascimento, e poi nell'Europa quello della Controriforma nel seicento francese, da CORNEILLE a RACINE, quello stesso dell'ALFIERI ne hanno subito l'influenza, per non parlare dell'interesse attestato già dai commenti del Medio Evo (Trevet). Non si sa quando siano state composte (nè se tutte di seguito o meno), anche se a ragione si può pensare agli anni della maturità del filosofo e dopo il matricidio di Nerone. Prevalgono i monologhi. Il coro spesso assume posizione antitetica ai fatti e rappresenta quasi il sogno contro la realtà: la struttura metrica è data dai senari giambici nei dialoghi, e da metri anapesti in prevalenza nelle parti liriche e corali. A sé sta l'Octavia', l'unica praetexta superstite della letteratura latina. In essa si parla del ripudio di Ottavia da parte di Nerone, che fa morire l'infelice in cui favore il popolo si è sollevato. Non pare possa essere di Seneca, che figura come personaggio, perchè vi è vaticinata con singolare corrispondenza di dati la morte di Nerone (si tratta quindi di profezia post ev entumí): ma date le affinità con

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lo stile senecano, non si andrà lungi dal vero pensando ad un suo contemporaneo, imitatore e ammiratore. Cercare di individuarlo è navigare nel mare magnum di ipotesi necessariamente con scarso fondamento. Seneca non piacque ai retori tradizionalisti, lui che non aveva amato la pura filologia: e pieno di riserve e di perplessità è il giudizio di Quintiliano che ne trovava perniciosissima l'espressione perchè ridondante dulcibus vitiis (Inst. or. X, 1,129), e lamentava che solus hic fere fosse in manibus adulescentium (ibid. X, 1,125). Altrettanto Frontone criticava verborum sordes et illuvies . . . verba modulate collocata et effeminate fluentia, e così pure Gellio; ma piacque subito al pubblico. Ed agli scrittori cristiani sin dai primi, da Tertulliano, da Minucio egli apparve con Cicerone, e più ancora di quello, la voce della coscienza pagana, alle soglie del Cristianesimo. Anzi Lattanzio ben conoscendolo dirà potuit esse verus Dei cultor si quis Uli monstrasset (Div. Inst. VI, 24,13), Martino di Braga a lui attingerà largamente nella sua 'Formula vitae honestae' e nel 'De ira', e così Girolamo ed Agostino. Anzi nel IV sec. fu messa insieme una corrispondenza apocrifa — ma storicamente interessante — di 14 lettere tra san Paolo e Seneca, di cui ebbero cognizione san Girolamo e sant'Agostino. E così Seneca giunse attraverso il Medio Evo ('Seneca morale', Dante, Inf. IV, 141) sino all'età moderna in cui appare uno dei più significativi scrittori e pensatori della latinità. In lui veramente la romanità è divenuta umanità: quella dell'individuo e quella della società, quella dell'oggi e quella di sempre.

2. Lucano Come Seneca potrebbe rappresentare stilisticamente l'anti-Cicerone, così Lucano potrebbe assumere il ruolo di anti-Vergilio. Ma è un'opposizione di forme, una polemica ideale di arte, che non coinvolge atteggiamenti distruttivi e sterilmente iconoclasti. Così l'ostilità di Lucano per Nerone ebbe ragioni personali e politiche, ma in sede d'arte c'è convergenza e comunanza di convinzioni tra i due, nella reazione ai canoni del decor augusteo. Lucano nacque a Cordova, figlio di Mela e nipote quindi di Seneca, il 39 d . C . Ma già bambino di 8 mesi venne a Roma. Fu con Persio allievo di Cornuto in quella scuola stoica dove si coltivava la tragedia, e forse anche in quella grammaticale di Remmio Palemone; declamò in greco ed in latino conforme alla moda del momento ed al filoellenismo che i tempi comportavano. Ma il più ed il meglio della sua educazione fu compiuta sotto la guida dello zio, dal 49: da quello dipende soprattutto la sua cultura filosofico-naturalistica, il suo senso dell'umano destino, il luccichio stesso del suo stile. Fu anche ad Atene; indi entrò, attraverso lo zio precettore di Nerone, nella cerchia degli amici di corte. Giovane di grandi speranze e di precoci affermazioni dovette rappresentare un elemento prezioso nella politica culturale, vagheggiata dal mecenatismo neroniano, di carattere greco-latino. Ma poi i rapporti tra Nerone ed il poeta si fecero tesi: per ragioni di invidia e di rivaltà poetica, dicono le fonti: ma molto più proabilmente anche per cause politiche, quando Nerone cambiò la linea di compromesso col senato patrocinata da Seneca. Allora al giovane, che aveva brillato con molteplici

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composizioni accanto a Nerone, che nel 60 in occasione dei Neronea era stato coronato per le sue 'Laudes Neronis', che anzi tempo aveva conseguita la questura (dando uno spettacolo gladiatorio accetto al popolo), e poi l'augurato, sarebbero state vietate l'attività poetica e quella forense. Male si sarebbe adattato Lucano, secondo le biografie antiche, a questa rinuncia, ed avrebbe composto un carme diffamatorio nei confronti dell'imperatore: indi avrebbe preso parte alla congiura pisoniana. Denunciato, lì per lì non si sarebbe comportato con onore, accusando per salvarsi sua madre: poi stoicamente, declamando suoi versi, avrebbe affrontata la morte nel 65, aggiungendosi alla serie dei filosofi stoici che constituiscono, nella loro opposizione intellettuale e romantica al cesarismo, un vero martirologio pagano che prepara o accompagna quello cristiano. Spirito precocissimo e fecondissimo, ha scritto molto. Ricordiamo tra le opere di maggiore impegno la tragedia 'Medea' iniziata ma non compiuta, e che dimostra in lui, oltre i canti di occasione allora di moda, lo svelarsi di un'apertura per il dramma evidentemente sotto la influenza dello zio. Ed ancora il 'Catachthonion' ossia 'catabasi', ed 'Orpheus', un epillio, forse ripresa del noto episodio delle 'Georgiche', i quali entrambi denunciano l'interesse per l'escatologia orfica e neopitagorica, per quel mondo di mistero e di magia che affiorerà pure nell'opera maggiore: anche qui con viva aderenza alle tendenze dell'epoca, fortemente portata verso ogni forma di soprannaturale, nonostante già Tiberio avesse emanato nel 16 d . C . un decreto contro gli astrologi, vietando il diffondersi di culti e pratiche magiche. Ma tutto il 'Lucano minore' è andato perso salvo qualche frammento: mentre a noi rimane l'opera maggiore, il 'Bellum Civile', detto dal poeta 'Pharsalia' (IX, 985) dal luogo dello scontro decisivo degli avversari (nel VII libro), in 10 libri in esametri. Essa narra la guerra civile tra Cesare e Pompeo dal passaggio del Rubicone all'arrivo di Cesare in Alessandria, con grandi spostamenti di eserciti in ogni parte del mondo; ed è rimasta incompiuta per la precoce morte dell'Autore, come è visibile dalla limitata estensione dell'ultimo libro. Ma è difficile poter dire fino a dove il poeta avrebbe condotta la sua esposizione. L'opera presenta una novità, che fu subito avvertita già ai tempi antichi sia dai critici avversi (Quintiliano, Petronio, Servio), sia dai favorevoli (Stazio, Marziale). E' un epos con caratteristiche assolutamente proprie che lo differenziano profondamente da quello vergiliano. Il mito è bandito, è annullata quella compenetrazione di realtà e di leggenda che configurava anche le vicende reali come profezie, vaticinii, ecc.. Qui si affronta decisamente un argomento storico come tale, basandosi su fonti storiche quali Cesare, le 'Epistole' di Cicerone, Livio, Asinio Pollione, le 'Storie' di Seneca Padre, memorie di personaggi come Pompeo, o biografie di Catone come quella di Trasea. Sono la poetica stoica della verità e l'esempio alessandrino che sostengono questa concezione del poema epico come opera di storia contemporanea senza ambages deorumque ministeria (Petronio, Sat. 118,6). Ma allora è storia? N o , perchè al meraviglioso del mito Lucano sostituisce una tecnica drammatica raffinata, quella appresa dallo zio. Così non c'è un unico eroe nel poema, ma si contrappongono più personaggi; Cesare grande nel male e Pompeo, magni nominis umbra (Phars. 1,135), nessuno dei due perfetto, ciascuno con le sue colpe. Su entrambi il poeta getta una luce di

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ambiguità, come massacratori della libertà per ambizione: anche se la figura di Cesare è depressa soprattutto a partire dal IV libro, mentre dallo stesso punto quella di Pompeo è innalzata, in relazione cioè al cambiamento di idealità politiche dell'Autore, che avrebbe recitati a Nerone e pubblicati i primi tre libri destinati ad essere celebrazione della monarchia, e poi avrebbe continuata e rielaborata per suo conto la sua stessa opera in senso repubblicano, avvenuta la rottura con il principe. Così il poema, che doveva celebrare la fine della repubblica, diventa l'esaltazione della libertà oppressa. Al di sopra dei due personaggi, c'è, oltre la figura di Cicerone, soprattutto quella di Catone, messo sul piano della divinità (il famoso victrix causa deis placuit sed vieta Catonil Phars. 1,128), simbolo di stoica virtù e paladino ideale della libertà. E al di sopra ancora il popolo romano che vive il dramma della lotta fra tirannia e libertà. C'è della Tragedia senecana il patologico, lo spettacolo della dissoluzione dei corpi, il gusto del macabro e dell'orrido. Ed ancora la lotta contro l'uomo e la sua virtù delle entità astratte: il fatum, 1afortuna, realtà ambigue che stoicamente determinano tutti gli eventi umani. Infine anche certi procedimenti particolari, quali i frequenti discorsi ed apostrofi di personaggi. Nel Medio Evo Lucano appunto fu considerato un maestro della tragedia. Inoltre Lucano introduce tutti i colori barocchi che rispondono al gusto del mondo imperiale: lo stupefacente, lo strano, il misterioso (gli episodi di Erittone, Fetonte, Cadmo, Ercole ed Anteo), il lontano, il vago (si ricordi Curzio Rufo!), il cupo, i contrasti di luce e di ombre, le entità astratte, il magico: il portato di quella curiositas nozionistica (desunta da Seneca, e prima da Posidonio, e prima ancora da Nigidio Figulo) ma con connotationi già post-classiche e premedievali che in Vergilio assolutamente mancavano. Alla poetica del decoro e della chiarezza si sostituisce qui quella del πάθος, dell'impeto magnanimo, del sublime, del turgido, del difficile, del μεγαλοπρεπές. Inoltre il poema vergiliano aveva cantato e celebrato con intervento di dei la storia di Roma come retta dalla Provvidenza, che aveva fin dai primordi pensato al destino della città fatale. Il poema di Lucano, questa epopea storico-politica su un argomento così strano e delicato come la guerra civile, banditi gli dei, pone in termini crudi il problema dell'alterna onnipotenza della umane sorti (invida fatorum series, 1,70) e dell'assurdo della storia centrata in Roma (neese Romaferens, 1,72). Il pensiero stoico del suo autore si rivela appunto in questo macerante esame dell'eticità della vittoria. Da questa torturante analisi sui problemi stessi dell'umano destino, così drammaticamente sentiti (in una posizione alquanto vicina a quella di Tacito), scaturisce il gusto dei discorsi, delle sentenze, delle antitesi ad effetto: quasi riflesso di questa interiore oscillazione. Opera quindi di poesia , anche se si insinua spesso il dubbio che possa essere viziata di retorica eccessiva, di letteratura. Poeticamente piacciono il gusto delle rovine e della fine, la commozione per i vinti della storia, l'amarezza con cui è sentita la vicenda umana: ma anche qui piuttosto che di temperamento romantico, come pur si dice, sarà da parlare di complicazioni barocche. Nelle descrizioni, che nel poema abbondano, prevale la scuola e la sua tecnica: come pure lo stoicismo del poeta comporta non di rado un tono predicatorio ed un gusto eccessivo per la massima sonora. L'opera, come si è detto, suscitò subito polemiche a Roma: di cui eco è nel già citato giudizio di Petronio che persegue un ideale di simplicitas opposto a Lucano; in quello di

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Quintiliano che, pur ammirando il poeta ardens et concitatus et sententiis clarissimus, lo definiva magis oratoribus quam poetis imitandus (Inst. or. X, 1,90), infine in Servio per cui Lucanus . . . in numero poetarum esse non meruit (ad Aen. 1,382). Ma subito numerosi furono i suoi fautori: da Marziale (Epigr. XIV, 194 e Epigr. VII,22) a Stazio (Silvae, praef. 11,7). E la sua fama, conforme al vaticinio del poeta (Pharsalia nostra / vivet, Phars. IX, 985—6), grandeggiò nel Medio Evo anche per affinità di gusti e di idealità: si pensi a Dante che lo poneva tra i maggiori poeti (Inf. IV, 9 0 ) . E giù sino all'età moderna, al F O S C O L O ed al GOETHE. Solo con il Romanticismo ha inizio la svalutazione di questo poeta dallo stile difficile e dalla passione politico-filosofica, nel cui poema lottano due ideologie e quasi due concezioni del mondo. Lo stile di Lucano ha l'andatura della prosa declamatoria: il suo verso è tecnicamente perfetto anche se alle volte annoia la sua uniformità e durezza.

C . Sintesi dei valori

Sulla base degli elementi qualificanti, che siamo venuti segnando a proposito dei principali Autori della letteratura giulio-claudia, ci pare di poter sintetizzare lo spirito dell'età, quale riflesso ed espresso negli scrittori e nei poeti, in questi fondamentali momenti: un a s s o l u t o m o r a l i s m o stoico e stoicheggiante che trova la sua manifestazione più compiuta in Seneca, ma anche nella satira, nella favola e in altri generi in versi e in prosa; una v i s i o n e u n i v e r s a l e , ecumenica, che non pone però al centro Roma, ma che, pur senza essere necessariamente antiromana, mette sullo stesso piano Roma e il mondo. Anticipatore di questa prospettiva è Trogo, ispirandosi a Timagene alessandrino. Il 'terzo mondo', diremmo con la terminologia odierna, entra di pieno diritto nella storia. E, conseguenza di ciò, un'attenzione nuova rivolta a quella realtà rappresentata dai cosiddetti 'barbari', visti in una luce non sempre ostile, e con considerazione aperta per i loro problemi. Anzi è bene tenere presente questo punto di vista, centrando l'occhio proprio su Trogo.

I. Pompeo Trogo: crisi di identità del mondo romano nel I secolo d. C.

Il ROSTAGNI nelle acute pagine dedicate all'opera di Pompeo Trogo 9 segnala il significativo passo di XLI, 1,1: Parthi, penes quos velut divisione orbis cum

9

Si v. G . FORNI —M. G . ANGELI BERTINELLI, Pompeo T r o g o come fonte di storia, in: Aufstieg und Niedergang d. röm. Welt II, 30,2, ed. W. HAASE, B e r l i n - N e w Y o r k 1982,

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Romanis facta nunc Orientis imperium est, con la convalida di quanto affermato poco dopo (XLI, 1,7): A Romanis quoque trinis bellis per máximos duces florentissimis temporibus lacessiti soli ex omnibus gentibus non pares solum, verum etiam Víctores fuere, e commenta: „Trogo è fautore della teoria storiografica della successione degli imperi universali, per cui come a quello macedone si sostituì quello romano, così al romano un altro si sostituirà: a giudizio di Trogo, saranno i Parti a raccogliere l'eredità dell'impero universale". E successivamente: „Così giudicando, Trogo rompeva scandalosamente i ponti con la tradizionale fede romana nell'eternità dell'impero di Roma, ed insinuava il germe del dubbio nei Romani del tempo di Augusto . . . Tutti gli ideali augustei erano scossi" (pp. 307-8). Ma vediamo di analizzare minutamente i testi per inquadrare nei suoi giusti termini il preteso antiromanesimo, o meglio il cosidetto filobarbarismo di Pompeo Trogo. Iniziamo con l'osservare che l'enunciato di XLI, 1,1: Parthi, penes quos . . . nunc Orientis imperium est pare più integrazione di Giustino, rispondente ai tempi suoi che non a quelli di Trogo. Infatti, se a Timagene, l'intellettuale di difficile integrazione, 10 si riferisce Livio nel ben noto passo di IX, 18, 6—7, parlando di quei levissimi ex Graeàs qui Parthorum quoque contra nomen Romanum gloriae favent, egli incentra il confronto con Alessandro Magno, ma non parla affatto di parità, anche come riconosciuta ed accettata quasi 'divisione del mondo', spartizione insomma di zone Est—Ovest, a modo di Yalta, di imperi tra Romani e Parti, ma se mai solo di minaccia e di prestigio partico. Ed era questa appunto la situazione ai tempi di Trogo: dopo Carre c'era stata la politica di Augusto e la esaltazione, quanto si voglia esagerata — tanto per fare qualche esempio — di Vergilio e di Orazio e Properzio riguardo ai trofei restituiti a Roma: Vergilio, Aen. VII,601—606: mos erat . . . / . . . nunc maxima rerum / Roma colit. . . / sive Getis inferre manu lacrimabile bellum / Hyrcanisve Arabisve parant seu tendere ad Indos / Auroramque sequi Parthosque reposcere signa (e cfr. Aen. Vili,726); Properzio 11,10,13-18: lam negat Euphrates equitem post terga tueri Parthorum et Crassos se tenuisse dolet: India quin, Auguste, tuo dat colla triumpho, et domus intactae te tremit Arabiae; Et si qua extremis tellus se subtrahit oris, sentiat illa tuas postmodo capta manus (e cfr. Sex. Propertii, Elegiarum liber secundus, edidit P. J. ENK, II, Leiden, 1962, pp. 160-162 col richiamo a Prop. 111,9,54 e Orazio, Carm. 111,24,1). E

10

pp. 1298 — 1362 et R. URBAN, 'Gallisches Bewußtsein' und 'Romkritik' bei Pompeius Trogus, in: ibid., pp. 1424—1443. M. SORDI, Ellenocentrismo e filobarbarismo nell'excursus gallico di Timagene, in: Conoscenze etniche e rapporti di convivenza nell'antichità, CISA VI, Milano 1979, pp. 34 e ss.; ID., Timagene di Alessandria. U n o storico ellenocentrico e filobarbaro, in: Aufstieg und Niedergang d. röm. Welt II, 30,1, ed. W. HAASE, B e r l i n - N e w York 1982, pp. 775 — 797; G. BRUNO SUNSERI, Sul presunto antiromanesimo di Timagene, in: Studi di storia antica offerti dagli allievi a E. Manni, Roma 1976, pp. 91 — 101.

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Orazio? Si veda Carm. IV, 5,25: quis Parthum paveat . . . e soprattutto, a tacer d'altri testi, Carm. IV, 15,4ss.: . . . tua, Caesar, aetas fruges et agris rettulit uberes et signa nostro restituii lovi derepta Parthorum superbis postibus et vacuum duellis Ianum Quirini clausit et ordinem rectum evaganti frena licentiae iniecit ecc. E ancora del resto da Carm. 1,2,61—62: neu sinas Medos equitare inultos / te duce, Caesar; e ancora e sempre in Orazio: Carm. 11,13,17—8: miles sagittas et celerem fugam / Parthi, catenas Parthus et Italum / robur (sc. perhorrescit); Ep. 7,9 — 10: sed ut secundum vota Parthorum sua / urbi haec perirei dexter a?; Epist. 1,18,55—6: . . . Cantabrica bella tulisti / sub duce, qui templis Parthorum signa refigit; Sat. 11,5,62: . . . iuvenis Parthis horrendus; Epist. 11,1,256: et formidatam Parthis te principe Romam; Carm. 1,12,53—6: ille seu Parthos Latio imminentis / egerit iusto domitos triumpho / sive subiectos Orientis orae / Seras et Indos; Carm. 111,2,3—4: . . . et Parthos ferocis / ν exet eques metuendus hasta (sc. robustus acri militia puer), ecc. E' quindi Giustino (contra L . C A S T I G L I O N E Studi intorno alle 'Storie Filippiche' di Giustino, Napoli 1925, p. 12ss. e L. F E R R E R Ò , Struttura e metodo dell'Epitome di Giustino, Univ. di Torino, Pubbl. della Fac. di Lett, e Filos. IX,2, Torino, 1957, p. 103), il breviator (Orosio 1,8), il compendiarius di Pompeo Trogo (Ioannes Saresberiensis, Policrat. 5,12), qui Graecam, vel potius peregrinam, Trogum Pompeium secutus, non Latine tantum sicut ille (si noti), verum edam breviter scripsit historiam (Augustin., De civ. Dei IV, 6), a sottolineare l'equipollenza dell'impero dei Parti rispetto a Roma, quasi preannunciando la teoria della translatio imperii, che del resto compare già enunciata da Valerio Fiacco, per il versante orientale collaterale a quello anche occidentale di Trogo, e che su un piano spirituale-religioso, per giustificare e storicamente inquadrare l'epilogo e lo sbocco cristiano della storia, è presente fin dal Κήρυγμα Πέτρου e dall'Apologia di Aristide. Si legga poco oltre: Postea quoque, cum Imperium Orientis a Medis ad Persas translatum est, veluti vulgus sine nomine praeda victorum fuere. Postremo Macedonibus triumphato Oriente servierunt, ut cuivis mirum videatur ad tantam eos felicitatem (è l'idea della Τύχη così presente tanto negli esaltatori che nei detrattori di Roma! Timagenes felicitati urbis inimicus, dice Seneca, Ep. ad Lue. 91,13) per virtutem provectos, ut imperent gentibus sub quarum imperio veluti servile vulgus fuere (XLI, 1,4—6). E si continua appunto: A Romanis quoque trinis bellis per máximos duces florentissimis temporibus lacessiti, soli ex omnibus gentibus non pares solum, verum etiam victores fuere (XLI, Ma vediamo l'altro punto controverso: la risposta degli Etoli agli ambasciatori romani in XXVIII, 2 esposta, al solito, in discorso indiretto, risposta però di

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cui non è menzione nel prologo autentico di Pompeo Trogo allo stesso libro (ma neppure del discorso di Mitridate, autentico di Trogo, è menzione nel prologo del libro XXXVIII). Però il contesto presentato da Giustino è una rielaborazione, anche con qualche eco verbale, di Livio XXXV, 48 e 49, dove il discorso è attribuito all'ambasciatore di Antioco e ad Archidamo Aetolorum legatus. In sostanza si sbeffeggia la pretesa invincibilità romana dato che furono battuti da Cartaginesi (e riaffiora il motivo sallustiano del metus Punici belli) e soprattutto dai Galli, clamorosamente eliminati da loro Etoli. E poi: quos autem homines Romanos esse? nempe pastores qui latrocinio iustis dominis ademptum solum teneant, qui uxores cum propter originis dehonestamenta non invenirent vi publica rapuerint, qui denique urbem ipsam parricidio condiderint murorumque fundamenta fraterno sanguine adsperserint (XXVIII, 2,8 — 10). Ad essi si contrapponevano loro Aetolos autem principes Graeciae semper fuisse et sicut dignitate, ita et virtute ceteris praestitisse (si noti questo cumulo di parole-valori, solitamente considerati esclusivi attributi romani), che non avevano ceduto neppure ai Macedoni, a Filippo, ad Alessandro (XXVIII,2,11 —12). Infine: monere igitur se Romanos, contenti sint fortuna praesenti (si noti l'implicazione qui negativa della τύχη!), nec provocent arma quibus et Gallos caesos et Macedonas contemptos videant (XXVIII,2,13). E poi si passa dal dire al fare immediatamente: Sic dimissa legatione Romanorum, ne fortius locuti quam fecisse viderentur, fines Epiri regni et Acarnaniae depopulantur (XXVIII,2,14). Osserviamo al riguardo che, a parte la dipendenza da Livio, questa sprezzante risposta degli Etoli è un concentrato di tutta una topica per così dire antiromana, che è tradizionalmente messa in bocca ai 'barbari' o ai nemici di Roma da scrittori latini, non per questo però annoverati necessariamente come filobarbari o peggio antiromani: anzi alle volte sono τόποι che compaiono usati in proprio perfino da poeti latini. Valga ad esempio ricordare Properzio 11,6,19—22: Cur exempla petam Graium? Tu criminis auctor / nutritus duro, Romule, lacte lupae ! / Tu rapere intactas docuisti inpune Sabinas: / per te nunc Romae quidlibet audet amor; e poi Velleio Patercolo attraverso le parole di Ponzio Telesino contro i Romani 'lupi' (II, 27, 2: Telesinus dictitansque adesse Romanis ultimum diem vociferabatur eruendam delendamque Urbem, adiciens numquam defuturos raptores Italicae libertatis lupos, nisi silva in quam refugere solerent, esset excisa·, cfr. L. CASTIGLIONE op.cit., p. VII), per non parlare di Sallustio e poi di Tacito su cui torneremo più diffusamente nel seguito. Del resto si tenga presente anche il caso di Dionigi di Alicarnasso „il quale sia che . . . segua o non segua Varrone, immagina Roma come una αποικία (di tipo greco), derivata da Alba Longa (II, 2,4; 16,2): raffigurazione che naturalmente tornava molto comoda allo storico che voleva presentare Roma come città greca ed anche respingere le accuse rivolte ai Romani di una origine ignobile della loro città" 11 . Ma ecco il testo di Livio, XXXV, 48—49: et Aetolorum legatus Archidamus petiit . . . provectus deinde est intemperantia linguae in maledicta nunc communiter Romanorum, nunc proprie ipsius Quinctii ingratos appellans et exprobrans (si ricordi Giustino-Trogo ex11

E. GABBA, Per la tradizione dell'heredium romuleo, Rend. dell'Ist. Lomb., Classe di lett., se. mor. e stor. 112 (1978), pp. 2 5 0 - 2 5 8 .

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probrantes dicentesque) non victoriam modo de Philippo virtute Aetolorum partum sed edam salutem (e già prima nel discorso dell 'Antiochi legatus . . . non cum Philippo, nec Hannibale rem futuram Romanis) . . . E nel discorso di Quinctius: Aetolorum omnem ferociam in verbis, non in factis esse Livio XXXV, 49,1 e cfr. A. R O S T A G N I , Roma e la Grecia in Tito Livio, in: Scritti Minori 11,2. Romana, Torino 1956, p. 247 e n. 2), e in Trogo-Giustino, come si é visto, gli Etoli: Sic dimissa legatione Romanorum, ne fortius locuti quam fecisse viderentur, fines Epiri regni et Acarnaniae depopulantur (XXVIII,2,14). Nè certo alcuno vorrà tacciare di scarso filoromanesimo Livio, del cui discorso, sia pur con topici ampliamenti, Trogo si è qui ricordato. E poi il discorso di Mitridate riportato in oratio obliqua da Giustino così come scritta da Trogo avverso al modello sallustiano e liviano quod contiones directas pro sua ratione operi suo inserendo historiae modum excesserint (XXXVIII, 3,11 ss.; cfr. anche L. FERRERÒ, Cultura e poesia in Roma, II, Firenze 1961, pp. 85—94 e specialmente pp. 87—94 = fr. 152 ed. O. SEEL, Pompeius Tragus, Fragmenta, Lipsiae 1956). Eccone i temi fondamentali: bisogna resistere adversus latronem, cioè i Romani; i Romani non sono affatto invincibili (cfr. risposta degli Etoli), sconfitti in Bitinia e in Cappadocia da lui stesso; e prima da Pirro, dai Galli che addirittura presero Roma (nec victam solum dici sibi Romam a Gallis sed etiam captam, XXXVIII, 4,8), e alla cui stessa stirpe appartenevano, e, per di più, forniti di acriora ingenia, i Galli presenti nel suo esercito — e Trogo, si ricordi, è della Gallia Narbonese probabilmente. Vinti anche dagli Italici i Romani, domesticis principum factionibus urbem premi con minaccia di guerra civile (XXXVIII,4,9 —14). E infine la procella cimbrica: et a Germania Cimbros . . . more procellae inundasse Italiam (XXXVIII, 4, 15—16). Opportunità quindi del momento per attaccare quella gente assetata di guerra e di conquista: raptum . . . sibi esse victoriae ius ab Ulis quorum nihil est nisi bello quaesitum (XXXVIII, 5,7: che sembra poi approssimativamente echeggiato nel passo della 'Germania' di Tacito, ma riferito proprio ai Germani: pigrum quin immo et iners videtur sudore acquirere quod possis sanguine parare e immediatamente prima tam facile persuaseris quam vocare hostem et vulnera mereri: 14,3). E ancora: sono nemici dei re, ingrati verso quelli o i loro discendenti che li hanno aiutati. E perchè hanc illos omnibus regibus legem odiorum dixisse? perchè hanno avuto re di cui vergognarsi aut pastores Aborigenum, aut aruspices Sabinorum, aut exules Corinthiorum, aut servos vernasque Tuscorum, aut . . . Superbos (XXXVIII, 6,1 — 7); anzi i loro fondatori furono lupae uberibus altos (cfr. appunto Properzio II, 6,19ss.) e di conseguenza tutto quel popolo luporum ánimos, inexplebiles sanguinis atque imperii divitiarumque ávidos ac ieiunos habere (XXXVIII, 6,8). Di fronte a illa conluvie convenarum (XXXVIII, 7,1) Mitridate conclude esaltando la propria nobiltà e discendenza (Ciro e Dario da una parte, Alessandro Magno e Seleuco Nicatore dall'altra), nonché la indipendenza e l'invincibilità dei popoli che con lui combattono. L'Asia opulenta li invoca liberatori dall'oppressione romana: adeo illis odium Romanorum incussit rapacitas proconsulum, Sectio publicanorum, calumniae litium (XXXVIII, 7,1 — 8). Le condizioni generali sotto ogni punto di vista sono quindi favorevoli alla sua impresa, conclude Mitridate, presentandosi come

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campione iustitiae atque liberalitatis, signore, lui, solus regum omnium, di non paterna solum verum etiam externa regna hereditatibus propter munificentiam adquisita

( X X X V I I I , 7,10).

D u n q u e un χ j'accuse » tremendo contro R o m a . Ma basta per bollare Pompeo T r o g o di antiromanesimo? Vediamo dapprima che tutti gli spunti sulla 'rapacità' e gli altri vizi dei Romani già compaiono, a parte Properzio e il coevo di Tiberio lealissimo Velleio Patercolo già citati, in Sallustio, e ricompariranno in Tacito, autori che sulla base di consimili enunciazioni nessuno si è mai sognato di etichettare come antiromani, così come 'antiromano' non può essere definito Agostino che pure queste critiche al dominio romano ampiamente da Sallustio recepì e fece sue. E c c o in Sallustio, Cat. 20, il discorso rivoluzionario di Catilina ai congiurati con un impiego 'sociale' della tematica; analogamente in Cat. 33 la lettera di Manlio ad Marcium Regem in difesa plebis Romanae, a soccorso della misera condizione degli oppressi dai debiti e a difesa della propria libertà; e ancora Sallustio, Iug. 8 1 , 1 :

Romanos iniustos, profunda avaritia, communis omnium hostis esse; eandem illos causam belli cum Boccho habere quam secum et cum aliis gentibus, libidinem imperitandi, quis omnia regna advorsa sint; tum sese, paulo ante Carthaginiensis, item regem Persen, post uti quisque opulentissumus videatur, ita Romanis hostem fore (e si veda anche per i riscontri C . Sallustius Crispus, Bellum Iugurthinum, erläutert und mit einer Einleitung versehen von E . KOESTERMANN, Heidelberg 1971, p. 2 8 4 ) ; Sallustio (Epistula Mithridatis I V , 69 M ) : (5) Namque Romanis

cum nationibus, populis, regibus cunctis una et ea vetus causa bellandi est: cupido profunda imperii et divitiarum; (7) callidi et repertores perfidiae (i Romani); (15) secutique Romani non me sed morem suum omnia regna subvertendi; (17—18) An ignoras Romanos, postquam ad Occidentem pergentibus finem Oceanus fecit, arma hue convertisse? Ñeque quicquam a principio nisi raptum habere, domum, coniuges, agros, Imperium? Convenas olim sine patria, parentibus, peste conditos orbis terrarum: quibus non humana ulla ñeque divina obstant quin socios, amicos, procul iuxta sitos, inopes potentisque trahant, excindant, omniaque non serva et maxume regna hostilia ducant? Namque pauci libertatem, pars magna iustos dominos volunt; nos suspecti sumus aemuli et in tempore vindices adfuturi; (20—1) Romani arma in omnes habent, acerrima in eos quibus victis spolia maxuma sunt; audendo et fallendo et bella ex bellis serendo magni facti. Per hunc morem exstinguent omnia aut occident; (22) Teque illa fama sequetur: auxilio profectum magnis regibus, latrones gentium oppressisse (cfr. C. Sallusti Crispi Orationes et Epistulae de Historiarum libris excerptae, a cura di V . PALADINI, Bari 1956, pp. 64 — 71 e pp. 147—169; E . PASOLI, Le historiae e le opere minori di Sallustio, Bologna 1974, pp. 136—147 col richiamo anche a P o m p e o T r o g o , a Cat. 10, 3 :

primo pecuniae, deinde imperi cupido crevit e a Cicerone, de republ. 3, 35: noster autem populus sociis defendendis terrarum iam omnium potitus est, interessante giustificazione ciceroniana dell'affermarsi imperialistico di R o m a ) . E la conferma è in Tacito, Agricola 15 (la rivolta dei Britanni): . . .

Britanni

agitare inter se mala servitutis, conferre iniurias et interpretando accendere: nihil profici patientia nisi ut graviora tamquam ex facili tolerantibus imperentur. Singulos sibi olim reges fuisse, nunc binos imponi. Aeque discordiam praeposi-

36

LUIGI ALFONSI

torum, aeque concordiam subiectis exitiosam . . . contumelias miscere. Nihil iam cupiditati, nihil libidini exceptum . . . nunc ab ignavis plerumque et imbellibus eripi domos, abstrahi liberos, iniungi dilectus, tamquam mori tantum pro patria nescientibus . . . Sibi patriam, coniuges, parentes, illis avaritiam et luxuriam causas belli esse . . . Plus impetus felicibus, maiorem constantiam penes miseros esse (e cfr. Ann. XIV, 35,2: eo provectas Romanorum cupidines ut non corpora, ne senectam quidem aut virginitatem impollutam relinquant); e Agricola 30 (discorso di Calcago) con ripresa quasi verbale delle critiche contenute in Sal-

lustio e Trogo: (1) initium libertatis toti Britanniae fore . . ., servitutis expertes . . .;(3) et infestiores Romani quorum superbiam frustra per obsequium ac modestiam effugias; (4) Raptores orbis, postquam cuncta vastantibus de fuer e terrae, mare scrutantur; si locuples hostis est, avari; si pauper, ambitiosi, quos non Oriens, non Occidens satiaverit; soli omnium opes atque inopiam pari adfectu concupiscunt. Auferre, trucidare, rapere falsis nominibus Imperium, atque ubi solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant·, 32: (1) An eandem Romanis in bello virtutem quam in pace lasciviam adesse ereditisi nostris itti dissensionibus ac discordiis clari vitia hostium in gloriam exercitus sui vertunt; quem contractum ex diversissimis gentibus ut secundae res tenent, ita adversae dissolvent, nisi si Gallos et Germanos et (pudet dictu) Britannorum plerosque, licet dominationi alienae sanguinem commodent, diutius tarnen hostes quam servos, fide et adfectu teneri putatis; (2) Metus ac terror sunt infirma vincla caritatis . . . Nonché ancora Tacito, Ann. 11,15: Nec Arminius aut ceteri Germanorum proceres omittebant suos quisque testari hos esse Romanos Variant exercitus fugacissimos, qui ne bellum tolerarent, seditionem induerent . . . meminissent modo avaritiae, crudelitatis, superbiae: aliud sibi reliquum quam tenere libertatem aut mori ante servitiumf M a allora in che si risolve il cosiddetto antiromanesimo di P o m p e o T r o g o ? Se mai in una visione non più strettamente quintaría bensì universale del mondo in rapporto alla nuova realtà dell'Impero che supera la stessa ottica 'italica' di Vergilio: ma questa interpretazione 'ecumenica' (su cui si veda anche ora C . P . JONES, T h e R o m a n World of D i o Chrysostom, Harvard University Press, C a m bridge, Massachusetts, and L o n d o n , England, 1978, passim, per l'universalità del mondo romano, anche se in epoca posteriore) è stata già in certo senso anticipata da Cornelio N e p o t e che nelle sue 'Vite' dà spazio a duces excellentes exter arum gentium, e non solo greci, e non certo in polemica antiromana, ma addirittura cartaginesi — e questi sì già tremendi nemici — e fino persiani, preannuncio dei Parti. D a tale ecumenismo nasce, come interesse per quello che ora noi chiameremmo ' T e r z o m o n d o ' , un filobarbarismo che però non è tutto, o solo subordinatamente, politico, quanto invece sentimentale, romantico, risolvendosi nelle istanze moralistiche di simpatia per la natura, che hanno matrice diatribica stoico-cinica, proprie della società del tempo. E qui, mentre da una parte si affaccia il problema, tanto moderno, se indipendenza da uno straniero civile significhi realmente progresso di civiltà o non piuttosto regresso in servitù più stolida, crudele e barbarica (si ricordi il ragionamento di Tacito, e la stessa realtà del regno di Mitridate orientale . . .), se cioè la libertà politica dallo straniero sia in realtà libertà individuale di cittadino e di u o m o (pensiamo che è venuto nel mondo già Gesù, e Seneca è già apparso nel proscenio della storia) —

CARATTERISTICHE DELLA LETTERATURA GIULIO-CLAUDIA

37

trasferimento sociologico della lotta sociale romana interna al rapporto con i sottomessi, i barbari, più ancora che gli schiavi! — dall'altra si assiste all'affermarsi in Trogo, da questo 'confronto' o 'dialogo' con i popoli sottomessi, anziché di un'antitesi irriducibile, di una riflessione, implicita più ancora che esplicita, sull'imperialismo romano e sui modi della sua affermazione, una presa di coscienza critica della società romana su se stessa, una autocritica insomma dopo il secolo dell'espansionismo e del trionfo, nel secolo del 'calvinismo' romano, quando Seneca predicherà l'introspezione e l'inchiesta etica su se stesso e per gli altri. E ' questa crisi che è riflessa in Trogo: un po' come nell'attuale società americana — almeno qualche anno fa — l'insorgere di istanze e scrupoli morali quasi un atto di contrizione e un amaro complesso di colpa. Ma se ora è assurdo, come è stato detto, per l'europeo di questo secolo autoprocessarsi „per colonialismi che furono avventurosi, durissimi, sanguinari, ma che oggi impallidiscono di fronte a ben altra ferocia", e autoflagellarsi „per gli errori" commessi nella sua avida storia, senza mai considerare che ogni storia è solo la spina dorsale dell'erroneo ed avido homo sapiens; se riesce incomprensibile ancora il fatto che „contro la civiltà detta occidentale (un aggettivo con significazioni ormai spregiami) urlano tutti: dall'analfabeta indiano al ribelle guatemalteco, dal professore dell'Uzbekistan all'attentatore palestinese", e che „più degli altri blaterano moltissimi europei ignari di libri e di saggezza, incuranti di qualsivoglia ragione, vittime di irrazionalità demagogiche e castratone per i quali sarà certo marchio d'infamia il nostro sostenere: desidero la mia morte contrassegnata da tutti i nobili tratti di uomo bianco, europeo, non dimentico del Rinascimento, non digiuno di Dante e Machiavelli, non traditore di O m e r o " (G. ARPIÑO), è pur sempre da riconoscere che solo i grandi Imperi, quelli che contano nella storia, sanno anche ammettere, riconoscere e piangere i loro difetti e crimini.

II. Altri aspetti della letteratura

giulio-claudia

Altra caratteristica della cultura del periodo è l'esteso bilinguismo, per cui entrano si può dire nell'orbita degli interessi intellettuali del mondo latino non solo storici, grammatici e geografi greci (come Strabone, Apione e magari anche Timagene! e Nicolao Damasceno) ma altresì Filone, il 'Platone ebraico' (come potremmo dirlo il 'S. Paolo ebraico', definendo quest'ultimo il 'Filone cristiano') particolarmente con la 'Πρεσβεία προς Γαίον' e 1'Έίς Φλάκκον'; e, almeno per il primo periodo della sua vita, Giuseppe Flavio venuto a Roma sotto Nerone: quindi anche ebrei. E in ciò continuandosi e approfondendosi il processo caratteristico della letteratura romana (si veda M. PAVAN, Graecia capta — La cultura greca nell'Italia Romana, in: Il Veltro, 1983, pp. 83—96 e specialmente p. 94 sul „periodo del principato giulio-claudio e poi flaviano"): l'affermarsi stavolta del nascente Cristianesimo in Roma, appunto in greco. E l'ignoto autore del 'Περί ΰψους'? Con la sua citazione dal Genesi? Ma anche, se pure di qualche anno posteriore, si può dire abbia origine proprio in contatto con la cultura filosoficheggiante e con generi letterari tipici di questa età, come il romanzo, la prima 4

A N R W II 32.1

38

LUIGI ALFONSI

letteratura cristiana, dai Vangeli alle Epistole di S. Paolo e dei Padri apostolici, e qualche altro. Così mentre l'idea dell'Impero universale, anche per la suggestione dell'esemplare di Alessandro Magno, si consolida e Roma appare come la sintesi di Atene e Alessandria (dai tempi di Callimaco e forse già in Timeo per i Greci era diventata anche la nuova Sparta), d'altra parte si storicizza tutto lo sviluppo dell'umanità: fin dal Κήρυγμα Πέτρου e dall'Apologia di Aristide come si è detto, e se vogliamo fin dal misterioso passo di tale Emilio Sura in Velleio Patercolo 1,6,6 e poi sino in Valerio Fiacco, come pure già si è accennato. N è deve tacersi l'impegno scientifico della cultura di questa età: dalla scienza agricola a quella cosmologica. Un fervore vivissimo, non più solo quasi fatto personale come in Catone e Varrone, per cui si può dire che la scienza sia il grande ideale, culminante in Plinio il Vecchio, ma presente anche nei poeti del I sec. d . C . Perfino Trogo, autore delle 'Historiae Philippicae', scrive un 'De animalibus'. E in altri campi, come non ricordare Vitruvio con il suo 'De architectura', Pomponio Mela geografo e Columella poeta e studioso di agricoltura e — ripetiamo — Celso autore di una vasta enciclopedia, campione di un 'umanesimo tecnico' con ambizioni di sapere universale, anche per la impostazione filosofica, mai astratta però, che dà alla sua opera? Il vero Umanesimo, non quello strutturato letterariamente dall'Umanesimo e dal Rinascimento, da Erasmo e dalla Riforma, da Melantone sino alla Controriforma, è questo umanesimo scientifico che dal I sec. d . C . si continua sino alla 'tarda antichità' e su cui troppo poco si insiste. Questa ambizione di conoscenze universali, che dall'uomo interiore si estendono al cosmo, si esprime tanto nella 'frenesia di viaggi' che anima molti illustri e meno illustri personaggi del tempo, quanto nell'attenzione per i fenomeni naturali non meno che per le scienze storiche (etnologia compresa) cui si sentono attratti uomini di pensiero e di azione, di otium e negotium: basti pensare a Seneca e ancora, di nuovo, a Plinio. Sia per impulso proprio individuale, anche per superare angosce esistenziali, sia per influenza della scienza greca, sia come evasione nel più spirabil aere della libertà, nella infinita immensità della φύσις, lungi da costrizioni politiche e spesso da viltà di uomini. E così pure un altro aspetto: l'interesse nuovo per il problema educativo, e ne è indizio chiaro non solo l'opera di Seneca Padre, che apre, possiam dir così, il tempo, ma anche la favola di Fedro e la satira di Persio. N è si possono dimenticare le pagine dedicate appunto all'argomento nell'opera petroniana, e precisamente nella parte per noi iniziale di essa. Quintiliano, il protetto di Domiziano, conclude un ciclo. E, conseguenza, la centralità della scuola: non solo palestra di grammatica e di esercitazioni retoriche, anche fittizie, non solo plasmatrice di funzionari, non sempre, assai spesso però anche capaci nell'amministrazione del vasto Impero, ma altresì forgiatrice di educazione completa ed alimentatrice, col supporto della filosofia soprattutto stoica — anche nella veste popolare della diatriba cinica, così frequentemente espressa pure in Fedro, — di una coscienza morale che fosse nel contempo coscienza critica della società stessa — lo si è detto — nella difesa dei valori fondamentali dell'uomo anche se conculcati. Seneca e Persio anche qui insegnano. Dalla scuola alla cultura in generale; del 'barocco' latino, di cui — a parte 'l'espressionismo' caratteristico della poesia romana — si p u ò segnare in Ovidio

CARATTERISTICHE DELLA LETTERATURA GIULIO-CLAUDIA

39

11 'padre' (e forse anche in certo . . . esuberante Properzio), si è già detto abbastanza 12 : tanto più quando si tenga conto attraverso il 'Sublime' dell'influenza della scuola teodorea in contrasto con l'atticismo (potremmo chiamarlo augusteo!!) degli Apollodorei: continuazione ammodernata dell'antitesi di Attici ed Asiani. Ma meglio sarà forse ribadire che esso, come mostra l'esempio vistoso di Seneca, traduce stilisticamente il tormento interiore, l'irrequietezza, l'angoscia esistentiale degli uomini del periodo: nec vitia nostra nec remedia pati possumus avvertiva l'ultimo Livio nella sua praefatio (§9). Perciò il diffondersi di filosofie del raccoglimento interiore, quali lo stoicismo, e lo stesso Cristianesimo, che pure risponde alle istanze religiose largamente avvertite. Come generi letterari, la scomparsa dell'elegia, il canto d'amore - anche se dolente, sempre legato alla vita, — è bilanciata dall'affermarsi del romanzo latino, che mantiene l'elemento fantastico, amoroso, periegetico di quello greco (si pensi, come si è detto, a Vangeli ed 'Atti' apocrifi), acquistando in più una dimensione 'sociale' se non proprio politica, nel senso di rappresentazione, o addiritura, denuncia — distaccata e disincantata quanto si vuole — della società contemporanea: il titolo 'Satyricon' (o 'Satirae') è significativo. E il 'nuovo corso' e relative polemiche circa il poema epico: mito o storia? O loro integrazione? Da ciò la discussione sulla decadenza delle arti e sulla stessa moralità, meglio coscienza morale alimentatrice della grande arte, tematica ben viva e presente nel 'Sublime' che per noi appartiene, come per la maggior parte degli studiosi, al I sec. d. C. Ma appunto l'attenzione che questo ed altri testi riservano all'eloquenza e alle 'cause' della sua 'corruzione' — o, se meglio vogliam dire 'trasformazione' attraverso le scolastiche declamationes, creatrici spesso di fantastici casi preannuncianti il romanzo — porta al centro del gran problema che allora si imponeva con imperiosa novità: quello dei rapporti tra cultura e potere, cui è strettamente legato quello della relazione tra oratoria e libertà politica, nel quale si inserisce anche nel contrasto, e sia pure più avanti nel tempo, il nuovo genere dell"apologetica' cristiana; prima greca e poi latina. Vale più una 'libera cultura' ma nell'anarchia delle istituzioni, o una 'cultura . . . protetta' diremmo noi, ma in uno Stato pacificato (omnem potentiam ad unum conferri pads interfuit, è in Tacito [Hist. 1,1,2] la ragione del principato!)? E la mancanza di libertà politica esterna non può essere riscattata dalla più autentica libertà interiore? E lo Stato può imporsi e sindacare sin nel foro delle coscienze, quando non ci sia aperta proclamazione di principi giudicati eversivi? Ma è possibile una libertà e una convinzione interiore che non si traduca in 'predicazione', in 'apostolato', in 'messaggio' pubblico? Ed ecco come il potere per sua legge e per necessità storica teso ad accentrare e monopolizzare si trova a doversi scontrare con un ambiente in cui è ben matura, almeno a certi livelli di società, la coscienza della dignità umana e il senso dell'autonomia dell'individuo, sempre più teso a garantirsi propri preziosi spazi. Si apre una storia spirituale di cui il mondo civile sarà sempre scenario: fino ai giorni nostri.

12

4*

Sulla retorica dell'epoca, improntata ad uno stile che ricerca volutamente il sublime e il pathos, con riguardo ad Albinovano Pedone e al suo frammento in esametri, si veda V. T A N D O I , Albinovano Pedone e la retorica giulio-claudia delle conquiste, Studi It. Filol. Class. 36, 1964, pp. 129-168 e 39, 1967, pp. 5 - 6 6 .

The Rider and the Horse: Politics and Power in Roman Poetry from Horace to Statius by FREDERICK M . AHL, Ithaca, N e w York and Appendix: Statius, Silvae 3.4 by JOHN GARTHWAITE, Dunedin, N e w Zealand

Contents Introduction

40

I. Poetry and Propaganda

42

II. Turning the Tables

48

III. The Presumption of Sincerity

50

IV. The Artist and Official Visions

55

V. Confrontation

60

VI. Calpurnius and the Golden Age

62

VII. The Aristocrats

70

VIII. The Flavians

78

IX. Statius' Approach to Domitian

85

X. The Largest Horse

91

XI. The Rider on the Brink

97

XII. Poetry and the Theatre

102

Conclusion

108

Appendix : Statius Silvae 3.4 by J O H N

GARTHWAITE

Ill

Introduction This paper explores some of the forces and themes at w o r k in Roman imperial poetry. W e begin with some preliminary reflections on Augustan poetry, because Maecenas' poets have become the standards of what is supremely classical

POLITICS

AND

POWER

IN

ROMAN

POETRY

41

in Roman verse. They are therefore the writers in comparison to whom subsequent writers are conventionally viewed as decadent, as Silver rather than Golden. W e continue our discussion through to the end of the first century A . D . Obviously such a survey must be incomplete; it cannot consider all the surviving poets from all angles. So I have based m y observations on — though not restricted them to — a small number of poets, one of whom, Calpurnius, may be later than our period. 1 These writers are selected partially because they seem to offer in their works a clearer glimpse of the problems facing imperial poets than some of their equally famous contemporaries, and partially because they seem to me in most urgent need of special comment. This is particularly true of Statius, the complexity of whose 'Silvae' rivals that of Horace's 'Epistles' though it has been far less commonly recognized or discussed. F o r this reason Statius receives the most extensive treatment here. His epics, the Abbreviations: ACD AJP ANRW

Acta classica Universitatis Scientiarum Debreceniensis American Journal of Philology Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt. Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung, edd. W. H A A S E / H . T E M P O R I N I , Berlin—New York 1972 ff. AntClass. L'Antiquité Classique CM Classica et Mediaevalia CP Classical Philology CQ Classical Quarterly HSCP Harvard Studies in Classical Philology IL L'Information littéraire JRS Journal of Roman Studies LEC Les Études Classiques PBSR Papers of the British School at Rome RE PAULY'S Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, Stuttgart 1894 ff. REA Revue des Études Anciennes REL Revue des Études Latines WS Wiener Studien. Zeitschrift für klassische Philologie und Patristik 1

E. CHAMPLIN, The Life and Times of Calpurnius Siculus, JRS 68 (1978) 95-110; G. B. Calpurnius Siculus and the Munus Neronis, JRS 70 (1980) 166—174. TOWNEND concedes at least this much to CHAMPLIN'S argument in his observation: "Champlin has probably chosen, in the reign of Alexander Severus, the only other period for which any sort of case might be made" (p. 174). R. MAYER'S Calpurnius Siculus: technique and date, JRS 70 (1980) 175 — 176, often weakens, rather than strengthens, the case against CHAMPLIN by misrepresenting the stylistic evidence. Bibliographies of Neronian and Flavian writers are found in the accompanying articles in this volume and ANRW II.32.2—4 (1984/85); for other recent treatments, see: Ancient Writers, ed. J. LUCE, New York 1982, vol. 2, 807—1062; and the 'Cambridge History of Classical Literature', ed. E. J. KENNEY, Cambridge 1982, vol. 2. TOWNEND,

I owe many thanks to those who have offered suggestions on this paper:

R O N BASTO,

J O H N GARTHWAITE, STEVE R O G E R S , A R T H U R POMEROY, STEVE FARRAND, JAMES W I L L I S ,

P H I L M I T S I S , D O N M C G U I R E , and above all DOUGLAS L I T T L E , DAVID ARMSTRONG and JOHN SULLIVAN and to the Johns Hopkins University Press for permission to re-use parts of my 'The Art of Safe Criticism in Greece and Rome,' AJP 105 (1984) 174-208.

42

F R E D E R I C K M. A H L

'Thebaid' and 'Achilleid', are mentioned only cursorily. They demand much more detailed discussion than is possible here. Since virtually all surviving poetry from Octavian to Domitian either emanates from imperial and senatorial circles or pertains to them in some way, I have tried to explore, insofar as possible, the relationship between poets and principes in this period. In particular, I have examined the effects upon poetry of the presence or absence of pressure to write propaganda or to support in other ways official 'truths' or 'visions'. Roman poetry of the first centuries B.C. and A.D has a political soul, which, unfortunately, still leaves many modern critics uneasy. There remains much justice in BOWRA'S observation of post-Romantic poetic tastes: "Many people dislike the notion that poetry can have any connection with politics, and think that even if we extend politics to cover a whole range of public events, it stands in an awkward relation to poetry, that its incursions are usually unsuccessful and often deplorable, and that its influence defiles an otherwise pure art". 2 Here is the dilemma of many Western European and American critics. Trained in our vernaculars in Romantic poetic values, we tend, albeit unwittingly, to distort Greek and Roman poetry, by approaching it as if it conformed, or should conform, to our half-conscious Romanticism. Latin poetry tries much harder than Romantic poetry to persuade us, to change us. It is poetry highly conscious of, not rhetorically indifferent to, its reader. So we must approach it with caution if we are to understand it rather than to be persuaded by it.

I. Poetry and

Propaganda

That Roman literature of Julio-Claudian times is so intensely political in its themes and flavor is hardly surprising. The Roman world had undergone profound changes as a result of the prolonged civil strife which preceded the Pax Augusta·, and not everyone was happy with those changes. The issues perceived in the civil wars were consequently fought out again and again by orators and poets. And from this debate two conflicting views as to the meaning of the civil wars emerged. Julius Caesar and his opponents had realized from the outset that civil war is as much a matter of propaganda as of battles. 3 Neither he nor Pompey was 2 3

C . M. BOWRA, Poetry and Politics 1 9 0 0 - 1 9 6 0 , Cambridge 1966, p. 1. See P. JAL, La guerre civile à Rome. Étude littéraire et morale (Pubi. Fac. des Lettres de Paris Sér. Recherches 6), Paris 1963; also IDEM, Bellum civile . . . bellum externum dans la Rome de la fin de la république, L E C 30 (1962) 2 5 7 - 2 6 7 ; IDEM, Les dieux et les guerres civiles, R E L 40 (1962) 170—200; IDEM, La propagande religieuse à Rome au cours des guerres civiles de la fin de la république, AntClass. 30 (1961) 395—414; H . DUBOURDIEU, Le passage du

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intending to destroy Rome in the sense that the Greeks destroyed Troy or Scipio Carthage. The battle was for control; and the winner had somehow to induce the loser to accept or endure his victory. Thus Caesar's policy of dementia in victory was well calculated. It left the opposition in hopeless rhetorical spasms. To accept a pardon from Caesar was to admit one had been wrong to oppose him. 4 His dementia made it difficult to characterize him as a tyrant, since convention demands that a tyrant be savage and cruel. Because Caesar did not kill his Roman political foes after his military victories, they had little alternative but to defy him either by killing themselves, as Cato did, or by killing him, as Brutus and Cassius did. But because Caesar had been so generous with pardons and with money, killing Caesar would not necessarily appear to everyone to be an act of tyrannicide. It could be represented, rhetorically, as the wanton murder of a most generous and clement man. And it was this generosity and clemency that provided Antony and Octavian the pretext for rallying Caesar's supporters and troops to their causes after the assassination. Caesar's rhetorical mask was not complete. His opponents did succeed, by and large, in suggesting that he had royal pretensions; and they came up with Brutus, descendant of the supposed founder of the Roman republic, to lead the conspiracy against him. History was being manipulated so it would appear to repeat itself, much as it was manipulated at the battle of Thapsus when both armies were commanded, technically at least, by a Scipio. Only a Scipio could win in Africa, the prophecies claimed. And each side wished to justify its victory by appearing to follow in Scipio's footsteps. 5 The notion of the second Brutus served to suggest a parallel not only between Caesar and Tarquín, but one between the cause of Brutus and his supporters and libertas. A similar success was achieved by viewing Cato's political actions in terms of Stoic heroism and wisdom. These were durable propaganda victories. N o matter how hard Octavian later tried to call his opponents Pompeians, as they called his faction that of Caesar, the opposition had carried off the ideological laurels by successfully identifying themselves with a cause, libertas, rather than simply with individual men. 6

Rubicon d'après Suétone, César, et Lucain, IL 3 (1951) 122 — 126; 162 — 165; P. GRENADE, Le mythe de Pompée et les Pompéiens sous les Césars, REA 52 (1950) 2 8 - 6 3 ; R. LOUNSBURY, History and Motive in Book Seven of Lucan's Pharsalia, Hermes 104 (1976) 210—239; G. PFLIGERSDORFFER, Lucan als Dichter des geistigen Widerstandes, Hermes 87 (1959) 344—377; M. RAMBAUD, L'art de la déformation historique dans les Commentaires de César (Ann. de l'Univ. de Lyon, 3E Sér. 23), Paris 1953; R. SYME, Caesar, the Senate, and Italy, PBSR 14 (1938) 1 - 3 1 ; IDEM, The Roman Revolution, Oxford 1939; Ch. WIRSZUBSKI, Libertas as a Political Idea at Rome during the Late Republic and Early Empire, Cambridge 1950; E. CIZEK, L'époque de Néron et ses controverses idéologiques (Roma Aeterna 4), Leiden 1972. 4

See F. AHL, Lucan. An Introduction (Cornell Studies in Classical Philology 39), Ithaca

5

Suetonius, Julius 59; Plutarch, Caesar 52 — 54; Cassius Dio 43.58. Cf. AHL, op. cit. 110. Tacitus, Annals 4.34; Seneca, Controversiae 10, preface 5; R. M. OGILVIE, A Commentary on Livy, Books I—V, Oxford 1965, 2ff.; for a different view, see H . BENARIO, Augustus Princeps, in: A N R W II.2 (1975) 7 5 - 8 5 ; cf. Η. E. STIER, Augustusfriede und römische

1976, 1 0 7 - 1 1 1 ; 6

190-197.

44

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The fatal flaw in Caesar's propaganda was that it was, ultimately and obviously, self-aggrandizing. H e passed off his victories in the civil war as the defeat of foreign foes, and he made little attempt to disguise the power he had acquired. His adoptive son, Octavian, made no such errors. First, under the pretext of an avenging son's pietas, he systematically obliterated Caesar's foes. Then, in a campaign which was as much propaganda as war, he obliterated Antony, by taking advantage of his association with Cleopatra, and by portraying him as someone who intended to bring foreign and female domination upon the Roman world. But, his victory assured, and Rome securely under his control, Octavian did his very best to give the impression that he had restored the state, not changed it, much less overthrown it. 7 As the fighting ended and Octavian attempted to consolidate his victory, each side settled upon a battle to serve as the symbol of what the wars meant historically and spiritually, and what they were to mean for the continuing rhetorical war. These battles were not the same for victor as for vanquished. Normally one could argue that every battle which means victory for one side means defeat for the other. But this really is not true of the Roman civil wars. Although Octavian had been on the winning side at Philippi and Brutus and Cassius on the losing side, there were obvious reasons that the victor might not want to make much of this victory. True, Philippi was crucial to his career. But Philippi was, if anything, more Antony's victory than his — and, given his later struggle with Antony, Octavian had little to gain by reminding people of it. His earlier association with the triumvirate, the proscriptions and other acts of violence were not particularly useful propaganda. His opponents, in fact, had gained more from Philippi on that score than he had. It was here that Brutus and Cassius had died, and with them libertas and the republic. As Tacitus puts it in Annals 1 . 2 \ p o s t q u a m Bruto et Cassio caesis nulla iampublica arma.* Philippi was more a cudgel for his opponents to use on him than a useful rhetorical weapon for Octavian. From Octavian's point of view, Actium had much more to be said for it than Philippi. H e needed to calm tempers, not to inflame them further. Actium was, after all, the last, and thus the u l t i m a t e battle of the civil wars, heralding the beginning of peace. It could be represented as a foreign rather than a civil conflict, thanks to the timely affair between Antony and Cleopatra (even though Roman troops were involved on both sides). This made it appear as l e s s than a civil war. Further, Octavian's ideological opponents had no more use for Antony than did Octavian himself. Antony had fought against the cause of libertas K l a s s i k , i n : i b i d . , 3 — 5 4 ; also H . WAGENVOORT, S t u d i e s in R o m a n L i t e r a t u r e C u l t u r e a n d Religion, Leiden 1956, 7

43-79.

See W . W . TARN, T h e B a t t l e o f A c t i u m , J R S 21 ( 1 9 3 1 ) 1 7 3 - 1 9 9 , H . VOLKMANN, K l e o p a t r a . P o l i t i k u n d P r o p a g a n d a , M u n i c h 1 9 5 3 ; I. BECHER, D a s B i l d d e r K l e o p a t r a in d e r G r i e c h i s c h e n u n d L a t e i n i s c h e n L i t e r a t u r ( D t . A k a d . W i s s . B e r l i n , S e h r . d . S e k t i o n f. A l t . W i s s . 51), B e r l i n

1966, especially p p . 23—26; for additional bibliography,

see B .

HALLER,

A u g u s t u s u n d seine P o l i t i k : A u s g e w ä h l t e B i b l i o g r a p h i e , i n : A N R W I I . 2 ( 1 9 7 5 ) 5 5 - 7 4 . 8

A t the b e g i n n i n g o f t h e ' H i s t o r i e s ' , h o w e v e r , T a c i t u s i m p l i e s that A c t i u m m a r k s b o t h the e n d o f R o m e ' s great a g e a n d the b e g i n n i n g o f d e s p o t i s m : postquam

at que omnem potentiam

ad unum conferri pacis interfuit,

magna

bellatum apud Actium illa ingenia cenere. H i s t . 1 . 1 .

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at Pharsalia and Philippi; he had ordered the execution of Cicero and many others. In short, Actium was an appropriately understated victory, one void of ideological issues and counter propaganda for the Pompeians, and, consequently, one Octavian could celebrate without trampling the raw nerves of his ideological foes. What made Actium attractive to Octavian made it rhetorically, as well as historically, unattractive to his opponents. They wanted to show that Octavian's victory was won over staunch patriotic resistance, not over a foreign foe. So Philippi, though also a defeat for their cause, was better suited to their propaganda: a reminder of what Octavian had destroyed to win his position. But Philippi was not perfect. As years of Julio-Claudian rule went by, Philippi looked too much like the tombstone of the republic. Its hero in defeat, Brutus, was more rhetorically useful as the threat of tyrannicide ever poised above the victor than as the martyr of libertas.9 Cato was the obvious claimant to the latter role. The earlier wars with Caesar offered a richer variety of motifs than those with Octavian. They were fought all over the Mediterranean, over the sites of Rome's past victories. Scipios battled over the graves of Carthage. Rome, as Horace puts it in Epodes 7 and 16, was collapsing of her own strength. More important, the struggle with Caesar had established a pattern of how tyranny could be — and was — avenged in a historical context. But Philippi had yet to be avenged. History did not help the poets by making the chief symbolic combatants of the earlier wars brothers, to complement the common civil war theme of fraternas acies which Statius employs in the 'Thebaid'. But it did make them socer and gener: it is as socer and gener that Anchises identifies Caesar and Pompey to Aeneas in Aeneid 6. 828 — 831. This conflict of father-in-law and son-in-law is the supremely R o m a n paradigm of civil war, going back to the legends of Romulus, Titus Tatius, and the rape of the Sabine women. Ovid, in Metamorphoses 1. 144 — 145 observes cynically of the iron age: vivitur ex rapto: non hospes ab hospite tutus, non socer a genero, fratrum quoque gratia rara est. This relationship was to provide Lucan with his motif of cognatas acies in the 'Pharsalia'. The handiest w a y of dealing with Philippi, then, is the one Vergil adopts (Georgics 1. 490) and Ovid and Lucan follow. They take advantage of the fact that Pharsalia and Philippi were fought in Northern Greece and treat Pharsalia and the double battle of Philippi as if they were all one event. 1 0 By establishing this identity, they imply that Philippi affirmed the verdict of Pharsalia. This con-

9 10

See AHL, Lucan. A n Introduction, 310—326. Pharsalia 1.680, 694; 6.582; 7 . 5 9 1 - 5 9 3 ; 7.872; 9.271 f f . (where Lucan concludes his account of Pharsalia by calling it Philippi). C f . Statius, Silvae 2.7.65—66. For the suggestion that Lucan and others confused Pharsalia and Philippi out of ignorance, see O . A . W . DILKE, Lucan, De Bello Civili VII. Revised f r o m the Edition of J . P. POSTGATE b y O . A . W . D . , Cambridge 1960, p. 33.

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centration on Pharsalia rather than on Philippi does have a major flaw. It makes Caesar, not Octavian, the arch-enemy. There were, then, two perspectives on what had happened in the civil wars: the 'Actium School' of Octavian, and the Tharsalia-Philippi School' of his foes. And for obvious reasons, the Tharsalia-Philippi School' is somewhat more tentative in its statements after Octavian's victory until A . D . 14 than is the 'Actium School'. The saga of Philippi, or its earlier 'twin' battle, Pharsalia, was a dangerous subject for a writer in the last decades of the first century B . C . , even though both battles were Caesarian victories. Horace warns Pollio: . . . incedis per ignis suppositos òneri doloso. (Odes 2.1. 7—8) As Horace's imagery of the ashes suggests, the proponents of the TharsaliaPhilippi School' were champions of something which, in terms of contemporary realities, was like a fire that had, so far as the eye could tell, died. But there were beneath the ashes embers, which, given the right conditions, and fuel on which to feed, could burst into flame once more. This latent fire of civil war threatens both winner and loser. For it serves as a reminder to Octavian, no less than to Pollio, that only the surface has cooled down. N o matter how placidly dead the landscape, the embers still smoulder. We should, of course, notice that in Horace's imagery the landscape is desolate and dead, not burgeoning with new life at the advent of peace and prosperity. The rhetorical needs of the Tharsalia-Philippi School' are quite different from those of the 'Actium School'. Above all, Octavian's opponents had to keep alive the memory of what had been lost. They needed the past, they needed facts, history, anything, in short, which would give the semblance of reality to what no longer had any form. All they had salvaged from the civil wars was a handful of abstractions, notably libertas. The ideal of the republic needed a body; and, for the moment, only history could provide it. The 'Actium School' had precisely the opposite problem. It had a very obviously living body; but it needed an ideal, a soul, if it were to survive rhetorically. At this point Octavian's sense of rhetorical logic, perhaps, drew him to one of the most extraordinary political maneuvers in history. If Brutus and Cassius could successfully claim to have restored the republic by murdering the victorious Caesar, perhaps he could achieve precisely the same rhetorical point by destroying himself, or rather his identity. His best ploy might be to suggest that nothing at Rome was changed as the result of his victory, and that the agent of victory, Octavian, no longer really existed. So, his victory assured, and Rome securely under his control, Octavian simply vanished. In his place appeared Augustus, a kind of divinely spiritual adjective. The man who had, in his foes' opinion, made the republic a disembodied spirit became one himself — or sought to persuade people that he was. N o longer should one call the ruling force at Rome Octavian, but Augustus. O f all the myths of Rome, none is more astonishing and durable than that of Augustus. Octavian's path to power had been by means of Caesar's identity, not his own. With his adoption by Caesar, his family name, Octavius, had become a

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qualifying cognomen, a reminder that he was a Caesar by name rather than by blood. His means of retaining power was to remove the final traces of Gaius Octavius. Octavian's essential genius lay in perceiving that the best way to retain power once it is acquired might well be to induce people to forget not just how you came by it, but that you really had it — or even still existed. Unlike Caesar, the victorious Octavian did not seek to embellish his name with titles and honors. He saw his identity in terms of power itself rather than in terms of the names and forms, which are traditionally the means by which power is defined and thus contained. It was in o t h e r s ' preoccupation with names and forms that he discerned the possibility of controlling the Rome he had conquered. Augustus is the creation of the supreme eiron, the supreme dissimulator. And so successful was this ploy, that even today, literary scholars and historians alike are most scrupulous, when writing about this period, to describe the ruling force at Rome by the appropriate name, Octavian or Augustus, in accordance with the historical date of Octavian's fictional disappearance. Having thus disposed of Octavian, the ruling force could now concentrate on providing itself with some kind of idealized aura to suit its name, Augustus. Not all the tangible and undeniable contemporary realities of the world after Actium were, of course, unequivocally bad. The cessation of war did mean a chance for peace and prosperity. And if one could somehow portray the civil war as a struggle towards that final goal of peace and prosperity, then perhaps one could find a way of making its actual outcome less unpalatable to those who had opposed Octavian. Hence, probably, the myth of the Golden Age, which, like every political myth, needs some sort of basis in what the people will take to be fact. More of a problem, however, than dressing up the potentially helpful facts was that of getting rid of the awkward ones. After all, Octavian was victorious, and victory does not necessarily say any more than that might is right. Further, whereas Caesar had done his best to maintain an image of generosity and fairness in victory, Octavian had done nothing of the sort. History told of his victories; but it also told of the illegal and bloody methods he had used to gain them. B y deifying Julius Caesar, and by adopting the myth that the Iulii were descended from Venus and Anchises through Aeneas, whose association with Rome predated the city's foundation by Romulus, Octavian created the illusion that he, far from being a usurper, was somehow identified with Rome before the city's very birth. By gathering to his cause the finest artists and writers of his day, and inducing them to participate in mythicizing himself and the city, he succeeded in communicating to posterity a vision of the New Golden Age of which he was the creative genius. And, with suitable irony, the poets of Maecenas' circle were to serve not only as his means of communicating this vision to posterity, but as the most enduring evidence of its existence. An age that produced the works of Maecenas' poets surely merits the epithet Golden. Obviously such propaganda looks rather better at a distance than from close at hand. Those who knew Octavian personally or who had suffered from his proscriptions were not likely to be deluded. But Octavian, like every myth-maker, knows that distance from the palace and distance in time disguise the imperfections. He, no less than those who opposed him, grasped one thing very clearly:

48

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AHL

that R o m e , whatever R o m e was going to be, had many years before her. Today's propaganda might well be tomorrow's grand vision. Hardly less important to the success of Octavian's propaganda — perhaps indeed a tribute to its success — is the absence not only of any contemporary and o v e r t l y critical account of his rule, but of any thoroughgoing attack in later generations. Tacitus hurries from Philippi to Tiberius; Suetonius begins his account of the Caesars with Julius Caesar, not Octavian. This relative mildness of subsequent attacks, combined with Tacitus' and others' emphasis on the savagery of Octavian's successors may not support the notion of a durable Saturnian Age. But it does leave the impression that the reign of Octavian is, perhaps, an era of stability and reason between the madness of civil war before it and what is taken to be the oppressive tyranny of the later Julio-Claudians and Flavians. T o some extent, later R o m a n writers probably took it for granted that Octavian's seizure of power would appear to posterity as it appeared to their contemporaries: an act of usurpation which the name princeps was intended to disguise. F o r them Octavian's Golden Age must have seemed so obviously a fiction which, with Octavian's death, had faded from importance and from view, that there was no particular need to attack it in detail. What they did not foresee was that the Augustan view of R o m a n history would, in years ahead, be vindicated among humanists. Classicists tend toward the 'Actium School' rather than the TharsaliaPhilippi School'. There is in us a streak of pragmatic fatalism which inclines us to argue that what happened had to happen. Because Octavian won the war, it was inevitable — and thus, somehow, right — that he should rule. And here is the heart of our problem. W e have lost our objectivity.

II. Turning the Tables

A policy of clemency does not necessarily indicate that he who employs it is 'genuinely' clement. Cicero, for instance, regarded Caesar's clemency as treacherous, insidiosa (Ad A t t . 8 . 1 6 . 2 ) . Seneca refuses to call Octavian's actions after Actium clemency; they are, rather, " w o r n - o u t cruelty" (De d e m e n t i a 1.11): ego vero clementiam non voco lassam crudelitatem. Statius talks about the cruel suffering of young men before Domitian's clemency b e g a n (Silvae 3 . 4 . 7 3 ) : but a clemency that begins can also e n d . 1 1 11

On Statius and Domitian's dementia, see J. GARTHWAITE'S discussion of Silvae 3.4 on p. I l l ff. in this volume; AHL, Lucan, 173 — 183 and IDEM, Lucan and Statius, in: Ancient Writers (above, note 1) 917—941; for a different view of Statius and Domitian's dementia, see J. F. BURGESS, Statius' Altar of Mercy, CQ n. s. 22 (1972) 339—349; on imperial dementia see G. DOWNEY, Tiberiana, in: ANRW II.2 (1975) 9 5 - 1 3 0 (especially 9 6 - 1 0 5 ) and the sources cited; cf. also J. R. FEARS, The Cult of Virtues and Roman Imperial Ideology, in: ANRW II 17.2 (1981) 8 2 8 - 9 4 8 .

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It is difficult to discern the real motives of those involved in the struggle for power. And even among emperors themselves, Octavian was proverbially difficult to read. The emperor Julian, in Banquet of the Caesars 309 A—B, compares the changing Octavian to a chameleon: 'Οκταβιανός έπεισέρχεται πολλά αμείβων, ώσπερ οι χαμαιλέοντες, χρώματα καί νυν μέν ώχριών, αύθις δε έρυθρός γινόμενος, είτα μέλας καί ζοφώδης καί συννεφής άνίετο δ' αύθις εις Ά φ ρ ο δ ί τ η ν καί Χάριτας . . . Is the 'real' Octavian the Octavian of the proscriptions and the civil wars, or the Octavian of the pax Augusta — after his clemency began? For many modern scholars the distinction Octavian himself made between Octavian and Augustus furnishes the answer. He changed, like Saul on the road to Damascus, from fiend to friend. We forgive Augustus for Octavian, Paul for Saul. We are doing, in short, what Octavian's propaganda intended us to do. He perceived that those distant from him in space and time were the real audience to be persuaded, not his immediate political critics. The civil war is, in a sense, no more than one violent chapter in the attempt to define what the nature of eternal Rome will be: Roma quid, esset, as Lucan puts it (Pharsalia 7.132). Because the Roman civil war is a more than military struggle, and the attempt to control the way people think more intense than the effort to control their bodies, poets belong on the front lines with the soldiers and the generals. Hence the comparison, common among the Roman elegists, of poetry — notably love poetry — to military service. The poets knew their city's name, in Greek, means 'power', and that ROMA reversed is AMOR. Amor, "love", usually desires to control someone or something. And Roma often symbolizes the object desired, as amor symbolizes desire itself. In poetry, both Amor and the founder of the Roman race, Aeneas, are the children of Venus. Tibullus comments on their brotherly relationship: impiger Aenea, volitantis frater Amoris (2.5.39). The vocative of Aeneas, AENEA, itself a palindrome, focuses attention on the similarity. This fraternal, mirror-image relationship of Roma and Amor is not limited to love elegy. Venus, in Aeneid 1. 666—669, appeals to her winged son to help his brother arrive safely in Italy by taking lulus' place and making Dido fall in love with Aeneas:

ad te confugio, et supplex tua numina poseo, frater ut Aeneas pelago tuus omnia circum litora iactetur, odiis Iunonis iniquas, nota tibi . . . The language of love and power flirt with each other throughout JulioClaudian literature, culminating, perhaps, in the figure of Pompey in Lucan's 'Pharsalia'. Roma is to Pompey synonymous with love. Wherever his wife Cornelia is, "here was Rome to m e " — hie mihi Roma fuit (Pharsalia 8. 133). His dying words are those of a lover seeking solace in the admiration of those he loves, not those of a soldier making a last gesture of bravado: gnatus coniunxque peremptum, / si mirantur amant (8. 634—635). Pompey's final word is amant: "they love".

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Many poets in Octavian's day found the court of Amor a refuge from that of politics and war. Ovid, in Amores 1.1. 1—4, declares: arma gravi numero violentaque bella parabam edere, materia conveniente modis; par erat inferior versus: risisse Cupido dicitur atque unum surripuisse pedem. The lame pentameter gives the poet only one good marching foot, and thus exempts him from military service. Yet, by the conventions of love elegy, service to Amor is like service to Roma: militât omnis amans, says Ovid in Amores 1.9.1 Similarly Propertius in 1.1.4 portrays himself as the victim of love militant: et caput impositis pressit Amorpedibus. The rhetoric of love elegy is that of the conquered seeking to control the forces that have conquered him. The admission of defeat is a prelude to the attempt by the vanquished to turn the tables on his conqueror. She has made him hers. N o w he will make her his. Octavian's elegists are more obviously defiant than his other poets. Rome is Octavian's. But the poets have no more given up hope of later success than have Elegy's rejected lovers. They continue and transform the struggle against the conqueror instead of just commenting ambiguously on it. Carmina may lure the moon from the sky, or make rivers run backwards to their sources. They also make words, such as Roma, flow backwards; they reverse the tide of history with the magic of language. In serving all triumphant Amor rather than all triumphant Roma, the elegists define Rome as differently as they spell it. And Ovid's banishment indicates that Octavian was not unaware of the verbal and political play among Amor, Roma, and, we should add, Mores. Augustan poetry often shows tension between what the poet is asked to produce and what he declares he is capable of producing. The visions of Rome restored and of the 'August One', its restorer, are political rather than poetical, just as the medieval and renaissance vision of the Church triumphant is that of the cleric rather than of the painter or troubadour. Neither Horace nor Vergil necessarily loved the figures he presents any more than El Greco loved the inquisitor or cardinals he painted. The 'real' Horace is as elusive as the Veal' Augustus.

III.

The Presumption of Sincerity

We are less ready to allow that an admired poet could be 'duplicitous' than that an admired politician is. We still assign great moral value to the 'sincerity' of a writer's statements. One ought to believe in what one says. We recognize and we despise the kind of formal courtesy that D . H . L A W R E N C E attacks in, say, cSt. Mawr', and which veils, ever so thinly, a deadly duel: "Mankind, like a horse, ridden by a stranger, smooth-faced evil rider . . . Mankind no longer its own master. Ridden by this pseudo-handsome ghoul

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of outward loyalty, inward treachery, in a game of betrayal, betrayal, betrayal. The last of the gods of our era, Judas supreme." 1 2 As a result of widespread aversion to such 'insincerity', critics of Roman literature tend to assume that professions of love for a Cynthia or Delia and faith in, say, imperial godhood among poets must be sincere. For to suggest that Horace or Vergil did not really believe all that they appear to be saying is somehow to lessen their value. Horace recognizes that hyperbolic compliments can be a form of conflict, a cut and thrust gladiatorial contest, that inflicts no obvious wounds: caedimur et totidem plagis consumimus hostem lento Samnites ad lumina prima duello. (Epistles 2.2. 97—98) He is describing the kind of forced insincerity to which he is compelled while he is numbered among the literati: discedo Alcaeus puncto illius; ille meo quis? quis nisi Callimachus? (99—100) After all, there are two ways in which one can interpret such compliments. H o w does one know which is meant? Is your fellow poet saying that y o u rival Alcaeus, or that you have plagiarized him? It is, as Horace notes a little earlier in the epistle, the same problem one faces with the two brothers — the standard stuff of civil war — who nowadays are lawyers and pour undiluted compliments upon each other (87—89). Yet the presumption of sincerity still lies at the heart of much criticism of what w e call Augustan poetry, a presumption based on a still earlier assumption that we really know the kind of people the poets and their emperors were. F R A E N K E L , for example, comments thus on Horace, Odes 2 . 7 , where the poet tells us that he escaped the battle of Philippi by throwing away his shield: " W h y did he insist on such a drastic sign of cowardice? . . . The friend to whom the ode O saepe mecum is addressed survived because he took part in the celeris fuga from Philippi. That was an undeniable fact. B u t t h e l a s t t h i n g H o r a c e w o u l d w i s h to d o w a s to h u r t h i s f r i e n d ' s f e e l i n g s . . . It is characteristic of Horace that he will always ascribe to himself any particular weakness with which a friend has to be charged or against which he is to be warned." 1 3 There are, however, numerous possible explanations of Horace's reference to his desertion at Philippi. It reminds the reader that Horace is himself a man of Philippi, for all his praise of Actium. He did fight for the republic, and his flight from that battle was the turning point in his life. His emphasis on his

12 13

D. H. LAWRENCE, St. Mawr and The Man Who Died, New York 1953 , 70. Horace, Oxford 1957, 12. For a view of Horace closer to FRAENKEL'S see D. LITTLE, Politics in Augustan Poetry, in: A N R W 11.30.1 (1982) 2 5 4 - 3 7 0 . E . FRAENKEL,

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desertion could be what enables him to avoid criticizing the cause for which he fought: he was unworthy of the republic, not the republic of him. Even the implied comparison with Archilochus is somewhat ambivalent. For Archilochus declares his intention to purchase a new shield; he is to remain a soldier-poet, not cease being a soldier and become a poet. N o r can we assume that Pompeius — to whom the poem is addressed, and who, as F R A E N K E L notes, is "otherwise unknown" (p. 11) — is nothing more than a friend returning from exile whose feelings Horace does not want to hurt. Horace's sense of ironic appropriateness had led him to address his famous ode on the passage of fleeting years to a man named Posthumus (Odes 2.14); it may not have entirely deserted him here. Philippi, as Vergil pointed out in Georgics 1.489—492, was the second Macedonian battle of the civil wars. The first was Pharsalia. And Pompey, who lost Pharsalia, found his way to at least temporary safety after the fighting by fleeing as Horace and his friend Pompeius did at Philippi. For an- instant, the two Pompeys and their battles coalesce. Horace could be suggesting that Rome, like the poet, threw away something at Philippi she was never to retrieve: libertas. We should bear in mind that Odes 2 opens with a poem that stirs recollections of the civil wars: the Ode to Pollio, which, like 2.7 — and the Roman odes at the beginning of 3 — is in Alcaics. And at the end of Odes 2 . 1 , we find Horace suggesting that he must halt before he is carried away by his Musa procax to sing, like Simonides, laments for the famous dead instead of his usual ioci. " C o m e with me to Dione's cave and seek a lighter theme" (2.1.37—40). Dione's cave: thoughts of Venus' love for Anchises and, of course, Aeneas. Before we apply moralizing assumptions about the author to our critiques of Roman literature, we should ask ourselves how one actually goes about writing sincere praise of an ironical ruler. T o praise the historical Octavian is not necessarily to praise the mythic Augustus; Octavian ceased to exist when Augustus comes into being. And to praise the mythic Augustus is to praise an idea rather than a person, the public political image which controls the state by progressing from triumvir and consul to the more abstract tribunicia potestas. The problems facing the poets of Octavian's time were not those of, say, Phemios in the O d y s s e y ' . Phemios, like the suitors, failed to recognize the disguised Odysseus, but hoped his art would earn him forgiveness while the rest of the household was being cut to pieces (Odyssey 22.330—380). Horace and Vergil recognized Octavian beneath Augustus. But to profess that recognition openly was to flirt with danger. If they sought to criticize, they must fight the civil war of compliments. For art, we are told, lies in its concealment. Its power, like Octavian's, lies in its irony. And Octavian, like Odysseus, is as much the poet as is the epicist. T o subvert him one must re-establish the truth by undermining the ironic fiction with yet another irony. Just as Octavian can transform Actium from civil war to foreign by his propaganda, so Horace's Lollius can reconvert it to civil war while staging, presumably for Octavian's benefit, a version of that same battle in which he himself plays Octavian and his b r o t h e r plays Antony (Epistles 1 . 1 8 . 5 8 - 6 6 ) . And what more appropriate site on which to stage it than rure paterno (Ibid., 60)? Even if the emperor catches the point, there is not a great deal he can do about it; because to admit that he has caught it

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POETRY

is to acknowledge its accuracy. Still, Horace warns Lollius later in the poem, in an appropriately nautical metaphor:

dulcís inexpertis cultura potentis amici: expertus metuit. tu, dum tua navis in alto est, hoc age, ne mutata retrorsum te ferat aura. (Epistles 1 . 1 8 . 8 6 - 8 8 ) But even Horace's warning to Lollius is a means of recording for posterity what Lollius did. Playing at ironical subversion — which is what cultura can come to be — with the master of irony is something even experts fear. As H o r a c e tells Trebatius in Satires 2 . 1 . 1 7 — 2 0 , one has to pick one's time carefully when approaching Caesar:

nisi dextro tempore, Flacci verba per attentam non ibunt Caesaris aurem, cui male si palpere, recalcitrat undique tutus.

(18—20)

Horace's use of the words recalcitrat, palpere, and the clever wordplay on his own name, Flaccus, sketches a very curious picture here. T h e verb palpere is suggestive, as LEJAY, quoting Ulpian (Dig. 9 . 1 . 1 . 7 ) , notes, of the manner in which one would approach «un cheval difficile»: a soothing caress, calculated to allay its fears. It is also, of course, indicative of the «caresse du flatteur».14 Recalcitrat suggests a horse kicking. T h e name Flaccus, as Pliny points out ( N H 1 1 . 5 0 . 1 3 6 ) , is derived from the fact that the original bearers of this name had flabby ears — something unusual since human ears, alone among those of all animals, are immobile:

aure s homini tantum immobiles (ab his Flaccorum cognomina). This draws atten-

tion, of course, to Horace's description of Augustus' ear as attentam, stretched, alert, attentive, as in Accius fr. 2 8 1 ( R I B B E C K ) : simul aurem adtendo ut quirem exaudir e amplius. T h e alert ears are either those of the eavesdropper, or those of the animal waiting for orders. O n e recalls the winds, in the first simile of the Aeneid 1.148 — 153). T h e y , like seditious people, wait dog-like, arrectis auribus, upon the words of an acknowledged master worthy of respect. B u t H o r a c e , as his name suggests, has ears which naturally droop. O n e cannot expect obedience from a Flaccus. Thus Horace's horse and its human rider represent, as does LAWRENCE'S somewhat different application of the same image, an allegory of power. T h e horse, physically, is stronger, faster, and larger than the would-be rider. But, intellectually, it is no match. T h e rider's ability to make the horse o b e y him demonstrates, rhetorically, the superiority of intellect to sheer strength. M o r e important, the rider's superior intellect allows him to supplement his own limited

14

P. LEJAY, Œuvres d'Horace (Satires), Paris 1911, ad loc. For another — but obscene — word-play on Flaccus in Horace, see Epodes 15.11 — 12: O dolitura mea multum virtute Neaera! / nam siquid in Fiacco virisi, / non ferer adsiduas potiori te dare nodes, / et quaeret iratus parem.

5 ANRW II 32.1

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prowess with that of the horse, to achieve that invincibly centaur-like unity of man and beast. But just as the strong must be wary of the clever, as the horse should be of man, so the clever must be wary of the strong. One must find the appropriate moment to make one's approach, one must calm and cajole the beast with flattering caresses. Let us pursue this imagery of the horse a little further: in Epistles 1.10 34—43 Horace takes up the fable of the stag and the horse fighting for control of the pasture that really they should have shared. The horse took man for his ally after being defeated by the stag, but found his vengeance upon his foe had been achieved at the cost of slavery to man:

non equitem dorso, non frenum depulit ore. sic qui pauperiem veritus potiore metallis liberiate caret, dominum vehet improbus atque serviet aeternum, quia parvo nesciet uti. (Epistles 1 . 1 0 . 3 8 - 4 1 ) T o seek and obtain help in avenging a defeat or consolidating a victory is to risk being dominated by your helper. Indeed, there is an element of absurdity in asking others to help you in your quest for sole dominion over what is supposedly common ground. This fable of the horse and the stag is found in other ancient writers. Aesop and Phaedrus give slightly different versions involving a horse and a wild boar (Fables 269 PERRY and 4.4, respectively). The earliest version in the Horatian form is in Aristotle, Rhetoric 1393 B . Aristotle says it was composed by the poet Stesichorus as political advice, warning the people of Himera against giving the infamous tyrant Phalaris a bodyguard. Since Horace is himself a lyric poet giving advice about dealing with kings, the allegorical content of the fable may be less important than the (unstated) parallel between the circumstances under which he and Stesichorus are using it. In Horace, Rome is Octavian's horse. But that does not mean the battle for control is over. In Satires 2.1, Horace makes the would-be rider the poet, and the emperor himself the horse. As man conquers horse by superior intellect and cunning, so the writer can conquer the ruler — or so he thinks. But he who would ride the horse must approach it without exciting suspicion. Once the horse detects what is going on, and starts kicking, he is safe from attempts to bridle him:

undique tutus. The hallmark of the poetry produced during Octavian's rule is this residual sense that the princeps can be challenged and outfoxed by the writer. It is a dangerous game. Horace knew this as well as Persius and Juvenal did later. But we should not deny the poet his courage. As Horace observes in the Ars Poetica 466, poets should be conceded the right and the ability to die: sit ius liceatque

perire poetis.

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IV. The Artist and Official Visions

From the symmetrical exterior of ancient verse, which must be polished to perfection, to the individual word within a line, everything is ordered. Yet the careful structuring should not delude us into thinking that the images and ideas expressed by that structure are themselves finite and distinct. Within his lines, the poet creates a vast nexus of complementary and warring themes; he can suggest infinite depth and infinitely receding levels of meaning. He must be master of the forms he uses, not they of him. Thus his language, meter, and the conventions of his genre, become the limits against which he constantly strains his artistic and intellectual muscles. F o r the scholar and critic form, unity, the one answer that explains everything may be the desired goal. But for the poet form, unity, the simple answers provided by custom, are often the givens ; and he will set himself the task of stretching and individualizing the bounds of form, seeking the latent pluralism in a word or an idea, showing the complexity of the questions to which custom provides the simple answers. The poet, in short, may take delight in working against and under constraints; and his individuality may express itself as and in tension — even conflict — between himself and the traditions and forms with which he works. Poetic form contains and directs an inner e n e r g y not just inert m a t t e r , as form often does for the philosopher. And those works of poetry are often most attractive in which the energy seems on the brink of overwhelming the form. Poetic form without that energy is a lifeless shell. As Horace observes of the dancer, the playful movements belie the agony of their creation:

ludentis speciem dabit et torquebitur, ut qui nunc Satyrum, nunc agrestem Cyclopa movetur. (Epistles 2 . 2 . 1 2 4 - 1 2 5 ) The torment of writing, of course, m a y be caused by forms other than the purely poetic. Because the very nature of his art hones his abilities to work creatively within a set framework, the poet, like the painter, is capable of producing masterpieces which elaborate and praise the visions of men other than himself, even visions he wholly disagrees with. It may well be that what makes Augustan poetry great is, paradoxically, the fact that the poets were pressured into becoming spokesmen for a régime and for a myth about which they had considerable reservations. In Satires 2.1, Trebatius tells Horace that if he really must write

aude Caesaris invicti res dicere, multa praemia laturus.

laborum (Satires 2 . 1 . 1 0 - 1 2 )

5'

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N o t only does Trebatius point out that there's money in it, but that it is as certain a cure for amor scribendi as swimming the Tiber three times and marinating one's body in wine is for insomnia. If all else fails, these drastic remedies are available. Horace, however, declines to write like this on the grounds of inability or exhaustion: cupidum, pater optime, vires/deficiunt (ibid. 12—13). In somewhat similar vein, Horace narrates, in Epistles 2.2, addressed to Florus, the story of one of Lucullus' soldiers, a thrifty man, whose worldly goods were stolen while he was asleep. So he stormed a rich royal garrison, took it, and became wealthy. This feat caught his praetor's attention; and the praetor prevailed upon him to storm another castle: "i, bone, quo virtus tua te vocat, i pede fausto, grandia laturus meritorum praemia. quid stas?" post haec Ule catus, quantumvis rusticus: "ibit, ibit eo, quo vis, qui zonam perdidit, " inquit. (Epistles 2.2.37-40) A stab at Florus' long and loyal service with Tiberius, perhaps. He should, by now, have learned to rest on his laurels. But the italicized words echo, of course, Trebatius' observation in Satires 2.1. Although the response of the rustic soldier to his praetor differs from Horace's response to Trebatius — "Ask someone who needs the money," rather than: "I'd like to, but I don't have the strength" — both are, in fact, saying " n o " . As we proceed further into Epistles 2.2., Horace tells us that he himself lost everything after Philippi, and poverty drove him to write poetry: paupertas impulit audax ut versus facerem: sed quod non desit habentem quae poterunt umquam satis expurgare cicutae, ni melius dormire putem quam scribere versus? (51 — 54) With affected soldierly lack of sophistication Horace is saying what he said more politely in Satires 2.1. The cups of hemlock mentioned evoke memories of Socrates' death — a rather drastic form of medical purgation. It was Socrates' refusal to come to terms with his accusers and with the city of Athens that brought him to the draught of hemlock. Horace has, of course, compromised himself in the past, when in need. N o w he would deserve the hemlock if he compromised himself again. But what of Horace's desire to sleep? In Satires 2.1.7 he tells Trebatius nequeo dormire: I cannot sleep; and in Satires 2.7, his slave Davus comments on his insomnia in the free spirit of the Saturnalia — a nice reminder in itself that the first Golden Age was an age of freedom: adde quod idem non boram tecum esse potes, non otia recte ponere, teque ipsum vitas fugitivus et erro, iam vino quaerens, iam somno fallere curam: frustra; nam comes atra premit sequiturque fugacem.'

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un de mihi lapidem? 'quorsum est opus?' unde sagittas? 'aut insanii homo aut versus faàt? ocius hinc te ni rapis, accedes opera agro nona Sabino. (111-118) Davus, who throughout the poem has shown how Horace is guilty of everything he accuses others of, now completes the demolition. Horace is running away from himself. He is both pursuer and pursued. His attempt to avoid himself makes him a fugitivus, yet he pursues himself with Anxiety as his companion. Horace's reaction to this is to appeal for weapons: first a stone. He will stand and fight his tormentor with whatever comes to hand. When Davus asks "What for?", Horace requests arrows instead, as if he has acknowledged that he is retreating and wishes, like a Parthian, to counter-attack while fleeing, or like Orestes, to drive away the Furies of his guilt. A mystified Davus concludes that Horace is either mad or composing poetry, for the military imagery in his reactions to the charges of self-avoidance seems too extravagant. To a servant, such as Davus, fugitivus would most naturally suggest a runaway slave. To Pompeius' companion at Philippi, who had thrown away his shield and his cause and was now the servant of the new régime, it might have had deeper associations. Horace's last threat, after the mention of poetry, is: "If you don't go away you'll end up doing the ninth tasks on the Sabine farm." Is this a worse, or a milder fate than being stoned or shot with arrows? It is hard to tell, since it is not at all clear what Horace means by opera . . . nona.15 But the Sabine farm, on which the threatened penalty is to be exacted, was Horace's reward for singing of Octavian. Despite the attempted recusatio and the back-handed compliments Horace offers Octavian, he conforms superficially to 'Augustan' themes. For Octavian, if we are to believe Suetonius' 'Life of Horace', was very cunningly patient with his poet. When Horace declined a secretaryship, Octavian ne recusanti quidem aut suscensuit quicquam aut amicitiam suam ingerere desiif, and when Horace failed to include him in his 'Satires' and 'Epistles' Octavian complained: irasci me tibi sdto, quod non in plerisque eius modi scriptis mecum potissimum loquaris; an vereris ne apud posteros infame tibi sit, quod videaris familiaris nobis esse? The reply Octavian received to this last appeal, Suetonius tells us, is Epistles 2.1, with its formal and rather tart dedication:

15

Scholars have generally taken opera . . . nona to mean that Davus will be added to an eightman labor force already there, e. g. LEJAY, ad loc. This seems a little lame. Possibly Horace is suggesting some kind of contrast between the freedom of the tenth month (December) with which he urges Davus to speak in lines 4—5; possibly there is some kind of reference here to the kind of tasks one might do on the Novendialia, a special nine-day festival held after a particularly inauspicious event — notably when it rained stones (Livy 34.45.8: et sacrificium novemdiale factum est, quod.. .in agro suo lapidibus pluvisse; cf. Livy 38.36.4), or after a birth or death (see Horace, Epodes 17.48). More to the point, perhaps, funeral games for the dead were usually held after nine days (Servius on Aeneid 5.64 and Statius, Thebaid 6.238), see E. MARBACH, RE 17.1 (1936) 1180-1181 and the sources cited there.

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cum tot sustineas et tanta negotia solus, res Italas armis tuteris, monbus ornes, legibus emendes: in publica commoda peccem, si longo sermone morer tua tempora, Caesar. (Horace, Epistles 2.1.1—4) Yet this sermo is the longest of all Horace's 'Satires' and 'Epistles' up to this point. In fact, only the 'Ars Poetica', of all his poems, is longer. And Octavian, unlike Trebatius, is not allowed to say a word. Horace is usually far more circumspect in his references to Octavian. And if Suetonius is accurate in his report of Octavian's appeal, we may find our explanation as to why he is not here. B y this time Horace may have realized, as Lucullus' soldier in Epistles 2.2, that his commander needed him more than he, the no longer impoverished poet, needed his commander — hence the variation in the epistle on the theme of Achilles' dept to Homer, perhaps. His reputation assured, Horace does not have to write any more. Octavian, however, wants something more from him, as does the praetor from Lucullus' soldier. So he hints that his omission from Horace's 'Satires' and 'Epistles' could be construed as an insult. " A r e you afraid posterity will think ill of you because you appear to be on close terms with m e ? " H o w is Horace to respond to this question? For Octavian has probably hit a nerve. The poet who praises a tyrannical ruler may perish with him in the backlash following his death. Yet to remain silent after Octavian has asked this question is to admit what the question implies: chiefly, that Horace really thinks Octavian is a tyrant. This apparently ingenuous question is something of a challenge, to which Horace m u s t reply. The poet has been outmaneuvered with a veiled threat which will look to later generations like the reprimand of a slighted friend. The tone of Horace's epistle to Octavian is less playful than usual. H e reminds himself somewhat sardonically of the damage " w e poets can do to ourselves when, among other things, we h o p e : "

eo rem venturam ut, simul atque carmina rescieris nos fingere, commodus ultro arcessas et egere vetes et scrìbere cogas. (Horace, Epistles 2 . 1 . 2 2 6 - 2 2 8 ) Horace's description seems to mirror Octavian's methods. The emperor has the promising poets sought out, offered financial support, then pressured to write. And, Horace acknowledges, Octavian has fared better than Alexander in his choice of poets. H e has Vergil and Varius; Alexander had Choerilus, whose ineptness made Alexander appear a Boeotian in poetic judgment. 1 6 There is a savage sting in this last remark, not only because Boeotians were proverbially stupid, but because Alexander had totally destroyed Boeotia's chief city, Thebes —

16

On Choerilus, see C. O. BRINK, Horace on Poetry: the Ars Poetica, Cambridge 1971, 365-367.

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except for the house of its most famous poet, Pindar (232—244). Had Octavian done the same for the dwellings of Vergil and Horace while 'restoring' Rome? Epistles 2.1 concludes with a reminder, and a hint. The reminder, 245 — 59, tells Octavian that Horace is incapable of the high themes of Vergil and Varius, although he wishes he were capable. The hint is a worthy response to Octavian's apparently ingenuous question which may have provoked Horace to write the poem in the first place: sedulitas autem stulte quem diligit urget, praecipue cum se numeris commendai et arte; discit enim citius meminitque libentius illud quod quis dendet, quam quod probat et veneratur. nil moror officium quod me gravai, ac ñeque ficto in peius voltu proponi cereus usquam nec prave factis decorari versibus opto, ne rubeam pingui donatus muñere, et una cum scriptore meo, capsa porrectus opería, deferar in vicum vendentem tus et odores et piper et quidquid chartis amicitur ineptis. (Epistles 2 . 1 . 2 6 0 - 2 7 0 ) Vergil and Varius, Horace had declared earlier, have given Octavian tributes as fine as bronze statues (245—250). But desire for this kind of praise from everyone will make you look stupid. I would not trust myself to poetry and to artistry, Horace argues; it can bring ridicule more easily than serious admiration. O n e would get a wax, not a bronze portrait, a sort of cheap, distorted — and still malleable — mass-produced image; or poems that will end up as wrapping paper for vendors of perfumes and spices — or even worse. I would not want this for myself. Neither, Horace implies, should you. This should not lead us to suppose that Horace seriously thought this poetry worthless. He is, rather, hinting to Octavian of something he probably knew Octavian feared: the danger of inept eulogies, of forced and badly written flattery. Perhaps he is saying: if you do make me write this kind of thing Octavian, it is not just I who will be damned by posterity, but you too. You've had your money's worth from me, now leave me alone. For all this, however Horace has responded to the question. Octavian has got what he wanted. Even in forcing Horace to rebuff him, Octavian has succeeded in eliciting the personal attention he desires from a man he recognizes as a great poet. And, in allowing the poet to rebuff him, he has left a favorable impression to posterity of his own liberality. For Octavian probably perceived, as Horace clearly does, that the best way to sell something is to suggest to the buyer that it is not quite perfect: prudens emisti vitiosum (Epistles 2.2.18). Ironically, Horace may be thinking of himself: for his example is that of a salesman selling a slave who has only one fault — he runs away. O f all the qualities one would n o t desire in a slave, a propensity for running away would rank high. And Horace had run away from his former leader and cause at Philippi.

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Octavian, however, was not just a buyer of fugitives. H e was the seller of the myth of R o m e reborn. A n d there was no better way to convince us of the value of his myth than to remind us that it has its own little flaws too. What probably made the myth of the Golden Age of Octavian so believable is the fact that the kind of coercion he exercised upon his writers was such that later generations envied it. H e gave them money; he allowed them to set their laments for the lost past in counterpoint to the required paeans of the new Golden Age. But write they must. Ultimately Octavian triumphed. F o r in persuading Horace to write of him and Vergil to write of Aeneas, the foundation of the Roman race, and the association of the Iulii with R o m e ' s mythic roots, he placed his poets in a virtually impossible rhetorical trap. Whatever Vergil did was bound to help rather than to hurt Octavian's cause, provided he gave at least lip-service to the basic propaganda. For even if Vergil attempted to subvert Aeneas or Octavian with hollow praise, he could still be useful. The more hopeless, confused, irrational and even treacherous one makes Aeneas appear to be, the more he will appear the slave of destiny, and his victory a tribute to the determination of heaven rather than to the principle of might is right. Thus, paradoxically, the smaller one makes Aeneas, the better this Aeneas may serve the ironic emperor. Instead of a paean of triumph, one would find a more complex symphony in which the sadness threatens the joy, in which major themes are transposed into minor keys: recollections of defeat, the agony of victory. Octavian probably saw with greater clarity than his poets that most people are, in fact, content with the unpoetic assumption that outer form is reality. The undercurrents and the tensions within poetry will be interpreted simply as the artist's struggle to express that final vision and that final form — if they are noticed at all. Essentially, if each overt reference to him and to his myths, when taken o u t of context, had something nice to say, Octavian had gained all that was needed. The struggles to resist simply added energy and greater artistic tension to the vision. A n d so, in a sense, Vergil and Horace may well have profited as much as did Octavian from this bizarre symbiosis, even if all parties sincerely loathed one another.

V.

Confrontation

Octavian's contention that traditional public government had been restored, that nothing had changed, was obviously untrue. But almost everyone felt constrained to give lip-service, however ironical, to this fiction for the duration of Octavian's life. There was no practical alternative. GIBBON wisely noted: " I t was dangerous to trust the sincerity of Augustus; to seem to distrust it was still more dangerous."17 17

E. GIBBON, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ed. J. B. BURY,

London 1909, vol. 1, p. 67.

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Octavian 'the August' ruled so long and with such overt ambiguity that even if Tiberius' claims not to want to succeed him had been heartfelt, he could not have convinced anyone close to the palace he meant what he said. His ultimate consent to become princeps seemed to demonstrate that the principate was his goal. Tiberius' succession served notice that the principate would not vanish, as Sulla's régime had vanished, with its creator's death. In this sense Tiberius was the most important of all the Caesars. For he first i n h e r i t e d power. And that may well be why Tacitus pays so much attention to him, and so little to Octavian. It was as dangerous for the principes to admit the Roman state had changed as it was for critics to proclaim it. The official myths of the republic restored which Octavian originated, and his Julio-Claudian successors maintained, created an atmosphere of distrust between senate and palace which made cooperation extremely difficult. Octavian's successors found it as difficult to trust the senate as the senate found it to trust them. Tiberius, Caius, and Claudius seem to have been more interested in silencing dissent than in encouraging poetic panegyric — or poetry at all. Not until Nero's reign did the literary climate improve. For Nero was himself an artist, a poet, a visionary, determined to use his power to fuel artistic creativity. His reign is marked by a flourishing of poetry and literature in general such as had not been seen since Octavian's days. Yet the last Julio-Claudian, as we see him in Tacitus and Suetonius, is virtually the antithesis of Octavian. 18 As a result he very nearly, perhaps unwittingly, allowed the senatorial aristocracy to resume its powers, and make Rome a republic once more. After all, nothing, officially, had changed. Officially, the republic had not died; so it did not have to be officially reborn. Unfortunately, many politically influential writers of the period did not perceive this paradox. They took Nero's artistic interests to be a sign of weakness, and sought an opportunity to overthrow him, and to restore by the violence of war what had been lost in the violence of war: the republic. Nero's drive for recognition as an artist rather than as just a patron of the arts created a complex situation. For it denied him the aloofness so characteristic of Octavian. While Octavian, probably for political purposes, paid his bourgeois poets handsomely for hailing his rule as the beginning of the New Golden Age, Nero placed himself at the center of a group of artistic aristocrats. This made him their artistic rival, not just their emperor; for he was not necessarily primus inter pares in that artistic relationship. Some of these literary men he clearly considered close and trusted friends, notably Piso and Lucan: Nero visited Piso's villa in Baiae without a guard. 19 While others distrusted, Nero seems to have been a

18

19

For a contrast between the reigns of Augustus and Nero, see G. CHARLES-PICARD, Augustus and Nero, tr. LEN ORTZEN (Apollo Ed. A - 1 8 3 ) , New York 1968. See also, J.-M. ANDRÉ, La conception de l'État et de l'Empire dans la pensée gréco-romaine des deux premiers siècles de notre ère, in: A N R W 11.30.1 (1982) 3 - 7 3 : CIZEK, op. cit.; J. P. SULLIVAN, The Satyricon of Petronius: A Literary Study, Bloomington 1968, 81—89. See AHL, Lucan. An Introduction 35—47; 3 3 6 - 3 5 3 . Tacitus, Annals 15.52.

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believer. The consequences of his belief were devastating. For Piso and Lucan led a conspiracy to assassinate Nero in A.D. 65; and one of the sites discussed — but rejected — as a place for the murder was Piso's Baian villa. If the tension between Octavian and his poets benefitted both parties in the long run, Nero's more casual camaraderie destroyed both himself and his aristocratic poets. They became not the servants of his vision, but the purveyors of their own. A curious inversion of roles occurred. As the emperor moved towards art, the aristocratic artists used their own art to move towards political power. Poets of less substantial means were left out in the cold, if we are to believe Calpurnius Siculus, to whom we now turn — though with some caution. For, as the articles mentioned in my first footnote show, the traditional, Neronian date of the first seven 'Eclogues' attributed to Calpurnius has been questioned. Although I have followed the traditional dating, and suspect the poems are from the first century, I am no longer confident they are Neronian. If one may call, as Romans could, a mature man a iuvenis, the iuvenis addressed might almost as well be Vespasian or Titus.

VI. Calpurnius and the Golden

Age

All Octavian's poets gave at least lip-service to the myth of the Golden Age. And, in true Augustan fashion, they pointed out, with varying directness, its fallacies and contradictions. Augustus Caesar, divi genus, aurea condet / saecula, Anchises exclaims at Aeneid 6.792 — 793. Taken apart from its context, and from the other associations Vergil suggests for gold in the 'Aeneid', this is a direct statement of Augustan propaganda. But when we bear in mind these other associations of gold, we see that Vergil represents gold as symbolic both of man's age of innocence and Elysian happiness, and of his fall from innocence. Quid non mortalia cogis / auri sacra farnesi Aeneas cries in reaction to the death of Polydorus in Aeneid 3. 56—57. He is commenting not only upon the hunger for gold and the crimes to which it can drive men, but on the fact that this hunger is sacra, accursed and, simultaneously, approved and hallowed by society. As Evander points out in Aeneid 8.324—327, it was the passion for war and the desire for having, amor . . . habendi (327) that brought the aurea saecula of Saturn to an end. Like Aristotle's and Horace's horse, man suffers because he will not share what should be common. Vergil avoids juxtaposing these contradictory associations of gold by talking here of amor . . . habendi, "the love of having", not amor auri. He also avoids underscoring the fact that Jupiter's accession is the definitive end of the mythological Golden Age, the saturnia regna. For the divine parallel throughout Augustan poetry is between Octavian and J u p i t e r not between Octavian and Saturn.

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Horace, in Epistles 1.1.52 — 54, pushes harder at the limits: villus argentum est auro, virtutibus aurum. "o oves, cives, quaerenda pecunia primum est; virtus post nummos!" haec Ianus . . . The first line treats money and virtue as part of the same value system. Then Horace introduces Janus in his capacity as presiding deity of Rome's financial district, as he does in Satires 2.3.18—20, to declare the superiority of cash to virtue. Horace does not directly connect these comments with the official propaganda of the Golden Age, however. Ovid does. In Fasti 1.191-196, Janus comments as follows during his 'interview' with the poet: risit et "o quam te falluni tua saecula, " dixit "qui stipe mei sumpta dulcius esse pûtes! vix ego Saturno quemquam regnante videbam, cuius non animo dulcía lucra forent, tempore crevit amor, qui nunc est summus, habendi: vix ultra, quo iam progrediatur, habet. " Janus, god of finances and the changing year, looks into the future as well as into the past: greed, Vergil's amor habendi, was pretty universal in the days of Saturn as well as in the present era, he suggests. He repeats the attack in Metamorphoses 1.141, when he describes the iron age, to which man finally sank, as follows: inque nocens ferrum ferroque nocentius aurum / prodier at. Ovid dashes the myth of the N e w Golden Age by striking at the Old. 'Fasti Γ may well have been written after Octavian's death; but 'Metamorphoses 1' was not. The 'Ars Amatoria' too shows Ovid equally capable of mocking the Golden Age while the emperor still lived: quid tibi praecipiam teneros quoque mittere versus f et mihi, non multum carmen honoris habet, carmina laudantur, sed muñera magna petuntur: dummodo sit dives, barbarus iste placet, aurea sunt vere nunc saecula: plurimus auro venit bonos: auro conciliatur amor. (Ars Amatoria 2.273-278) The poet, writing a poem about love, points out how useless poetry is to the lover: this is the Golden Age; gold gets you honors. Honos is a carefully chosen word which suggests that gold may purchase you a lot more than love. Ovid turns Augustan propaganda against itself, and makes the Golden Age one of venality and corruption rather than one of pristine innocence, a decolor aetas. He has irrevocably broken the surface and devastated the f o r m of the myth itself. It is not altogether surprising that, of all the extant Augustan poets, he alone felt the full force of the emperor's unremitting wrath. Ovid also belongs to a new generation of men born since the death of Julius Caesar, who spent their whole adult life in Octavian's Rome. His literary world

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is the world of myth, of men becoming beasts or gods, of learning and seriousness veiled as humorous trifling. But in toying with myth he toyed with official realities of Ages of Gold, of Caesar deified, of Octavian become Augustus. And for this he paid a price which Horace never paid for his much more acid and personal rebukes and rebuffs. Despite this wit and cleverness there is a dimension to the Age of Gold which is rarely tackled frontally in Augustan literature, although it is manifest from time to time in Vergil, particularly in the 'Eclogues': namely the fact that, for many, the Golden Age is golden neither spiritually nor financially. This we see in Eclogues 1 where the lots of two countrymen are contrasted: Meliboeus departs into exile, deprived of his homeland and his farm, while Tityrus sings the praises of the young man who declared pasóte ut ante boves as if nothing had changed. Indeed, for Tityrus, nothing h a s changed; it never occurs to him that Meliboeus is going into exile because the world is not ut ante, "as before", for most others. 2 0 This theme Calpurnius picks up in his 'Eclogues'; and he pursues it carefully and cleverly. His herdsman poets, unlike those of Octavian's day, are eager to sing of a new Golden Age, and to draw their work to the emperor's attention. Calpurnius 'Eclogues' presuppose the reader's familiarity with Vergil. So, to set the scene, let us note that in Vergil's fifth Eclogue, Mopsus inscribes on a beech tree a twenty-five line poem praising the dead Daphnis (5.20—44). For in Calpurnius' first Eclogue two herdsmen, Ornytus and Corydon, find engraved on the bark of a tree a f i f t y - s i x line poem, authored by the god Faunus (1.33 — 88). In Calpurnius' poem, the reign of a young man is hailed as a second Golden Age. This lengthy poem starts so high up the tree that Corydon asks the taller Ornytus to read it for him. Calpurnius humorously draws attention to several issues Vergil raises. First: the length of the two poems: if Mopsus' twenty-five lines seem a bit long for a tree inscription, what are we to make of the fifty-six line inscription Calpurnius' poets find? The fact that everything in Calpurnius is larger or greater than what we find in Vergil does not necessarily make it 'more flattering'. Rather, it makes it more ironic. The greater size of Calpurnius' tree-poem endows it with the qualities of a commemorative column rather than those of a rustic inscription. Second: Vergil's Mopsus writes the poem himself. Calpurnius' poets find their poem already scratched upon the tree by a divine hand. They simply learn it and attempt to communicate the divine word to "august ears" (Calpurnius, Eclogues 1.94).

20

I agree, essentially, with the assessment of Calpurnius in E. LEACH'S two sensitive studies: Corydon Revisited. An Interpretation of the Political Eclogues of Calpurnius Siculus, Ramus 2 (1973) 5 3 - 9 7 and: Neronian Pastoral and the World of Power, Ramus 4 (1975) 204—230. For some other interesting observations on the way Silver Age poets use their literary predecessors, see G. B. TOWNEND, The Literary substrata to Juvenal's Satires, JRS 13 ( 1 9 7 3 ) 1 4 8 - 1 6 0 . O n C a l p u r n i u s , s e e a l s o CIZEK, 3 6 9 - 3 7 8 a n d R . W . GARSON, T h e

Eclogues of Calpurnius. A Partial Apology, Latomus 33 (1974) 668—672.

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Third: Vergil's poem honors a dead human; Calpurnius' honors a 'living' deity — the emperor. T o what extent are these really one and the same, as the emperor Vespasian suggested in a deathbed witticism: puto deus fio (Suetonius, Vespasian 23.4)? Finally: in Vergil, Mopsus is rewarded by a gift of the pipes belonging to his friendly rival Menalcas. And, curiously, these are the pipes on which Menalcas and everything else in Vergil's 'Eclogues', are creations of Vergil's

Corydon ardebat Alexim and cuium pecus? an Meliboei? (Vergil, Eclogues 5.86 and 87). T h e words Vergil's Menalcas cites occur, in fact, in the opening lines of Vergil's second and third 'Eclogues' respectively: Formosum pastor Corydon

ardebat Alexim; and Die mihi, Damoeta,

cuium pecus? an Meliboei? Vergil's

Menalcas is thus quoting Vergil's own songs — a pointed reminder that Mopsus, Menalcas, and everything else in Vergil's 'Eclogues', are creations of Vergil's own pen, that the songs they sing are his songs. Calpurnius, in contrast, distances both himself and his herdsmen from the poetry they discover. At the same time he reminds us strongly of their Vergilian background. So it is no accident that Vergil's two most prominent herdsmen play an important role in Calpurnius: C o r y d o n and Meliboeus. Despite the echoes of Vergil in Calpurnius' first Eclogue, Calpurnius makes no direct allusion to Octavian's promise of a second Golden Age; and for obvious reasons. This would make his emperor's reign the third 'Age of G o l d ' , and thus push his theme out of pastoral into pure satire. But the hints of Octavian and Vergil are strong in the concluding lines of Calpurnius' first Eclogue, where Ornytus comments:

carmina, quae nobis deus obtulit ipse canenda, dicamus teretique sonum modulemur avena: forsitan augustas feret haec Meliboeus ad aures (Eclogues 1 . 9 2 - 9 4 ) Ornytus hopes that, through Meliboeus, the poem they have received from rustic Faunus may be transmitted to "august ears". Perhaps this emperor, like Octavian, will want to hear herdsmen sing of a new age of peace and prosperity. Further, line 93 recalls the famous verse which, HIRTZEL lamented, most editors have removed from the beginning of the 'Aeneid', along with its three fellows: ille ego,

qui quondam gradii modulatus avena

...21

W h a t makes these hints of Vergil and Octavian so ironically compelling is O r n y t u s ' suggestion that M e l i b o e u s will intercede with the emperor on their behalf. F o r Meliboeus is the famous exile of Vergil's first Eclogue. So let us pursue him a little further. In Calpurnius' fourth Eclogue, C o r y d o n is discovered by that mysteriously influential Meliboeus brooding as to h o w he should sing of the aurea saecula (5 — 8). Meliboeus retorts, in essence : " A p o l l o likes your w o r k , but it's too unsophisticated for the c o u r t " ( 4 . 8 - 1 0 ) :

21

P. Vergilii Maronis Opera, ed. F. A. HIRTZEL, Oxford 1900, ad. loc.

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dulce quidem resonas, nec te diversus Apollo despicit, o iuvenis, sed magnae numina Romae non ita cantari debent, ut ovile Menalcae. The pastoral mode Vergil's Menalcas (i. e. Vergil himself) had elevated to great heights in Vergil's second and third Eclogues is rejected as crude by Meliboeus in Calpurnius' fourth. The exiled Meliboeus has returned; but he now despises anything that smacks of the country, of rusticitas. Meliboeus, then, has a very different view of Corydon in Calpurnius than Meliboeus has of Corydon in Vergil. Vergil's Meliboeus concludes Eclogues 7 with the affirmation (69-70): haec memini, et victum frustra contendere Thyrsim. ex ilio Corydon Corydon est tempore nobis. For Calpurnius' Corydon no such acclaim is waiting. He is simply dismissed as rustic, and does not deny that his work is rustic. But its rusticitas, he observes with rustic naïveté, is made up for by its pietas (4.14—15). It is a nice touch of Calpurnian irony that a pastoral poet, who has learned a poem written by the pastoral Faunus, has to defend himself on charges of rusticity. It is no less ironic that this irony eludes Meliboeus, who thinks pastoral ought not to be 'rustic' or that pastoral is an unsuitable genre for the court. Calpurnius' Meliboeus is, rather, puzzled by Corydon's change of heart. He recalls how Corydon once advised Amyntas to abandon the unprofitable Muses — inanes desere Musas (4.23). Corydon replies that times have changed: non eadem nobis sunt tempora, non deus idem (4.30). This, of course, is precisely the point. Times have changed; but it is Corydon who does not understand what this means: that the world is now Meliboeus', not Tityrus'. Corydon's words and images throughout Calpurnius' fourth Eclogue recall the Tityrus of Vergil's first Eclogue. He even insists — to Meliboeus! — that he has inherited Tityrus' pipes (62 — 64). But Calpurnius' Meliboeus quickly cuts Corydon down to size: magnapetis, Corydon, si Tityrus esse laboras (64). Tityrus is the classic; you cannot rival the classic. So, Calpurnius' Corydon cannot compete with Vergil's Tityrus or win the praise of Meliboeus. Calpurnius' Meliboeus, in contrast, enjoys a much more splendid situation than does his Vergilian namesake. For Corydon's hopes of rivalling Tityrus rest not with the young prince in the city, but with the returned Meliboeus. In fact, there has been an inversion of roles: in Calpurnius Eclogues 4.36—45, the wouldbe Tityrus is the outsider, and Meliboeus the insider: ecce nihil querulum per te, Meliboee, sonamus. per te secura saturi recubamus in umbra et fruimur silvis Amaryllidos, ultima nuper litora terrarum, nisi tu, Meliboee, fuisses, ultima visuri trucibusque obnoxia Mauris pascua Geryonis, liquidis ubi cursibus ingens dicitur occiduas impellere Baetis harenas.

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scilicet extremo nunc vilis in orbe iacerem, a dolor! et pecudes inter conductus Iberas irrita septena modularer sibila canna. The Tityrus figure, not Meliboeus, has had to face the possibility of exile in Calpurnius. And Cory don does not talk in the vague terms of Vergil's Meliboeus (Vergil, Eclogues 1.64—69), about an unspecified fate which could be his in a variety of lands. Exile for him would mean, quite specifically, being a hired laborer in Spain. Considering how many Spaniards were prominent in the first and second centuries A.D., Calpurnius could be slyly jesting about Romans being replaced by provincials. Such a jest gains additional acidity if we identify, as some have done, Calpurnius' Meliboeus with Seneca, who had returned from exile to serve as Nero's tutor. 2 2 Although Calpurnius' Meliboeus has misgivings, he agrees to listen to the pastoral antiphony of Cory don and his brother Amyntas. This turns out to be extravagant praise of a New Golden Age in a most un-pastoral style of courtly extravagance, undercut, from time to time, by ambiguous double-entendre, seemingly unintentional on the brothers' part: it would appear to result from the brothers' rural simplicity. Of this, Corydon's appeal to the emperor — whom he describes as Jupiter, or some other god, in altered appearance — is a particularly nice example: sit tibi caeli / vilis amor — "may your love of heaven be cheap (145 — 146)." Meliboeus reacts with surprise; and in his response to their song we gather that he personally had anticipated that the brothers' work would be too crude for the imperial ear: rustica credebam nemorales carmina vobis concessisse deos et obesis auribus apta; verum, quae paribus modo concinuistis avenís, tarn liquidum, tarn dulce cadunt, ut non ego malim, quod Paeligna soient examina lambere nectar. (147-151) Corydon and his brother have sung, without realizing it, an Ovidian song in praise of the Golden Age, says Meliboeus, Vergil's exile, now patron of aspiring poets. And as we consider Amyntas' observations on this Age of Gold, it is hard not to concur: iam ñeque damnatos metuit iactare ligones fossor et invento, si fors dédit utitur auro; nec timet, ut nuper, dum iugera versât arator, ne sonet offenso contraria vomere massa, iamque palam presso magis et magis instat aratro. (117-121) 22

R. VERDIÈRE, T. Calpurnii Siculi de Laude Pisonis et Bucolica et M. Annaei Lucani de Laude Caesaris Einsidlensia Carmina (Coll. Latomus 19), Brussels 1954, 15 suggests that this means a return home for Calpurnius, who he argues, was Spanish.

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It is an age of gold when the farmer is not afraid of digging up gold; on the contrary, the hope of finding gold makes him plow harder and harder. And, as Eclogue 4 ends, we can see why Amyntas would have such hopes. For clearly he and his brother are impoverished. Corydon drops a blatant hint to Meliboeus that he would happily sing songs of praise like this if only he had a home of his own. The herdsman who pities the hired hand working on the Spanish farm is himself a hired hand. As he tells Meliboeus, invida paupertas keeps telling him, as he once told his son, to look after the sheep-pens (155 — 156). Amyntas dreams of striking gold with the plow; Corydon appeals to Meliboeus to be his Maecenas, so that he can escape his own poverty by writing of the Golden Age. Imperial patronage, for all its drawbacks, made Octavian's principate a Golden Age for poetry. At this emperor's disposal too there are potential Vergils and Horaces; but they are not elegant enough; they are not wanted or needed. Meliboeus has less consolation for Corydon than Tityrus has for Meliboeus in Vergil's first Eclogue. Vergil's poem ends with the lengthening shadows of evening, the smoke of fires, an abundance of pears, milk, chestnuts and cheese. In Calpurnius the sun is overhead and men's shadows are close to their bodies: the sheep must be watered. It is mid-day at the height of summer. Eclogue 7 sets the final dismal touch to Corydon's quest to sing the emperor's praises and his Age of Gold. And again it echoes Vergil's first Eclogue. In it we find Corydon returning from a visit to Rome in which he has got no closer to the emperor than a distant view of him at the amphitheatre. Meliboeus is not even mentioned. But none of this seems to bother Corydon very much. If Vergil's Tityrus was impressed by Rome and his interview with the iuvenis, Corydon is even more impressed with the games and his glimpse of the emperor's face. In fact he rebukes his friend Lycotas for preferring beech trees to spectacular shows: o piger, o duro non mollior axe, Lycota, qui veteres fagos nova quam spectacula mavis cernere, quae patula iuvenis deus edit barena. (Calpurnius, Eclogues 7 . 4 - 6 ) The poet who could look at a beech tree in Eclogue 1 and find on its bark a poem praising the Age of Gold and written by Faunus himself returns from Rome, having lost all interest in both poetry and the countryside. He is utterly indifferent to the fact that a rival has won prizes for song while he was away (7—18): ne mihi, si quis omnia Lucanae donet pecuaria silvae, grata magis fuerint quam quae spectavimus urbe. (Calpurnius, Eclogues 7.16—18) It is tempting to see in these lines an oblique reference to Lucan's 'Silvae', just as it is to see a glimpse of Seneca beneath Calpurnius' Meliboeus.

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The opulence of what Corydon has seen at the amphitheatre has overwhelmed him completely. The key to his transformation comes in the remarks of a veteran watcher of the games (7.40—42): "quid te s tup e fact um, rustice," dixit "ad tantas miraris opes, qui nesáus aun sordida tecta, casas et sola mapalia nosti?" The would-be singer of the Golden Age is again rebuked for his rusticity. It is again affirmed that however much o l d traditions of the Saturnian Golden Age may have been based on the rural and pastoral, the rural and pastoral are now synomymous with poverty and stupidity. The glitter of the games, to which Corydon is introduced, is now proof of an u r b a n Golden Age. This new Golden Age, however illusory, convinces Corydon of the crudity of his old Golden Age. Because people can see wealth they think they share it. The exotic beasts, the luxurious ornament, the spray of saffron water and other theatrical effects beguile the Roman populace. They are all visible 'evidence' of the Golden Age. There is no need for poetry, Corydon realizes; and he no longer has any urge to write it. The irony of Ovid's aurea sunt vere nunc saecula: plurimus auro / venit bonos (Ars Amat. 2.277—278) would be lost on him. His discontent at being a hired laborer on a farm, rather than a landholder in his own right, has vanished. N o w he wants to be nothing more than a spectator. He is ashamed at — not angered by — his poverty and his country clothes that prevent him from getting a closer look at his emperor. He blames himself, not his society, for his lack of opportunity (7.79—80: o utinam nobis non rustica vestís inesset: vidissem propius mea numina. Calpurnius surely intends us to catch the bitterness of his final irony; but it escapes the simple 'Golden Age' herdsman (83 — 84): ac nisi me visus decepit, in uno et Martis vultus et Apollinis esse putavi. He h a s been deceived, as has the veteran spectator who mocks him. Corydon now has the perspective of the Roman urban populace; he has the distance needed to make the emperor appear a god. As Tacitus observes in Annals 1.47: maior e longinquo reverenda. Calpurnius' observations about the theatre and the power of its influence are remarkable. The games, he suggests, have an appeal to the popular imagination that poetry utterly lacks. They induce Corydon to set aside his own poetic ambitions, and to become self-conscious, rather than resentful, of his personal poverty. Rome, Calpurnius reminds us, is larger than its literary elite; and it is theatrical spectacle, not learned and refined poetry, that will manipulate and persuade the people. If the elite has no use for the poet from the countryside, there will be no bridge between the new literary aristocracy and the ordinary people; it will be the death of poetry. 6

ANRW II 32.1

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Surviving Neronian literature as a whole bears out the justice of Calpurnius' complaint. It is largely the product of senatorial circles, of men who were not only close to the powerful, but themselves powerful. The Meliboeuses have returned; and the aspiring poet must look to them, rather than to the emperor, for patronage.

VII.

The Aristocrats

The Spanish Annaei are as notable in the history of Neronian Rome as in its literature. They are the Meliboeuses recalled from exile to high honor in Rome. Seneca wrote philosophical works and tragedies; he also served as Nero's tutor and adviser during the first half of his reign. Gallio, Seneca's brother, finds his way into the bible (Acts 18.12) as the proconsul of Greece who refused to hear the case against St. Paul. Lucan, Seneca's nephew, not only wrote poetry, but was a member of Nero's cohors amicorum, held a quaestorship, and became the symbol of Piso's conspiracy to murder the emperor — a plot which destroyed himself, his father Mela, Seneca, and Gallio. Few literary works have produced such an impact on their times — and on their authors — as Lucan's 'Pharsalia'. And no work bears clearer testimony to Nero's tolerance of criticism and senatorial values. I doubt it could have been produced and published under any Roman emperor but Nero. While other epics of imperial Rome, from the 'Aeneid' to the 'Achilleid 5 , offer pungent commentaries on political power, the 'Pharsalia' is an exercise in political power, the definitive statement of the 'Pharsalia-Philippi' view of Roman history. In it the mute ghosts of the republican past come back to life with a vengeance — and for vengeance. The 'Pharsalia"s relationship to the 'Aeneid' is in some ways like that of Calpurnius' 'Eclogues' to Vergil's 'Eclogues'. It states explicitly many of the tensions and uncertainties underlying the Vergilian text. It is the epic too dangerous for Octavian's contemporaries: the full realization of Horace, Odes 2.1: the tale of Rome's self-destruction, of the undoing of her great triumphs over Carthage, of Cato standing alone and unconquered amidst the world's ruins. The years between Horace and Lucan had intensified the meaning of the last heroes of libertas. Cato had joined Hercules and Ulysses among the Stoic exemplars of wisdom and heroism whose self-sacrifice and self-denial stood in marked contrast to the peacefully self-indulgent world of the later Julio-Claudians. Vergil and his contemporaries may have acquiesced in the conqueror's victory, believing its results would be obliterated by the sheer numbers of the vanquished foe. Perhaps they took the consolation of Vergil's Juno, reassured when she learns that Aeneas' Trojan blood will be diluted to no more than a trace (Aeneid 12.808 — 842). Certainly there was no reason to suspect the power of the Caesars would last for centuries. Jupiter's often quoted remark, " I have given empire without end" — imperituri sine fine dedi (Aeneid 1.279) seems to refer rather to Rome than to the Caesars — though, one should add, Vergil is not so indiscreet as to dissociate them explicitly. After about a century of Julio-Claudian

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rule, Lucan's despairing in totum mundi prosternimur

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aevum (Pharsalia 7.640)

seems an at least comprehensible modification of the theme of Rome eternal. 2 3 As Curio points out to Lucan's Caesar:

facili si proelia panca gesseris eventu, tibi Roma subegerit

orbem. (Pharsalia 1 . 2 8 4 - 2 8 5 )

The pain of war, whose recollection stalked the Augustans, was distant to the young poet of Nero's court. More immediate was the anguish of a peace that had been bought at the price of subservience to a princeps.24 As Nigidius Figulus prophesies in Pharsalia 1.670: cum domino pax ista venit. Rome can be free only so long as the civil war lasts; perhaps war may be less of a threat than peace. Thus libertas is a major theme — and Cato's goal — in the 'Pharsalia' much as pax and quies are Aeneas' goals in the 'Aeneid'. And Lucan's bitter complaint is that his generation had lost its freedom without ever having had a chance to fight for it:

post proelia natis si dominum, Fortuna, dabas, et bella dedisses. (Pharsalia 7 . 6 4 5 - 6 4 6 ) An epic replete with such thoughts is hardly less than a direct exhortation to renew the war against Caesarism. For while there is good reason to veil one's criticism of a monarch with ambiguous deference, there is no reason at all to veil one's flattery under the guise of incitement to riot. The rhetorical complexity of Lucan's epic does not lie in the conflicting tensions among various, and sometimes warring, themes, as Vergil's does. It lies in his extraordinary achievement of shaping quite recent history into the traditional structure of Greco-Roman epic for the express purpose of attacking the justice and validity of history's verdict. Lucan has turned history against itself. That is why it is particularly ironic that his critics have mistaken the 'Pharsalia' for history. 2 5 It is not events, Fortuna, that decide what is right and what is wrong, but virtus. O r , to put it another way, it is not that which is external to the individual which should determine behavior; it is man's own informed awareness of what is noble and manly. The notion that right is not determined by might is hardly new with Lucan. But probably because it subverts, if explicitly stated, the tradition of epic heroism which interprets victory as proof of the victor's divine approval, if not his moral superiority, ancient epic writers usually avoid bringing it into sharp focus. Lucan, however, presents Cato as morally superior to Caesar; the vanquished is better than the victor. 2 6 He even extends the superiority of Cato as an individual to the cause Cato champions. In the early narrative of book 1 he declares:

23 24

25 26



This thought appears to have crossed Horace's mind too: Ep. 1.10.38—41. Cf. Faunus' reference to the imperial peace in Calpurnius, Eclogues 1.63—68, and LEACH'S comment in: Corydon Revisited, 61. Servius on Aeneid 1.382; cf. AHL, Lucan: An Introduction, 67—75. For a fuller discussion see AHL, Lucan: An Introduction, 231—305 and the sources cited there.

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nec quemquam iam ferre potest Caesarve priorem Pompeiusve parem. quis iustius induit arma, scire nefas; magno sed indice quisque tuetur: victrix causa deis placuit sed vieta Catoni. (Pharsalia 1 . 1 2 5 - 1 2 8 ) Until line 128 one might have the illusion that Lucan is writing without bias; but line 128, if we look at it carefully, undoes that illusion. For as the poet, in the course of the epic, establishes, rhetorically, the superiority of the good man to Fortuna and the gods, he establishes as a logical consequence, the superiority of those he champions to those the gods support. Since Cato champions the losers, it is, consequently, better to lose than to win. Therefore Pompey must be better than Caesar because he loses. This notion — more usually expressed as " t h e winner is worse than the loser" — is, of course, simply the inversion of the principle that might is right. 2 7 And the consequences of this way of thinking are far reaching. This is why, I suspect, the 'Pharsalia 5 , more than any other Latin poem, elicits either admiration or horror in its readers. For it is the ultimate work of Roman rhetoric, the masterpiece of propaganda, argued with fire and passion to stir men to the fight against Caesarism. The rhetoric of the 'Pharsalia' is the rhetoric of almost all revolutions: the ruled are morally better than the ruler, poverty and self-denial are better than riches, the weak are more blessed than the powerful, the losers than the winners. Above all, the struggle against the forces which oppress man makes one spiritually stronger. This is a vision in every way antithetical to that of the Augustan Golden Age, which praises peace, affluence, and indolence. In fact, the real danger with this kind of vision is that it will actually stir its followers to achieve success — in which case it may end up being sabotaged by its own rhetoric. 2 8 Lucan had probably foreseen this possibility. For he carefully avoids explicitly stating as a general principle that it is better to lose than to win, as O . A. W . DILKE reminded me. H e confines himself, essentially, to saying that winning was worse in this particular war. Like Octavian's vision, Lucan's is a means to an end, rather than an end in itself. And if Octavian's purpose was to induce the warring factions to lay down their swords and grow sleek, Lucan's was to induce them to take up the swords once more. 2 9 He must coax people from love of life to love of death. The Augustan poets had understood that liberty (i. e. freedom from domination by whoever or whatever we perceive to be oppressing us) does not come cheaply, and that, no matter how beautiful the ideal, it may demand the rejection of human feeling and compassion. Vergil, who rarely uses the word libertas in 27

28

Pharsalia 7.706; cf. 6 . 7 9 9 - 8 0 2 ; Seneca, Ep. 14.13; Tacitus, Histories 1.50; Silius, 3 . 5 7 3 - 5 8 7 . O n this last see AHL, DAVIS, and POMEROY, Silius Italicus, in: A N R W (forthcoming). Something similar is suggested in the 'Punica', where Scipio's eventual success Hannibal undermines Roman virtues which had developed in defeat; see AHL, POMEROY, l o c . c i t .

29

See LOUNSBURY (above, note 3).

Punica II.32.4 against DAVIS,

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the 'Aeneid,' acknowledges this. Libertas occurs, in fact, only three times in his epic. In one instance it means little more than freedom of speech. In the other two it comes in the context of hard decisions and sacrifice which demand that one's personal feelings and individual safety be subordinated to the welfare of the community. For beautiful freedom's sake — pulchra pro liberiate — Lucius Brutus condemns his sons to death when they attempt to bring back the Tarquins (Aeneid 6.817—823); for freedom's sake the descendants of Aeneas rush into battle against Porsenna as he too tries to bring the Tarquins back to Rome (Aeneid 8.646—648).30 There is a sharp contrast in Vergil between the savage sternness of Brutus' action or the total sacrifice which Aeneas' descendants make as they rush in ferrum, and the beauty of freedom itself. Once the opportunity for fighting is removed, the champion of libertas is left to inflict the suffering upon himself as a symbol of his protest. This kind of defiance is a price which Horace declares he is not prepared to pay. He observes that he would rather follow Aristippus than Diogenes: scurror ego ipse mihi, populo tu; rectius hoc et splendidius multo est, equus ut me portet, alat rex, officium fado; tu poscis vilia, verum dante minor, quamvis fers te nullius egentem. (Epistles 1.17.19-22) This does not mean that Horace scorns freedom, but rather that he sees, in Diogenes' reaction against worldliness, a total, if negative, obsession with what the world offers. Diogenes allows himself to be defined by the very system of dependency against which he is rebelling. It is the paradox in which freedom, ultimately, becomes no more than a different kind of slavery. Lucan poses as Diogenes rather than Aristippus. Superficially at least, the 'Pharsalia' affirms the paradoxes that freedom demands ability and willingness to rule oneself with a rod of iron and that noone can really enslave a man determined to die free. But it is also clear from book 2 onwards that such a withdrawn selfsufficiency is not the goal to which he would direct his reader. The freedom of the Stoic sage is for him, as it may have been for Cato, the mask of moral and philosophical purity which is employed to justify the ideal of political libertas. Ironically, however, Lucan vows that if Rome ever regains her freedom she will make Cato a god: . . . si steteris umquam cervice soluta, nunc, olim, factura deum es. (Pharsalia 9.604) His thinking has been conditioned and to some extent defined by Caesarism. For he, like the Caesars, is attempting to make believers of us. His epic is not a study of political power but an exercise of it. Although he mocks the pretense that the manes of the Caesars are divine (Pharsalia 6.807-809, 7.455-459) he deifies the

30

The third instance is Aeneid 11.346.

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manes of Cato. Indeed the Tharsalia' comes, in some ways, close to being an exactly tailored rhetorical response to Caesarism. 31 But not close enough. Lucan's contemporary, Paul, and the other founders of Christianity fared better. Either by accident or design they perceived that the most effective response to the emperor's pretense to have become god was not to accord divine honors to the good man instead, but to argue that the good man was, rather, god become man. Instead of constructing Elysium in terms of the political past, they took otherworldliness to its logical extreme and constructed it in terms of a life beyond the grave. Most important of all, their divine hero was presented as a member of a poor and oppressed class of a poor and oppressed people whose death was the death of robbers and other criminals, not the elegantly noble suicide of the Roman aristocrat. He forced the calculatedly tolerant Roman government to allow his execution. And herewith came the rhetorical triumph over Caesar. For Caesar's dementia lay in pardoning those who had unsuccessfully opposed him; Christ's in pardoning those who had been maneuvered into apparently successful opposition. Here was the ultimate inversion of the principle that might is right, whose purpose, as that of turning the other cheek, is not so much to bless one's foes as to heap coals of fire upon their heads. The Christians understood — or sensed intuitively — as did Lucan and the Stoics, that anyone who meets death willingly, much less joyfully, is a source of admiration to most people, who fear and shun death. Men who die for an ideal give the ideal credibility. N o one, people reason, would go to such extremes unless sure of the value of what he was sacrificing himself for. Amor, we have noted, often goes with Roma in imperial literature. Both are often linked to Mors as well. Dido's love for the founder of the Roman race is rejected, unproductive: she is infelix. There is no parvulus Aeneas, and she is doomed to death. 32 Similarly Pompey's death is linked to both Roma and Amor. Propertius, who will not write of Rome, in 4.7.93-94 portrays a skeletal lovemaking in the grave between himself and his dead mistress. 33 Lucan's Cato finds a sexless and ascetic reunion with Marcia, whom he re-marries in preparation for death. 34 Love of the lost past is not just love of the dead, but love of death. One can always join one's 'dead' Rome by dying with her. Love and death, then, threaten to merge into amor mortis: a desire to die or to destroy oneself. 35 Vergil's Aeneas has to be lured from amor mortis to search for a new city and a new identity: Roma. His first desire is to die at Troy when the city falls; and, he explains to Dido in Aeneid 4.340-347, if he were master of his own destiny, he would return to Troy to revive the dead city; but as it is, Italy is his love, his amor, and his homeland. Dido belongs nowhere in his scheme of 31

32

See particularly 2.266—318; for a different interpretation, see J. BRISSET, Les idées politiques de Lucain, Paris 1964, especially 171—230. D i d o is first called infelix at Aeneid 1.712 when Amor has inspired her with love for Aeneas. In 4.328—329 she notes the absence of a child to play in her halls when Aeneas leaves.

33

C f . F. AHL, Propertius 1.1, W S N F

34

Pharsalia 2 . 3 2 6 - 3 9 1 ; cf. AHL, Lucan: A n Introduction, 2 4 7 - 2 5 2 . See W . RUTZ, A m o r mortis bei Lucan, Hermes 88 (1960) 462—475, and AHL, ibid. p. 118 and note 1.

35

8 (1974)

80-98.

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love and death. In 3.292—505, he surveys, with envy, the hollow N e w Troy which Helenus and Andromache have built at Buthrotum, a town situated close to Actium, where Octavian had defeated Antony and Cleopatra. Aeneas and Andromache are curious mirrors of one another. As he envies Andromache her hollow resurrection of dead Troy, so she envies him his living son. They represent two different ways of facing the choice between living in the past and moving on into the future: between loyalty to the dead and loyalty to the living. This is the dilemma Seneca focuses on in his 'Trojan Women'. Andromache hides Astyanax in Hector's tomb when she realizes Ulysses is coming for him. But when Ulysses threatens to destroy the tomb unless she surrenders her son, she is caught (642 — 662). Her past, Troy's past, and her future, Troy's future, are in the same tomb. For Andromache cannot envisage future salvation in terms other than those of the past. It takes her too long to realize what should be immediately evident: if Ulysses destroys the tomb, he destroys the hidden Astyanax too. There is something as chilling about Seneca's Andromache - or Lucan's Cato — as there is about their villainous antagonists, Ulysses and Caesar. Andromache wants to save Astyanax not so much because she loves him, but because he is a s y m b o l of her lost past, her lost Hector (Trojan, Women 646— 648):

non aliud, Hector, in meo nato mihi piacere quam te. vivat ut possit tuos re ferre vultus . . . Her delusion that she has a chance to save Astyanax, even if Hector's tomb is destroyed, leads to a resolution shaped by hatred for the Greeks, not love for her

son: serva e duobus, anime, quem Danai timent (662). She falters when Ulysses insists he will destroy the tomb, and when she realizes this will mean Astyanax's death too. So she surrenders her son; but her last thought is for Hector's ashes, not Astyanax ( 6 8 5 - 7 0 4 ) . Andromache's behavior almost justifies, rhetorically, the brutality of Ulysses and the Greeks. She sees Astyanax as the avenger of father and city — just as the Greeks do. Indeed, her plea for mercy on surrendering Astyanax is undermined not only by the parallel she adduces — Hercules' dementia in pardoning the youthful Priam — but by our awareness of her false pose as mater. Astyanax, "Ruler of the C i t y , " is a symbol of power, contested by victor and vanquished. Indeed, this is precisely Socrates' point in Plato's Cratylus 3 9 2 B — 3 9 3 B , when he talks of the 'proper' meaning of Astyanax's name. Women, Socrates notes, usually call the child Scamandrius; but men call him Astyanax, "Ruler of the C i t y " . Andromache uses the masculine, the p o l i t i c a l , name for her child, not the motherly Scamandrius. Lucan does not have the distance from his Cato that Seneca has from his Andromache; and this marks a major difference between the two Annaei, as writers and thinkers. Lucan approves of Cato; Seneca does not approve of Andromache. T o Cato, Roma!Amor means not w h o m you love, as it does to Pompey, but w h a t you love: in his case, liberty (Pharsalia 2. 301—303). Since liberty is dead, Cato dedicates himself to death so he can attain, in dying, the

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freedom he cannot have in life. His love for Rome is thus inverted: it becomes a love of death: Amor Mortis. This creates a logical dilemma: whatever Rome meant to Cato, there were those who considered Rome still very much alive. Dying for freedom and dying for Rome are not necessarily one and the same. Rome is dead only in the sense that Octavian is dead when Augustus comes into being. While Lucan's Caesar does not share a l o v e of death with Cato - and, we should add, with the Christians — he knows he can use his death to maintain ascendancy over mankind. Hence his instructions to the powers above when he thinks he may drown (Pharsalia 5.669—671): lacerum retínete cadaver fluctibus in mediis, desini mihi busta rogusque, dum metuar semper terraque exspecter ab omni. Caesar has a better sense of disguised power than Seneca's Ulysses or Homer's Odysseus. The latter fears dying ingloriously at sea (Odyssey 5.308-312); so does Vergil's Aeneas (Aeneid 1.94—101). But for Lucan's Caesar, it is power, not life, that matters. Unwitnessed death may help him attain that power. If no body is found, no death has occurred. In Pharsalia 8.858—872, Lucan argues that Caesar's marble tomb p r o v e s Caesar is dead; it marks his f a i l u r e to attain divinity. Pompey's humble tomb, however, will wear away in time; when it is gone, all proof goes with it that Pompey really is dead. Such reasoning is legalistic and cynical. But the extent to which it prevailed in the first century A.D. can be seen not only in Lucan and the New Testament, but in the aftermath of Nero's death. For Nero's body was never identified; and pretenders claiming to be Nero arose, winning a large following. However much the aristocrats despised Nero, he was well received by the p e o p l e of the Roman empire. Even the Christians, who hated him, feared, centuries later, that he might return as the Anti-Christ. 36 The desire to die for all men is not so different from the desire to earn men's fear after death, or the desire to conquer them in war. Thus Cato's wish to buy back mankind from destruction with his blood — hie redimat sanguis populos (Pharsalia 2.312) — is a desire for power and importance too, as threatening, in its own way, as Octavian's goal of temporal dominion whose wisdom posterity might praise. Lucan and Seneca had maneuvered themselves into the same rhetorical position as that of the genuinely hopeless and oppressed. The Christians, among others, included in their ranks those to whom poverty was a reality rather than an intellectual ideal, to whom Rome's rule, regardless of who held power, was an 36

For Nero's popularity, see: Tacitus, Histories 1.4; 16; 25; 78; 2.71; 95; Suetonius, Nero 57; Otho 7,10; Vitellius 11; Plutarch, Otho 3. Tacitus, Histories 2.8, mentions the various rumors that circulated about his death; for the 'false' Neros, see also Cassius Dio 64.9 and Dio Chrysostom, Discourse 21.10 (who notes that even in his own day — late first, early second century A . D . — people thought Nero was alive). On Nero and the AntiChrist, see Augustine, City of God 20.19; Lactantius, De Mortibus Persecutorum 2; Sulpicius Severus, Chron. 2.29.

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outrage, and whose only weapons were their lives. The common reaction among critics, both ancient and modern, to our senatorial encomiasts of felix paupertas has been to denounce their hypocrisy, as Suillius denounces Seneca in Tacitus, Annals 13.42. Seneca's response in De Vita Beata 17—27, that wealth is indifferent to the Stoic, that he could easily give it all up, does not carry strong rhetorical conviction. It leaves Seneca arguing that he is praising the kind of life that should be led, not the life he is himself leading (ibid. 18.2): vitam quam non ago sed agen dam scio. The notion of making common cause with the poor and oppressed is as alien to Lucan as to Sallust; and in Seneca it does not extend beyond a vague commitment to the brotherhood of man, and a defense of the propriety of dining with one's slaves. This, surely, is the weakness in the moral positions of Lucan and Seneca. Both obviously benefitted from the life and régime they criticized. Their credentials as critics, then, are not strong. It would, however, be unfair to hold them too strictly to account; they are hardly unique in failing to accept the full implications of their rhetorical reasoning. Most important, such doubts as we may have about their moral credentials should not automatically invalidate their criticisms. They developed much of the ground upon which later arguments for more humane treatment of one's fellow men could be based. When Tertullian notes: Seneca saepe noster (De Anima 20) he is giving, as F A I D E R says, testimony to how useful he thought Seneca as a source of material for shaping arguments. 37 It was probably this sense of kinship in spirit that led to the forgery of a series of fourteen letters between St. Paul and Seneca. 38 People found it hard to believe that the world of the Annaei and that of the Christian missionary, which touched in so many ways, should not have yielded literary contact. Perhaps the saddest irony of the Neronian Age is that, in terms of literary freedom, it was more republican than the late republic — and with the same disastrous results. Nero's encouragement of the aristocratic poets who transformed their ideological visions into political action, was probably a serious error both artistically and politically. For it betrays Nero's naiveté about power, an inability to perceive that the struggle between what he represented and what libertas was taken to mean, was a perpetual one, as Lucan suggested, not one that might be reconciled, as Seneca seems to have hoped. Nero's artistic activities and his tolerance of differing opinions were seen as weakness, not as anxiety to encourage poetry and art. The legacy of hatred and resentment for power usurped overwhelmed calmer reflection which might have suggested — as it probably did to Seneca — that Nero's reign offered the chance of a restored republic under the transitional rule of an emperor who had no heir apparent, and who seems genuinely to have desired both popularity and acceptance by a restored aristocracy. 37

38

P. FAIDER, Études sur Sénèque (Trav. Fac. Philos, et Lettres Univ. Gand 49), Ghent 1921, p. 85. C. W. BARLOW, Epistolae Senecae ad Paulum et Pauli ad Senecam (Quae Vocantur), N e w York 1938, 1 - 7 .

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VIII.

The Flavians

A . D . 68 and 69 must have seemed to many like a hurried replay of the bloody struggles which marked the end of the republic. The renewal of civil war brought not a restoration of republican rule but four claimants to the principate. Although the Julio-Claudian dynasty had come to an end, the Caesars had not died out. For Caesar's name now became, ironically, the official title assumed by someone who accomplished a successful coup d'état, rather than an adoptive or inherited name which implied that its ower had, if only by family prerogative, some right to be the ruler of the Roman world. With the triumph of Vespasian, the long-drawn-out myth of the restored republic faded rapidly. For the Flavians, unlike Caesar and his successors, came to power in a world already accustomed to the principate. At the same time, the principate to which the upper classes were accustomed was one in which the princeps was a member of their own aristocratic circle, and one in which his power was, to some extent, dissimulated. Since the year of the four emperors had made it clear that the struggle was for personal control not for the restoration of the republic, the winners could gradually tighten imperial controls without Augustan dissimulation. And the less blue-blooded Flavians did precisely that. The example of Nero served as a warning against undue permissiveness. And in the principate of Domitian decisive steps towards a clearer definition of imperial power were taken. At some point in his reign, Domitian assumed the title of dominus et deus.39 It was the affirmation of the absolute nature of imperial power, as Octavian and Tiberius acknowledged by refusing to accept such titles, a demand for official recognition as lord and god of the Roman universe, the secular and religious leader of the state. Domitian laid to rest forever the theoretical division of power between senate and palace, and with it the notion that the princeps was merely primus inter pares. The constitutional effects were far-reaching. Despite the deep and bitter hatred Domitian earned for his action, the new definition of imperial power had come to stay. Although his successors made no attempt to check the tide of ill-feeling that swept through aristocratic circles in the wake of Domitian's death, and although they shrugged off the Deus — at least during their lifetimes — they carefully retained the Dominus. Although, then, Lucan and Statius were born within ten years of each other, Lucan in A . D . 39 and Statius somewhere between A . D . 40 and 50, the worlds in which they wrote were, politically at least, far apart. The chance to fight for freedom which Lucan had prayed for had come and gone; and liberty was now an all but vanished dream. Even the personal characteristics of their respective emperors form a marked contrast. Nero was an extrovert, a performer, a man of letters, and, from what we can gather, a relatively genial emperor for at least part 39

For Domitian's use of the divine, see K. SCOTT, The Imperial Cult under the Flavians, Stuttgart—Berlin 1936.

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of his reign. W h a t we know of Domitian suggests a man reserved and aloof, fond of s e c r e c y . 4 0 H e tended to ignore the senate; he felt a deep aversion to political lampoons whether directed against himself or against others. In contrast with N e r o ' s fabled profligacy, Domitian displayed an almost puritannical moral conservatism. Even Suetonius can find little sexual scandal to attach to his name. Y e t his strict concern for moral propriety was viewed by his critics as a vice rather than a virtue. His dedication to the mores maiorum made writers a little less eager than in the past to speak in glowing terms of the pristine gravitas and severitas of the ideal Roman. H o w far Domitian's concern for the moral well-being of the state was the result of a genuine desire to purge what he perceived to be the decadent R o m a n spirit is hard to assess. In assuming censorial powers for life, he assumed the legal prerogative to investigate men's personal lives. 4 1 Such authority was, potentially, a weapon not only against corruption but against anyone who displeased him or his ministers. Further, he augmented his censorial powers with an unprecedented seventeen consulships and assumed the title " L o r d and G o d " . T h e trappings and titles of absolute power that Octavian shunned Domitian clearly cherished. This was probably among his greatest sins in the eyes of the aristocracy: he did away with any pretence of being first among equals. His list of titles does not necessarily mean he controlled the R o m a n State with tighter grip than Octavian had done. Grandiosity of title can as easily indicate a weak and vain ruler as a strong and ambitious one. Further, his dark and suspicious nature which, Tacitus and Suetonius tell us, prompted him to construe casual remarks as sinister and threatening, seems curiously mirrored in the historian and biographer who tell us about him. Tacitus regularly attributes to men the sort of motives an imperial informer might: they raise the cry of libertas out of ill-will or a desire for fame; they praise the emperor out of adulation or servility. Given such predisposition on the historian's part, no actions are above suspicion, least of all those of the emperor. Tacitus and some other senators, though they pursued public careers, seem to have avoided publication during Domitian's reign. This literary silence may not be as ominous as it seems. T h e quest for public office was central to a R o m a n aristocrat's ambitions and career; it was negotium, business. Literary activity, was a leisure time activity, otium. Even in Republican days, men of rank, like Sallust, often waited until their careers were over before devoting themselves to the pen. T h e purges and civil wars between A . D . 65 and 70 probably destroyed numerous aristocrats 'due' for otium and writing in Domitian's reign. Others are lost to us because they failed to achieve lasting distinction. B u t Statius and Martial leave no doubt that senators w e r e writing under D o m i t i a n . 4 2 40

See V. A. WATERS, The character of Domitian, Phoenix 18 (1964), 4 9 - 7 7 ; for a more

favorable view of Domitian's relations with the senate, see B. W. JONES, Domitian's attitude to the senate, AJP 94 (1973) 79-91 and the sources cited.

41

See B. W. JONES, A note on the Flavian's attitude to the censorship, Historia 21 (1972)

42

On who was who in Domitian's literary Rome see: D. VESSEY, Statius and the Thebaid,

128.

Cambridge 1973, 15—28; F . DELARUE, Stace et ses contemporains, Latomus 33 (1974)

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One important senatorial poet of the time has survived: Silius Italicus, who completed under Domitian his 'Punica', an epic about the second Punic War, full of generally unfavorable comment on the Rome of his own day. Since Silius had attained the consulship in A.D. 68, the pinnacle of a senatorial career, he was 'on schedule' in starting his epic under Vespasian and finishing under Domitian. It was, rather, his younger epic predecessor, Lucan, who was atypical of senatorial literary practice. Reciting and publishing an epic at the age of twenty-five is at least as unusual for a senator as holding a quaestorship at that age. Lucan did both. Pliny's silence and Tacitus' partial silence, then, may owe something to the fact that they were not yet 'due' to write by the normal senatorial calendar. This point deserves some attention. True, Tacitus claims the régimes of Nerva and Trajan, in contrast to Domitian's, allowed men to think and speak freely; and he promises to write of them in his old age (Histories 1.1). Yet, considering how 'possible' it was to write under Trajan, remarkably little was produced that has anything to say about Trajan. Tacitus himself never did write his promised history of his reign. The closest thing to an epic from Trajan's reign is his silent Column. Trajan may have fancied himself as the second 'Augustus', a princeps rather than a dominus as Pliny hopes he will be in Panegyric 55.7. But in Pliny's letters to Trajan (Epistles 10), the princeps is almost always addressed with the vocative: domine. Indeed, there is some bitterness in Pliny's observation of the literary climate in Trajan's day in Letters 5.8: it is too dangerous, he says, to tamper with "new and virgin territory" — intacta et nova? graves offensae, levis gratia. This assertion that one cannot write about contemporary events differs sharply from Tacitus' assertion of free speech and free thought after Domitian's death. The silence about Trajan in Latin writers, and the sheer volume of writing — with reference to contemporary events — under Domitian, suggest that, despite Tacitus' assurances to the contrary, the literary climate was actually deteriorating under Trajan and Hadrian. The ferocity of the attacks on Nero and Domitian by writers of the early second century may be in compensation for their frustration at having waited for better times that never came. Trajan had everything to gain by permitting writers to vent their anger on a fallen emperor and on fallen dynasties. If, as is widely assumed, the litterati intended to subject Domitian to damnatio memoriae, their effort was unsuccessful. He is among the best known of the Caesars, thanks to the very writers who complained so bitterly about him. It is T r a j a n and H a d r i a n whose names are omitted by Suetonius — despite his assurances that better times followed Domitian's death — and by Juvenal. It is Trajan whose achievements are not written up by Tacitus. Tacitus not only fails to produce a history of these 'better' times; he also 'misses' an excellent opportunity to hail Trajan as a second 'Augustus' in the 'Annals'. In the 'Annals', the principate proper begins with Tiberius — whose career, in so many ways, is like Trajan's. Similarly, Suetonius begins his 'Lives' with Caesar and ends with Domitian; he 536—548; P. WHITE, The Friends of Martial, Statius and Pliny and the Dispersal of Patronage, H S C P 79 (1975) 2 6 5 - 3 0 0 ; E . CHAMPLIN, Pliny the Younger, in: Ancient Writers (above, note 1) 1 0 3 5 - 1 0 4 8 .

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mentions Nerva only as the homosexual seducer of Domitian and as "heir" to Domitian's Forum — redesignated the Forum of Nerva (Domitian 1.1; 5). Trajan and his successors are not even named. A sense of the difference between Domitian's reign and those of his successors emerges in a contrast between the contemporary references in Martial and Statius, on the one hand, and in Juvenal on the other. Virtually every poem in Statius' 'Silvae' may be dated with some certainty; Martial's 'Epigrams' and Statius' 'Silvae' are replete with references to contemporaries (thought not to one another) and even, as I shall show, with satirical barbs at the princeps himself such as rival anything an Augustan, even Ovid, would have dared. The notorious difficulties of dating Juvenal's 'Satires' stem from his reluctance to mention contemporary people or events. It is, he tells us in his first Satire, too dangerous to satirize the living; so he declares he will talk of the famous dead (153 —171). Among the famous dead in Satire 4 we find Domitian. So Domitian himself is not the figure of terror as Juvenal writes. In fact, the Domitian of Satire 4 is more pathetically vainglorious than frightening, manipulated by the most superficially flattering lies. A fisherman explains to Domitian (who says nothing in the satire) that a large fish, recently brought in, wanted to be caught for the imperial table: ipse capi voluit (4.69). Quid Apertiusl Juvenal asks. He does not mean "What could be more obviously t r u e ? " Even those who are amused by a commercial on American television showing a fish trying, and failing, to be hooked for their consumption know fish do not want to be eaten. Juvenal, means, rather, "What could be more obviously f a l s e " Why, then, does Domitian believe the fisherman? The explanation comes in 4.69 — 71: et tarnen illi surgebant aristae, nihil est quod credere de se non possit cum laudatur dis aequa potestas. An emperor whose vanity and power are godlike will believe anything. To talk extravagantly of the emperor's divinity is not simply to flatter, but to c o n t r o l by flattery and, simultaneously, to mock before those who know better, his divine pretensions. Seneca observes cynically of the flatterer (Natural Questions 4 a, preface 9): quo Apertior est adulatio, quo improbior, fricuit cecidit alienam, hoc citius expugnat.

quo magis frontem

suam per-

Seneca's forceful expugnat reminds us that flattery is a kind of aggression; and its victims look stupid to others. This is Cicero's point in De Amicitia 99: Aperte enim adulantem nemo non videt, nisiqui admodum est excors; callidus ïlle et occultus ne se insinuet, studiose cavendum est. . . . quid autem turpius est illudi? So, in Juvenal 4, Domitian is both shamed by being fooled and weakened by allowing his power to be assumed by his flatterers. The fact that we are not persuaded by the fisherman's absurd statement does not diminish its persuasive-

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ness. It persuades the person it is designed to persuade. That fulfills Aristotle's requirement for what is persuasive: το πιθανόν xivi πιθανόν (Rhetoric 1365b): it is persuasive because it persuades someone. Domitian's weakness was, as Juvenal states, his belief in his own godhood. Few educated Romans would have believed Domitian was a god, save in the sense that any despot has more than human authority. Even Domitian's father, Vespasian, had jested on this subject (Suetonius, Vespasian 23). I have highlighted the forms of Apertus as they occur because this seems to be a key word in descriptions of flattering address. The fact that only the emperor is persuaded makes the fisherman's ploy doubly effective: he gains the power and Domitian looks like an idiot for believing him. Something expressed Aperte is evident to others, but not to its victim. And the art of speaking Aperte is given special attention by Quintilian, who actually wrote his 'Instructing the Orator' under Domitian. In only two sentences he explains how you speak against a tyrant (Inst. Or. 9.2.67): quamlibet enim A ρ er tum, quod modo et aliter intelligipossit in illos tyrannos bene dixeris, quìa periculum tantum, non etiam offensa vitatur. Quod si ambiguitate sententiae possit eludi, nemo non itti furto favet. The words are carefully chosen. Contrast his statement that figured speech is used when speaking directly is not very safe — si dicere Ρ al am parum tutum est (9.2.55). — with his observation here that you can speak quamlibet enim Apertum against the tyrants. This suggests a difference between speaking directly - Ρ al am dicer e — and speaking openly — Aperte dicere —, a difference important for our reading of both Juvenal and Quintilian. What you are really meaning does not even have to elude the tyrant himself. It does not matter if you offend him. You just make sure, by ambiguities, that you keep him from being able to retaliate. Quintilian also presumes the audience's sympathy for the speaker attacking the tyrant in this way. To say something Apertum, then, is to say it so its meaning is present but not explicit. It is up to the reader or listener to find it. To say something Palam is to proclaim it unmistakably: to speak bluntly. What is spoken Palam by the plain speaker is stated Aperte in times of tyranny: the writer resorts to schéma, figura — figured speech. Quintilian, we should add, insists in this same context that the rhetorical schools are not allowed to teach what cannot be used in actual rhetorical practice: quod in foro non expedit, ittic non liceat (Inst. Or. 9.2.67). So his advice to students indicates not only what one can say against some Phalaris in the classroom, but what can be said under conditions prevailing in Domitian's Rome. The person credited with giving rhetorical schema its popular ancient definition is the notoriously acerbic rhetorician and critic of Homer and Plato, Zoilus, a contemporary of Aristotle's, about whom Quintilian (Inst. Or. 9.1.14) observes : verum id ipsum anguste Zoilus terminavit qui id solum putaverit schema, quo aliud simulatur dici quam dicitur, quod sane vulgo

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quoque sic accipi scio; unde et figuratae controversiae quaedam de quibus post paulo dicam, vocantur. A rhetorician of the fifth or sixth century A.D. preserves Zoilus' definition, which Quintilian appears to have translated: ορίζεται δέ Ζώϊλος οίίτως, σχήμα έστιν έτερον μεν προσποιείσθαι, ετερον δέ λέγειν - schéma is pretending to say one thing and actually saying something else. 43 Quintilian lauds the effectiveness of such figured speech over blunt statement in the lawcourt (Inst. Or. 9.2.75): haeret enim nonnumquam telum illud occultum, et hoc ipso, quod non apparet, eximí non potest; at si idem dicas Ρ al am et defenditur et probandum est. In summing up the use of figured speech in direct attacks on tyrants, Quintilian refers to it as silentium, "silence", a word we often see in descriptions of the climate for writing and speaking in Domitian's reign. Silence is an appropriate term for speech in which what is meant is not said, but left for the listener to discover. Strangely, the real business of the lawcourts, what Quintilian calls vera negotia, as opposed to deliberate rhetorical attacks on tyranny, has not yet experienced "this need for silence" — banc silenti necessitatem (9.2.68), even though Quintilian feels that the man engaged in such business is in considerable danger. Despite the greater danger, then, free expression in the lawcourts has not been silenced in quite the way it has when one is directly 'addressing' the tyrant. In the courts, one may have to censure personae potentes "powerful personages" (ibid.) to make one's case, to attack the powerful even though this is not one's direct or desired goal. The advocate has, in effect, a triple audience: the judge, his opponent, and those external powerful people who may be offended — and no part of it is necessarily well disposed to him. Someone engaged in public life, like Tacitus or Pliny, was in constant and complex danger. He might offend inadvertently and unambiguously. But Quintilian does not leave the impression that the situation is unmanageable. Poetic contemporaries, such as Martial and Statius, ran a lesser risk. They could use "silence" to their advantage, and write Aperte if not Palam; and they

43

Phoebammon, De Figuris 1 (in: C. WALZ, Rhetores Graeci, vol. 8, Stuttgart 1835, 487519 [493]). Phoebammon, we should note, does not agree with Zoilus. On Phoebammon see W . STEGEMAN, P h o i b a m m o n , in: R E 2 0 . 1 (1941) 3 2 6 - 3 4 3 . O n Z o i l u s , see H . GÄRTNER,

Zoilos (Homeromastix), in: RE Suppl. 15 (1978) 1531-1554. On schema, Zoilus, and Phoebammon, see also G. KENNEDY, The Art of Persuasion in Greece, Princeton 1963, 116; 289-290; H. SCHRÄDER, Σχήμα und τρόπος in den Homerscholien, Hermes 39 (1904) 585; J. FAIRWEATHER, Seneca the Elder (Cambridge Classical Studies), Cambridge 1981, 170—171; also Vossius, Inst. Or. 5.265—266 and the numerous treatises in WALZ, Rhetores Graeci 8.23. G. WILLIAMS, Figures of Thought in Roman Poetry, New Haven 1980, 191 does not discuss Zoilus' most common ancient definition of figured speech, but focuses exclusively on the modern popular notion of figured speech; taking something essentially simple and ornamenting it. This modern notion is not even mentioned by Zoilus or by Demetrius, and is included as last in Quintilian's list of three uses of figured speech.

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could also take their audience's sympathy for granted, tweaking imperial noses as long as what they said could be taken in another way. The technique Quintilian recommends for the orator in particularly dangerous circumstances is precisely what Demetrius says is the force of Plato's art in the Thaedo' (On Style 287): letting the facts speak for themselves (Inst. O r . 9.2.71-72):

res ipsae perducant iudicem ad suspicionem, et amoliamur cetera ut hoc solum supersit; in quo multum etiam adfectus iuvant et interrupta silentio dictio et cunctationes. sic enimfiet ut iudex quaerat illud nescio quid ipse quod fortasse non crederei si audiret et ei quod a se inventum existimat credat.. .in summa, sic maxime iudex credit figuris si nos putat nolle dicere. " T h e judge is most likely to believe what is figured in our speech if he thinks we did not intend to say it". The depth of the illusion must be greater in the courts than in a more academic, declamatory (poetic) situation. Demetrius (On Style 291) reinforces what Quintilian says: Πολλαχή μέντοι καί έπαμφοτερίζουσιν, οις έοικέναι εΐ τις έθέλοι καί •ψόγους είκαιοψόγους είναι θέλοι τις, παράδειγμα το του ΑΙσχίνου επί του Τηλαυγοϋς, πάσα γαρ σχεδόν ή περί τον Τηλαυγή διήγησις άπορίαν παρέχοι, είτε θαυμασμός είτε χλευασμός έστι. το δε τοιούτον είδος άμφίβολον, καίτοι ειρωνεία ουκ ον, εχει τινά όμως καί ειρωνείας εμφασιν. The master of figured speech implants the meaning and often leaves the impression he does not want us to understand what is implied. The censure must s e e m unintentional. The danger for modern critics is that they, like Quintilian's judge, will assume that the censure really is unintentional: that the effect results from oversight rather than intent. This is to deny the rhetorician his skill, fo find him guilty of violating what Quintilian calls the first virtue of oratory: avoiding a mistake — primaque virtus est vitio carere (Inst. O r . 8.3.41). Let us return now to Juvenal's quid Apertiusi The fisherman is not speaking directly Palam but he is speaking Aperte, as Juvenal explicitly states. He is using figured speech. The illusion that the fish wanted to be caught so it could be eaten becomes the bait by which the emperor himself is hooked. Juvenal's fourth satire reveals a Domitian who does not perceive he is being manipulated. He takes the fisherman's remark at face value. The satirist seems to bear out the observation of another survivor of Domitian 's reign, Dio Chrysostom, who says in Discourse 3.21 that the person who praises the idiot as if he were a wise man may well be the most persuasive of all because his listener is an idiot: Ό δέ αν τον άνόητον ώ ς φρόνιμον ύμνων, οΰτος αν τυχόν άπάντων εΐη πιθανώτερος δια την άνοιαν του άκούοντος. Dio's third Discourse, we should add, is addressed to Trajan, and praises his wisdom. And Philostratus, in his Lives of the Sophists 488 tells us that Trajan is reputed to have said to Dio on several occasions: τί μέν λέγεις, ουκ οίδα, φιλώ δέ σε ώς έμαυτόν: I've no idea what you're saying, but I love you as I love myself.

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Perhaps it was because Domitian sought, enjoyed, and took at face value the 'flattery' of figured speech, that Latin and Greek literature t h r i v e d under him, for all his despotic tendencies, as it did under the more genuinely literary Nero. It wilted under his successors, for all the praise scholars have bestowed upon the happy conditions of life from Trajan to the death of Aurelius. The ease with which D i o jests with Trajan in Greek may tell us more about Trajan's proficiency in Greek than about his tolerance of criticism. Domitian, in fact, marks the end of a literary as well as a historical era that began, as Suetonius suggests, with Julius Caesar.

IX. Statins' Approach to Domitian

Domitian, for Statius and Martial is, as he is for Juvenal, an oppressive but vulnerable ruler, as lacking in humor as in Augustan irony. They write about him, as the fisherman speaks, Aperte rather than Palam. The surface conforms to all the delusions of a vain emperor. But within easy reach of the eye are entendres which turn praise into mockery and satire. Both poets seem more anxious about the disapproval of their literary contemporaries than about exciting the suspicions of a hated emperor. They knew, as Horace knew, that their hopes of lasting fame depended on the approval of the upper-class literati, who might be enraged at any appearance, however shallow, of compliment to Domitian. And, of course, they had to face the question of their personal integrity. In brief, they had to keep the emperor at bay, the aristocracy favorable, and their own consciences at ease. Their political insignificance as bourgeois, provincial poets was not entirely a drawback. Like the Augustans rather than the Neronians, they did not belong to a group disenfranchised by the transition from republic to principate. They had no senatorial axe to grind, as did Lucan. Both, in fact, would have been worse off under the republic. Even if he caught them in criticism, Domitian could afford to shrug them off more readily than a Tacitus or Pliny. Their very s m a l l n e s s afforded them a freedom which their well-born contemporaries lacked. T o put it in Martial's terms, the rabbit has some surprising advantages over other animals in his relationship to the lion (Epigrams 1.22):

quid nunc saeva fugis placidi, lepus, ora leonis? frangere tam parvas non didicere feras, servantur magnis isti cerviàbus ungues nec gaudet tenui sanguine tanta sitis. praeda canum lepus est, vastos non implet hiatus: non timeat Dacus Caesaris arma puer. Seven other poems in the first book treat the same phenomenon (1.6, 1 4 , 4 4 , 48, 51, 6 0 , 1 0 4 ) ; in each the lion is either indifferent to the rabbit, or its protector against hounds. 7 ANRW II 32.1

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The relationship of the lion and the rabbit is compared here to that between Caesar's forces and a Dacian boy. Its small size protects the rabbit from the lion, the Dacian boy from Caesar's army, and, perhaps, the poet from Caesar himself. The 'hounds', presumably, are the poet's more threatening critics — perhaps the senatorial literati. The comparison of the lion and rabbit is 'figured' writing such as Quintilian would approve. There is no suggestion of clemency in the lion's sparing of the rabbit; he will happily savage others. Further, in the opinions of Tacitus (Agricola 39) and Suetonius (Domitian 6.2), Domitian's campaigns against the Dacians were, at best, not a success, and the triumphs he celebrated over them a farce. So the Dacian boy has nothing to fear from an army that cannot defeat his elders — because Domitian cannot get near him. Statius was probably more vulnerable than Martial to both the imperial lion and the senatorial hounds. For he, however politically insignificant, was a writer not of epigrams, but of epic: Vergil's rival and successor. Yet, on the imperial front, Statius avoided disaster until late in life, when he may well have been forced to leave Rome. How far his survival was due to his skill with figured language, and how far it was due to Domitian's lion-like indifference to him, is hard to assess. It was probably a combination of both. His success in placating the literati is harder to calculate. Of extant contemporary writers, only Juvenal even mentions Statius' name. And the silence is mutual. It may be an accident of literary history. It may have been an attempt to damn his memory. Our only evidence for how his work was received is in Juvenal, Satire 7.82 — 87: curritur ad vocem iucundam et carmen amie a e Thebaidos, laetam cum feat Statius urbem promisitque diem: tanta dulcedine captos adficit ille ánimos tantaque libidine volgi auditur; sed cum fregit subsellia versu, esurit, intactam Pandi nisi vendit Agaven. Although he indicates Statius' popularity, and, elsewhere in the satire, ranks him by juxtaposition with the now 'classic' works of Vergil and Lucan, Juvenal is not issuing undiluted compliments. The passage cited is charged with sexual overtones. Juvenal hints about the 'Thebaid' what he makes explicit about the Agave: that Statius had his poetic daughter flaunt and sell her favors like a whore so they could earn a living. A recent commentator on Juvenal expressed a similar idea, but without Juvenal's compliments: "Statius was one of Domitian's bootlickers." 4 4 We should not minimize the possibility of this kind of condemnation of Statius in antiquity. For the ravages such contempt has wrought on his reputation among modern scholars have often served as an excuse for ignoring him. It is clear that Statius himself was somewhat anxious about the sort of reception which would greet the publication of his works and in particular of his 'Silvae'. His anxiety may, of course, be nothing more than a kind of rhetorical modesty. But his approach, as we shall see, is surprisingly defensive if that is all it is. 44

Juvenal, The Satires, ed. J. FERGUSON, London 1979, 222 (on 7.83).

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In his letter to Arruntius Stella prefacing Silvae 1, Statius expresses some concern about publishing a collection of occasional verse after the appearance of the 'Thebaic!'. 45 He insists, however that he has fine precedents for doing this in both Vergil and Homer: sed et Culicem legimus et Batrachomachiam edam agnoscimus, nec quisquam est inlustrium poetamm qui non aliquid operibus suis stilo remissiore praeluserit. "We read Vergil's 'Culex' and even Homer's 'Battle of the Frogs and Mice' is not beneath us. None of the famous poets failed to write something in lighter vein in a spirit of playfulness." At his stage, Statius' worries seem to be insignificant. But by the time Silvae 4 was ready for publication, Statius was highly self-conscious of potential criticism. In the prefatory letter to Marcellus, he responds to an imaginary query: Quare ego plura in quarto silvarum quam in prioñbus? ne se putent aliquid egisse qui repreh ender unt, ut audio, quod hoc stili genus edidissem. "Why have I included more poems in the fourth book of my 'Silvae' than in the first three? I have done so to prove to those who, I hear, have taken me to task for writing this kind of poetry, that their criticisms have had no effect." There is a very obvious tone of defiance in these words. The poet will prove that his critics have made no headway in dissuading him from writing "this kind of poetry." What, precisely, does Statius mean by this kind of poetry?" We might be tempted to conclude that he is thinking only in terms of the light and impromptu nature of the 'Silvae', much as he is in the preface to book 1. But his argument, as it continues, does not seem to lead in this direction: Primum supervacuum est dissuadere rem factam; deinde multa ex Ulis iam domino Caesari dederam, et quanto hoc plus est quam edere? "First of all, what's done is done. There is no point in trying to advise me against it. Secondly, I had already given many of the poems to my master Caesar prior to their publication, and isn't this more significant than merely publishing them? By far!" Statius singles out for special attention the fact that some, or, rather, many of the poems had been presented to Domitian in advance. This observation is not as

45



On the prefaces to the 'Silvae', see VESSEY (above, note 42) 36—40 and P. WHITE, The Presentation and Dedication of the Silvae and the Epigrams, JRS 54 (1974) 40—61. For recent comment on the 'Silvae' in general, see L. HÀKANSON, Statius' Silvae: Critical and Exegetical Remarks with some Notes on the Thebaid, Lund 1969; H. CANCIK, Untersuchungen zur lyrischen Kunst des P. Papinius Statius (Spudasmata 13), Hildesheim 1965; S. NEWMYER, The Silvae of Statius: Structure and Theme (Mnemosyne Suppl. 53), Leiden 1979.

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ingenuous as it seems. At the opening of the letter to Marcellus, Statius notes that Silvae 4 is rather unusual because of the number of poems it contains which are about or addressed to Domitian: Reor equidem aliter quam invocato numine maximi opusculum meum coepisse; sed hic liber tres habet.

imperatoris

nullum

" I think that no work of mine has begun without an invocation of the godhead of our mighty emperor. But this book contains three such poems." Not only does Silvae 4 contain three poems about Domitian; it opens with them one after another. In none of the previous books has Statius devoted so much space to Domitian — and in three consecutive poems. It might, of course, be indiscreet not to dedicate one poem to the emperor, if only as a token gesture. But this is going beyond token gestures; and no one to whom Domitian was distasteful was likely to ignore this. Though Statius seems eager to defend himself against his critics, his line of defense is not at all strong. To argue that the publication of the 'Silvae' has passed beyond controversy because it is a fait accompli is scarcely going to convince those who feel that the poems should never have been published in the first place. On the contrary, it is an admission that he should not have done so. More important, Statius suggests the major damage was done not by the actual publication of the poems, but by their presentation to Domitian. In short, Statius is more concerned with the compromise of principle than with the fact of publication which lets everyone know that the principle has been compromised. He is not arguing that the publication of the 'Silvae' was a good idea, but rather that it involves no additional breach of personal integrity beyond that already incurred. As if to bolster his case after this initial concession, Statius now asks, almost petulantly : exercere autem ioco non licet? "Is it against the rules to have a little fun?" In the guise of this rhetorical question, Statius emphasizes the trivial nature and content of his 'Silvae' ; the word iocus lets us know that he does not intend us to presume that they are earnest or serious statements. Iocus, in fact, is the same word Martial uses to describe his 'Epigrams' and Horace his 'Odes'. Since a third of the poems in Silvae 4 are about or adressed to Domitian, and since the Domitian poems are the only ones to which Statius makes explicit reference here, Statius is surely reminding his critics that even these are light-hearted ioci, and not to be taken seriously. At his point, Statius allows his critics a word: 'secreto' inquit — "'then keep these [jokes] secret,' my critic answers." Statius' hypothetical critic reveals his diametrically opposed viewpoint in the one word, secreto. He is saying, in effect, that the poet can do what he likes provided he doesn't commit himself to writing it down for public use. The issue which bothers those who think the 'Silvae' should not have been published has nothing to do with the poet's personal integrity. They are concerned only with the possible effects of publication, the

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most obvious of which would be the projection of an apparently favorable image of Domitian. Statius' initial concession that he may have been wrong to give the poems to Domitian, much less to publish them, has now been turned to rhetorical advantage. His own feeling that what really matters is his compromise of integrity stands in sharp contrast to the critic's lack of interest in matters of principle. Yet obviously Statius cannot pursue this moral contrast too openly without declaring, in so many words, that he is opposed to Domitian. So he resorts, instead, to an ironical response to his critic's plea for secrecy: sed et sphaeromachias spectamus et palaris lusio nos admittit . . . "But I watch boxing-matches, and the tournaments open their doors to me . . . " One suspects that Statius' intention here is to infuriate his critic. What he is saying may be something along these lines: either "Why not? we go to other trivial sports to watch them" or "Why not? It gets me a free pass to the games." If the latter, Statius is making nothing less than an open admission that he prostitutes his art for the rewards which come to a court poet. At the some time, he makes it clear that the rewards of courtly verse are paltry. Statius' ioci are repaid by ludi. To put it another way, he is not becoming rich on the proceeds; neither he nor Domitian takes the matter very seriously. The sting of Statius' words here could be directed towards his ungenerous patrons no less than to his hostile critics. By this stage, we notice that Statius' critic has undergone something of a transformation since the opening lines of the paragraph. The undefined plural critics of whom Statius has only heard — qui reprehenderunt, ut audio — have been narrowed down to one, suggesting, perhaps, that Statius, despite his initial vagueness, has direct knowledge of the criticisms that are made of him. He may even have had one particular individual in mind, or at least a certain kind of individual. The next sentence suggests this even more strongly: novissime: quisquís ex meis invitus aliquid legit, statim se profiteatur adversum. "Finally: if anyone (of my friends) reads something (I have written) against his inclinations, let him immediately declare his opposition." The expression ex meis is ambiguous, as I have tried to suggest with the parentheses in my translation. Statius could be using it to refer to his friends or his writings. If the former is the primary meaning, then Statius possibly has a specific person in mind for whom this miniature apologia is intended: someone he knows well. But even if this is not the case, the sentence leaves no doubt that Statius is challenging the reluctant reader, whether he be friend or not, to make some public statement of his disapproval. "If you don't like what I have to say, you can always declare yourself against it." It is a safe challenge. To come out in opposition to the kind of flattery that Statius has been heaping on Domitian and others would be very dangerous.

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Statius is offering a challenge which he knows his critic will not take up. That is why he begins his next sentence as follows: Ita . . . quare Consilio eius accedam? "Very well . . . why should I give in to his advice?" If my interpretation is correct, Statius is taking direct aim at the hypocrisy of those who censure him for writing court poetry while being too frightened themselves to take public issue with him. He concludes: in summum nempe ego sum qui traducor? taceat et gaudeat. " A final word: is it not I who am being disgraced? Let him keep his silence and enjoy i t ! " The poet knows that his praises of Domitian are not destined to earn him high praise in certain quarters. 4 6 Yet he wants to make it clear that he is the one whose name will be dragged in the mud as a result. If the critic wishes to keep his precious silence, Statius declares, that is his business. But by his silence the critic forfeits his right to criticize others. In sum, then, Statius is not merely defending his right to compose poetry other than epic; he is defending himself against the critic or critics who attack him for writing court poetry for a hated emperor. It is, I think, very telling that Statius allows his critic only one direct word here: secreto. For this one word summarizes an entire attitude to life under Domitian: flatter if you must, but do not publish your eulogies. Obviously Statius could not afford to remain silent as the wealthy aristocrat could. He had to keep Domitian not merely at bay, but ready to give him funds. But for all this, it is almost certain that Statius liked Domitian no more than Tacitus or Pliny did. His attitude to the emperor is not necessarily all that it seems to be at first glance. T o begin with, his praise of Domitian is so fulsome that its hollowness becomes quite obvious. And flattery, when employed with a certain amount of judicious wit, becomes something very akin to satire. What Statius' letter to Marcellus shows us, above all else, is that one must read between the lines. The text makes sense only when the missing steps in the logical progression of thought are supplied by the reader. There is a curious and calculated discontinuity in his manner of presentation which forces the reader into a kind of intellectual dialogue with him. The effect is not altogether unlike what would be achieved if Horace, in, say, Satires 2.1, had removed Trebatius' remarks and left only his " o w n " , thus compelling us to supply what Trebatius says. And there is indeed, much similarity between the sort of apologia Horace offers for writing the praise of Augustus and that which Statius offers Marcellus for writing in praise of Domitian. This technique of enticing the reader to become intellectually involved in the creative process is the hallmark of great art. But it also makes such art exclusive. 46

W e should not assume Statius is emphasizing Marcellus' pietas toward Domitian in this letter, as P . WHITE suggests in: N o t e s on t w o Statian πρόσωπα, C P 68 ( 1 9 7 3 ) 2 7 9 —284.

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One must accept the artist's way of thinking in order to fill in the gaps he has left. If one does not, the work makes little or no sense at all. This is not only the way a poet like Statius can lure us into viewing the world through his eyes, but the way in which he can actually distract and discourage those who would disagree with him. While Statius is typical of Roman poets in demanding that his reader participate in his poetry in this manner, no Latin poet before him, except Ovid, forces the reader so clearly to conclusions diametrically opposed to the presumed purpose of his writing. "When Statius flatters Domitian, the results are so bizarre one must either conclude that this is mannerism gone mad or that his purpose is to hold the emperor up for the ridicule of later generations. Unfortunately, scholars reason, he would not have dared do the latter. If Tacitus, Pliny, Juvenal and others are right, Statius would have been crushed like a fly for doing this. But let us give him the benefit of the doubt for a moment, and assume that he is, rather, the jackrabbit who stands in the lion's mouth.

X.

The Largest

Horse

The very first poem of Statius' 'Silvae' is addressed to Domitian, celebrating the dedication of a large equestrian statue of the emperor in the forum. Statius comments thus about it in his prefatory letter to Arruntius Stella: primus libellas sacrosanctum habet testem: sumendum enim erit 'a love principiurn. Centum hos versus, quos in equum maximum fed, indulgentissimo imperatori postero die, quam dedicaverat opus, tradere iussus sum. I have emphasized indulgentissimo and iussus sum to draw attention to what I believe is an important feature of Statius' manner of writing: the creation of opposing forces within his sentences, where the implications of one word are modified, even entirely negated by another. The indulgentissimo — and the flattering echo of Vergilian and Theocritean pastoral (Vergil, Eclogues 3.60 and Theocritus, Idylls 17.1) which suggests that Domitian is to be equated with Jupiter — counterbalance the raw force of Statius' statement: he wrote the poem not because he felt inspired to do so, or even wanted to, but because he was commanded to. And, throughout Silvae 1.1, this grammatical tension creates a kind of civil war of words within the sentence structure which complements a similar civil war of themes: quae superimposito moles geminata stat Latium complexa forum? caelone fluxit opus? (1— 3)

colosso per actum

Let us look at the verbs in these three lines: O f the verbal forms, four are participles: they tell us that by the s u p e r i m p o s i t i o n of the colossus the mass is d o u b l e d , and that it has e m b r a c e d the forum, after the work has been

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c a r r i e d o u t in heaven. T h e participles, in short, are polysyllabic and vigorous. B u t the finite verbs beginning lines 2 and 3 are terse and contradictory: the statue s t a n d s as it embraces the forum (rather than vice versa); yet perhaps it f l o w e d down from heaven complete. N o w if the w o r k of shapeless art was completed in heaven, it could hardly have f l o w e d thence — though a moles might have; and the emphasis on its weight makes the idea that it could have glided down somewhat droll. Statius, however, has not yet mentioned in the poem itself what exactly this huge thing is. That mention comes, somewhat obliquely, in lines 5 — 7, where the question is posed as to whether the opus could be the work of Pallas herself — Domitian's patron goddess — depicting the emperor holding the reins as the Rhine and the lofty home of the Dacian had seen him recently: attoniti vidit domus ardua Dad (4). An equestrian statue which is the work of Pallas brings to mind the Trojan horse, which was the goddess' contrivance, according to H o m e r

(Odyssey 8.493), and Vergil (Aeneid 2.15): instar montis equum divina Palladis arte. This hint of the Trojan horse leads Statius to a direct comparison between Domitian's statue and the Trojan horse (8 — 13). T h e difference is, the poet adds, that Aeneas and H e c t o r could not — or does he mean would not? — bring this horse into T r o y :

ipse nec Aeneas nec magnus ducer et Hector

(13)

T h e ambiguity of the subjunctive here draws attention to the fundamental ambiguity of the comparison between the statue and the Trojan h o r s e . 4 7 T h e T r o j a n horse, after all, did not do T r o y much good, even though it was - in fact, because it was — designed by Pallas. T h e foolish Trojans would have had a clearer notion of what they were getting had the horse's riders been on the outside, as is Domitian. Statius continues:

ad de, quod Ule nocens saevosque amplexus Achivos, hunc mitis commendai eques. (14—15) Statius here acknowledges several things: that the analogy with the Trojan horse is not necessarily complimentary; that the analogy, of course does not really work anyway, because the Trojan horse embraced within itself the Greeks w h o were to destroy the city, whereas Domitian is a gentle, external rider. O n the other hand, the notion of the horse containing in its embrace ( a m p l e x u s ) the savage Greeks who will seize the city does parallel the earlier notion of the massive statue of Domitian embracing ( c o m p l e x a ) the Latin forum. T h e statue symbolizes the emperor's actual, not just his potential, control of R o m e .

47

Decrevit in line 10 is ambiguous: cui vertice sacro / Dindymon et caesis decrevit frondibus Ide ( 9 — 1 0 ) . Decrevit may be the perfect of either decerno or decresco. STEVE FARRAND compares another famous poem about a bronze equestrian statue: ALEXANDER PUSHKIN'S 'The Bronze Horseman' (edition with commentary in English, Moscow 1 9 8 0 ) .

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This gentle rider, Statius continues, is a pleasure to behold: iuvant ora tueri mixta notis belli placidamque gerentia pacem. nec veris maiora putes: par forma decor que, par honor, exhaustis Martern non altius armis Bistonius portât sonipes magnoque superbii pondere . . . (15-20) Line 16 is a masterpiece of contradictory tensions. Domitian's face is mingled with the marks of war and wearing — or is it w a g i n g ? — tranquil peace. Pacem gerere is, after all, a very odd phrase. The poet's defense at this point is to exclaim: don't think I am exaggerating — the sort of remark one would make if one had just offered an extravagant compliment. After this he immediately proceeds to reaffirm the warlike nature of Domitian's countenance by comparing him to Mars returning from Thrace on horseback, not exhausted by wars, but having exhausted war. At this point, Statius moves on to discuss the appropriateness of the statue's site. It is opposite the temple of Julius Caesar: par operi sedes, hinc obvia limina pandit, qui fessus bellis adscitae muñere prolis primus iter nostris ostendit in aetbera divis.

(22—24)

Statius is here playing official propaganda against itself. In terms of the 'official truth 5 that Caesar first showed the way to heaven for his imperial successors when he was tired of war — and thanks to his adoptive son's generosity — Domitian's statue is appropriately situated. Is it also appropriately situated so close to Caesar's shrine if one remembers that Caesar was, in fact, assassinated? To complicate matters further, Statius now reintroduces the theme of Domitian's gentleness in comparison to Caesar: discit et e vultu, quantum tu mitior armis, qui nec in externos facilis saevire furores das Cbattis Dacisque fidem. (25—27) Of Domitian's victories over the Chatti and Dacians, Suetonius observes: de Cbattis Dacisque post varia proelia duplicem triumpbum egit (Dom. 6). Tacitus (Agricola 39) regards the triumph over the Dacians and Germans as an unwarranted and laughable sham. Thus Statius' suggestion that Domitian is mitior armis against foreign foes than Caesar is not necessarily a compliment; especially when we notice Suetonius' remark: armorum nullo . . . studio tenebatur (Dom. 19). The remainder of the poem continues in similar vein. The head of the emperor's statue is described as puro celsum caput aere saeptus (32), a curious image, recalling, perhaps, Aeneid 1.411: obscuro gradientes aëre saepsit. But Vergil's point is that Aeneas and Achates are rendered invisible by the thick cloud, which covers, conceals, defends them from recognition. The verb saepio suggests opaqueness not translucence. The notion that Domitian can survey Rome unseen

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because the head of his mighty statue is shrouded with pure air is not without a certain humor. And from this vantage point he can see, among other things:

an tacita vigilet face Troicus ignis atque exploratas iam laudet Vesta ministras.

(35 — 36)

Domitian had sentenced the Vestal virgins Oculata and Varronilla to death; and he had Cornelia buried alive for unchastity and her lovers beaten to death (Suetonius, D o m . 8; Pliny, Letters 4.11). Exploratas then, is something of an understatement, and probably carries in it an echo of the verb ploro, suggesting a lament. The emperor's right hand forbids battles, but in his left hand we find Pallas holding the gorgon's head as if trying to goad the emperor' horse to fury (37—39). The poet, no doubt, is describing the motif on Domitian's shield. But he does so in such a way that the force in the left hand belies the peace proferred by the right. We find the same ambiguity in his sword:

latus ense quieto securum, magnus quanto mucrone minatur noctibus hibernis et sidera terret Orion. (43—45) His is a sword at rest — the kind of blade with which Orion terrifies the stars on wintry nights. Military campaigns, of course, are usually conducted during summer days in antiquity. Does Domitian's sword, like Orion's, become most effective outside normal fighting hours and seasons? The mention of Orion suggests to Statius the famous horse Arion, and, after him, Castor's horse, Cyllarus (52—54):

hune et Adrasteus visum extimuisset Anon et pavet aspiciens Ledaeus ab aede propinqua Cyllarus. Arion, first mentioned in Iliad 23.346—347, is described by Pausanias (8.25.3 — 10) as the product of Poseidon's rape of Demeter. Demeter changed herself into a mare to escape; but Poseidon promptly turned himself into a stallion. Antimachus, according to Pausanias (loc. cit.), said Arion had three owners: Oncus, Hercules, and lastly Adrastus — the sole survivor of the Seven against Thebes. Statius' 'compliment' that D o m i t i a n ' s horse is loyal to only o n e star (Silvae 1.1.55) suggests he has the multiple ownership of Arion in mind; yet the epithet Adrasteus singles out Adrastus as the significant owner for his comparison. That two of myth's great horses f e a r the sight of Domitian on horseback is odd. Arion usually does not panic himself; he saves his frightened rider. In the cyclic 'Thebaid' (Pausanias 8.25.8) and in a fragment of Pancrates' 'Antinous' (P. O x y . 8 [1911] no. 1085, lines 1—3), written in the reign of Hadrian, Arion saves Adrastus' life as A d r a s t u s f l e e s f r o m b a t t l e . So, given Domitian's dubious military successes that the statue celebrates, the comparison with Arion is not necessarily flattering. Further, Statius in his own 'Thebaid', published b e f o r e the 'Silvae', also depicts Adrastus driving Arion and fleeing from battle in

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despair and disgust. In fact, he compares the departure from Thebes (and the epic) of Adrastus, Arion's third owner, to Pluto's descent to rule the Underworld after he has drawn the lowest of the three lots which makes him custos, guardian of the dead (Thebaid 11.439—446). Considering that Adrastus is himself associated with the cults of the dead, the simile is most appropriate. 4 8 There is another instance in ancient literature where Arion is frightened — also in Statius. In Thebaid 6, he is driven in a race at the funeral games for Opheltes by Adrastus' son-in-law: Polynices, child of Oedipus. The innocent horse f e a r s its guilty rider: dirum expaverat insons / Oedipodioniden (6.425 — 426). Statius ventures into human and equine psychology to explain why. When Arion rushes into the lead (6.428—429), he says, the spectators w r o n g l y assume he is excited by their applause. In reality, t h e h o r s e is t r y i n g t o r u n a w a y f r o m his driver: Inachidae aurigam

credunt fugit

accensum

laudibus;

ille

. . .

This comment on horse and master is reminiscent of Horace's observations on that same relationship in power: hatred of, fear for, or resistance to one's master can produce the excitement of the race or of art. But the distant eye, especially if it does not understand horses, cannot tell the difference. Hence the popular assumption is that horses race fast because they share their masters' desire to compete. And Statius earlier lures us into this assumption by emphasizing that such oneness of horse and master prevailed before the race started (6.391 — 395). As individuals change, so do situations. At the post, Arion presumes his driver is, as usual, Adrastus. Once the race begins, he perceives not only the guilt, but the i n c o m p e t e n c e of his surrogate driver. This image is reinforced by the pointed comparison between Polynices at Arion's reins and Phaethon's disastrous attempt to control the chariot of the Sun (6.316—325). And Polynices is ejected from the chariot and almost killed when Apollo intervenes and sends a snaky monster from hell to add to Arion's terror (6.492 — 512). We may recall at this point that the equestrian Domitian in Silvae 1.1.36—39 is holding a snaky head of M e d u s a in h i s left h a n d : ceu stimulis accendit

equum.49

There lurks a parallel between the son of Oedipus and Domitian, though Statius does not pursue it here; and it goes beyond the political allegory of horsemanship. Domitian's relationship with his brother Titus had been notoriously bad. The two had been rivals for the throne. In the 'Thebaid', where the parallel

48

F o r Adrastus and horses see also Herodotus 5 . 6 7 (Cleisthenes of Sicyon's substitution of the cult of Melanippus, 'Dark H o r s e ' , for Adrastus); cf. Pausanias 8 . 2 5 . 1 0 on the dark color of Arion's hair.

49

Pausanias discusses the various gods, altars, or signs which terrified horses in ancient stadia in his treatment of the altar at the Olympic hippodrome, dedicated to the Taraxippos, Terrifier of Horses' (6.15 — 19). F o r N e m e a see ibid. 19; cf. V . GEBHARD, Taraxippos, in: R E 4 A . 2 (1932) 2 2 8 8 - 2 2 9 2 .

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is more explicit, the connection is mostly between Eteocles and Domitian, rather than Polynices and Domitian. Arion goes on to finish first, but alone, in the 'Thebaid'. That really means the runner-up wins, since riderless horses do not win races. And the runner-up is Apollo's priest Amphiaraus, who is doomed to be buried alive at the end of Thebaid 7 (794—823). Amphiaraus himself drives a special horse: Cygnus who, Statius explains, is bred from Castor's Cyllarus (6.328 — 3 3 1 ) . 5 0 Castor is also associated with the underworld. And Cyllarus is the o t h e r horse that would have been afraid of the equestrian Domitian in Silvae 1.1. When Amphiaraus and Cygnus compete against Arion and Polynices in Thebaid 6.527, the earth trembles with foreboding beneath them: dat gemitum

tellus et iam tunc saeva

minatur.

In Silvae 1.1.56—60, just after the comparison of Domitian's horse to Arion and Cyllarus, the earth trembles beneath D o m i t i a n ' s statue: vix sola suffiaunt insessaque pondere tanto supter anhelat humus; nec ferro aut aere; laborant sub genio, teneat quamvis aeterna crepido, quae superingesti portaret culmina montis caeliferique attrita genu durasset Atlantis. The words echo the poem's opening, its moles and superimposito colosso, and invite us to contrast the two passages. Domitian's statue, in both, is massive weight; but its p h y s i c a l burden on the land, emphasized in the beginning, is less than its s p i r i t u a l burden here. Domitian's genius, not the weight of metal, makes the statue heavy, and threatens the stability of the earth. And, in 59 and 60, the comparison is not between Domitian and Atlas as bearers of the world, but between Domitian and the world's weight Atlas must bear. Statius far surpasses the limits of the convention whereby gods are more weighty than men.

50

On Amphiaraus, horses, swans, and the underworld, see F. AHL, Amber, Avallon, and Apollo's Singing Swan, AJP 103 (1982) 373—411. On Amphiaraus as oracular source and chthonic god see Herodotus 1.46—52; Sophocles, Electra 837—841 (cf. frag. 873 NAUCK); Strabo 9.1.22; 9 . 2 . 1 - 1 1 ; K. LATTE, Kleine Schriften, ed. O . GIGON, W. BUCHWALD, W. KUNKEL, Munich 1968, p. 158 = IDEM, R E 18.1 (1939) 8 3 4 - 8 3 5 ; H. W. PARKE, Greek Oracles, London 1967, p. 94: "In each instance [Amphiaraus and Trophonius] it seems that the deity was really a god of the underworld, whose primitive cult had tended to be reduced in status compared with the Olympians." The association of horses and ritual sacrifice was well known at Rome through the sacrifice of the October Equus: see U . W. SCHOLZ, Studien zum altitalischen und altrömischen Marskult und Marsmythos (Bibl. klass. Altertumswiss. N F 2. R. 35), Heidelberg 1970, especially 8 1 - 1 6 7 ; Μ. O. HOWEY, The Horse in Myth and Magic, London 1923; J. PUHVEL, Victimal hierarchies in Indo-European animal sacrifice, AJP 99 (1978) 354—362. The right horse of the winning pair was stabbed and beheaded. Its tail was cut off and carried to the regia where its blood was caught and kept by the king or given over to the Vestal virgins. Since the horses raced counter-clockwise, the better horse was on the right.

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XI. The Rider on the Brink

The presence of Domitian's genius inspires the workers making the statue, Statius says. It is a compliment most courteous; but it also flatly abandons the poem's opening conceit that this moles flowed down from heaven complete. In fact, the noise of its construction overwhelms the other sounds of Rome (63 — 65): strepit ardua pulsa machina; continuus septem per culmina Martis it fragor et magnae vinài vaga murmura Romae. If the noise really was as loud as Statius says, the poem's first lines would have elicited a smothered laugh from his contemporaries. That is why the word vaga is important here. Remove it, and nothing complimentary is left: the continuous noise of building the statue drowns the roar of mighty Rome — which was proverbially deafening, as Juvenal's Umbricius complains (Satires 3.232—248). But vaga enables Statius to disguise his blow. The roar of Rome, as opposed to the louder noise of work upon the statue, is purposeless, uncreative, random. The noise of the statue's construction, however, is loud enough to wake the dead. For its site is close to the Lacus Curtius, named after Mettus Curtius, who, like a voluntary Amphiaraus, rode into the chasm to meet the King of the Dead, and make himself a living sacrifice for Rome (66—70): ipse loci custos, cuius sacrata vorago famosique lacus nomen memorabile servant, innúmeros aeris sonitus et verbere crudo ut sensit mugiré forum, movet hórrida sancto ora situ meritaque caput venerabile quercu. The fact that Curtius' face is hórrida allows the reader to perceive a doubleentendre in sancto . . . situ·, not so much a holy site as holy d e c a y . Curtius, then, is neither idealized spirit nor bare bone, but a corpse which, though venerable, is rotting. This grisly intermediate state is surprising. Curtius' ritual selfoffering was made in 362 B.C., some four and a half centuries before Statius. 51 Curtius' reaction to the equestrian Domitian is hardly less contradictory than his appearance (71—73): ac primum ingentes habitus lucemque coruscam expavit maioris equi terque arduua mersit colla lacu trepidans laetus mox praeside viso . . . When he sees Domitian's l a r g e r horse, he re-enacts three times — but now from f e a r — his plunge into the chasm. It is not only the heroes of Greek myth and 51

Varrò recognizes three different versions of the Mettus Curtius legend (Lingua Latina 5. 148—150) of which the first most closely corresponds to Statius'; cf. Livy 7.6.1 —6; Pliny, N H 15.78.

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their horses that are frightened by Domitian. Statius reverses M e n u s ' fright by juxtaposing laetus: "trembling with j o y , " we imagine — but only for a moment. T h e following juxtaposition of mox to laetus negates the illusion; it marks the passage of time, however brief, between trepidans and laetus. H e is afraid; but delight soon follows. Curtius quickly adapts to the dissimulation which Tacitus and Suetonius remark is so characteristic of the imperial era. Statius stresses the difference between custos and praeses here: Curtius, R o m e ' s custos, becomes joyful at the sight of his praeses. Though the words are close in meaning, they are not synonymous. Both imply guardianship; but a custos is usually someone who literally covers or contains what he is guarding, whether it be a jail or a voting urn. A praeses sits in front of something; his role is more ambiguous. H e may be guarding, but he may be ruling. As Sallust notes:

vobis per suffragia uti praesides olim, nunc dominos destinatis (Hist. 3.61.6). T h e idea of Curtius as a kind of Orcus figure, a gatekeeper of death, who dedicated himself, as Livy tells us (7.6.4), ad deos manes, has been well discussed by KROLL and WAGENVOORT, who suggest that human sacrifices were made to the dead at the Lacus Curtius. 5 2 And Suetonius (Augustus 57) describes the practice of throwing small bronze coins into the Lacus on N e w Year's D a y — a practice of chthonic origin. Perhaps Curtius himself was such a human sacrifice. Given this, and the direct and indirect references in Silvae 1.1 to people being buried alive — the Vestal virgins and Amphiaraus — we wonder whether such a fate awaits the equestrian Domitian, which certainly strains the earth with its oppressive weight. After compliments to Domitian, Curtius declares (78 — 81):

"semel auctor ego inventorque salutis Romuleae: tu bella Iovis, tu proelia Rheni, tu civile nefas, tu tardum in foedera montem longo Marte domas." Statius holds the verb, domas, until the end, providing only a series of subjects and objects in 79—80: " T h e wars of Jupiter, the battles of the Rhine, the crime of civil war, the hill unwilling to come to terms: all these in drawn-out conflict do y o u d o m i n a t e . " 5 3 Domas comes as a surprise. It does not go at all well with bella Iovis·, but it is absolutely crucial that Statius uses it to offset any adverse implications as to Domitian's actions with regard to the civile nefas. Gens, vinàs or any other verb suggestive of carrying on or winning a war would imply that Domitian was on the winning side of a vicious civil war. This is uncomfortably close to the mark. Domas neatly evades the truth which civile nefas suggests: Domitian is the

52

W . KROLL, L a c u s C u r t i u s , i n : R E 12.1 ( 1 9 2 4 ) , 3 7 8 ; H . WAGENVOORT, S t u d i e s in R o m a n

Literature Culture and Religion, Leiden 1956, 122—125; cf. F. MÜNZER, M. Curtius (nos. 7 a n d 9 ) , i n : R E 4 ( 1 9 0 1 ) , 1 8 6 4 - 1 8 6 5 ; a n d C . HÜLSEN, C u r t i u s L a c u s , i n : R E 4 . 2 ( 1 9 0 1 ) , 1892-1893. 53

I render domas as "dominate" rather than "tame" to retain the possible play on Domitian's name.

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mediator, the t a m e r of civil war. But Statius keeps us in suspense until the last word of the sentence is out. But the greatest surprise in the passage still awaits us. Curtius continues as follows : "quod si te nostra tulissent saecula, temptasses me non audente profundo ire lacu, sed Roma tuas tenuisset habenas."

(81—83)

With slow and deliberate spondees Curtius edges Domitian to the brink of the chasm — tëmptâssës më nön aûdëntë profundó / ïrë lâcû — only to recall him in a series of hurried dactyls: sëd Roma tüäs tënuïssët hàbënâs. But the metrical patterns in these two notions conflict, somehow, with the ideas involved. The clippety-clop rhythm of the dactyls is much more obviously suggestive of horses trotting or gallopping than of horses being reined in. Vergil's quadripedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum (Aeneid 8.596) is probably the best-known instance. Spondees, in fact, would be more suitable to the suggestion of horses being brought to a stop by people tugging on the reins. Thus, though Mettus Curtius' words have Domitian attempting to gallop into the chasm, only to be restrained by Rome herself, the rhythms he uses suggest the exact opposite: the equestrian Domitian being dragged to the brink, then allowed to trot over the edge. The next line, 84, begins: cedat equus and seems to reinforce the idea of the horse trotting over the brink. The poet seems to be saying: " L e t the horse go over the edge, Curtius." But, after tantalizing his reader or listener with that thought, Statius shows us that there has been a change of steeds: he is now comparing the equestrian Domitian with the equestrian Caesar, who differs considerably in size: Cedat equus, Latiae qui contra templa Diones Caesarei stat sede fori — quem traderis ausus Pellaeo, Lysippe, duci, mox Caesaris ora mirata cervice tulit — vix lumine fesso explores, quam longus in hunc despectus ab ilio. quis rudis usque adeo, qui non, ut vident ambos, tantum dicat equos quantum distare regentis? (84—90) The statue of Caesar is really Alexander with Caesar's head replacing the original — to the surprise of the neck: mirata cervice. But it is worth recalling that, since Domitian's head is aère saeptus (32), it probably would not be hard to effect a similar substitution without attracting undue attention. The last few lines of this passage merit particular attention (87—90). So let us look at them again, in translation: "Even if you tired your eyes with looking you would hardly be able to measure out how much the one looks down upon the other. W h o is so simple-minded that he would not declare as he looks at both, that there is, as much difference between the way they reign (hold the reins) as there is between their horses?"

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Why would one have to be rudis, simple-minded, not to be able to distinguish the difference between Caesar and Domitian as riders or rulers? Of course Domitian's statue dwarfs Caesar's, but in what sense does Domitian dwarf Caesar? Julius Caesar was an expert horseman, Suetonius tells us: armorum et equitandi peritissimus; laboris ultra fidem patiens erat. In agmine nonnumquam equo, saepius pedibus anteibat, capite detecto, seu sol seu imber esset. (Julius 57) Julius Caesar treated his personal horse with special care; and it was indeed a special creature: equo insigni, pedibus prope humanis (Julius 61). According to the haruspices, its master would rule the world. In consequence of this, he dedicated a statue of it, to which Statius refers in 84—85 and which Suetonius mentions in Julius 61. Indeed, so famous was Caesar's love for horses that a legend arose that the horses he had set free after crossing the Rubicon wept and fasted before his death (Julius 81). Domitian, in contrast (Suetonius, Dom. 19) hardly ever walked in the city or rode on horseback when campaigning. Instead, he rode in a litter and, as we noted earlier, had no expertise in conventional weaponry: laboris impatiens pedibus per urbem non temere ambulavit, in expeditione et agmine equo rarius, lectica assidue vectus est. armorum nullo, sagittarum vel praecipuo studio tenebatur. There we have the heart of the matter. What is, ultimately, so preposterous about Domitian's equestrian statue is that it is a blatant artistic misrepresentation of the emperor as a military man, greater than Caesar or Alexander because his statue is bigger. The fact that he and his horse are bigger, however, simply makes the lie bigger, and the strain on Rome's credulity and resources greater. And if this is the difference between Caesar and Domitian as horsemen, the difference between them rulers, Statius implies, is proportionate. Statius' question in lines 89—90, then invites two answers: the official, prudent and diplomatic answer, and the unspoken truth. In a sense the truth itself is rudis, dangerously unsophisticated. And Statius is anything but unsophisticated. 54 For he is clearly aware that, in the contrast of the two statues, lies the comparison of the first beginnings of the rule of Caesars and its present position. H o w it has grown in size, weight, and pretentiousness. In sum, then, the poem is flattery without being flattering. Above all it is a game, a iocus in which the poet fulfills his obligations — since Domitian ordered him to write it — and yet indulges his own sense of private amusement in much the same manner as Lucan does in his apotheosis of Nero in Pharsalia 1.33—65, or as Propertius does in 4.9. Statius' art is itself a kind of virtuoso tight-rope act. 54

Statius' subtlety, as J. K . NEWMAN notes in his valuable though brief 'De Statio epico animadversiones', Latomus 34 (1975) 80—89, rivals that of most ancient epicists, and deserves better than the treatment it has generally received from scholars. For a contrasting view, where the desire for a bon mot at the poet's expense triumphs over literary criticism, see G. HEGYI, Horace et Stace, A C D 10-11 (174-1975) 9 5 - 9 9 .

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He loses his balance only to regain it, secure in the knowledge of his own invulnerability. But when Statius falters, his faltering seems deliberate and calculated. He is perhaps the most ironic master of court poetry in Western literature. He knows exactly how closely he may run his ship before the wind. His tongue swears and foreswears in the same breath. Such practices are not endearing to the modern Western moralist who would judge them as treacherous and dishonest — judgments which say more about our desire to believe than they do about art. Statius, like Horace, or Calpurnius' Cory don, sought to be a poet, not to lead a revolution, and cannot be held culpable because he lived under an emperor who earned the special detestation of Roman historians. Almost inevitably, he was faced with the sort of dilemma Passienus Crispus had faced under Caligula — another difficult and dangerous ruler. When Caligula asked Passienus whether he had slept with his own sister, Passienus replied, "not yet". And Suetonius comments thus upon his response: "Nondum" inquit: quantumvis decenter et caute, ne aut negando eum arginerei aut adsentiendo semet mendacio dehonestaret. (Vita Pass. Crisp.) Ambiguity, dissimulation was the only means of self-protection the poet, like the returning Odysseus, had at his disposal. Of course such dissimulation has its price. Statius in the second poem of his Silvae, 1.2, an epithalamion honoring Arruntius Stella, seems to be attempting to establish the genuineness of his feelings for the bride and groom when he declares: cédant curaeque metusque, cessent mendaces obliqui carminis astus, Fama tace. (Silvae 1.2.26—28) For Silvae 1.1 is full of mendaces obliqui carminis astus. And even the skilled poet such as Statius must have worried about the day of reckoning when he pushed his luck too far. What may have helped Statius — and his contemporary, Martial — to be more daring in their ironic double-entendre than, say, Horace, is Domitian's own failure either to be an ironic ruler as was Augustus, or to pay very close attention to literature. Suetonius tells us (Dom. 20) that Domitian: numquam . . . aut historiae carminibusve noscendis operam ullam aut stilo vel necessario dedit. Praeter commentaries et acta Tiberi Caesaris nihil lectitabat; epistulas orationesque et edicta alieno formabat ingenio. He may, in short, have paid little attention to the poetry he commissioned. Horace clearly respects the intellect and strength of his imperial opponent and rival; Statius does not. Unfortunately for Statius, modern scholars have been far too ready to take Tacitus' word as gospel, and assume that there really was no freedom of speech or thought in Domitian's Rome. In practice, there is no way to prevent a writer from communicating whatever he wants to communicate, provided that his readers are prepared to listen, to 8 ANRW II 32.1

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understand, say, why Passienus would reply to Caligula with nondum rather than non. Statius, and his currently more popular contemporary, Martial are probably a more accurate mirror of what was possible in Flavian literature than its critics-at-a-distance, Pliny, Tacitus, and Juvenal who were free to use Domitian as a scapegoat not only for those ills of which he may well have been the cause, but for the reactions they could not express against Trajan, and for their own sense of guilt. Eastern Europeans have, by and large, been more sympathetic to the need and to the methods of this style of writing than we have. C Z E S L A W M I L O S Z in his book, 'The Captive Mind', describes the behavior of a poet he disguises with the pseudonym Delta. The reader of Statius' 'Silvae' will, I hope, not only recognize certain similarities between Delta and Statius, but find that certain phrases in M I L O S Z ' S description bear the mark of a Silver Age cynicism: "His raptures bore all the traits of derision. They seemed to say: 'You want me to sing praises; very well, I'll sing praises till they come out of your ears.' Still, it is not easy to guess his real intentions. It was impossible to tell whether he was lying or telling the truth. Normal criteria did not apply to him. He moved in a different dimension . . . Because he constantly used exaggeration as his artistic tool, his opponents could prove nothing against him. He neither mocked nor spoke the truth; he performed tricks, he practised art for art's sake." 5 5 The parallel is, of course, in no sense e x a c t . We might well argue that Martial comes closer in many ways than Statius does to this description of Delta. What matters is the essential attitude which one finds in the court poet. He must write to live, he must flatter — but his flattery can be so presented that it becomes tantamount to criticism. But it is u n a s s a i l a b l e criticism.

XII.

Poetry and the

Theatre

The extant poetry of early imperial Rome, like that of fifth century Athens, is about power, and addresses those who exercise it. That, paradoxically, is a major reason why it differs from classical Greek poetry. During the Athenian democracy, poetic expression was dominantly theatrical. The audience in the theatre also voted in the assembly; and the poets, like the popular leaders, sought to reach it and to persuade it. Roman poets of the empire, and those of predemocratic and Hellenistic Greece, directed their work to the literate ruling classes, and shied away from popular drama. For it was difficult and dangerous to communicate with this popular audience under the Roman principate, as well as, apparently, futile. If a popular audience detected a covert insult or jest at the

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180-181.

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emperor's expense, it might be unsophisticated enough to roar its recognition — approving or disapproving — to the great peril of the writer. Smaller, more refined audiences, meeting in times of tyranny and in gatherings where names are known, react more cautiously. Experience teaches them that to acknowledge the insult or the jest, or even to be present when it is made, imperils the listener as well as the author. 5 6 Besides, the literary theatre in Rome never enjoyed the official state support it had in Athens. There were no permanent theatres until Pompey built one; and he built it to give himself, not dramatists, a stage. Actors were regarded with disdain by upper class Romans. 5 7 They were often slaves or former slaves, as were some of the playwrights, not members of a fashionable profession. Further, dramatists had to compete for the public's attention with spectacles of increasing scale and extravagance that were underwritten by the wealthy and sanctioned by ritual practice. The word m u n u s , suggesting a public offering or service, came to be shorthand for a gladiatorial 'offering'. Such ritual and circus-like entertainments were features of Roman life from the days of the Punic Wars onwards. The ruling classes stressed the spectacular and underplayed the verbal and intellectual dimensions so fundamental to Greek drama. Terence, in the prologue to his 'Hecyra', explains how impossible it was for a playwright to hold his own against a funambulus, a tight-rope walker (Hecyra 1—5; 39—48). Holding one's own against a .gladiatorial munus would have been no easier. Horace tells Octavian in Epistles 2.1.199—201 that the 'laughing philosopher', Democritus, would guffaw at the notion that a dramatist could win the attention of his restive audience: scriptores autem narrare putaret asello fabellam surdo. nam quae pervincere voces evaluere sonum, referunt quern nostra theatra? Pleasure has moved from the ear to eyes that are not good at seeing, even among the Equestrian upper middle class : migravit ab aure voluptas / omnis ad incertos oculos (Epistles 2.1.187-188). N o t only games, but triumphal processions have intruded upon the dramatist's stage, he adds (ibid. 191 — 193). The last comment has special pungency in this epistle, addressed as it is to Octavian. If Suetonius is right, and Epistles 2.1 i s Horace's response to Octavian's complaint of exclusion from the 'Sermones', Horace is suggesting that the princeps, as principal giver of games and sole giver of triumphs, has usurped the dramatist's stage. The theatre is owned by the princeps and stages only his shows. There is, then, some irony in Horace's expressed desire to entrust himself to a reader rather than a spectator (214—218):

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57

See, for example, the reaction to Lucan's recitation of a half-line of Nero's poetry in Suetonius' 'Lucan'. On Roman attitudes to actors, see Livy 7.2; Tacitus, Annals 4.14; cf. W. BEARE, The Roman Stage, London 1964, 166—167; G. DUCKWORTH, The Nature of Roman Comedy, Princeton 1952, 6 - 7 .

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verum age et his, qui se lectori credere malunt quam spectatoris fastidia ferre superbi, curam redde brevem, si munus Apolline dignum vis compiere libris et vatibus addere calcar, ut studio malore petant Η elicona virentem. The language and metaphor here suit the arena and the hippodrome better than the muses (and god) of poetry. They suggest Octavian thinks more in terms of munus, ritual offering, than of poetry. He wants books that will fight for him, that will serve his glory. The theatre already exists for the emperor's glory; the threat lurks that all literature will come to serve the same purpose. For Octavian now wishes to intrude himself into the poet's 'private conversations'. Octavian, in fact, was much more keen to censor published and d u r a b l e poetry than the more fleeting criticism which might occur in a public performance. Ovid (Tristia 2.497—546) chastizes him for being so concerned about morality in poetry, but so unconcerned about the blatant immorality of what is represented in the theatre and at the emperor's own games: sumptus, Auguste, tuorum (509): haec tu spectasti spectandaque saepe dedisti — maiestas adeo comis ubique tua est — luminibusque tuis, totus quibus utitur orbis, scaenica vidisti lentus adulteria. scribere si fas est imitantes turpia mimos, materiae minor est debita poena meae. The emperor's moral legislation seems more designed to control the litterati and the aristocracy than to improve the 'morals' of the people as a whole. In Tristia 5.7.25—30, Ovid comments on the irony of his own situation in this regard: some of his poetry is adapted for and performed in the theatre, although he himself has written nothing for the stage, and is kept away from Rome, in exile. The theatre, then, is not only noisy but the vehicle of corruption and political propaganda. Horace discerns something Calpurnius emphasizes in Eclogues 7: that the games in the theatre have a power over popular imagination that poetry lacks. The theatre and the amphitheatre are where the public can be reached and persuaded. Even Ovid takes some consolation in the thought that his poems, adapted for the theatre, keep his name and memory alive in Rome (Tristia 5.7.29-30). Nero realized the theatre's power. Part of his appeal to the people — and much of the contempt the litterati felt for him - stemmed from his appearances as a performer in the theatre and the hippodrome. 58 Similarly Titus, as we see from Martial's 'Epigrammaton Liber', 'staged' Herculean labors and even the more ghastly myths; Commodus thought he was, if anything, better than the

58

Suetonius, Nero 20—25.

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Hercules whose name and dress he affected, and considered the name of his favorite gladiator Paulus a better title than that of a conventional deity. 59 Imperial poets also understood the importance of the theatre in Roman life; Seneca's tragedies are, after all, the o n l y surviving tragedies from the Roman world. But it is generally accepted that Senecan tragedy was not designed for performance at huge public gatherings under the conditions Horace suggests prevailed. I suspect that they were staged for the literate middle and upper classes, in private houses, intra domum, as Suetonius tells us plays were performed in Domitian's reign (Domitian 7). For there is in them an intense consciousness of the stage. Even outside the tragic format, the characters of Latin poetry see themselves theatrically. Lucan's Pompey, builder of Rome's first permanent theatre, recalls his past triumphs in theatrical terms in Pharsalia 7.7—44. As he dies, he behaves like an actor who must win approval for his final scene (8.634—653). Lucan also gives us Scribonius Curio, inventor of the amphitheatre. Lucan, like the Elder Pliny (NH 36.116 — 120), sees civil war in gladiatorial terms; and Curio was the man who maneuvered the combatants into conflict as he cranked the two halves of his theatre to create an amphitheatre. Despite their reluctance to write for the popular stage, Roman writers present human activity in terms of the theatre or amphitheatre. The North African landscape Aeneas treads is described by Vergil as a scaena (Aeneid 1.159—169). Dido's nightmare is compared to the horror experienced on stage by Pentheus or Orestes (4.469-475). When Aeneas visits Andromache's New Troy (3.292-505), he walks in upon a tragic vignette: Troy frozen in time, as if in a painting or a stage set, with Andromache lamenting, as ever, over an empty grave honoring her Hector. Vergil, Lucan, Statius, and Seneca create images for the mind's eye rather than for strictly visual perception. In Seneca's 'Thyestes', the cosmic catastrophe envisaged by the chorus in 789—884 defies conventional stage representation. And in the Trojan Women', many motifs suggest, within the tragedy itself, a theatre far different from that of Euripides or Aeschylus. Polyxena's death (1120—1129) is narrated as if it were part of a munus in the R o m a n theatre: idem ille populus aliud ad facinus redit, tumulumque Achillis cuius extremum latus Rhoetea leni verberant fluctu vada, adversa cingit campus et clivo levi erecta medium vallis includens locum crescit theatri more, concursus frequens implevit omne litus; hi classis moram hac morte solvi rentur, his stirpem hostium gaudent recidi, magna pars vulgi levis odit scelus spectatque. 59

See Cassius Dio 72.10—15; 18—21; and, in the Historia Augusta, Commodus 8.8; 11.10— 12; 15; Herodian 1.15.

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Astyanax's death (1068-1103) has much the same 'theatrical' quality. The dramatist asks his audience (and his readers) to envisage this scene from Greek myth in terms of the familiar horror of ritual death in the R o m a n theatre; and he asks them to censure those who hated it but watched. The Roman reader would see his own reflection in this Senecan mirror. Seneca presents life in terms of the arena in his philosophical works too. He dismisses ordinary gladiatorial shows (rather lightly for those whose judgment resembles Tertullian's in the 'De Spectaculis') as "the childish delights of human vanity"-.puenlia . . . humanae oblectamenta levitatis (Prov. 2.8—9). He asks us, rather, to contemplate "the greatest contest of them all" (ibid. 2.9): ecce par deo dignum: vir fortis cum fortuna compositus, utique si et provocavit.

mala

Seneca recognizes how sacrificial or gladiatorial death affects an audience — the mixed desire to watch what one hates watching. He grasps how part of the audience sees the victims as heroic; and he grasps that such heroism is beyond words. In the 'Trojan Women', the doomed Polyxena does not speak; and Astyanax says only: "miserere mater" (792). In the midst of a play of words, the sacrificial heroes do not speak. They are present for the reader to imagine or to 'watch', not to listen to. The model Seneca's Roman listener or reader used as his imagination wandered could be drawn from memories of the countless, silent 'performers' who died yearly at the Roman games. This same amphitheatrical notion of heroic death helped the growth of Christianity. The martyrs who died in the arena recalled the secularized contests to their ritual origins. And the horror of their suffering fixed another myth in men's minds. To interest a popular Roman audience in a stage "death" when the games provided ample opportunity to see real death would have been extremely difficult. The poet would have been forced to compete with the grim spectacles Martial describes in his 'Epigrammaton Liber', which imparted to even the most improbable myths an air of grisly reality in Flavian Rome: Iunctam Pasiphaen Dictaeo crédité tauro: vidimus, accepit fabula prisca fidem. nec se miretur, Caesar, longaeva vetustas quidquid fama canit, praestat barena tibi. (Epig. Lib. 5) In the following poems, 6 and 6b, Martial reiterates his point. It is not enough that Mars serves Caesar in battle: Venus must serve him too. Any doubts about Hercules' killing of the Nemean lion must vanish: after Caesar's games we know a woman can do this sort of thing. Poem 7 is the culmination of the series: Qualiter in Scytbica religatus rupe Prometheus adsiduam nimio pectore pavit avem, nuda Caledonico sic viscera praebuit urso non falsa pendens in cruce Laureolus.

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vivebant laceri membris stillantibus artus inque omni nusquam corpore corpus erat, denique supplicium . . . vel domini iugulum foderai ense nocens, templa vel arcano demens spoliaverat auro, subdiderat saevas vel tibi, Roma, faces, vicerat antiquae sceleratus crimina famae, in quo, quae fuerat fabula, poena fuit. The condemned criminal, whose crime, we note, no one seems to know for sure, is condemned to act the role of Laureolus, the bandit king, crucified in the arena. We recall Suetonius, Caligula 57.4, who describes the bloody competition for Laureolus' role in Caligula's day: cruore scaena abundavit, and Juvenal Satires 8.186, where the actor Lentulus, who plays Laureolus, is described as worthy of a real cross. But what Martial sets first in our minds is the myth of Prometheus: the benefactor of mankind, enduring the daily attacks of the bird that fed on his liver, and knowing the secret of Jupiter's downfall. The comparison with the man playing Laureolus, then, horrifies with its appropriate inappropriateness. Myth tells how Prometheus offended Jupiter but reassures us of his ultimate release. Yet this nameless criminal, guilty of crimes unknown, will have no Hercules to release him, and a wild bear, not a surgically precise bird's beak, to torment him. Martial's poor substitute Laureolus, whatever he did, earns the status of Prometheus, which, in this incident, gives him more claim to divinity than any imperial Jupiter. Even in the pagan Martial, the stage is set for the suffering Christ. Martial, the artist, does not specifically thank Caesar for this demonstration, as he thanks him for the mythological demonstrations in the preceding poems. Perhaps the next poem, 8, tells us why: Daedale, Lucano cum sic lacereris ab urso, quam cuperes pinnas nunc habuisse tuas! The latter-day Daedalus, servant of — and out of favor with — his present day Minos, has no wings, as does his mythic precursor, to escape the carnivorous beast. The Roman imperial poet's task was dauntingly Daedalus-like. Aware that he served an often cruel master, he had to communicate effectively, but without ending up as Martial's Daedalus, or as Juvenal's critic whose charred corpse inscribes theatrical sand — a pen with which history is written, rather than a writer (Satires 1.155—157). Hence, perhaps, his flight from — yet fascination with — the theatre, his preference for epic, and for myth. To understand the imperial poet's artistry we must k n o w the myths, so we can assess the importance of what is being implied without necessarily being said. As CONINGTON comments of the Daedalus motif prefacing Aeneid 6, Vergil's description is incomprehensible to someone who does not already know the story. 60 For Vergil, like Aeschylus' 60

J. CONINGTON, P. Vergilii Maronis Opera 4 , ed. H . NETTLESHIP, London 1881-1884, vol. 2, note on Aeneid 6.28.

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watchman in the 'Agamemnon', speaks to those already in the know (Agamemnon 39); he is content to let those who do not understand remain in ignorance. The poet cannot compete in words with the spectacle, with the r e a l i t y of Roman theatrical death whose horror outdoes anything myth can provide. Yet, as Martial shows, only myth can express the extent of the horror of what was happening precisely because it pales in comparison to this staged reality. 'Life', as presented in the arena, had become an imitation of art. Ovid, in Metamorphoses 3.155 — 162, suggests it always had been.

Conclusion In the world of Seneca's 'Trojan Women', there is no room for the social delicacies and tenderness of love. The female survivors of war must live on to be raped by and become slaves to the killers of their husbands and children. Yet they struggle to maintain some shreds of self-importance amid their sufferings; they create an inverted structure of status and power. Hecuba accepts the lottery which makes her Ulysses' slave by rationalizing that this deprives him of the chance for someone pleasant (981 —1000). Her former position as queen of Troy now makes her queen of sorrows: every suffering is hers (1060—1063). Because she did not die when the city fell, she concludes, death must fear her (1173 —1175). Values as well as lives are shaped by the hated conqueror. Seneca probably saw as clearly as Vergil or Horace the problems with such thinking, the futility of the sort of defiance offered by Andromache — or even his own nephew, Lucan. But he surely saw more clearly than Vergil or Horace what accepting the Caesar's victory meant. Vergil could only wonder about, or fear, the meaning of Octavian's victory, of the "hopes of rising lulus". Seneca had seen what they had come to be. As the principate endured, the futility of opposing military and imperial oppression drove Roman writers, as it drove Rome's conquered subjects, to increasing contempt for earthly power and success. In Octavian's day, Horace might enjoy the game of trying to slip a bridle on the imperial horse, and become its rider. But Statius could more happily contemplate propelling both rider and horse into the Lacus Curtius. If Julius Caesar, like his statue, symbolized the rule that might is right, one could at least take consolation in knowing that he was a real general, who fought real battles. If nothing else, at least he knew how to ride a horse. The humiliation was not quite the same as being ruled by Domitian who symbolized nothing more than inert weight. Rome, like Statius' Atlas, must bear her burden because there is no obvious way of getting rid of it, other than, perhaps, to complete the act of self-destruction begun when Roman generals first started turning their swords against their homeland. Horace sang this song in his Odes 2.1, and Epodes 7 and 16. Lucan pursued it in the 'Pharsalia'. His Rome, like Horace's, is one which had finally destroyed everything outside itself, and was left with nothing else to do but carry on that destruction internally. Thus the city became, like his Caesar, a thunderbolt blasting its own templa (Pharsalia 1.143 — 157; 3.362—372). Lucan's Cato was

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simply a further extension of this same theme of Roman self-destruction. Paradoxically, in an impious war, involving the destruction of the state, the ultimate act of piety is to kill oneself. It is hardly surprising, then, that one of the epics produced in Flavian Rome, Silius' 'Punica', should have looked with some nostalgia upon the days when there was a powerful force external to Rome which threatened her very being. Silius took the notion that defeat is better than victory to its logical conclusion: that Rome must have been at her best, spiritually, during and immediately after her most terrible defeat, Cannae. In this scheme of things, Hannibal is more of a blessing than Scipio, since, like Stoic Providence, he brought out the best in men by the sufferings he obliged them to undergo. And Silius' Hannibal is, to some extent — like Livy's — an idealized and generous foe. H e buries the bodies of the Romans he has defeated. The Romans, on the other hand, are frequently seen mutilating their vanquished opponents, as if in some grisly foreshadowing of the Roman future. Silius' Fabius quickly grasps that the way to defeat Hannibal is to refuse to accept the struggle on his terms, to let him dissipate his energy without wasting one's own. But Rome, all too quickly forgets what Fabius' successes teach. Instead, Rome produces, towards the end of the war, a man who is, in effect, a mirror image of Hannibal. Scipio, like the Carthaginian, acknowledges only three realities: himself, his kin, and the enemy city. The city you love, like the elegist's woman, is the one that shuts her doors against you, not the one to whom you have easy access. From the second Punic War, then, Hannibal, not Scipio, is the more useful example to Rome. More useful than either is Fabius. 6 1 For Silius did perceive something which Lucan did not stress and which does not come into sharp focus in Vergil: that Rome herself could not tolerate a rival or an equal any more than could Caesar or Pompey. H a d Rome been content to defeat Hannibal in Italy, as Fabius suggested, she might, perhaps, have kept her own freedom. Silius probably perceived in politics what his Fabius perceived in military strategy: that political tyrannies, like generals, can grow old and fade away if given nothing to feed on, if the opposition is silent, patient, and self-contained. Failure to use Fabian tactics against an oppressor might lead to the appearance and justification of liberators who could prove even more deadly, in the long run, than the oppressors themselves. Horace's horse would simply find another master in its war against the stag. Silius reaches back into the historical past, beyond Lucan's civil wars, into earlier Roman history to search for clues as to what brought the republic to an end and made Rome the moral wasteland he perceives it to be. Statius ventures still more deeply into the issues of power as a whole. In his 'Thebaid' — which I shall discuss in more detail elsewhere — Statius steps back from the rhetoric of Roman historical propaganda. H e views the Roman world and its experiences not through an idealized past and a politicized reconstruction of history, as do Lucan and Silius, but through the archetypal myth of civil war: the struggle between the

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See F . A H L , M . DAVIS, A . POMEROY, Silius Italicus, in: A N R W I I . 3 2 . 4 ( f o r t h c o m i n g ) .

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sons of Oedipus. The 'Thebaid' is a devastating study of the manipulation of people by those seeking power, whether men or gods, and the ultimate literary rebellion against what we have called the 'Pharsalia-Philippi' and the 'Actium' schools of Roman political history. The poetic conventions of human greed and corrupting power are cast aside in favor of an examination of power itself. It is an epic in which nuda potestas arms the archetypal brothers of civil war, and where the battle is for an impoverished kingdom: pugna est de paupere regno (Thebaid 1.150—151). For, Statius declares, he has not yet the capacity to sing of the devastation caused when the goal is sole dominion over the entire world's wealth and resources (1.152 — 162): in short, of the Rome of his own day. 6 2 Statius' hope in the 'Thebaid' is that people will learn enough to leave powerhungry, bloodthirsty men to shed only one another's blood in their quest for dominion. Hence his denunciation of both Eteocles and Polynices as they die in Thebaid 11.574-579: ite truces animi, funestaque Tartara leto polluite et cunetas Èrebi consumite poenas! vosque malis hominum, Stygiae, iam parate, divae; omnibus in terris scelus hoc omnique sub aevo vident una dies, monstrumque infame futuris excidat, et soli memorent haec proelia reges. Given the magical power of carmina, to destroy the archetype is to destroy all variations upon it. The hope of doing so is, as Statius perceives, no more than a poet's dream. Real life tends rather to confirm the cynical thesis of Lucan's Caesar that the human race lives for the sake of a few. The war between the sons of Oedipus is just one of the first and most simple of such unnecessary conflicts caused by the vanity of the powerful and the folly of those who support them. Classicists, however, so long the educators of the modern ruling classes, often espouse the imperial 'moral' values Statius denounces, as if Imperium sine fine were something indisputably admirable. Even after the bitter experiences of the twentieth century, we toy with the notion of an 'ideal' absolute ruler, a 'benevolent' dictator, and incline to think poets should believe political visions: that it is noble to be loyal to and praise one's leaders, if they rule efficiently, regardless of how they achieved power. Criticism of classical literature is still — ironically — dominated by a romantic vision which wants to gaze only upon what it can delude itself into thinking is perfection: the illusion of the Golden Age, frozen in time, the illusion Octavian wanted to offer for posterity. It has little use for, or understanding of, 'Silver Age' disenchantment. This is why, I suspect, the Augustan poets have enjoyed continuous and increasingly exclusive favor throughout the last two hundred years. It is not because either they or Octavian really fit the 'ideal' bill, but because both can be made to fit that bill. The later poets cannot.

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See in: Ancient Writers (above, note 1) 9 6 2 - 9 2 9 .

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Appendix: Statins, Silvae 3.4: On the Fate of Earinus by J .

GARTHWAITE,

Dunedin, New Zealand

What makes Statius' poem to Domitian's young favorite Earinus (Silvae 3.4) particularly noteworthy is the fact that the poet singles it out from the rest of the 'Silvae' as being a piece whose composition he had long delayed. In the preface to Silvae 3, he comments on the poem as follows: Earinuspraeterea, Germanici nostri libertus seit quamdiu desiderium moratus sim, cum petisset ut capillos suos, quos cum gemmata pyxide et speculo ad Pergamenum Asclepium mittebat, versibus dedicarem.1 This postponement is surprising, for several reasons; first, Statius was sacrificing the topicality which he repeatedly acknowledges as being intrinsic to the themes of his 'Silvae', and crucial to their appeal and success.2 Yet the ceremonial cutting and dispatch of Earinus' hair as an offering to Aclepius was surely just such an occasion which called for a prompt and timely response from the poet. Moreover, the request for a commemorative poem had been an urgent one (desiderium) and had come from the palace. Undoubtedly it bore the sanction of the emperor himself. Why, then, the considerable delay in fulfilling the commission? V E S S E Y suggests that Statius' words are nothing more than "an expression of affected modesty," hinting at the special care required when composing for the emperor. 3 Certainly, the poet may well have given careful thought to Domitian's reception of the poem, though perhaps not for the reason V E S S E Y proposes here. For Statius does not allude to any such need for extraordinary concern in his other imperial poems. In fact, several are mentioned as examples of his skill at rapid versification and improvisation.4 Rather, as V E S S E Y himself goes on to suggest, the theme of Silvae 3 . 4 presented unique difficulties.5 For Earinus was a eunuch, and Domitian had passed 1

Statius tells us at Silvae 3.4.78 — 82 that the ceremony was held to mark Earinus' attainment of the age when, under normal circumstances, he would have been celebrating his transition to manhood with the ceremonial clipping of his hair and beard (depositio barbae). For the ritual see J. MARQUARDT, Privatleben der Römer (Handb. d. röm. Alterthiimer 7), Leipzig 1886, vol. 2.599—600. The ceremony usually accompanied the assumption of the toga virìlis and was most often performed when a youth was between 16—20 years old; cf. Suetonius, Calig. 10; Nero 12. Octavian waited until his 24th year, though this seems to have been unusually late (Cass. Dio 48.34.3).

2

Cf. Silv. 1 pref.; Silv. 2 pref. D. W. VESSEY, Statius and the Thebaid, Cambridge 1973, 28. Cf. the comments on Silv. 1.1 (and, inferentially, on Silv. 1.6) in the preface to Silv. 1; also Silv. 2.5 in the preface to Silv. 2. VESSEY (op. cit.) 29. Cf. Silv. 3 . 4 . 6 5 - 7 7 ; Suetonius, Dom. 7; Cass. Dio 67.2.3.

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a law prohibiting castration.6 Quite apart from the homosexual aspect of the relationship between the emperor and his young libertas, there was also a clear incongruity which could easily be turned into the suggestion of a double standard in Domitian's moral posture. Any discussion of the topic would obviously require care and tact, if the emperor was not to be offended. This is not to say, of course, that there were no other factors, external to the poem itself and at which we could merely guess, which may have contributed to the postponement of the work. 7 But given the unusually sensitive nature of the subject-matter and the long delay in broaching the task, we can be sure that Statius weighed his words with particular care and deliberation in composing Silvae 3.4. The poem begins not with the ceremonial clipping of Earinus' curls, but with their voyage to the temple of Asclepius in Pergamum, Earinus' native city. Statius addresses the locks as if they were human, bidding them a safe voyage across a calm sea, as they recline softly in their golden casket {coronato recubantes molliter auro, 3.4.2). We note that the locks, like the boy from whom they were taken, have the quality of mollitia, of delicacy and effeminacy. Indeed, the language and imagery of the opening lines of the poem create a soft, almost sensuous mood, from the yielding sea (facilem pontum, 3.4.1), to the picture of the locks reclining in their casket, to the presence of a tender Venus (mitis Cytherea, 3.4.3). The goddess herself will keep watch over Earinus' curls, though Statius does not yet mention any reason for her special interest. She will assure the locks an untroubled passage, and in concern for their safety will, perhaps, transfer them into her own conch-shell for the remainder of the journey. Statius' use of the epithet Cytherea is not, of course, simply for metrical reasons. The poet wishes to remind us of Venus' special connection with, and sovereignty over the sea. Further, by adding the reference to the conch-shell, he appears to be recalling specifically the goddess' birth in the ocean from the severed genitals of Uranos, and her own journey across the waters in the concha. Perhaps, then, Statius is suggesting one reason — though a rather paradoxical and unusual one — for Venus' interest in the young castratus, Earinus, or at least in the gift he is dispatching. Yet it is remarkable, and perhaps more than a little ironic, that the concha which once carried the very symbol of fertility, Venus, after her birth from Uranus' castration, should now be suggested as the vehicle for Earinus' gift of hair, itself a visible reminder of castration — though, as Statius notes in 78—82, a particularly sterile and pathetic one. 8 Earinus' hair, however, is not only protected by the gods; it is itself godlike. When Apollo sees the curls he will at first imagine they were cut from the head of 6

The date of this law is uncertain; Eusebius (Chron. 160—161, ed. SCHOENE) assigns it to October 81-October 82, while the 'Chronicon Pascale' (p. 465, ed. DINDORF) puts it in 83. Martial first mentions the edict in Ep. 2.60, published in 8 5 / 8 6 (for the date of publication,

7

For some further suggestions see J. GARTHWAITE, Domitian and the Court Poets Martial and Statius, Diss. Cornell, Ithaca, N . Y . 1978, Ch. 3. The concha, of course, was also a symbol of Venus' sexuality and of female sexuality in general; the word was frequently used obscenely in reference to the female genitals, e. g., Martial 2.47 (levior o conchis, Galle, Cytheriacis) and Plautus, Rud. 694.

see L . FRIEDLAENDER, M a r t i a l , L e i p z i g 1 8 8 6 , v o l .

8

1.53—54).

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his brother, Dionysus (8—9); and though previously intonsus, he might even shear off some of his own locks to be set beside those of the young boy. From the outset, then, the setting is that of a mythological fantasy, though one which we might sense to be functioning as something more than simply a decorative and courtly conceit. Earinus, however, as the attendant of Domitian, the earthly deity, is, to all appearances, established in the realm of the divine. 9 As the Caesareus puer (3.4.7), he is the counterpart of Asclepius, the invents Phoebeius (3.4.6). 1 0 But to Statius, as to Martial whose poems to Earinus (commemorating the same occasion) appear in Epigrams 9, the closest and most obvious mythical parallel to the boy was Ganymede, Jupiter's youthful cup-bearer and lover. 1 1 The analogy readily suggested itself, of course, from the common identification, in both Statius and Martial, of Domitian as the Ausonian Jupiter. 1 2 Statius presents the analogy, however, only to accentuate certain crucial differences between the situation on Olympus and that on the Palatine: Pergame, pinífera multum felicior Ida! ilia licet sacrae placeat sibi nube rapinae — nempe dedit superis ilium, quern túrbida semper Iuno videt refugitque manum nectar que récusât —, at tu grata deis pulchroque insignis alumno misisti Latió, placida quem fronte ministrum Iuppiter Ausonius pariter Romanaque Iuno aspiciunt et uterque probant . . . (Silvae 3.4.12 — 19) The tale of Jupiter and Ganymede traditionally represented the theme of homosexual passion. 1 3 Captivated by Ganymede's beauty, Jupiter abducted the young boy to Olympus to have him serve as his attendant and lover. Hence the indignation of Juno. 1 4 Statius, however, points out that no such trouble affects the lives of the Ausonian Jupiter, Domitian, and his Roman Juno. Each welcomes the sight of Earinus; each approves of his presence. This picture of marital harmony may have been quite false. Our other sources insist unanimously that the emperor's marriage was well known to be filled with violence and hostility. 1 5 VESSEY, therefore, considers that Statius' affirmation of such an untruth "was probably opportune, masking a less idyllic reality." 1 6 But masking it from whom? 9

F o r Domitian as the praesens deus in Statius and Martial, see K . S c o r r , T h e Imperial Cult under the Flavians, Stuttgart 1936, 113 — 125; F . SAUTER, D e r Römische Kaiserkult bei Martial und Statius, Stuttgart 1934, 4 0 - 5 3 .

10

VESSEY ( o p . cit.) 3 0 .

11

F o r Martial's series to Earinus, see 9.11 — 13; 16—17; 36. F o r the equation between Earinus and G a n y m e d e cf. 9.11.7; 9 . 1 6 . 6 ; 9.36. A discussion of these epigrams can be found in m y dissertation (see note 7 above) 65—86.

12

See SCOTT (op. cit.) 1 3 3 - 1 4 0 ; SAUTER (op. cit.) 5 4 - 7 8 . E . g . Pindar, O l . 1 . 3 7 - 4 5 ; Plato, Phaedr. 2 5 5 c ; Cicero, T u s c . D i s p . 4.71; Pal. A n t h . 12.37,68. F o r J u n o ' s resentment, cf. O v i d , Met. 1 0 . 1 5 5 - 1 6 1 ; Pal. Anth. 9.77. E . g . Suetonius, D o m . 3.1; 14.1; 22; C a s s . D i o 67.32; 67.15; Pliny, E p . 4.11.6.

13

14 15 16

VESSEY ( o p . cit.) 3 2 .

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From the emperor? Statius was surely not so simple-minded. From his general readers? They would have been far more prepared to compare, rather than to contrast, the discord of Jupiter's marriage with that of the Iuppiter Ausonius. And surely this is precisely the reaction Statius is anticipating. B y craftily playing on his audience's perceptions of the emperor's marriage, he is skillfully contradicting his own assertion, ironically reinforcing the analogy between Jupiter and Domitian rather than trying to qualify it. And in doing so, he is enjoying a gibe at the emperor — all in the guise of utterly ingenuous sincerity. Yet there is a third irony in this comparison, and perhaps the most sarcastic of all. For Juno was understandably enraged to have a young boy as the rival for her husband's affection — she seems more capable of dealing with the women in Jupiter's life. Yet Domitia, we are assured, happily accepts the presence of Earinus. Statius gives no reason for this difference in attitude. He nowhere suggests, for example, that homosexual passion, which is an obvious and, indeed, an unavoidable feature in the story of Jupiter and Ganymede, is not equally true of Domitian and Earinus. Thus, the reader is left with the bizarre and unlikely possibility that, in contrast to her Olympian counterpart J u n o , the happily married Domitia actually welcomes her husband's pederasty. C A N C I K ' S remark that the use of imagery and mythological allusion in Silvae 3.4 gives the poem a noticeably erotic tone, is particularly borne out by the story which Statius invents to explain how Earinus came to be presented to the emperor. 1 7 N o t without the will of heaven, the poet begins in line 20, was such pleasure — tanta voluptas — given to the Lord of the earth. O n e day, Venus chances to see a beautiful infant playing in the temple of Asclepius at Pergamum. So stunning is the boy's appearance that she considers him, at first, to be one of her plebeian or ordinary children — natorum de plebe putat (29). She quickly realizes her error, however, for the child has neither the quiver nor the wings of a Cupid. It is noteworthy that by using the disparaging word plebes, Venus suggests a) that her children fall into two categories, the patrician and the plebeian, b) that Earinus would definitely fall into the less noble, second category, and c) that the number of her offspring is so huge that, among their lower orders at least, the goddess has difficulty in distinguishing one from another. There is a rather Ovidian humor in this suggestion of a haughty, and perhaps somewhat amoral, Venus who finds it hard to identify her children and who thinks instinctively in terms of upper and lower class divinities. We may recall Ovid's humorous characterization of Jupiter who, in his desperate attempt to seduce Io, complains in a tone of arrogant (but wounded) pride that he is no mere god from the common mass : nec de plebe deo (Met. 1.595).

Statius' reference to the great multitude of Venus' children also reminds us of the goddess' nature. For not only is Venus abundantly, even indiscriminately, fertile; she is also the very symbol of sexuality and procreation. Her name is 17

H . CANCIK, Untersuchungen zur lyrischen Kunst des P. Papinius Statius (Spudasmata 13), Hildesheim 1965, 56: „Ein für uns merkwürdig schwer faßbares erotisches Fluidum erfüllt auch dies Gedicht; auch hier ist die Erotik mythologisch stilisiert: Venus, Charis, die Amoren. "

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synonymous with amor. Thus, when she realizes that servitude in Rome is the inevitable destiny of a child so handsome, she asks rhetorically, in line 33, whether the boy is to go to the city neglectus Veneri. Clearly, the phrase refers not only to being neglected by Venus, but to being neglected by love. Venus thinks of herself — in much the same way as Lucretius had portrayed her — as not merely a goddess but as the principle and force of sexual love and procreation. 18 Yet, as she gradually reveals the identity of the lover she intends for Earinus, we realize that she is contradicting her own nature and the natural order she personifies. Earinus is to have a lover worthy of his own great beauty — but it is to be the love of a master, not of a mistress: ego isti quem meruit, formae dominum dabo

(33—34)

The boy is to be a magnificent gift for a monarch — donum immane dud (37). Venus' choice of words is, perhaps, unfortunate. For immanis is commonly used (and Statius himself frequently so uses it) in the sense of "awful" or "dreadful." 1 9 Specifically, however, Earinus is destined to be a slave to the emperor's love — Palatino famulus deberis amori (38). Statius neatly blends factual and metaphorical truth. Earinus will be, quite literally, a slave. But he will also be a slave to love. The expression is reminiscent of love-elegy, of the lover's surrender to his mistress in a servitium amoris.20 Earinus' servitude, though, will be to a homosexual, not a heterosexual, passion. And, paradoxically, it is Venus, the very symbol of fecundity and procreation, who will effect the union. As if to emphasize once more her own remarkable fertility, Venus exclaims that never in the world has she seen — or given birth to — anything as beautiful as Earinus: nil ego, nil, fateor toto tam dulce sub orbe aut vidi aut genui. (39—40) Ironically, however, it is Venus herself who gives a prophetic hint of the tragic consequences of her extraordinary action. Earinus, she claims, is more lovely than even the most handsome youths of myth: cedet tibi Latmius ultro Sangariusque puer quemque irrita fontis imago et sterilis consumpsit amor, te caerula Nais mallet et adprensa traxisset fortius urna, tu, puer, ante omnis; (40—44) The figures with whom Venus compares Earinus — Endymion, Attis, Narcissus and Hylas — were renowned for their great beauty and this is, of course, the ostensible basis for the analogy. But this is hardly the most striking aspect of the myths. Each of these youths is better known for the fate to which his beauty led 18 19 20

Lucretius, De Rerum Nat. 1 . 1 - 2 5 . E. g. Silvae 3.373; Thebaid 1.163; 3.236; 5.29. Cf. Ovid, Amores 1.2.18; Propertius 1.5.19; 2.20.20; Tibullus 2.4.3.

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him. Endymion was loved by the Moon who drugged him into perpetual sleep so that she could satisfy her passion without fear of his opposition. 2 1 Similarly, Attis fell prey to the desires of a goddess, to Cybele's castus amor, as Ovid puts it. 22 The goddess demanded an equal chastity from the boy and, when he failed, punished him with madness. Attis, in his frenzy, castrated himself. 23 Narcissus was destroyed by self-love, wasting away in the desire for his own image reflected in the pool's surface, 24 while Hylas was the victim of an enamored nymph who dragged him beneath the pool as he leaned down to fill his water pitcher. Common to each of the myths is the notion that the beauty of the youths arouses a passion that is erotic yet, as Statius emphasizes (41—42), utterly sterile and unproductive. Indeed, it can only be sated at the cost of the life or the masculinity of the youths themselves. It is this aspect, rather than simply the beauty of the characters, that Statius clearly stresses. The reference to Endymion and Attis is brief and unremarkable — though the reader would surely understand the particular relevance of Attis to Earinus. But then the focus of the analogy shifts abruptly. Narcissus is identified only by his fate, and the terms in which it is expressed — quemque sterilis consumpsit amor — might be taken not only as emblematic of Endymion, Attis and Hylas, but also as a prophetic hint at the fate of Earinus. With Hylas the selection of detail is, I think, particularly suggestive. Statius ignores that aspect of Hylas' life which would have been, perhaps, the most obvious, and certainly the happiest parallel for the context, as the beloved delicatus of Hercules. Instead, he focusses on the passion which Hylas' beauty inspired in the nymph, on the love that destroyed him. Surely, Statius is not merely presenting us with an affirmation of Earinus' beauty. By emphasizing the stenlis amor, the destructiveness of the passions which these mythological figures aroused and to which they fell prey, the poet is foreshadowing the fate of Earinus. But, more important, he is also hinting at the nature of the Palatinus amor which awaits Earinus at Rome. Her decision reached, Venus herself transports Earinus from Pergamum to Rome. The miraculous journey through the heavens in the goddess' winged chariot — volucri curru (line 36) — is reminiscent of Ganymede's ascent to Olympus in the talons of the eagle. 25 Venus' task, however, is not yet completed. She now sets herself to enhancing the young boy's beauty to satisfy the discerning eyes of the monarch: Tunc propior iam cura deae, quae forma capillis optima, quae vestís roseos accendere vultus apta, quod in digitis, collo quod dignius aurum. norat caelestis oculos duds, ipsaque taedas

21 22 23 24 25

E. g. Theocritus 20.37; Cicero, Tusc. Disp. 1.92; Catullus 66.5. Ovid, Fasti 4.221-244. In Catullus' version (63), the cause of the madness is not explained. Cf. Ovid, Met. 3.407ff. C f . VESSEY ( o p . c i t . ) 3 3 .

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iunxerat et plena dederat conubia dextra: sic ornat crines, Tyrios sic fundit amictus, dat radios ignemque suum. (50-56) Earinus' appearance - his carefully fashioned hair, the Tyrian robes highlighting his blushing cheeks, his gold rings and necklace — suggests that of a bride. We may, for example, compare Venus' present actions with those in Silvae 1.2.11 — 15 where, as pronuba of Violentilla, she tempers the radiance of her own hair and cheeks to accentuate the loveliness of the blushing bride: ipsa manu nuptam genetrix Aeneia duxit lumina demissam et dulci probitate rubentem, ipsa toros et sacra parat coetuque Latino dissimulata deam crinem vultusque genasque temperai atque nova gestit minor ire marita. In fact, Statius clearly invites us to see Venus' presentation of Earinus in terms of a bridal ceremony by equating it with the goddess' earlier betrothal of Domitia to Domitian. Just as Venus had once bestowed all her unique gifts on the joyful union of the emperor and his bride, so now she devotes her skills to the enhancement of Earinus' beauty, endowing him with her own sensuous and captivating radiance to enchant the monarch. She is merely repeating her earlier success. Domitian's marriage, then, was made in heaven, inspired and sanctified by the goddess of love herself. Statius' insistence in Silvae 3.4 on the happiness and harmony of the emperor and his wife is striking. For, as we have noted, his present account contrasts remarkably with the grim testimony of our other sources. But surely his claim is, in this context, a most amusing irony. For nothing could be more inconsistent with his portrayal of Domitian's wedded bliss than his portrayal of Earinus as the emperor's new lover — indeed, his new bride. We may note also that Statius, like Martial, emphasizes the flocks of delicati already thronging the palace. 26 These, however, now fade before the dazzling beauty of Earinus to whom is given the honor of attending the emperor. The normally abstemious Domitian finds a new delight in wine: 2 7 cessere priores deliciae famulumque greges; hie pocula magno prima dud murrasque graves crystallaque portât candidiore manu: crescit nova gratia Baccbo. (56—59) After a brief comment on Earinus' good fortune in serving an emperor whose mighty hand the nations of the East long to touch, Statius introduces an account of the boy's castration. V E S S E Y claims that the topic was unavoidable and adds that at least Statius dispenses with it as quickly as possible. 28 Yet nowhere in his 26 27 28

9

Cf. Martial 9.36.9-10. For Domitian's moderate drinking habits see Suetonius, Dom. 21. VESSEY ( o p . c i t . ) 3 2 . ANRWII32.1

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six poems to Earinus does Martial even mention the emasculation. 2 9 N o r is Statius quick to pass over the subject. H e devotes almost one sixth of the poem, seventeen lines, to the emasculation and its result for Earinus, and to Domitian's legislation. The way in which Statius introduces the account is curious: o sidere dextro edite, multa tibi divum indulgentia favit! Olim edam, ne prima genas lanugo nitentis carperei et pulchrae fuscaret gratia formae ipse deus patriae celsam trans aequora liquit Pergamon. Haud alii puerum mollire potestas eredita, sed tacita invenís Phoebeius arte leniter haud ullo concussum vulnere corpus de sexu transiré iubet. Tarnen anxia curis mordetur puerique timet Cytberea dolores. (63 — 72) Statius clearly suggests that the journey of Asclepius f r o m Pergamum to perform the emasculation is to be seen as an illustration of heaven's favor toward Earinus. The use of etiam at line 65 underscores the connection, implying that the castration is the pre-eminent example of the god's good will. Certainly, Asclepius changes Earinus' sex with hardly a sign of a w o u n d . But the emasculation of the boy, even at the hands of Asclepius and even if it is to preserve his beauty, is surely a perverse manifestation of heaven's benevolence. V E S S E Y calls this "a ludicrous, if not degrading conceit" as if it were a bizarre, though well-intentioned compliment. 3 0 Yet there comes a point, and Statius has undoubtedly passed it here, when an apparent conceit reaches such preposterous extremes that it becomes pure irony. But this example is more than mere irony. For there is a vicious, mocking cruelty in the suggestion that Earinus' castration is clear evidence of heaven's favor. There is, too, a grim paradox in the picture of Venus standing close by, anxiously hoping that her protege's suffering will not be too great — though such an operation could not be more antithetical to her very nature. As to when Earinus was emasculated, Statius tells us only that it was olim (65), sometime in the vague past — he may be suggesting the timelessness of myth. We could argue, then, that Statius is implicitly absolving Domitian of any responsibility for the castration of Earinus. The act is imagined as belonging to the distant past, perhaps even before Earinus became the emperor's attendant. Further, the very fact that the account of the boy's emasculation — indeed of his whole life — is presented in mythical and divine terms tends to obviate any moral judgment that might otherwise have been applied. Earinus is the foster-child of heaven, specifically of Venus. It is she w h o controls the boy and determines his destiny; we may recall her first words to the child, that he is owed or destined to an emperor's love: Palatino famulus deberis amori (38). Thus Earinus' castration may be, if 29

Much of the humor of the epigrams, however, depends on the reader's knowledge of the castration. See my diss, (note 7 above) 64 — 84.

30

VESSEY ( o p . c i t . ) 3 5 .

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not justified, then at least put beyond criticism simply because it seems to be the inevitable will of heaven. The gods not only decide on the act but actually perform it. Taking this view, we could try to say that if Statius could not ignore Earinus' castration, he at least structures his narrative in such a way as to avoid any direct hint of censure, any direct attribution of responsibility. We are to imagine, somehow, that the act was done f o r Domitian, not b y him. First, however, we should note that the progression of the narrative up to this point has already undermined any temporal indistinction that might have been implied in olim. Venus sees Earinus at Pergamum (26—44) and carries him directly to the Palatine (45—49). There she presents him to the emperor and installs him as Domitian's attendant (50—59). Thus, when Asclepius crosses the sea (67), he is obviously travelling to the imperial court where he performs his skillful surgery on Earinus. Clearly, this took place not simply once upon a time, but after Earinus had become Domitian's favorite. Second, in line 73, Statius abandons the mythological mode to introduce Domitian, and also the question of the morality of castration:

Nondum pulchra duds dementia coeperat ortu intactos servare mares; nunc frangere sexum atque hominem mutare nefas, gavisaque solos quos genuit natura videt, nec lege sinistra ferre timent famulae natorum pondera matres

(73 — 77)

Statius interjects a note of reality. Domitian's clemency, he says, had not yet begun — nondum dementia coeperat — to guard the male sex from emasculation. With the emperor's intervention, the poet continues, the practice was universally abolished. N o w it is not merely a crime but nefas to change a man's sex, emphatically reminding us that Domitian's authority is more than mortal; it is the voice of the earthly Jupiter, binding on the whole of nature — even, we might add, on Venus herself. For nature which rejoices to see her offspring unaltered from the form in which she bore them (gavisaque solos quos genuit natura videt) is simply another name for Venus who had exclaimed earlier that she had never seen, or given birth to anything as beautiful as Earinus:

nil ego, nil, fateor, toto tam dulce sub orbe aut vidi aut genui

(39—40)

It seems paradoxical, however, that the goddess who lately presided over Earinus' emasculation should now be portrayed as rejoicing in the preservation of the male sex. But it is precisely this emphasis on the omnipotence and, particularly, on the initial a b s e n c e of Domitian's clemency that subverts the mythologized portrayal of Earinus' castration. T o the polite and uncontroversial fiction that the emasculation was purely the inspiration and the work of the gods, Statius adds a subtle and crucial postscript — it was made possible only by the lack of merciful concern from the emperor. Moreover, the phrase nondum dementia coeperat is incongruous. The very suggestion of clemency beginning or, rather, having not yet begun, seems to be 9»

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a contradiction in terms. For we normally think of clemency as an inherent quality rather than as an assumed or adopted attitude. This is the view of Seneca, for example, in his judgment of Augustus' dementia·. fuerit moderatus et clemens, nempe post mare Actiacum Romano cruore infectum, nempe post fractas in Sicilia classes et suas et alienas, nempe post Perusinas aras et proscriptiones. Ego vero clementiam non voco lassam crudelitatem. (De dementia 1.11.1—2) Possibly, at 3.4.73 —74, Statius means only that Domitian's clemency was fully occupied in other matters before it could be applied to the problem of castration or, perhaps, that the emperor did not realize the awful injustice of emasculation until it had been inflicted on his own favorite. Yet the curiously negative way in which this dementia is described, the implicit contrast between Domitian's subsequent concern and his attitude at the time of Earinus' castration, is very reminiscent of De dementia 1.11.1—2 cited above. We are left with a disquieting impression of inconsistency in Domitian's moral posture. In the following lines, Statius addresses Earinus, speaking of the adolescence which had been denied to the boy: Tu quoque nunc iuvenis, genitus si tardius esses, umbratusque genas et adultos fortior artus, non unum gaudens Phoebea ad limina munus misisses; patrias nunc solus crinis ad oras naviget. (78-82) If only he had been born later, after the edict, his maturity would now have been evident; he would have had the bearded face and the sturdy limbs of a young man. He would have been joyfully {gaudens) sending the clippings of his beard, along with the locks of his hair, to Pergamum. But it is, of course, a futile thought. Perhaps, within this contrary-to-fact condition, gaudens itself suggests a contrast with the reality, hinting plaintively at Earinus' own feelings about the loss of his masculinity. This reference to the happiness the boy would have felt if he had a beard to dedicate adds a sadly personal note, a grim contrast to the sentiment expressed in lines 63—68 that the castration was an act of kindness by the gods to ensure that no beard should ever spoil Earinus' features, As it is, however, the hair alone must suffice as an offering and make its lonely journey to Pergamum (80—81). Thus, the narrative has been brought full circle, back to the point at which the poem began. Within this frame, we have been given a review of the decisive moments of Earinus' life — from Venus' discovery of him as a small child in the temple of Asclepius, to the miraculous journey to Rome, his installation as Domitian's attendant and lover, and finally his emasculation. Notably absent, thus far, has been any mention of the actual ceremony for which the poem was commissioned, the cutting of Earinus' locks. Our information about the occasion has been indirect; that is, we have been told why Earinus is sending the cuttings of his hair to the temple of Asclepius and why he is sending only his hair, not his beard.

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To describe the ceremony itself, Statius begins what is, essentially, a second narrative. The imperfects saturabat (82) and pectebat (83) abruptly reverse the chronological progression of the poem and take us back to the days before Earinus' curls were trimmed, to when the boy's hair used to be bathed in perfume by Venus and combed by all three Graces: h une multo Paphie saturabat amomo, hunc nova tergemina pectebat Gratia dextra

(82—83)

Such was its beauty that neither the locks of Nisus nor those of Achilles could rival it: buie et purpurea cedet coma saucia Nisi et quam Spercbio tumidus servabat Achilles

(84—85)

Superficially, the analogy continues the theme of the preceeding lines, elaborating the loveliness of Earinus' hair. It also points forward to the actual cutting of the hair in the following lines (note the future, cedet). But it does so with the most ominous implications. For Nisus' life depended on the lock of brilliant purple hair which grew from his head. Its theft by his daughter resulted in his murder at the hands of Minos. 3 1 Similarly, Achilles had vowed to let his hair grow long, having pledged to cut it only as an offering to the river Spercheus in return for his safe deliverance from Troy. With the death of Patroclus, however, he sheared off the hair and laid it on the funeral pyre, acknowledging that in the death of his comrade his own doom was sealed. 32 For both Nisus and Achilles, the cutting of the hair, on which rested their hopes of safety, was the portent of a bitter and untimely fate. Indeed, by describing Nisus' hair as saucia, Statius explicitely reminds us of the tragic aspects of the myth. 3 3 As with the earlier comparison between Earinus and Endymion, Attis, Hylas and Narcissus, so here, Statius presents us with a curiously double-edged analogy. In each case, the comparison ostensibly emphasizes the beauty of Earinus, or of his hair. Yet, within the analogy, Statius introduces a further point of reference, indicating the darker significance of the mythical figures with whom Earinus is equated. In each case also, the vague

31

32

Cf. Aeschylus, Choephoroi 613—622. In another version Nisus was not killed but transformed into a sea-eagle (Ovid, Met. 8.1—51). Homer, Iliad 23.140-151 and, in particular, 150: νυν δ', έπεί ού νεομαί γε φίλην ές πατρίδα γαίαν.

33

Similarly, the discription of Achilles as tumidus may be an echo of Homer's portrayal of the hero at 23.143 (όχθήσας) where Achilles' anger is caused not only by the death of Patroclus but also by the realization of his own inevitable death at Troy (cf. VOLLMER 427). We should note that, apart from the occasion mentioned here, there was another significant and well-known moment in Achilles' life when he cut off his hair. Although his mother had forced him to wear his hair long to disguise his sex from the commanders of the Greek army, Achilles finally removed his long curls and enlisted in the expedition to Troy. It was a triumphant moment for Achilles, at least. As in the case of Hylas (42—44) Statius seems to have chosen the sadder and more foreboding of two posible analogies.

122

J O H N

GARTHWAITE

introduction — cedet tibi in line 40 and huic cedet in line 80 — contributes to the ambiguity and leaves the reader to ponder in precisely what sense these mythical characters will yield to Domitian's young favorite. The analogy with Nisus and Achilles serves as a particularly gloomy introduction to the cutting of Earinus' hair — unnecessarily gloomy perhaps. For, after all, what could be so tragic in the clipping of Earinus' curls? Long hair, however, was essential to the attractiveness of a delicatus. Martial's prayer, for example, that Earinus will be no less beautiful with short hair than he was when it was long is prefaced with the comment that Earinus' curls were highly prized by his master (9.17). Martial's wish, then, may not be merely formulaic; 34 it may allude to the possibility that Earinus may not be so appealing without the charm of his boyish locks. For even a eunuch must eventually outgrow his childlike attractiveness and the removal of his long curls is indicative of the process. As Claudian was later to point out in his mocking description of the eunuch Eutropius : cum forma dilapsus amor (in Eutrop. 1.75). Possibly, in his foreboding analogy with Nisus and Achilles Statius is hinting at just such an eventuality for Earinus. As soon as it is decided to clip Earinus' locks, Venus and her attendants prepare the boy for the ceremony: ipse, cum primum niveam praecerpere frontem decretum est umerosque manu nudare nitentes, adcurrunt teneri Paphia cum matre volucres expediuntque comas et serica pectore ponunt pallia (86-90) The teneri volucres who clothe Earinus in preparation for the ceremony are, as we realize in 90, Cupids. But the fact that they are described as accompanying their P a p h i a n mother (Paphia cum matre) initially suggests a different kind of bird, the dove, which was specifically associated with the cult of Venus at Paphos and frequently given the epithet Paphia.35 Statius seems to be suggesting that these Cupids are particularly dove-like creatures. But doves are more usually symbolic of the female, rather than the male, lover; columba was a common term of endearment for the mistress. 36 When they do appear in association with the male, they give the suggestion of homosexuality and effeminacy. 37

34 35

36 37

For a similar prayer in Martial cf. 5.48. Paphiae columbae·. Martial 8.28.13. For the same association of doves with Paphian Venus, see also Statius, Silv. 1.2.101 — 102 and D . W. THOMPSON, A Glossary of Greek Birds, Oxford 1895, 144. For a full list of citations see T H O M P S O N (ibid.) 1 4 2 . Cf. the extract of Pherecrates in: Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (ed. MEINEKE) vol. 2.322:

Άλλ' ώ περιστέριον ομοιον Κλεισθένει πέτου, κόμισον δέ μ' εις Κύθηρα καί Κύπρον. Note also Catullus' description of the effeminate Mamurra as albiculum columbum (29.8). Earinus' own appearance, his snow-white brow (niveam frontem) is reminiscent of the common description of doves as niveae columbae (e. g. Ovid, Met. 13.674; 15.715).

POLITICS A N D POWER I N R O M A N POETRY

123

We might note also that the cupids drape Earinus in a silken robe, presumably to prevent his tunic from being soiled by the falling hair. But, as Statius has already suggested (78 — 81), the clipping of Earinus' hair is being performed as the equivalent of the ceremonies surrounding a boy's transition to manhood, in which the youth would not only dedicate cuttings of his hair and beard, but would usually assume for the first time the toga virilis. It seems appropriate that Earinus should now be fitted not with a man's robe but with the silken mantle suggestive of woman's clothing. The Cupids' arrows which are normally used to inflame their target with passion are now employed for the novel purpose of cutting Earinus' hair. Venus seizes the locks as they fall and annoints them once more with her mystical fragrances. As a further offering to Asclepius, one of the Cupids holds up a mirror in which the image of Earinus is preserved for the god. We note that Statius appears to describe the ceremony in unusually strong, almost violent, language. In line 98, for example, Earinus' image is snatched away (imagine rapta), just as Venus, in lines 91—92, has snatched the boy's falling hair (rapit ipsa cadentem mater) which the Cupids had cut, in rather militaristic fashion, iunctis sagittis (90). The poem ends with Earinus' prayer for a long and happy life for his master, the emperor: At puer egregius tendens ad sidera palmas, "his mihi pro donis, hominum mitissime custos, si merui, longa dominum renovare iuventa atque orbi servare velisi hoc sidera mecum, hoc undae terraeque rogant. Eat, oro, per annos Iliacos Pyliosque simul, propriosque penates gaudeat et secum Tarpeia senescere tempia." sic ait et motas miratur Pergamos aras. (99 — 106) Most of the motifs expressed here — such as the wish for a lasting youthfulness, for a life as long as Priam's and Nestor's combined, the hope that Domitian will be surrounded in ripe old age by his family and the temples of the gods — are common features of Statius' imperial poems. 3 8 Indeed, some of them are not always reserved exclusively for the emperor. In Silvae 2.2.107—108, for instance, Statius prays for a life as long as that of Nestor and Tithonus (!) for his patron, Pollius Felix, and his wife. What makes the prayer in Silvae 3.4 particularly striking, however, is not so much the sentiments themselves but the person who expresses them. For there is a wry irony in the fact that Earinus addresses Asclepius, the god who had stripped him of his masculinity, as "the most gentle guardian of m e n . " Still more bizarre is the fact that Earinus prays to the selfsame god to renew in Domitian a prolonged youthfulness: longa dominum renovare iuventa. Asclepius is not without experience in such matters though his solution in the case of Earinus was drastic. In the light of this precedent, however, the reader might sense a perverse hint as to how Asclepius might now prolong Domitian's youth. 38

E . g . Silvae 1.1.105-107; 4.1.46-47; 4.2.57ff.; 4.4.147ff.

124

JOHN

GARTHWAITE

It has been pointed out that other poems of the 'Silvae', not to mention the 'Thebaid' itself, are not without elements of satire against Domitian. 3 9 Yet Silvae 3.4 is notable in that it does not merely aim an occasional barb at the emperor. The consistency of its irony, the thorough-going subversion of the panegyrical form is unequalled, I think, in any other of Statius' works. Further, in contrast to Silvae 1.1, this poem is a wholly personal, rather than a political, attack. It is difficult to see how Domitian could have failed to respond to such scathing criticism. But perhaps he did respond. There may be particular relevance in the fact that Silvae 3.4 is immediately followed by Statius' announcement of his decision to leave Rome (Silvae 3.5) — a decision for which he provides no explicit reason and which has not yet, I believe, been fully explained by modern scholars. 40 39 40

The satirical features of Silvae 1.1 are discussed by F. M. AHL in the preceding article. For comments on Silv. 3.5, see my discussion (note 7 above) 130—146.

Manilius als Astrologe und Dichter v o n WOLFGANG HÜBNER,

Trier

Inhalt Einleitung I. Uberblick über die neuere Forschung I I . Manilius in der Tradition des astrologischen Schrifttums 1. Manilius' astrologische Quelle

127 132 135 136

2. Manilius und Firmicus

139

3. Manilius als astrologische Quelle

144

I I I . Manilius und die zodiakalen Triplizitäten

149

1. D i e vier Elemente und die zodiakale Hierarchie

150

2. D i e Körperstellungen oder Energiestufen der Zodia

159

I V . Manilius und die'Sphaera barbarica'

174

1. D i e Paranatellonten des Manilius

175

2. D i e Waage-Paranatellonten Sagitta, Haedus und Lyra

182

3. D e r Geviertschein von Haedus-Lyra und Kepheus-Kynokephalos

187

4. D i e Friihlingsparanatellonten Andromeda, Perseus-Engonasin und Cetus . . . .

193

5. Bären und Fische: N o r d p o l und Frühlingspunkt

201

V . Sprache und Stil als Indikatoren astrologischer Sachverhalte

214

1. Nominale Figuren

215

2. Verbale Figuren

219

V I . D i e Dimensionen des 'Weltgedichts'

227

1. R a u m , Zeit und Kausalität

228

2. Zwölfgötter, Melothesie und Geographie

237

V I I . D e r 'Descensus' als philosophisch-poetisches Konzept 1. D e r Planetenplan 2. D i e drei Endstufen auf der Erde a) Buch 1: Milchstraße und K o m e t e n : H e r o e n , Kriege und Pest b) Buch 4 : Geographie und M i k r o k o s m o s c) B u c h 5 : Paranatellonten und Lychnopolis α) Vergils Bienenstaat ß) M e r k u r

242 245 247 248 252 254 255 262

M A N I L I U S ALS A S T R O L O G E U N D D I C H T E R Literatur

127 268

1. Zu Manilius

268

2. Sonstige, besonders zur Astrologie

271

Erläuterungen der wichtigsten astrologisch-astronomischen Begriffe

.280

Verzeichnis der Abbildungen

285

Register

286

. . . .

1. Autoren

286

2. Stellen .

291

3. Sachen ,

308

Einleitung Das Tierkreiszeichen der Zwillinge bringt nach der Lehre des Manilius sowohl Dichter als auch Astrologen hervor 1 . Es verdankt diese doppelte Wirkung zwei Göttern: seinem Tutor, dem Sänger Apollo (2,440), der auch selbst als einer der Zwillinge gilt, und seinem planetaren Hausherren, dem Hermes logios 2 . Eben diesen beiden Göttern weiß sich auch Manilius als Dichter und Astrologe verpflichtet (1,20-22): bina mihi positis lucent altaria flammis, ad duo templa precor duplici circumdatus aestu: carminis et rerum. Das Heiligtum des carmen gehört dem vorher (1,19) genannten GeminiSchutzherren Apollo, das der res dem, der den Menschen die astrologische Lehre und den Drang zur tieferen Erkenntnis 3 vermittelt hat, dem Hausherren der Das Manuskript wurde im wesentlichen 1977 abgeschlossen. Danach wurde es bis Ende 1982 mehrfach ergänzt. Die Abkürzungen der lateinischen Autoren richten sich in der Regel nach dem 'Thesaurus linguae Latinae', die der griechischen Autoren nach LIDDELL-SCOTT, die der Periodika nach der 'Année Philologique'. 1

2

3

Manil. 4,153-159. - Gemini und Dichter: 4,381: Musas. 4,528: citharae. Vett.Val. 1,2 p. 7,28: φιλόμουσοι, φωνασκοί (so zu akzentuieren). Hippol.ref.haer. 4,17,1: μουσικοί u . ö . , wohl deswegen auch die Formulierung in der christlichen Interpretation der Gemini bei Zeno 1,38,4L.: salutare canentibus testamentis: VERF., Die Eigenschaften 544. Zu Apollo als einem der Zwillinge F. BOLL, Sphaera 105. 122 — 128. Zum weiteren Zusammenhang innerhalb des Zodiakos s. S. 191 und S. 265. Über die Planeten als Hausherren der Tierkreiszeichen A. BOUCHÉ-LECLERCQ 195. Gemini und Astrologen: Heph. 1,1,51 u. ö. Merkur und Astrologen : Kritodemos C C A G (= Catalogus codicum astrologorum Graecorum, Brüssel 1898-1953) VIII 1 p. 259,16 (Merkurbezirk Virgo Γ - 7 0 ) . Ptol. apotel. 4,4,3. Vett. Val. 1,1 p. 4,19 u . ö . Merkur und Logos: s. S. 142, Anm. 63. 1,17: scire . . . penitus praecordia mundi. 1,31: interius . . . nota. 4,908f. : nec sola fronte deorum \ contentus manet, et caelum scrutatur in alvo. Dieselbe Wirkung hat Merkur in seinem zweiten Haus, der Jungfrau (4,195f.): qui possint cernere cuncta | quamvis

128

WOLFGANG HÜBNER

Zwillinge, Merkur-Thot (1,30). Neben den Dichtergott der griechischen Mythologie tritt der nicht mehr ausschließlich dem griechischen Mythos verpflichtete hellenistisch-ägyptische Astrologengott. Dadurch daß Apollo nur genannt, Merkur aber angerufen wird, erhält der zweite mehr Gewicht. Die res haben auch an einer anderen Stelle den Vorrang: Da auch das Dichten eine Wirkung der Sterne ist, geht die besungene Sache allem Dichten voraus (4,440f.): nec fas est verbis suspendere4 rebus erit maior.

mundum:

Es wäre vermessen, die Welt „aufhängen" zu wollen wie nur Zeus es kann (Horn. Ii. 8,19—27), denn der Dichter ist selbst ein Teil dieser Welt. Dem Verbot des demiurgischen Aufhängens (suspendere) steht das Gebot gegenüber, den Menschen auf die Waagschale zu werfen (4,407); inpendendus homo est5. Der Mensch steht nicht außerhalb seines Gegenstandes, sondern ist 'impliziert'. Dem doppelten Anspruch des Dichters hat der Interpret durch einen 'zwillingshaften' methodischen Ansatz zu entsprechen 6 . Es genügt nicht, nur den Dichter Manilius verstehen zu wollen, sondern es gilt auch und gerade, die astrologische Lehre herauszuarbeiten. Astrologie und Poesie ergänzen sich gegenseitig. Wer nach Manilius Apollo und Merkur zugleich dienen will, hat keine leichte Aufgabe, denn auf dem Gebiet der Astrologiegeschichte ist bisher noch sehr wenig geschehen. Ein gewaltiges Material muß erst noch erschlossen, heraus-

4

5

6

occultis naturae condita causis, vgl. Vett. Val. 1,2 p. 10,13: μυστικοί, p. 10,16: απόκρυφων μύσται, von Merkur selbst Ptol. apotel. 3,14,36: μυστηριακούς. Vgl. auch VERF., Die Eigenschaften 122, Systematik unter 2.28. Hermes wird neben Phoibos (und den Musen) auch bei Maneth. 6,2 angerufen. — Nach dem Gesagten trifft es nicht ganz das Richtige, wenn A. REEH 13 einen für die Lehre zuständigen Einzelgott vermißt, sondern (nach P. DAMS 18) Apollo dem universalen mundus gegenüberstellt. Dieses Verbum ist nur allzu berechtigt (vgl. F.-F. LÜHR, Ratio und Fatum 39 Anm. 3 nach VAN WAGENINGEN, B . EFFE, Dichtung und Lehre 115 Anm. 25). BENTLEY hat splendescere konjiziert, H O U S M A N setzt eine Crux. Vgl. von der Natur 3,58: vitas hominum suspendit ab astris |, ferner vom Verhältnis Dichter —Welt 4,120f. : ducere . . . pententem . . . ad sidera vatem, und unten S. 194f. zum Seiltänzer (5,655): pendens populum suspendet ab ipso | (hierzu wiederum Pers. 1,118: populum suspendere naso | nach Hör., sat. 1,6,5). Einen Kraftakt der Magie bezeichnet das Verbum bei Apul. met. 1,8,4: terram suspendere. Vgl. im dritten Proömium 3,38: inpendas animum und schon im ersten l,16f.: impensius . . . I scire . . . penitus praecordia mundi. Zur Übertragung der Waage auf die Relation Mensch-Welt VERF., Das Sternbild der Waage 58f. Vgl. die typische Zusammenarbeit von Naturwissenschaftshistorikern und Philologen wie in neuerer Zeit etwa von D. PINGREE und W. LUDWIG in ihrer Rezension von M. ERRENS Arat-Arbeit (Gnomon 4 3 [ 1 9 7 1 ] , 3 4 6 - 3 5 4 ) oder von R. BÖKER und H. G. G U N D E L in ihrem RE-Artikel 'Zodiakos'. — Die Maniliusstelle steht in einer Reihe ähnlicher Dichteraussagen: E. PÖHLMANN, ree. Β. EFFE, Dichtung und Lehre, Poetica 10 (1978), 515, A n m .

13.

MANILIUS

ALS

ASTROLOGE

UND

DICHTER

129

gegeben und verstanden werden 7 . In der Renaissance, einer der Blütezeiten der Astrologie, wurde die 'königliche Kunst' an den Höfen hoch geschätzt. R E G I O MONTANUS hat sich besonders während seines kurzen Aufenthaltes in Ofen bei Matthias Corvinus mit Astrologie beschäftigt; sein Manilius gehört dann zu den ersten in Nürnberg gedruckten Werken 8 . Der italienische Manilius-Editor B O N I N CONTRIUS hat sein zweites Sterngedicht, in dem viel manilianisches Gut steckt, Ferdinand von Aragon in Neapel gewidmet 9 und SCALIGER seine erste Maniliusausgabe dem astrologiegläubigen letzten Valois, Henri III. Das Widmungsgedicht zählt, anknüpfend an Manilius (1,41), eine Reihe astrologieergebener Könige auf 10 . Diese drei frühen Maniliusherausgeber hatten noch Interesse an der astrologischen Lehre und auch entsprechende Kenntnisse. BONINCONTRIUS hat in den Jahren 1475 — 1478 in Florenz Vorlesungen über Astrologie gehalten (seine Maniliusausgabe ist dann erst 1484 erschienen), SCALIGERS kommentierte Ausgabe (1579 = 1590. 1600. 1655) galt in den dunklen Jahren der Astrologieforschung geradezu als Lehrbuch der Astrologie. Das Interesse an der Sternkunde war in jener Zeit noch mit der Freude an der antiken Mythologie gepaart, wie zum Beispiel die 'Urania' des PONTANO zeigt, die die Astrologie des Manilius und Firmicus mit mythologischen Elementen verziert. Wie wichtig der sensus astrologicus noch in der Barockliteratur war, hat die ausgezeichnete Dissertation von K . H A B E R K A M M erwiesen 11 . Doch dann kam die kopernikanische Wende mit der Aufklärung. Astrologie und Mythologie gingen ihre eigenen Wege. Die Mythologie lebte in der Dichtung weiter und wurde in der Romantik neu vertieft, der Astrologie gegenüber konnte man jedoch nicht dieselbe Unbefangenheit aufbringen, sie wurde verachtet oder bekämpft, weil es immer noch Leute gab, die an sie glaubten. Aber nicht nur das gemeinsame Interesse an Astrologie und Mythologie, sondern auch die Personalunion von Sternkundigem und Texteditor ging auseinander. Wie SALMASIUS Gegner des SCALIGER in astrologicis wurde, so BENTLEY als Maniliuseditor (1739). Die Kritik der Aufklärung richtete sich ebenso gegen die Lehre wie gegen die

7

8

9

10

11

So kommt denn auch der zweite der Zwillinge, Herkules, zu seinem Recht. In einem Epigramm des JEAN D O R A T (in der ersten Ausgabe SCALIGERS) wird SCALIGERS „Herculeum . . . opus" gepriesen: Er habe den Text gereinigt wie einen Augiasstall. A. ZIEGLER, Regiomontanus, ein geistiger Vorläufer des Kolumbus, Dresden 1874, 10. Vgl. ferner W. KNAPPICH, Regiomontanus als Astrologe, Zenith 7 (1936), 137—144. Zum folgenden vgl. VERF., 'Die Rezeption des astrologischen Lehrgedichts des Manilius in der italienischen Renaissance'. B. SOLDATI 175. 183. Das Gedicht ist am besten zugänglich in den 'Opera omnia' des Astrologen LUCAS GAURICUS, Basel 1575, II 1522—1572. An den Anfang der 'Astronomika' klingt an: Vers 5f. : conscias . . fati \ coeli choreas astricas, ähnlich wie der Anfang eines Epigramms von Robertus Angelicus (ed. J. VALENTINELLI, Bibliotheca manuscripta ad S. Marci templum Venetiarum IV, Venedig 1871, p. 269): Divinas artes et conscia sidera rerum . . . Uber die Astrologieforschung in der Germanistik unterrichtet D. WUTTKE, Sebastian Brant, 273, Anm. 3.

130

WOLFGANG HÜBNER

Textüberlieferung. B E N T L E Y hat insgesamt 171 Verse aus dem Maniliustext gestrichen, das sind etwa 4% des ganzen Gedichtes. Auf der anderen Seite sind Astrologiegläubige nur allzusehr geneigt, den Text an jeder Stelle zu halten. Ein Beispiel dafür ist die Teubneriana von VAN W A G E N I N G E N ( 1 9 1 5 ) . In A. E. H o u s MANs b e r ü h m t e r k o m m e n t i e r t e r A u s g a b e ( 1 9 0 3 — 1 9 3 0 .

2

1937), die den

Eng-

ländern als Muster editorischer Kunst gilt , steckt noch viel vom Geiste seines Landsmannes B E N T L E Y . H O U S M A N greift mehr als nötig hyperkritisch in den Text ein. Seine oft eigenwilligen und preziösen Änderungen haben denn auch so manche Gegendarstellung herausgefordert. Daß sein Manilius nicht (wie sein Lucan) seinen E. F R A E N K E L gefunden hat, liegt eben an der Unpopularität dés Gegenstandes. In der 'Editio minor', der bisher besten (der auch G . P. GOOLD [1977] weitgehend folgt und nach der auch im folgenden zitiert wird), hat H O U S M A N einige seiner Änderungen zurückgenommen, wenn er auch dafür wiederum anderes unnötig in Frage stellt. Kunstsprachlich-formbewußte Dichtung entspricht nicht seiner im Grunde 'romantischen' Auffassung von Poesie 1 3 . 12

S o w i e er e i n m a l ANDRÉ G I D E f r a g e n k o n n t e : « Comment

expliquez-vous,

Mon-

so sagt sein Schüler A. S. F. sieur Gide, qu'il n'y ait pas de poésie française?»14, G o w über seine Lucan- und Maniliusausgabe: "He made no pretence of admiring them, wrote of the first that his vocabulary was a commonplace as his versification, and called the second a facile and frivolous poet, the brightest facet of whose genius was an eminent aptitude for doing sums in verse"15. So sehr H O U S M A N als Dichter Trrationalist' war, so sehr war er als Philologe Rationalist. Verfänglich wird das reine Rationalisieren, wenn eine vorgefaßte Meinung die Argumente diktiert, wie das ganz deutlich im Vorwort zum fünften Buch gegen F. BOLL und dessen Entdeckungen der Fall ist.

12

T. E. WRIGHT, The Augustan Poets, in: Fifty Years of Classical Scholarship, ed. M. PLATNAUER, O x f o r d

1 9 6 8 , 3 3 3 : "the

supreme

glory

of Manilian

— one

might

almost

say of Latin — scholarship in the present century is the five volumes of the great critical edition

(with

commentary)

by A. E. Housman

. . .", D . R . SHACKLETON BAILEY, ' r e c e n s u i t

et e m e n d a v i t ' , P h i l o l . 108 ( 1 9 6 4 ) , 1 0 2 — 1 1 8 , IDEM, A . E . H o u s m a n as a T e x t u a l

Critic,

in: La critica del testo II, Atti del secondo congresso internazionale della Società italiana di storia del diritto, Florenz 1971, 739—748, IDEM, The Loeb Manilius, CPh 74 ( 1 9 7 9 ) , 1 5 8 - 1 6 9 . V g l . f e r n e r G n o m o n 52 ( 1 9 8 0 ) , 13

11-15.

Vgl. seine Abhandlung: The Name and Nature of Poetry [1933], in: IDEM, Selected P r o s e , ed. J . CARTER, C a m b r i d g e 1 9 6 1 , 1 6 8 — 1 9 5 . D i e L i t e r a t u r ü b e r A . E . HOUSMAN ist

ständig im Wachsen begriffen, vgl. die ausgewählten Bibliographien in: Α. E. HOUSMAN, L e t t e r s , ed. H . MAAS, L o n d o n 1 9 7 1 , 4 3 9 - 4 4 1 , f e r n e r bei Μ . M . HAWKINS, Α . E . H o u s -

14

man. Man behind a Mask, Chicago 1958, 2 8 9 - 2 9 2 , T. Β. HABER, A. E. Housman, N e w York 1967, 2 1 2 - 2 1 4 , R. P. GRAVES, A. E. Housman. The Scholar-Poet, London 1979, 2 9 1 f. A. GIDE, Anthologie de la poésie française, Paris 1949, Préface 8, deutsche Übersetzung in: M e r k u r 3 ( 1 9 4 9 ) , 1169 — f r e u n d l i c h e r H i n w e i s v o n E . ZINN.

15

A. S. F. G o w , Α. E. Housman. A Sketch, Cambridge 1936, 13 wiederholt bei D. R. SHACKLETON BAILEY (S. o b e n A n m . 12),

742. Vgl.

jetzt

auch

R.P.GRAVES

(s.

Anm. 13), 210—217 über HOUSMANS Verhältnis zu Manilius und zur Sternkunde.

oben

MANILIUS ALS A S T R O L O G E U N D

DICHTER

131

Es sind besonders zwei Bücher, die den Neueinsatz der historischen Erforschung der Astrologie am Ende des vorigen Jahrhunderts markieren. A . B o u C H É - L E C L E R C Q hat sein Buch 'L'Astrologie grecque' ( 1 8 9 9 ) nach seiner wesentlich umfangreicheren Geschichte der antiken Divination geschrieben. Trotz der damals miserablen Quellenlage — der 'Catalogus codicum astrologorum Graecorum' ( C C A G ) war gerade erst im Entstehen — hat er eine ausgezeichnete Systematik der Astrologie (mit historischen Randkapiteln) gegeben. Der Schlußsatz des Vorwortes mag seine noch etwas erzwungene Distanz zum Gegenstand verdeutlichen: « On ne perd pas son temps en recherchant à quoi d'autres ont perdu le leur». Es ist bereits wiederholt festgestellt worden, daß diese Apologie heute nicht mehr nötig ist 1 6 . Das zweite Werk des wissenschaftlichen Neubeginns ist F. BOLLS 'Sphaera' (1903). Dieses bewundernswerte Buch ist bis heute nicht wieder erreicht worden 1 7 . Es ist beispielhaft für die Aufgabe der Astrologieforschung: Drei Jahrhunderte Forschung sind nachzuholen. Die Quellen reichen vom fernen Japan bis nach Europa, von der Zeit der Babylonier bis tief in das siebzehnte Jahrhundert hinein und entstammen der babylonischen, ägyptischen, griechisch-römischen, indischen und islamischen Kultur, ja selbst der Patristik — um nur das Wichtigste zu nennen. Zu den schriftlichen Quellen kommen bildliche Zeugnisse aller Art. Die Energie, derer es bedarf, um all diese disparaten Quellen zu sammeln, kann nur aus einem elementaren Spekulationsdrang gespeist werden, sie ist jedoch durch strengste Kritik zu zügeln 1 8 . Nicht nur historisch interessierte Astrologen 1 9 , sondern leider auch astrologisch verfahrende Philologen erliegen immer wieder der Gefahr, den festen Boden der historischen Quellenkritik zu verlassen. F. BOLL war hier eher zurückhaltend. Von Claudius Ptolemäus herkommend hatte er ein mathematisches Interesse. Obwohl er den dichterischen Reiz des Manilius und besonders des fünften Buches schon damals durchaus erkannt hat, wertet er den Dichter als Quelle ab, über Gebühr, denn die von ihm ernst genommenen Angaben des Teukros sind oft genauso überraschend und widersprüchlich wie die des Manilius. Hier kann eine mehr astrologisch denkende Interpretation weiterführen.

16

17

18

19

Vgl. H . USENERS Rezension, B y z Z 10 (1901), 248 und O . NEUGEBAUER, The Study of the Wretched Subjects, Isis 42 (1951), 111. F . JUERSS 65f. - W. KNAPPICH beginnt mit diesem Satz seine 'Geschichte der Astrologie' (Frankfurt 1967). Wenn W. und H . G . GUNDEL, Astrologumena 255, A n m . 1 die Entdeckung, Veröffentlichung und Interpretation des 'Liber Hermetis' durch W. GUNDEL auf dieselbe Stufe neben F. BOLLS 'Sphaera' stellen, dürfte dies etwas zu hoch gegriffen sein, vgl. unten S. 174—213 zu den Paranatellonten. F. BOLLS Zurückhaltung hat sich in den letzten Jahren verstärkt. Der schöne Aufsatz über O k n o s , A R W 19 (1918/9), 151 — 157 könnte auch zur Erklärung des saturnischen Schlusses der 'Aeneis' herangezogen werden. Die Literatur praktizierender Astrologen, die sich streckenweise durchaus der historischkritischen Methode bedient, wird hier nur in Ausnahmefällen herangezogen. Vgl. zu diesem Problem die Auseinandersetzung bei W. GUNDEL, Die Symbole der Planeten und der Tierkreiszeichen, Die Sterne 13 (1933), 9 2 - 9 9 .

132

WOLFGANG HÜBNER

I.

Überblick

über die neuere

Forschung

Das philologische Interesse an Manilius hat sich in der Hauptsache auf grundlegende Dinge konzentriert: Zahlreiche Aufsätze, besonders aus dem englischsprachigen R a u m , haben sich mit dem T e x t und den Konjekturen HOUSMANS auseinandergesetzt 2 0 . Ferner wurde der N a m e des Dichters weiter diskutiert 2 1 sowie der Entstehungszeitraum des Gedichts. M . PAUER hat in seiner Dissertation von 1951 versucht zu zeigen, daß das Gedicht ganz unter der Regierung des Tiberius entstanden sei 2 2 ; es dürfte aber noch in der spätaugusteischen Zeit wenigstens konzipiert worden sein 2 3 . Auch die Buchzahl ist weiter diskutiert worden, nachdem schon SCALIGER behauptet hatte, in einem Buch 6 seien die Untergänge der Paranatellonten und in einem B u c h 7 die Planeten behandelt w o r d e n 2 4 , HOUSMAN und andere haben sogar acht Bücher angenommen 2 5 . Symptomatisch für die Unverbindlichkeit, mit der immer wieder nur Einzelstellen textkritisch oder interpretatorisch behandelt wurden, ist der häufige Titel 'Maniliana' 2 6 . Als man nach der Wiederentdeckung Vergils am Anfang dieses Jahrhunderts die gesamte römische Epik von der griechischen emanzipierte, blieb Manilius als einziger so gut wie ganz beiseite. Erst die Dissertation von F . - F . LÜHR über Ratio und Fatum bei Manilius (1969) dringt tiefer in das Gedicht ein. D o r t sind besonders die Proömien und Exkurse mit anthropologisch-existenzieller Fragestellung 2 7 untersucht. Zwei Aufsätze schließen sich an: über ' D i e Kritik des Aetna-Dichters an Manilius' (1971) und über die Pest20

Aus der Zeit nach dem letzten Literaturbericht von R. HELM (1956) gehören hierher die Aufsätze v o n : A . Y . CAMPBELL, D . R . SHACKLETON BAILEY, G . P . GOOLD, Β . Β . GAIN, A . DAWSON und G . Β . Α . FLETCHER.

21

Μ. BECHERT, De Manilio Astronomicorum poeta, Progr. Leipzig 1891, 2 - 6 . Α. E. HOUSMAN, 1. Praef. p. LXIX und Addenda (Band 5), 109 gegen P. THIELSCHER; R. HELM, 156 gegen E . GRISET, ferner L . HERRMANN.

22

23

24

25

Dies hatte zuerst K. LACHMANN behauptet: De aetate Manilii [1815], in: IDEM, Kleine Schriften zur classischen Philologie, ed. J. VAHLEN, Berlin 1876, 42-44. Literatur und die Klassifizierung der Standpunkte bei F.-F. LÜHR, Ratio und Fatum 9, Anm. 2. Auf Augustus weisen auch schon die Titel oder Subskriptionen einiger Handschriften: A. CRAMER, Uber die ältesten Ausgaben von Manilius' Astronomika, Progr. Ratibor 1898. S. auch L. G. GYRALDUS, Historiae poetarum tarn Graecorum quam Latinorum dialogi decern [1545], in: IDEM, Opera omnia, Basel 1580, II 161. F. BOLL hat dies zunächst übernommen (Sphaera 387f.), dann aber aus poetischen Erwägungen abgelehnt (ibid. 401—404). A . E . HOUSMAN, 1. Praef. p. L X I X , P . THIELSCHER und D . B . GAIN, ' G e r b e r t and Mani-

lius'. Vgl. auch F.-F. LÜHR, Ratio und Fatum 9 mit Anm. 5. 26

J . VAN WAGENINGEN ( 1 9 1 5 ) , C . BRAKMAN ( 1 9 2 2 ) , J . H . WASZINK ( 1 9 5 6 ) , D . R . SHACKLETON BAILEY ( 1 9 5 6 ) , W . BÜHLER ( 1 9 5 9 ) , G . Β . A . FLETCHER ( 1 9 7 3 ) , vgl. schon P . THOMAS, Lucubrationes Manilianae ( 1 8 8 8 =

D . Β . GAIN 1 9 6 9 ) , H . BITTERAUF,

Observa-

tiones Manilianae (1899), R. ELLIS, Noctes Manilianae (1891), J. P. POSTGATE, Silva Maniliana ( 1 8 9 7 ) , J . MOELLER, Studia Maniliana ( 1 9 0 1 ) , W . v. VOGT, N u g a e Manilianae ( 1 9 2 8 1 9 3 1 ) , G . P . GOOLD, Adversaria Maniliana ( 1 9 5 9 ) . 27

Zu diesem Ansatz vgl. besonders die Seiten 15 und 139.

MANILIUS ALS A S T R O L O G E U N D

DICHTER

133

Schilderung am Ende von Buch 1 (1973). Eine Art Gegenstück zu dem ersten Aufsatz ist der Artikel von B. E F F E über den vergilianischen Gedanken des labor improbus bei Manilius (1971). Der zweite Aufsatz LÜHRS antwortet auf die Abwertung der manilianischen Pestschilderung bei J . GRIMM und besonders bei G. H Ä R K E . Schon der Titel dieser von W . SCHADEWALDT angeregten Freiburger Dissertation ist aufschlußreich: 'Studien zur Exkurstechnik im römischen Lehrgedicht. Lucrez und Vergil. Mit einem Anhang über Manilius'. Hier wird Manilius von vornherein noch stärker abgewertet als in dem wohl zugrundeliegenden Dreierschema: Vorläufer —Klassiker —Epigone. So schlecht wie die Pestschilderung von G. HÄRKE im Vergleich zu anderen beurteilt wird, so auch das Andromeda-Epyllion von B. R. Voss im Vergleich zu der Darstellung bei Ovid (1972) 28 . Wie F.-F. LÜHR, so betrachtet auch A. REEH in der jüngsten Manilius-Dissertation (1973) hauptsächlich die Proömien und Buchschlüsse und gelangt zu neuen Erkenntnissen über die Komposition des Gedichtes. Dabei wird im Anschluß an P. DAMS und unter Berufung auf die Verse 3,38f. betont, wie sehr es Manilius auf die Sache ankommt. Eine Untersuchung der Sache selbst wäre die Konsequenz, doch die Autorin dringt nur sehr vorsichtig in die Lehrabschnitte ein und beschränkt sich hier auf formale Kriterien wie die Anordnung der einzelnen Lehrabschnitte und die verschiedenen Argumentationsformen. Für die Bedeutung, die Manilius auch in der herrschenden literar-theoretischen Diskussion gewonnen hat, sei außer der Dissertation von P. DAMS auf die Arbeiten von S. KOSTER über antike Epostheorien und von B. E F F E über die Typologie des antiken Lehrgedichtes hingewiesen. In der Zwischenzeit hat schließlich die Dissertation von E. ROMANO, 'Struttura degli Astronomica di Manilio' (1979), durch eine Untersuchung der Proömien, Epiloge und Exkurse, der Verteilung von Mythologie und PolitischAktuellem sowie des Vorkommens bestimmter didaktischer Formeln die 'Architektur' der fünf Bücher deutlicher hervortreten lassen. Ein Aufsatz über die Kulturentstehungslehren folgte. Im ersten Drittel dieses Jahrhunderts, als man alles Pantheistische schlechtweg auf Poseidonios zurückzuführen gewohnt war, wurde auch bei Manilius poseidonisches Gut angenommen29. In dem Poseidonios-Buch von M. LAF28

Negative Urteile über Manilius allgemein: L. IDELER p. X X X I X : „Sein Stil ist incorrect und der Text verdorben." H . GELZER bei H . KLEINGÜNTHER, Textkritische und exegetische Beiträge zum astrologischen Lehrgedicht des sogenannten Manilius, Leipzig 1907, 12: „Afterweisheitskrämer." W . KROLL, Studien 197: „nur ein mittelmäßiger Dichter" (W. KROLL war Literaturwissenschaftler und Astrologiehistoriker zugleich). F. CUMONT, L'Égypte 18: « son utilité, pour la reconstitution des sources où il a puisé, est en raison inverse de son talent». Anders urteilt jedoch WILAMOWITZ (brieflich, abgedruckt im Vorwort zu F . BOLLS Kleinen Schriften, p. X V s q . ) : „Manilius . . . ist als Poet, und ein wirklicher Poet, den anderen überlegen." — Urteile aus dem englisch- und französischsprachigen Raum sammelt G. B. A . FLETCHER, Manilius 129. Die Andromeda-Perseus-Episode wird neuerdings wieder weniger negativ beurteilt von F. PASCHOUD, Deux études sur Manilius 1 2 6 - 1 4 9 .

29

In gewissem Sinne abschließend dazu R. BLUM, Manilius' Quelle im ersten Buche der Astronomica, Diss. Berlin 1934 (angeregt von E . NORDEN), dazu R. HELM, 152f.; ferner

10 ANRW II 32.1

134

WOLFGANG HÜBNER

FRANQUE ( 1 9 6 4 ) u n d d e r n e u e n P o s e i d o n i o s - E d i t i o n v o n EDELSTEIN-KIDD ( 1 9 7 2 )

k o m m t Manilius so gut wie gar nicht mehr vor. In jüngerer Zeit haben sich dagegen Parallelen aus dem hermetischen Schrifttum gefunden 3 0 . D e n philosophischen Gehalt des Gedichtes hat außer der genannten Dissertation von F . - F . LÜHR auch R . RIEKS in seinem B u c h über die römische Humanität berührt, w o neben dem kosmischen Ansatz der Anthropologie besonders das Vorbild der Humanität Menanders zur Sprache k o m m t 3 1 . D o c h das Tiefste, was bisher über das Gedicht als ganzes gesagt worden ist, stammt von dem Italiener B . SOLDATI (1906), der gezeigt hat, wie sehr die Renaissancedichter L . BONINCONTRIUS und besonders G . PONTANO in ihren Nachdichtungen der universalen Tendenz ihres Vorbildes entsprochen haben. F ü r die Sacherklärung des Gedichtes ist Wesentliches in den Kommentaren von SCALIGER und HOUSMAN (mit seinen wichtigen Praefationes) zu finden. D i e se Einzelerklärungen sind um so wertvoller, als eine Gesamtdarstellung, oder auch nur eine Darstellung zentraler Teile wie des Tierkreises oder der Planeten, über die Handbücher hinaus seit BOUCHÉ-LECLERCQ nicht wieder versucht worden ist 3 2 . Ausschließlich mit der Lehre bei Manilius beschäftigen sich nur zwei Arbeiten. W . GUNDEL behandelt in seinem Aufsatz 'Textkritische und exegetische Bemerkungen zu Manilius' (1926) Einzelheiten zur Melothesie und G e o graphie, zu den Dekanen und den schlimmen Einzelgraden der Tierkreiszeichen. W . SCHWARZ ('Praecordia mundi', 1972) versucht, die Vorrangstellung des Z o diakos aus dem stoischen Weltbild zu begründen und konstruiert einen U n t e r schied zwischen Manilius einerseits und der astrologischen Lehre andererseits. Sonst ist es F . BOLL, der in mehreren seiner Schriften auch für die Erklärung des Manilius Wesentliches geleistet hat. In seiner 'Sphaera' (1903) hat er auf den Seiten 333—339 die Dodekaeteris und die Chronokratoren (3,510—524) behandelt 3 3 , auf den Seiten 4 7 2 - 4 7 8 die Göttertutelae ( 2 , 4 3 3 - 4 5 2 ) , die dann O . WEINREICH

A . REEH 83 A n m .

1. — Z u m S t a n d d e r P o s e i d o n i o s - F o r s c h u n g ü b e r h a u p t O .

GIGON,

ree. G. PFLIGERSDORFFER, Studien zu Poseidonios, Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 44 (1962), 9 2 - 9 8 . 30

S. die A u f s ä t z e v o n G . VALLAURI u n d M . VALVO. V g l . f e r n e r F . - F .

LÜHR, R a t i o und

Fatum 157, Anm. 3, und 74, Anm. 1 zu K. KERÉNYI (aber auch O . WEINREICHS Rezension, PhW 45 [1925], 693 in: IDEM, Ausgewählte Schriften II, ed. G. WILLE, Amsterdam 1973, 139) und K. REINHARDT, R E Poseidonios 594, 1 3 - 2 1 und 819,4. Einzelnes auch bei F . CUMONT, É c r i t s H e r m é t i q u e s 6 8 f . ( P r o ö m i u m 1), W . BEZOLD-W.

GUNDEL,

Sternglaube

97

(zu

4,439).

M.

GUNDEL bei F .

PAUER

16-29

(zu

BOLL—C. 1,443),

A.

BARTALUCCI, Una fonte 99 (zur Geographie 4,744—817), E . ROMANO, Teoria 397—405, L. BALDINI MOSCADI, Magia 12, und schließlich unten S. 158 zur Elementendiakrisis 1,149—166. — Daß z . B . die Zonenlehre nicht von Poseidonios stammt, betont K. ABEL, R E Suppl. X I V (1974), 1 1 0 6 , 8 - 4 7 s.v. Zone. 31 32

33

R. RIEKS, 4 2 - 5 0 . Zur Lage der Forschung D. PINGREE, ree. W. und H . G. GUNDEL, Astrologumena, Gnomon 40 (1968), 276—280. Der Schlußsatz lautet: "The need now is for specialised monographs and editions of texts." Z u A n m e r k u n g 2 auf S. 3 3 6 v g l . R . REITZENSTEIN u n d H . H . SCHAEDER, S t u d i e n z u m

antiken Synkretismus aus Iran und Griechenland, Studien der Bibliothek Warburg 7, Leipzig-Berlin 1926, 117.

MANILIUS ALS A S T R O L O G E U N D

DICHTER

135

in seinem wichtigen Roscher-Artikel 'Zwölfgötter' (s. S. 238, Anm. 337) in den größeren Zusammenhang gestellt hat, und schließlich auf den Seiten 3 7 8 - 4 1 2 Manilius' Verhältnis zu den eigenartigen Sternbildern der 'Sphaera barbarica', besonders die Rolle des Haedus tertius und der zweimal genannten Leier (5,311 — 338. 4 0 9 - 4 1 5 ) . Die Lebensalter ( 2 , 8 4 1 - 8 5 5 ) sowie die Sterngrößen und -färben (5,710—725) sind in zwei anderen Untersuchungen berücksichtigt 34 . Sodann hat E . HONIGMANN d i e A s z e n s i o n a l w e r t e d e r T i e r k r e i s z e i c h e n ( 3 , 2 7 5 - 2 9 4 ) a l s d i e

des zweiten 'Klimas' erkannt und in den geschichtlichen Rahmen der antiken Klimatologie gestellt (1929) 3 5 , W . GUNDEL in seinem Dekanbuch (1936) die zodiakale Sonderform der manilianischen Dekanlehre gewürdigt (4,294 —386) 36 . W. KOCH und W. KNAPPICH haben im ersten, historischen Teil ihrer Untersuchung über 'Horoskop und Himmelshäuser' (1959) die Zwölf-Häuser-Lehre erklärt

(2,788-970)37.

Schließlich ist meine eigene Untersuchung über 'Die Eigenschaften der Tierkreiszeichen in der Antike. Ihre Darstellung und Verwendung unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des Manilius' (1982) diesem früher verfaßten Beitrag zuvorgekommen. Behandelt werden dort, was Manilius angeht, besonders die Klassifikationen der Tierkreiszeichen in Buch 2 sowie deren Wirkungen in Buch 4 mit Einschluß der Wirkungen ihrer Paranatellonten in Buch 5. Auf der Materialbasis dieses Buches bauen die folgenden Interpretationen auf. Einige Überschneidungen ließen sich dabei nicht ganz vermeiden.

II. Manilius in der Tradition des astrologischen

Schrifttums

Bevor Manilius als Dichter zu würdigen ist, sollte die Sache erklärt sein. Obwohl es schier unmöglich ist, Sache und Dichtung streng voneinander zu trennen, ist diese Untersuchung im Prinzip so angelegt, daß im ersten Teil (Kapitel II—IV) Sachfragen im Vordergrund stehen, im zweiten Teil (Kapitel V—VII) poetische. Nach der Einordnung des Manilius in die geschichtliche Tradition der Astrologumena (II.) wird an zwei Einzellehren der immense Wert des Manilius als astrologischer Quelle erwiesen (III. Triplizitäten und IV. Paranatellonten). Die Kapitel, die mehr die Dichtung betreffen, setzen zunächst bei einzelnen Stilistika an (V.), um dann nach einem Umweg über die methodischen Grundlagen astrologischen Verknüpfens überhaupt (VI.) schließlich nach der Komposition des Ganzen zu fragen (VII.).

34 35 36 37

10*

F . BOLL, Lebensalter 102 und IDEM, Antike Beobachtungen 87—89. E . HONIGMANN, Die sieben Klimata 35—50. W . GUNDEL, Dekane 81 und 2 4 3 - 2 4 6 . W . KOCH und W . KNAPPICH, H o r o s k o p und Himmelshäuser I, 26—37. - N u r entfernt zur Astrologie gehören: die Elementendiakrisis (1,149 — 166: W . SPOERRI, Späthellenistische Berichte 1 0 2 - 1 0 5 ) , die Kometen ( 1 , 8 1 3 - 9 2 6 : A . BARTALUCCI, I 'sublimia' 1 1 6 131) und die Winde ( 4 , 5 8 7 - 5 9 4 : Κ. NIELSEN, Remarques 9 5 f . ) .

136

WOLFGANG HÜBNER

Es liegt an der geschilderten Unpopularität der Astrologie heute, daß der erste Teil für die meisten Leser schwerer verständlich ist. Der knapp bemessene Raum verbietet es, jeden neuen Fachterminus genau zu erklären, wie es wohl wünschenswert wäre. Es sei darum nachdrücklich auf die Begriffserklärungen am Ende des Beitrags und die beiden genannten Werke von A. BOUCHÉ-LECLERCQ und F. BOLL sowie auf die RE-Artikel 'Planeten' und 'Zodiakos' von W . und H . G . GUNDEL v e r w i e s e n .

1. Manilius' astrologische Quelle "Während man den Einfluß des Poseidonios zunächst besonders in den Proömien und Schlußpartien angenommen hat, erstreckt sich der Einfluß der Hermetik auf die eigentliche Lehre. Merkur ist es, den Manilius als seinen auctor anruft (1,30). Merkur-Thot hat das Wissen an den König Nechepso und den Priester Petosiris weitergegeben (1,41: regalis ánimos und 1,47: sacerdotes)38. Während Manilius die Namen der beiden Initiatoren der Lehre auf der Erde verschweigt, nennt er doch zwei geographische Namen, den Euphrat und den Nil (1,44) 3 9 . Das babylonische und das ägyptische Reich sind die wichtigsten Länder für die Entstehung der Astrologie gewesen. Während man zur Zeit des T a n babylonismus' um die Jahrhundertwende alles auf babylonischen Ursprung zurückzuführen bestrebt war (und in diese Zeit fällt ja die wissenschaftliche Wiederentdeckung der Astrologie), ist dann besonders W . GUNDEL für Ägypten als Entstehungsland der astrologischen Lehre eingetreten. Heute wissen wir: Die Astrologie ist bei den Babyloniern entstanden, hat aber im hellenisierten Ägypten ihre entscheidende Prägung erhalten. Ägyptisches findet sich bei Manilius etwa in der Angabe Unterägyptens als Bezugspunkt (geographische Breite) für die Aszensionalwerte und in der Parallelisierung der sieben Planeten mit den Nilmündungen (3,271—274). Bei der Nilmündung laufen auch der nördliche und der südliche Periplus der Mittelmeerküste zusammen (4,601/627, vgl. 4,670). Hinzu kommen Eigenheiten der Tierkreiszeichen: Der Stier trägt wie Apis die Sonnenscheibe in seinen Hörnern (4,144) 4 0 , vielleicht hat auch jener rätselhafte orbis bei der Waage etwas mit der ägyptischen Ikonographie zu tun (s. S. 168, Anm. 143). Unter den Fischen wird Typhon erwähnt (2,581. 801), nach dem überdies die beiden ungünstigen Häuser II und V I I I benannt sind (2,874). Der assoziative Anschluß der Melothesie an die Göttertutelae ist nur zu verstehen, wenn man die ägyptische divine Melothesie als 38

39

40

Vgl. E . RIESS, Epikritisches zur Astrologie des Nechepsos und Petosiris, Philol. 54 (1895), 188, Anm. 3 gegen F. BOLL, Studien über Claudius Ptolemäus 221. Gegen die Tilgung von Vers 1,44 durch BENTLEY, dem HOUSMAN folgt: F. JACOB, De Manilio poeta, Partícula altera [. . .], Progr. Lübeck 1833, 4 und E. RIESS (s.o. Anm. 38), 188, Anm. 3. Vgl. auch W . und H . G. GUNDEL, Astrologumena 143. Firmicus nennt in der zweiten Praefatio, der Einleitung zur eigentlichen Lehre (math. 2 praef. 3): Aegyptii Babyloniique. 4,144: ille suis Phoebi portât cum cornibus orbem. Das Tragen' deswegen, weil der Stier auch den Astrologen als ein arbeitsames Tier galt: s. S. 167 zu 2,250 und 4,146.

MANILIUS ALS ASTROLOGE U N D DICHTER

137

Zwischenglied kennt (s. S. 239). Wenn W. G U N D E L (Hermes 196) sagt, bei Manilius 5,682-692 und im 'Liber Hermetis' (p. 52,1) seien aus den ägyptischen Einbalsamierern Salzhändler (bei Manilius vielmehr: Salzgewinner) geworden, dann trifft das wohl nicht ganz zu. Verwandte Texte stellen beide Prognosen nebeneinander 41 . Das heißt für Manilius: Er hat die ägyptische Komponente weggelassen. In der zodiakalen Geographie hat er (oder seine Vorlage) das ägyptische System geradezu manipuliert 42 : Während der Alexandriner Paulos das Land Italien dem bösen Skorpion unterstellt (p. 6,13 und 10,5), nimmt Manilius (4,773 — 777) die ideal ausgeglichene und ausgleichende Waage für Italien in Anspruch. Wie später in der Renaissance, wird hier die Astrologie für die politische Ideologie ausgenutzt. Schließlich scheint auch das eigentümliche Spiel mit Polaritäten in der 'Sphaera barbarica' auf die skurrile ägyptische Phantasie zurückzugehen. Trotz des ägyptischen Einflusses ist es selbstverständlich, und es läßt sich auch beweisen, daß die Vorlage des Manilius in griechischer Sprache geschrieben war, also ägyptische Elemente in hellenisierter Form enthielt. In diesem Sinne muß der Titel von F. C U M O N T S Alterswerk 'L'Égypte des Astrologues' modifiziert werden. Die dort beschriebene Astrologenwelt ist trotz einiger rein ägyptischer Züge nicht die des ptolemäischen Ägypten, sondern die der römischen Kaiserzeit 43 . Wie selbstverständlich verwendet Manilius griechische Fachtermini. Die Winde bezeichnet er mit griechischen Namen (4,591 f.). Oder er ringt wie Lucrez mit der Ubersetzung (2,694f.: dodecatemoria. 2,829: horoscopus u.a.). Bei Lehnübersetzungen weist er teilweise auf den griechischen Ausgangsbegriff hin 44 . Feinere Spuren gibt es allenthalben. Als Beispiele seien einige Stellen genannt, die es mit dem Wasser zu tun haben. Den Krebs zählt Manilius zu den Tieren, die ganz im Wasser leben (2,224: in undis). Das ist die Ubersetzung von έν ΰδασιν, im Gegensatz zu π α ρ ' ΰδασιν oder μέρος τι ύδατος εχον 45 . Vom Wassermann, der Fehlgeburten verursacht, heißt es (2,239): ecfundit . . . ortus.

41

42

43 44

Der griechische Text des Teukros lautet p. 41,21/24 BOLL: ταριχευτός, vgl. 51,29 (dort wie bei Manilius unter den Fischen), ταριχεία kann heißen a) „Einsalzen", „Pökeln", b) „Einbalsamieren". Unbestimmt bleibt Ptol. apotel. 4,4,9 (erdhafte und feuchte Zeichen): ταφάς ή ταριχείας ή άλείας. Einbalsamierung und Fischverarbeitung (vgl. vorher bei Manil. 5,667—681) assoziiert Manetho 4,267—270 und 6,459—464 (beidemale rein planetar determiniert). Vgl. VERF., Die Eigenschaften 629f. zu Manil. 5,682: salinas. Nach dem Vorbild von F. CUMONT, 'La plus ancienne géographie' (über Paulus Alexandrinus) hat A. BARTALUCCI, Una fonte 91 — 100 versucht, den Horizont der zodiakalen Geographie des Manilius abzustecken. Er betont aber das Ägyptische zu sehr. Vgl. dazu die Kritik von L. ROBERT, Études épigraphiques 76—108. Z.B. 2,888: Felix für 'Αγαθός δαίμων (nicht ganz eindeutig, vgl. M. G. SCHMIDT, ZPE 49 [1982], 48 mit Anm. 19). 2,909/916f.: Deus/Dea für Θεός/Θεά. Mehr im 'Index (IV) g r a m m a t i c u s ' d e r A u s g a b e v o n J . VAN WAGENINGEN,

45

1 8 6 f . u n d b e i R . B . STEELE,

The

Astronomica of Manilius, AJPh 53 (1932), 320-343, hier: 323. - H.-J. ROSE, Some Passages of Latin Poets, HSPh 47 (1936), 11 bemerkt, daß Manil. 5,126 für syboten | auch lateinisch wie Verg. ecl. 10,19: subulcum \ hätte schreiben können. Anon. ed. F. CUMONT, CCAG I p. 165,34—36. Die Ubereinstimmung zeigt, daß dieser Anonymus altes Gut tradiert.

138

WOLFGANG HÜBNER

Die nichtassimilierte Form ( e c f - im Gegensatz zu 2,225: effuso . . . aequore von derselben Sache) erinnert an die Form έκχεϊσθαι in demselben Text 46 . Im letzten Maniliusbeispiel ist das lateinische Wort aequor mit Bedacht gewählt, denn zu den Fischen gehört das Ausgebreitetsein (s. S. 173). Bei dem Paranatellon Cetus kommt es dagegen auf die Tiefe des Wassers an (s. S. 198 zu 5,598: profundo). Dieselbe Prägnanz findet sich bei der Verwendung griechischer Wörter für das Meer: 1,246: pontus . . . distinguit et alligat undis 5,49: pelagus Xerxes facietque tegetque. Es kommt jeweils auf das zweite der beiden komplementären Verben an, an der ersten Stelle ist das Überbrückende {alligai), an der zweiten das Ausgebreitete (teget) mehr betont 47 . Ebenso paradox wie diese beiden Verbaljunkturen ist der Ausdruck (4,127) crescendo cadet für den Widder, dessen Wolle wächst und dann geschoren wird. Daß dies eine Ausbeutung der steigenden und dann wieder sinkenden Sonne ist, zeigt das griechische Vorbild. Rhetorios nennt die beiden äquatorialen Zeichen (Widder und Waage) αύξομειωτικόν ( C C A G VII p. 194,18 und 204,2). Das Lateinische kann die Nominalkomposition nicht nachmachen, sondern nur durch zwei Wörter ersetzen 48 . Die astrologische Quelle des Manilius scheint auch ziemlich einheitlich gewesen zu sein. Erweiterungen aus anderen Bereichen lassen sich nur am Ende von Buch 1 und 4 beobachten (s. S. 241—250), die Paranatellontenlehre des fünften Buches ist dagegen, anders als F. BOLL und F.-F. LÜHR vermuteten 4 9 , fest mit

der Lehre früherer Bücher verbunden 50 . Die Angaben über die Positionen der 46 47

48

49

Anon. (vorige Anm.) p. 1 6 6 , 1 . Zur Sache V E R F . , Die Eigenschaften 5 0 3 - 5 0 8 . Zu den griechischen Wörtern für das Meer A. LESKY, Thalatta. Der Weg der Griechen zum Meer, Wien 1947 (Ndr. 1973), 8. VERF., Die Eigenschaften 78 (Systematik unter 1.311.611.121). Nicht leicht sind die Etymologisierungen zu beurteilen. Während bei dem Tierkreiszeichen Taurus und seinem h o m o n y m e n Berg (4,623.675 und 753) auch das Griechische übereinstimmt, ist für Lepus — lepore (4,257) nur das Lateinische verantwortlich (vgl. Firm. math. 8,9,2: Iugulae — iugulabitur). Hier scheint die griechische Quelle nur methodisch nachzuwirken, vgl. bei Teukros (p. 50,14 BOLL): ό μϋς ο ί κ ι α κ ό ν τι μΰσος. Griechische Etymologien gibt es auch sonst: Κριός—κρίνειν (VERF., H o r o s k o p 124, A n m . 8), Μ α ι ώ τ ι ς - ά π ο μ α ι ο ϋ σ θ α ι (Anon., ed. E. MAASS, Analecta Eratosthenica, Berlin 1883, 147,5), ferner bei Arat. 164: Ώ λ ε ν ί η —ώλενη. 331: Σείριος—σειράει (und die Scholien dazu: HOUSMAN, Addenda in Bd. 5,127, s . u . S. 260, A n m . 416) sowie die Scholien zu Arat. 315: Ά η τ ό ν π α ρ ά τους άήτας. - A n t h . P a l . 3,239,8 C O U G N Y : Scorpio S - σκορπισμός (vgl. Schol. Arat. p. 166,130 MAASS: σκορπίζεται). — Unsicher ist die von H O U S M A N ZU 5,350: stimulis vermutete Etymologie Centaurus — κεντείν. Hier dürfte sich die Pfeilspitze des Schützen auswirken. — Auf eine griechische Fassung der Melothesie dürfte die übereinstimende Bezeichnung Minervas mit Pallas bei Manil. 2,439 und im 'Liber Hermetis' p. 50,26 zurückgehen. F. B O L L , ree. J . M O E L L E R , Studia Maniliana, B P h W 2 2 ( 1 9 0 2 ) , 1 5 4 9 zu 5 , 1 : hie alius finisset iter: „meine bisherige Quelle macht H a l t " . Danach F.-F. LÜHR, Ratio und Fatum 48.

50

Vgl. S. 173f. zu 2,259f./4,533f./5,178, S. 189f. zu 2,485f. 501/5,336 und zu 2,494f. 5 0 7 509/5,476 oder S. 258f. zu 4 , 2 3 4 - 2 3 7 / 5 , 3 7 8 - 3 8 6 .

M A N I L I U S ALS A S T R O L O G E U N D

DICHTER

139

Tierkreiszeichen lassen darauf schließen, daß es einheitlich eine Art 'Normalstellung' des Tierkreises gegeben hat, in der die äquatoriale Achse Aries — Libra waagerecht und die Achse Cancer — Capricornus senkrecht gedacht war 5 1 . Das dem Manilius vorliegende Lehrbuch scheint ferner von gröberen Einteilungen zu immer feineren gekommen zu sein. Im zweiten Buch beginnen die Gruppen der Zodialqualitäten mit reinen Dichotomien, dann folgen Dreierund schließlich Vierergruppen. Die Freund- und Feindschaften werden zunächst pauschal nach Dreiecken abgehandelt, dann nach einzelnen Zodia; auf die ganzen Zodia folgen Zeichenzwölftel und Zeichensechzigstel. Die Zeichendrittel (Dekane) fehlen im zweiten Buch. Sie erscheinen in Buch 4 unter den Wirkungen, die zunächst wieder nach ganzen Zeichen abgehandelt werden, dann nach Dekanen, Einzelgraden, hervorstechenden Partien der Zodia 5 2 und schließlich im letzten Buch nach außerzodiakal determinierten Einzelgraden. Als letztes Mittel der Differenzierung sind in der Quelle auch noch die Planeteneinflüsse hinzugekommen, wie ein genauer Vergleich mit dem achten Buch des Firmicus zeigen wird.

2. Manilius und Firmicus Manilius 5,32—709 und Firmicus math. 8,6—17 stimmen teilweise wörtlich überein. F. BOLL hat von der sachlichen und F. SKUTSCH, der Mitherausgeber des Firmicus, von der sprachlichen Seite her klar bewiesen, daß Firmicus von Manilius abhängt 5 3 . Nun gibt es aber auch Abweichungen und Zusätze bei Firmicus. F . BOLL schreibt diese der Erfindung des Firmicus zu, fordert aber doch eine Untersuchung, ob nicht eine gemeinsame Quelle in Frage komme, wie das seit SALMASIUS immer wieder behauptet worden ist 5 4 . Die Lösung hat die wich-

51

S. die Abb. auf S. 151. 2,510: summi . . . fastigia Cancri (vgl. 2,795). 2,512: sublimem Cancrum, ferner 1,672: a summo Cancer, Capricornus ab imo. 4,162: Cancer ad ardentem fulgens in cardine metam. Vgl. VERF., Die Eigenschaften 50f. (Systematik unter 1.211.2). Der Skorpion, der „unterhalb" der Waage liegt (2,502. 4,778 — und sogar südlich der Ekliptik: VERF., Die Eigenschaften 99—101, Systematik unter 2.12), hat in der zodiakalen Geographie politische Bedeutung: Die südlichen Zodia gehorchen den nördlichen (Ptol. apotel. 1,15,2), also auch die Karthager den Römern. Vgl. auch HOUSMAN ZU 1,373: infra und zu 2,502: infra. Rhetorios C C A G I p. 146,27—147,1 bestimmt die 'Normalstellung' als κράσις άριστη.

52

Dieses dürfte der Hauptunterschied zwischen den beiden Zodiologien sein. HOUSMAN schwankt noch im vierten Band (1920) zu 4,122—291 (17), was die beiden Zodiologien unterscheide, behauptet dann im fünften Band (1930) p. X X X V I I I und Addenda p. 156, im ersten Zodiologion komme es auf die Stellung des Mondes, im zweiten auf die Stellung im Aszendenten, also auf das Horoskopieren an. In der Uberschrift der ed. min. p. VII heißt es schließlich richtig (4,502 — 584): „quos mores certae signorumpartes horoscopantes tribuant".

53

F . BOLL, Sphaera 3 9 4 - 4 0 4 und F. SKUTSCH, 'Firmiciana'. Ebenso wie M. BECHERT (S. F. BOLL, Sphaera 397f.) schwankt auch F. CUMONT, 'L'Égypte': Für eine gemeinsame Quelle ist er 19, Anm. 3, für eine Abhängigkeit 56, Anm. 1 u . ö .

54

140

WOLFGANG

HÜBNER

tige fünfte Praefatio HOUSMANS gebracht (p. X L I I I s q . ) : Firmicus hat zwar teilweise Manilius in Prosa umgesetzt, muß aber daneben eine andere Quelle gehabt haben, und diese Quelle ist der des Manilius ähnlich 5 5 . Aus diesem Tatbestand ergibt sich zweierlei. Erstens sollte man sich davor hüten, bei Firmicus sachliche Korrekturen nach Manilius vorzunehmen. Zum anderen sind für Manilius die Unterschiede wichtiger als die Gemeinsamkeiten, denn dort besteht der Verdacht, daß Manilius oder seine Quelle gegenüber der des Firmicus Änderungen vorgenommen hat. Die unterschiedlichen Gradangaben und die bei Firmicus fehlenden oder überschießenden Sternbilder haben BOLL und HOUSMAN notiert. Zwei Dinge hat Firmicus überhaupt ganz allein: die Untergänge der Paranatellonten und die modifizierenden Planeten. F . BOLL hat plausibel gemacht, daß die platten Angaben über die Wirkungen der untergehenden Paranatellonten nicht aus verlorenen Partien des Manilius stammen können. Das heißt nun aber nicht, daß Firmicus sie „auf eigene F a u s t " hinzuerfunden habe. Viel wahrscheinlicher ist, daß sie in der gemeinsamen Quelle gestanden haben. Vorausgesetzt, daß diese Quelle in der Zeit zwischen Manilius und Firmicus im wesentlichen unverändert geblieben ist, hätte also nicht Firmicus etwas hinzuerfunden, sondern vielmehr Manilius etwas weggelassen. N o c h deutlicher läßt sich bei den modifizierenden Planeten nachweisen, daß sie Firmicus nicht „auf eigene Verantwortung" hinzugefügt hat. V o n den 25 Stellen, an denen Firmicus bei den Aufgängen der Begleitsternbilder Planeten einführt, gibt es zwanzig, an denen Manilius in der Deutung ein Äquivalent aufweist. Wie die Zusammenstellung (S. 141) zeigt, entsprechen die Wirkungen der Planeten im ganzen dem planetaren Charakter: Saturn neigt zur Feuchte 5 6 , Mars zu Krieg und Jagd, Venus zu Vergnügen und Schauspiel, Merkur und M o n d zur skurrilen Bewegung. Außer der Sonne fehlt der gemäßigte Iupiter 5 7 . In drei Fällen sind die Planeten des Firmicus aus anderen Autoren zu belegen. Dabei handelt es sich immer um Zweierkombinationen. D e r Seiltänzer k o m m t auch bei Manetho und Rhetorios je viermal v o r 5 8 . Mars tritt an sieben 55

56

Vgl. etwa auch Teukr. p. 42,16 BOLL: βερεδαρίους = Firm. math. 8,17,3: veredarii, aber Manil. 5,641: nuntius. W. KROLL, Kosmologie 29 zu Plin. nat. 2,106, dazu etwa Antiochos bei F. CUMONT, Antiochus 149,10 und CCAG VIII 3 p. 111,7 u.ö. (vgl. Manil. 1,83-88). Ptolemäus bezeichnet ihn jedoch als „etwas trocken", weil er von der Erde und ihrer Anathymiasis weit entfernt sei (apotel. 1,4,3 = Heph. 1,2,4), wieder anders 3,12,3: feucht beim Aufgang, trocken beim Untergang. Vgl. Anon. CCAG V i p . 137,7 trocken, aber p. 138,9 feucht. XI 2 p. 119,1.8 trocken und feucht, und noch J. KEPLER, Tertius interveniens, T h e s e 3 2 . Z u d e m W i d e r s p r u c h A . - J . FESTUGIÈRE, R é v é l a t i o n 9 7 , f e r n e r V . STEGEMANN,

57

58

Planeten 7 5 - 7 8 und E. PANOFSKY-F. SAXL, Dürers Melencolia 5 - 1 0 . 8 3 . Iupiter kommt überhaupt nur einmal vor, nämlich beim Untergang des Altars (math. 8, 13,2), wohl wegen der Sage (bei Manilius 1,420—432). Manetho 4,277f.: Sonne im Aspekt mit Mars, dieser im Quadrat zu Taurus, Leo, Aries. 6,287—289: Venus in Konjunktion mit Sonne und Mars. 5,146f. : Venus mit Mars im IC. 6,440: Venus in Konjunktion mit Mars und Sonne. Rhetorios CCAG VIII 4 p. 213,1: Venus und Mars im Aspekt mit der Sonne, p. 213,7: Mars und Venus im IC. p. 215,16: Saturn in Konjunktion mit Mars oder im Quadrat zu Aries, Taurus, Leo; Aspekt der Venus, p. 217,9: Mars und Merkur im IC. Vgl. F. CUMONT, L'Égypte 85, Anm. 1.

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