Juvenal and the Satiric Genre 9781472539861, 9780715636862, 9781849667791

Table of contents :
Cover
Contents
Editor’s Foreword
Preface
1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models
2. The Generic Landscape
3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres
4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal
5. The Satirists and Epic
6. Other Genres in Satire
7. Juvenal and Performance
8. Juvenal’s Satiric Identity
Appendix: Names in Satire and Related Genres
Glossary
A
B
C
D
E
G
H
I
J
L
M
O
P
Q
S
T
V
Notes
Bibliography
Index
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
V
W

Citation preview

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre

Classical Literature and Society Series Editor: David Taylor

Classics and the Bible: Hospitality and Recognition John Taylor Culture and Philosophy in the Age of Plotinus Mark Edwards Homer: The Resonance of Epic Barbara Graziosi & Johannes Haubold Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Frederick Jones Ovid and His Love Poetry Rebecca Armstrong Pastoral Inscriptions: Reading and Writing Virgil’s Eclogues Brian Breed Silent Eloquence: Lucian and Pantomime Dancing Ismene Lada-Richards Thucydides and the Shaping of History Emily Greenwood

JuvenalSatiric.qxd

30/07/2007

18:33

Page iii

CLASSICAL LITERATURE AND SOCIETY

Pagan and Christian Juvenal andinthe Religious Change Early Gregor McLennan MedievalGenre Europe Satiric

story of sociology a first companion to social theory

David Petts Frederick Jones

Bristol Classical Press

Duckworth

 

This electronic edition first published in 2011 by Bristol Classical Press An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing plc www.bloomsburyacademic.com Copyright © Frederick Jones 2007 The right of Frederick Jones to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988   All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.    CIP records for this book are available from the British Library and the Library of Congress   ISBN (pb) 978 0 07156 3 6862 ISBN ePub 978 1 8496 6 7807 ISBN e-book PDF 978 1 8496 6 7791   Visit www.bloomsburyacademic.com to find out more about our authors and their books. You will find extracts, authors interviews, author events and you can sign up for newsletters to be the first to hear about our latest releases and special offers. 

 

Contents

Editor’s Foreword

vii

Preface

ix

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models

1

2. The Generic Landscape

25

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres

48

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal

76

5. The Satirists and Epic

95

6. Other Genres in Satire

117

7. Juvenal and Performance

133

8. Juvenal’s Satiric Identity

145

Appendix: Names in Satire and Related Genres

155

Glossary

157

Notes

166

Bibliography

197

Index

207

This page intentionally left blank

Editor’s Foreword The aim of this series is to consider Greek and Roman literature primarily in relation to genre and theme. Its authors hope to break new ground in doing so but with no intention of dismissing current interpretation where this is sound; they will be more concerned to engage closely with text, subtext and context. The series therefore adopts a homologous approach in looking at classical writers, one of whose major achievements was the fashioning of distinct modes of thought and utterance in poetry and prose. This led them to create a number of literary genres evolving their own particular forms, conventions and rules – genres which live on today in contemporary culture. Although studied within a literary tradition, these writers are also considered within their social and historical context, and the themes they explore are often both highly specific to that context and yet universal and everlasting. The ideas they conceive and formulate and the issues they debate find expression in a particular language, Latin or Greek, and belong to their particular era in the classical past. But they are also fully translatable into a form that is accessible as well as intelligible to those living in later centuries, in their own vernacular. Hence all quoted passages are rendered into clear, modern English. These are books, then, which are equally for readers with or without knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages and with or without an acquaintance with the civilization of the ancient world. They have plenty to offer the classical scholar, and are ideally suited to students reading for a degree in classical subjects. Yet they will interest too those studying European and contemporary literature, history and culture who wish to discover the roots and springs of our classical inheritance. The series owes a special indebtedness and thanks to Pat Easterling, who from the start was a constant source of advice and encouragement. Others whose help has been invaluable are Robin Osborne who, if ever we were at a loss to think of an author for a particular topic, almost always came up with a suitable name or two and was never stinting of his time or opinion, and Tony Woodman, now at Virginia. The unfailing assistance of the late John W. Roberts, editor of the Oxford Dictionary of the Classical World, is also gratefully acknowledged. Deborah Blake, Duckworth’s indefatigable Editorial Director, has throughout offered full support, boundless enthusiasm and wise advice. vii

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Finally, I pay tribute to the inspirational genius which Michael Gunningham, fons et origo of the series and an editor of consummate skill and phenomenal energy, brought to the enterprise. His imprint is everywhere: sine quo, non. David Taylor

viii

Preface This book is about Juvenal and his place in the corpus of Roman satirical writing, about his place within a generic tradition. It is at the same time about how he positioned satire in relation to other literature. Although there were historically conditioned differences from generation to generation, nonetheless Roman poets were very much aware of generic models, and the Roman satirists were particularly explicit about this. In their poems they discuss their own places both within the satiric tradition – in particular by reference to a generic founder-figure, Lucilius – and also in relation to other genres, and especially epic. Lucilius is presented as the originator of the genre by Horace, and one after another he and each of the later extant satirists all refer to Lucilius as the prime generic model. In this capacity they all refer to him as a fierce and fearless moral critic, which implies that this is an important aspect of the satiric tradition. Now, it is clear even from the fragments we have of Lucilius’ satires that this is a tendentious characterisation. He was a much more varied and inclusive poet than this, and it therefore comes as a surprise that in various ways Horace, Persius and Juvenal all play down this element in their own satires. It seems that they choose a figurehead and paint it in a way that is both misleading in itself, and at best only ambiguously related to their own practices. Then there is the issue of the satirists’ relation to other Roman poetry. They contribute to the same overall picture as other poets. There is, that is to say, a literary field divided up into different poetic categories – elegy, bucolic, epic and so on – each of which has its own subject matter and its own way of representing it. It is not, however a level field. Epic dominates. It has a loftier style, its characters are grander, more heroic, often semidivine, its themes are not mundane as those of other genres are. Other writers repeatedly claim to be unequal to its demands. Increasingly, however, the satirists claim more than difference and inferiority; they take an oppositional, even a polemic, stance against epic. Epic is, they suggest, absurd in its remoteness from the real world. The satiric critique of epic comes close to making the claim that its own ostensibly pedestrian genre is better than epic. Satire redefines the traditional generic hierarchy and erodes the values upon which it was based. There is a problem here, however. The picture that we get of epic from the satirists is one to which, arguably, actual epics ix

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre over and again fail to correspond. In fact this needs to be seen as part of the broader picture of which satire too is part. Crudely, the idea of bucolic concerns the inhabitants of an ideal and harmonious landscape whose lives centre on song and love. In practice, however, there are various complications in the lives of the bucolic shepherds. Their lands may be threatened, love may be painful, and song may not after all be much of an alleviation. Likewise, ‘elegy’ is about love, but an elegy is about how the poet’s experience of love and the elegiac mistress is unsatisfactory. Arguably, there is always a tension between the universal and the specific (Barchiesi 2000, 167). At any rate, as regards epic, the genre should be about heroism, but real epics turn out to be about the cost or the problems of heroism. Epics are about the inadequacy of the epic ideal or their own failure to live up to the idea of epic (Hinds 2000). In the Aeneid, for example, the archetypally epic ideal of heroism, i.e. Homeric heroism, is felt to be glamorous, but inadequate for the Roman situation – and Aeneas’ new and more self-effacing heroism is itself problematic. In its self-definition satire points particularly towards earlier satire (Lucilius) and towards epic. However, the pictures it constructs of both are far from straightforward. On the other hand, it is clear that the business of self-definition is extremely important. We need, therefore, to consider what the satirists say about satire, but to do so with some way of controlling the perspective. An analysis of the concept of genre1 has a contribution to make in resolving these issues. But it is not enough to look at an author only in the light of preceding writers of the same genre: at each temporal layer the satirist exists in relationship to an individual assemblage of past and contemporary writers, and these patterns change with time. Throughout the period in which satire is written epic is a key genre (this will need qualification below). Other genres continually react to it in distinctive ways, even while they are themselves metamorphosing. Satire, like any other genre, also tries to make itself different from other genres, but like other genres satire is not static. The Lucilian model is repeatedly re-interpreted and to each generation this provides new possibilities until we reach Juvenal and the end of Roman verse satire. We finish the story with a satirist who moulds an imaginary alternative Rome out of the literature of the past, peopling it with the famous dead whose tombs line that Flaminian way where Automedon sports his chariot even as the poet scribbles it down on his wax tablets at the crossword. I am grateful to a number of people for helpful comments and reactions, particularly: Dr B.J. Gibson, Prof. N. Rudd, Prof. H.M. Hine, Prof. K.M. Coleman, Prof. J.K. Davies, Mr R.J. Seager, Dr F. Hobden. I am also grateful to my colleagues in the Classics and Ancient History Section of the University of Liverpool for shouldering the burdens of teaching and administration for the year 2004-5, while work on this opus proceeded. x

1

The Satirists on Satire and its Models Roman satire is a distinctive and problematic genre. Uniquely, it claims to lack a Greek model; it sets itself up in strong contrast to other genres, but its own character is protean: the extant satirists are very different from each other in tone, scale, and content.1 Within this messy tradition, Horace and Juvenal each show a persistent and high level of formal innovation over their successive books. That is to say, each satirist has a new startingpoint, but, in addition, satire can change continuously even as a satirist is writing. There are issues, then, about what kind of thing satire is. Each of the extant satirists, Horace, Persius, and Juvenal, provides a considerable amount of programmatic material – material explicitly about the topic of what kind of poetry they are writing.2 Each in turn cites Lucilius as predecessor (and Persius and Juvenal cite Horace too). Horace and Juvenal use the term satura for their work as though it was a standard name for a particular kind of writing. Horace and Juvenal use the term lex (‘law’)3 as though there were a concept of generic rules applying to satire (and, by implication, to other genres as well).4 Horace, moreover, sets satire in a generic field, also specifying other genres in it (Sat. 1.10.408). Satire, of all Roman genres, seems most interested in defining itself openly and in relation to other genres.5 Straight away we come into difficulties. Lucilius is an important reference-point in the definition of satire for each of the following satirists. He is held up as the founding-figure of Roman satire and is described in turn by Horace, Persius, and Juvenal. All the descriptions, however, are tendentious. They have more to do with the kind of satire the later writers say they are writing than with giving a real impression of what Lucilian satire was like. However, what the satirists say they are doing in their satire does not square neatly with what they actually seem to be doing there. There is a further complication in the way some models come from outside satire. Horace in particular signals a number of other models. In this role he uses Graeco-Roman comedy, Callimachus, Socratic dialogue, and, outside literature altogether, his own father. Horace’s complex game with generic models needs, therefore, some consideration. Although later satirists do not parade such a motley assemblage of explicit allegiances, they do persistently hold on to a posture of being somehow outside literature. 1

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre We need, then, to look at what the satirists say about satire, and how the later satirists present Lucilius and other models. My discussion will use the following arrangement. a. Lucilius’ programme b. Horace’s depictions of Lucilius c. Horace’s presentation of other models d. Horace’s treatment of satire and other genres e. Persius’ depiction of Lucilius and Horace f. Persius’ presentation of other models g. Persius’ treatment of satire and other genres h. Juvenal’s depiction of Lucilius and Horace i. Juvenal’s presentation of other models j. Juvenal’s treatment of satire and other genres a. Lucilius’ programme The satires of Lucilius are badly mangled. There are, however, a good number of fragments and clusters of fragments that seem to give us clues about what the founder of the genre thought about satire. There is an unplaced fragment (1131W)6 in which Lucilius uses the selfdeprecatory word schedium (‘makeshift’) for his poetry (cf. the modesty assumed at 791-2), but in book 30 he (or so it seems) longs to drink from the Muses’ springs (1061), and is entrusted with their strongholds by the Camenae, the Italian Muses: he is on that score definitely writing poetry. In book 267 there is a declaration about the kind of audience Lucilius wants (like that at the end of Hor. Sat. 1.10), and there are assertions that he wants to be no one but himself (perhaps an answer to an interlocutor who suggests he follow some other course than he is); there are lines about writing poetry from the heart, an interlocutor’s claim that Lucilius divulges secrets, and Lucilius’ antipathy to writing history (although his interlocutor does, and perhaps advises Lucilius to do so too). It is possible that these are traces of a dialogue akin to Horace’s with Trebatius (Sat. 2.1).8 In book 27 there is a programmatic utterance (791-2), suggesting an ethical purpose. There are also possibly corroboratory references to the early Greek iambic poet Archilochus (786) and to Socratic pages (788-9).9 The import of these references is not at all clear, but Archilochus is mentioned by Horace (Sat. 2.3.12), in a possibly programmatic context, and Horace certainly found an ethical application for the Socrates-role in his satiric writing. There are also traces of an argument between Lucilius 2

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models and someone else about poetry, criticism, and slander.10 If we look at fragments 1, 2 and 3-4 we may be inclined to see a sort of recusatio and an interest in human follies. In sum, we see in what seem to be programmatic contexts assertions of the centrality of Lucilius himself in the poetry, a concern for follies and ethical issues, and an awareness of aesthetic and literary values. Within the fragments more generally, there is a good deal of material that squares with this picture. However, the ethical concerns repeatedly attributed to Lucilius by later satirists are clearly only a part of the Lucilian programme, and also only a part of what we actually find in the body of the fragments. On the other hand again, it is worth emphasising here the way this material resembles what we shall see in Horace’s programme satires – and also how Lucilius’ self-deprecations resemble those of the later poet Catullus.11 b. Horace’s depictions of Lucilius Three of Horace’s satires deal with his views on satire: Sat. 1.4, 1.10, and 2.1. Each of these contains a description or characterisation of Lucilius. The three pictures, however, are significantly different from each other.12 In the first picture (Sat. 1.4.1-13) Horace seems primarily concerned with stylistic matters: Lucilius’ rough and ready verse-making, his wit and sharpness. The issue of what satire is for, however, lies just beneath the surface. When Horace derives Lucilius from Greek old comedy, he is clearly suggesting that a defining characteristic of his poetry is the outspoken identification and pillorying of wrong-doers. Although Lucilius is subject to criticism on stylistic grounds, his role is presented primarily in social terms. Horace’s picture of the Greek comedians here has a Roman political colouring and this provides Lucilius with something of the aspect of a Roman censor.13 Lucilian poetry has a significant public role in Roman society. Horace’s own relationship to Lucilius is not stated openly.14 The reader perhaps infers that Horace is claiming this kind of social function for his own Satires too; however, the reader – who has read Horace’s first three satires by this time – will have noticed that this ‘criticising by name’ does not actually seem to be a conspicuous feature in Horace. In the second of the programmatic poems (Sat. 1.10) Horace’s presentation of Lucilius again involves stylistic issues and the character of old comedy. Now, however, Lucilius is presented much more explicitly as a poet. At the start of the satire, Horace reminds his audience of the earlier stylistic criticisms of Lucilius and of the praise for Lucilius’ ‘public role’.15 Now, however, there is a new emphasis; effectively, Horace presents a manifesto of literary requirements (Sat. 1.10.7-15). Horace 3

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre conveys the impression that the qualities he lists (brevity, variety, pacing, and so on) are those without which a work cannot count as poetry. The literary role of satire is much more present in this picture of Lucilius than in the one in Satires 1.4. Despite his failings, Lucilius is given a specific place in the field of poetry at lines 40ff. Satire here belongs in a list which includes comedy, tragedy, epic, and pastoral. Lucilius, furthermore, is the (unnamed) originator of the genre (Sat. 1.10.48) which Horace is choosing. Later in the poem, the satirist Lucilius is even more explicitly presented as a poet (Sat. 1.10.64-7).16 Indeed, the stylistic criticisms made against him earlier almost evaporate. By the standards of his own day Lucilius’ verse was polished, and if he were writing now he would be as polished as Horace demands (Sat. 1.10.64-71). Satire, then, has a public role, an abrasive and critical one, but is nonetheless a kind of poetry as valid as other kinds, and subject to the same set of aesthetic values. As we can see from the fragments this is a slanted picture of Lucilius. There is a great deal more in them than this characterisation covers – there is material on the spelling of Latin words, social behaviour, personal idiosyncrasies, and so on. On the other hand, the very satire in which Horace, we are told (Porphyrio on Sat. 1.5.1), emulates a particular satire of Lucilius seems remote from the sphere of public pronouncement (even though it is about public figures like Maecenas and Mark Antony), and appears to lack any real abrasiveness. Horace’s third programme piece (Sat. 2.1) introduces the second book of Satires. Lucilius appears again, but the picture we are given is considerably different. In this poem there is a discussion between Horace and Trebatius.17 Trebatius warns of the dangers of writing this kind of poetry and recommends a different kind – a safe kind, dealing with Caesar’s triumphs (Sat. 2.1.10-12). Horace takes this to mean epic, but Trebatius actually cites Lucilius as a model (16-17).18 Horace’s satiric flagship has been hi-jacked and turned against him (just as at the end of the poem Horace turns a legal point against the lawyer Trebatius). Horace reclaims Lucilius for himself some lines later, but the image has become not so much that of a satirist as of a sort of confessional poet: ille velut fidis arcana sodalibus olim / credebat libris, neque si male cesserat usquam / decurrens alio, neque si bene; quo fit ut omnis / votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella / vita senis (Sat. 2.1, 30-4; ‘Of old he entrusted his secrets to his books as if to reliable friends, not resorting elsewhere if things had gone badly, nor if they had gone well. So it is that the old man’s whole life lies open as if painted on a votive tablet.’). This is a strikingly reformed image from that of an outspoken public critic,19 but it is part of Horace’s argumentative stance at this point to take attention away (however ambiguously) from the abrasive aspects of satire. It is also odd, however, that the autobiographical Horace tends rather to feature in the 4

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models first book (and later the first book of Epistles) than the book in which this picture of Lucilius occurs.20 The fearless Lucilius reappears later (Sat. 2.1.62-76), but again in new colours. When Trebatius warns Horace about how dangerous writing aggressive poetry is, Horace calls up the example of Lucilius as a defence. This Lucilius is a courageous figure, but he is no longer like a Roman censor. His concern for the disparity between people’s glossy exteriors and ugly interiors here makes him more at home in the context of Roman moralising literature. As the passage proceeds Lucilius incorporates more roles: he is on the one hand a private individual of some rank and a friend of important people (even indulging in frolics sometimes), but he also dauntlessly lays hold of the Roman people, irrespective of class, tribe by tribe, a friend only to virtue. The scale of his opposition to virtue’s enemies has something of a prophetic force. There is again, however, a sense of paradox, since such force may seem even more lacking in Horace’s second than in his first book of satires. In conclusion, Horace describes Lucilius repeatedly, but the descriptions are misleading, and over and again their relationship to Horace’s own writing is not straightforward. c. Horace’s presentation of other models In the fourth satire of book 1 Horace describes Lucilius as muddy and carrying a lot of silt (Sat. 1.4.11). The Roman reader would naturally be reminded of Callimachus’ programmatic water imagery – most obviously the muddy river scorned by Apollo at the end of the Hymn to Apollo (10512). The allusion, though fleeting, is enough to suggest the importance to Horace of the Callimachean values of craft, learning, concision, and style. This is reinforced very strongly at the start of the second book. Here (Sat. 2.1.4ff.) Horace uses a demythologised recusatio (‘refusal’), that form in which a poet refuses to write epic but desires to go on writing his own slighter genre. Roman poets treat the recusatio as in itself an allusion to Callimachus. In Horace’s poem Trebatius takes the role of Apollo, whose epiphany often leads into a recusatio. Callimachus appears in Horace again. In a passage dealing with true and false prayers, Horace’s prayer to Mercury (2.6.14-15; pingue pecus domino facias et cetera praeter / ingenium, ‘Make the flock fat for its master, and everything except his wits’) alludes to a programmatic passage of Callimachus’ Aetia (praef. 21ff.). The Roman reader would recognise the passage as the same one that Virgil uses programmatically in the Eclogues (6.1-5).21 The allusion is not just to Callimachus, but to Callimachean ideals as realised in (some) contemporary Latin poetry.22 Another model is brought forward in Satires 1.4. Horace, fending off a charge of muck-raking, pleads with flagrant inconsequentiality that he is 5

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre not really a poet (Sat. 1.4.38ff.). He develops this line of argument through the example of comedy. Satire and comedy are both verse-forms, but (says Horace) use a non-literary style. Horace calls it the language of prose or conversation (sermo at Sat. 1.4.42 and 48). Furthermore, just as satire characteristically criticises ethical misdemeanour, so too, says Horace, does comedy (Sat. 1.4.48-52). This is, of course, an extremely selective impression of comedy, but it is constructed to serve two particular functions. First, it implies that Horace’s subject matter is concerned with the ethical issues of real life;23 second, the comic father figure (48-56) prepares for the introduction later in the poem of another father figure. The comic father (already foreshadowed earlier in the book, in the Terentian comparison at Sat. 1.2.20-2) prefigures a lengthy account of Horace’s own father (Sat. 1.4.105-31).24 Here Horace presents his father as a formative influence on his moral sensibility. Horace’s father, he writes, pointed out both good and bad examples (the latter are preponderant) and thereby shaped his character. This is (he also explains) how he got the habit of speaking a little freely and jokily (103-5). Although this statement is not pointed specifically at his writing, it is most definitely implied that Horace’s father was an effective moral teacher, and furthermore that Horace’s poetry is modelled on his father’s manner. Horatian satire, therefore, is not just muck-raking, but is a morally educative tool, and has besides a more than literary dimension. The extra-literariness of this model is, indeed, emphasised by allowing his father to make his own programmatic statement, one which lays great stress on the values inscribed in the actual experience of life: sapiens, vitatu quidque petitu / sit melius, causas reddet tibi: mi satis est si / traditum ab antiquis morem servare … possum (Sat. 1.4. 115-19, ‘A philosopher will give you reasons why this is better to avoid and this to seek. For me it is enough if I can keep the way handed down by our ancestors’). The satirist Horace is, then, like a father to his poetic audience. Although Horace’s father disavowed philosophy for himself, Horace’s own position is more complex. We know from his own work of his philosophical education in Athens (Epp. 2.2.43-5), and his poetry is filled with the ethical concerns of the schools of philosophy (the list of questions at Sat. 2.6.73-6 and the programme at Epp. 1.1.10-19 are pointers in this direction). Furthermore, it is evident that Lucretius’ Epicurean didactic poem, De Rerum Natura (‘Concerning the Nature of Things’), was a major influence on the Satires. In his debut satire Horace claims the right to tell the truth with a smile, just as teachers give cakes to their pupils so that they learn their ‘first elements’ (elementa prima, 26). Lucretius had used the same image in a similar programmatic claim (1.936ff.), but in addition Horace’s elementa prima, while meaning letters here, also reminds us of Lucretian terminology for atoms. Later in the same satire the turn from Tantalus, who stands for the object of the satire (Sat. 1.1.68), to the audi6

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models ence itself (mutato nomine de te / fabula narratur; Sat. 1.1.69-70, ‘Only change the name: the story is about you’) is a Lucretian gambit: Atque ea nimirum quaecumque Acherunte profundo prodita sunt esse, in vita sunt omnia nobis. nec miser impendens magnum timet aere saxum Tantalus, ut famast, cassa formidine torpens; sed magis in vita divom metus urget inanis mortalis, casumque timent quem cuique ferat fors. (Lucr. 3.978-83) And certainly whatever is fabled to be in deep Acheron, all of it exists for us in life. No wretched Tantalus, as the story goes, fears a great rock hanging over him in the air, frozen with vain terror, but rather in life a substanceless fear of the gods presses mortals, and they fear the fall which chance may bring to each.25

On a larger scale, but still in the same satire, Horace must have had the illustrious earlier poet in mind when he explains human restlessness as stemming from greed or envy – Lucretius had explained it in his third book as the result of fear of death.26 Lucretian tones and ideas appear and reappear throughout the Satires,27 perhaps especially in the first three satires of book 1. This is particularly striking as the programme poem, in which Horace signals an allegiance to Lucilian satire, follows rather than precedes this group. Lucretius is not explicitly presented as a model, but there is a good case for seeing him as one. Another more or less philosophical role-model, though not an author as such, is Socrates. The second book of the Satires consists of poems every one of which is, is in part, or reports, a dialogue. Horace makes the Platonic connotations of the format inescapable by modelling the fourth satire of the book on the opening of Plato’s Phaedrus, and the eighth on Plato’s Symposium. In addition to this, in the course of rebuking Horace for his laziness as a writer, one of Horace’s interlocutors, Damasippus, asks (Sat. 2.3.11-12) what was the point in Horace’s bringing to the country (conventionally a place where poetic inspiration is easier) Plato, Menander, Eupolis, and Archilochus. The authors are clearly intended to signify the kinds of poetry Horace was promising to embark upon. Archilochus the aggressive iambist probably suggests Horace’s Epodes (cf. Hor. Epp. 1.19.23ff.) rather than the Satires, and connections between satire and both old (Eupolis) and new (Menander) comedy were established in Satires 1.4. Horace includes Plato in this list, in a programmatic pointer in precisely that book of satires which, unlike the first, is so heavily dependent on the dialogue form. Indeed, in the satires of this book Horace presents himself as a Socrates,28 or perhaps a rather inadequate would-be Socrates. In this case (see Chapter 4 below) the Platonic Socrates is not so much the poet’s as the poet’s shadow’s model. In this case there 7

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre would be an irony in the extent to which the ‘Horace’ in the poem fails to live up to the model. Another figure who needs to be mentioned in the context of Horace’s models is Catullus. Horace makes passing mock of an ‘ape learned only at chanting Calvus and Catullus’ (simius iste / nil praeter Calvum et doctus cantare Catullum, Sat. 1.10.18-19). Despite the apparently slighting reference, there is a Catullan aspect at least to Satires 1.9. The poem gives an urban anecdote in which Horace is rescued from an embarrassing situation. At its beginning Horace describes himself as strolling along the Via Sacra composing some trifle or other (nescio quid meditans nugarum, Sat. 1.9.2). Not only is the general situation rather like, for example, that in Catullus 10, but the word Horace uses for his poetry (nugae, ‘trifles’) is one Catullus uses for his (Cat. 1.4).29 A final figure needs some consideration: Bion, a third-century Greek moralising speaker and writer.30 Horace does not refer to him in the Satires themselves, but in the Epistles (2.2.60). In what resembles a brief review of his poetic corpus, Horace writes that different people have different tastes; one likes lyric, another iambic, a third favours Bionian conversations and black wit (Bioneis sermonibus et sale nigro), so what should he produce? ‘Bionian conversations’ may refer either to the Satires alone or to the Satires and Epistles,31 and – however problematic it is to define it32 – the diatribe tradition with which Bion is associated is quite a strong presence especially in the more lecture-like satires. Only fragments of Bion survive, probably the remains of lectures. We can observe some general stylistic features: rhetorical pointedness, traces of dialogue, lively comparisons and metaphors (especially using everyday material), historical or mythical comparisons, direct address of the audience, quotations and parodies of poetry. His subjects include philosophy, ethical concepts, religion and mythology, avarice, envy and wealth, friendship and outspokenness, love, old age, and death. Formal philosophical allegiance is rejected. Much of this certainly resembles Horatian satire. However, we are not looking at a writer of poetry, nor an author or thinker of particular importance, and there are besides numbers of more or less similar figures, such as Teles, Timon of Phlius, and the Rhinthon whose comic hexameters (according to John the Lydian: Mag. 1.41) Lucilius followed. Something like dialogue form, often with a butt, seems to have been quite widely used. All in all, Horace’s use of Bion’s name in the Epistles seems to be a way of catching and conveying something of the character of a kind of poetry rather than (retrospectively) identifying Bion as a specific model for the Satires. In conclusion, the non-Lucilian models Horace holds up for himself vary between presenting the Satires as – on the one hand – a form of literature subject to literary values, and – on the other – a type of discourse which has a direct and extra-literary purchase on experience. This ambivalence 8

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models appears also specifically in connection with philosophy: Horace owes some allegiance to Lucretius and Socrates, but in addition his father’s way of teaching by pointing out real-life examples shows that there is also a direct route to traditional ethical rules. Indeed there is something of this ambivalence also in the way Horace’s presentation of Lucilius varies. d. Horace’s treatment of satire and other genres Horace’s three programme satires purport to say a good deal about what Horatian satire actually is. In the first (Sat. 1.4) Horace is hard to pin down. Lucilius is presented as being like the old comedians; they in their turn resemble Roman censors. However, while this gives Lucilius a public function, Horace’s timidity (he says) bars him from such a role (Sat. 1.4.22-5). In addition, Horace persistently avoids proclaiming himself to be a satirist. He is, he insists, a mere versifier; he is like a writer of comedy, a writer in a pedestrian mode; he is not a poet at all. While these misleading disclaimers are being made, Horace is unobtrusively making some other – and stronger – claims. First, his poetry is part of his life; it is a thing he happens to do, and something that involves a relationship between himself and his audience analogous to the real-life relationship of a father and son. Real life, moreover, is also the substance of this poetry. Second, the moral or ethical dimension is important. If Horace does abuse people, it is not for malicious reasons. Effectively, it is not abuse, as such, at all, but part of a sort of ethical instruction. Third, this form of writing most certainly is poetry. It is a passing joke to argue that any abuse in Horace’s verse is no threat to anyone because he is not a poet, and the clinching moment comes at the end of the poem, when Horace invokes in his defence a great band of poets (multa poetarum manus; Sat. 1.4.141-2). Why else would they defend him unless he were one of their company? Indeed, by using the first person plural (sumus, ‘we are’; 1.4.142) he incorporates himself grammatically into this aggressively cohesive throng of poets. In the second programme satire (1.10) Horace sharpens the focus on the poetic values to which he subscribes. Real poetry needs variety and pacing, and an awareness of the audience (Sat. 1.10.9-14); it needs a purity of diction measured against real-world experience (20-30). A brief review of the literary field (40-8) shows that there are different kinds of poetry, and satire is one of them. Horace emphatically places himself in a Lucilian tradition within a literary matrix. After some further literary concerns (especially craft and polish), Horace closes the poem by constructing an ideal audience. The composition of this audience – poets and other literary types, men of the world, public figures – reinforces the idea that Horace’s poetry is strongly and variously connected with the real world. In this satire the two assertions – that Horace is writing poetry and that this 9

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre poetry is in multiple contact with the real world – assume much more importance than the role of criticism in satire. The third programme poem (2.1), takes up the issue of criticism and aggression to an extent that has not been in evidence before. This may seem paradoxical. After all, such criticism as we find in the second book is veiled in layered tissues of irony. However, the surface value of the argument (concerning the dangers of writing satire) in the programme poem is so flawed that it seems to be a sort of cover story for a different set of points. Perhaps the opening lines of the poem suggest that the audience’s concern for whether the criticism in Horace’s satire is too sharp or too weak is actually beside the point.33 Horace’s discussion with Trebatius turns on the dangers involved in writing satire.34 Trebatius turns the exemplar of Lucilius on its head by citing him as a model for panegyric (16-17), but it is not long before Horace reclaims him. What happens here, however, is interesting, for Lucilius is presented as a confessional or autobiographical poet rather than as a satirist (30-4). When, immediately after this, Horace depicts himself as though following the Lucilian model, it is, after all, in a decidedly warlike manner: Horace is like the natives of his birth-place (Venusia) of old, stationed in defence of Rome against incursions (34-9). Horace begins to talk of his writing as a self-defensive weapon: his pen is a sword which will stay sheathed, and indeed he wishes that it might rust away unused. But this is nonsense: we can imagine abusive shouting as a form of defence, or the threat of publication of sensitive material being used as a preventative strategy, but clearly writing and publishing satiric verse is very remote from any form of self-defence. Nonetheless, Horace proceeds with this idea, giving a list of examples to show that to each there is a natural weapon, the wolf’s tooth, the poisoner’s concoction, and so on. Thus then Horace: ‘Whether tranquil old age await me or Death flies around with black wings, rich, poor, at Rome or – if Fortune so orders it – an exile, whatever will be the colour of my life, I will write’ (Sat. 2.1.57-60, seu me tranquilla senectus / exspectat seu Mors atris circumvolat alis, / dives inops, Romae seu fors ita iusserit exsul, / quisquis erit vitae scribam color). This, however, says much less than it purports to, for, instead of verse as a weapon, we merely find that no matter what the circumstances are Horace will continue writing.35 This both detracts from the earlier suggestion that Horace’s pen is a tool required only for self-defence, and also gives an impression of Horace as an autobiographical or confessional poet (like the Lucilius earlier in the poem). It also emphasises once again that Horace’s poetry is to do with the stuff of experience. The ‘natural weapons’ lines, seem in retrospect to say no more than that Horace is a poet and writing poetry is natural to him. In the course of his programmatic utterances, Horace also relates his kind of writing to other genres. We have seen how he treats satire as a 10

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models cognate of comedy in the fourth satire of the first book, and how he sets satire in a generic grid along with comedy, tragedy, epic, and bucolic in the tenth satire. This positioning is free from value judgements on the genres themselves; instead, Horace asserts equal legitimacy and status for Lucilian satire, even though, unlike the others, it lacks current writers of distinction. That is not all there is to be said, however, for Horace’s satiric programme is not only distinctly un-epic; it is positively set against epic. This is particularly clear in Satires 1.4. Here, Horace makes much of saying that he is not a real poet, contrasting himself with the writer of epic. The way he expresses this contrast, however, leaves room for question. Horace writes that if his poetry (or Lucilius’) were rearranged so as to remove the verse metre, it would not be the same as subjecting epic verse to the same procedure.36 In that case one would still find the limbs of a dismembered poet (Sat. 1.4.62, disiecti membra poetae). Since Horace has already clearly indicated that his kind of poetry has manifold connections with the experience of real life, the picture of epic may be less flattering than at first appears: another way of putting it would be to say that it is only the trappings of metre that prevent epic from being revealed as a heap of disjointed members (something not unlike the absurd heterogeneous painting described at the beginning of the Ars Poetica as an analogy for bad writing).37 Numbers of other genres are incorporated into the satires as part of the texture of the discourse rather than as the subject of comment or evaluation.38 We may perhaps take this generic inclusiveness (and the indications of antagonism to epic) as supporting the claims of connectedness with real experience – we may take it, perhaps, as implying a claim of superiority to other genres. Horatian satire says all that need be said about all that needs anything said about it.39 e. Persius’ depiction of Lucilius and Horace Persius provides his small corpus of satiric poetry with both a programme satire and a short poem in a different metre (choliambics). There is also a programmatic introduction to the fifth satire. It is the first satire, partly modelled on Horace (Sat. 2.1), that contains the reference to Lucilius as a model. Persius adds also a depiction of Horace as an additional model. Persius’ account of Lucilius is very brief (1.114-5).40 In itself it is fairly straightforward, but how it fits into its context is less so. Persius has, up to this point, been mocking contemporary literature. An interlocutor suddenly interjects (as Trebatius does at Sat. 2.1.60-2) with a warning about offending sensitive ears. Persius immediately and ironically capitulates. Warned not to go defecating on the monument of literature,41 he decamps (discedo, Pers. 1.114). At this point he introduces (as Horace did) 11

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre the savage Lucilius, and in addition the sly Horace himself, as exemplars. He then asks, ‘Am I forbidden to whisper – to myself – to a ditch – to anything?’ (Pers. 1.119, me muttire nefas? nec clam? nec cum scrobe? nusquam?). It is as though he concedes that such audacity as Lucilius had is obviously no longer possible, that even Horace’s toned-down approach is no longer viable, before resorting to burying the secret of Rome’s corrupt taste in his book. The book, however, is made of papyrus, and just as the reeds in the story of Midas eventually whisper the truth about King Midas’ ears, so too Persius’ reed-book will speak to those that read it. The whole passage is an elaborate dance around the idea of safety and secrecy, and the characterisations of both Lucilius and Horace are shaped to lead up to the misleading self-portrait as a timid whisperer not even daring to aspire to a human audience. The pictures of Lucilius and Horace ought to be positive, at least on the whole,42 but it is possible that the posture of timidity that Persius assumes colours one or both characterisations with a degree of negativity. The drift of the satire so far leads one to read the two descriptions as portraying Lucilius and Horace as being able (like Persius) to see through false semblances and (unlike Persius) to point out flaws. Lucilius hacks at the city and highlights individuals by name (that is the implication of the apostrophe of Lupus and Mucius in line 115). The cutting operation Lucilius performs (secuit Lucilius urbem, ‘Lucilius hacked at the city’; 114) is reminiscent of his abrasive role in one of Horace’s pictures (sale multo / urbem defricuit, ‘He scoured the city with much wit/salt’; Sat. 1.10.4-5), but seems very curiously conflated with another passage, a description of envy’s failure to get its teeth into Horace (Sat. 2.1.77-8, invidia … fragili quaerens illidere dentem / offendet solido, ‘Envy, seeking to dash its tooth on something fragile, will run up against something hard’), for Persius goes on to say that Lucilius ‘broke his molar tooth’ on his targets (genuinum fregit, 115). Commentators try to dissociate the two passages and to downplay the self-destructive aspect of the savagery, but there is no reason why we should not allow Persius an element of selfdramatisation here: he plays the role of a sneaking retailer of whispers, envious and therefore resentful of Lucilius’ freedom. We should again remember that the fragments of Lucilius (and indeed Horace’s depictions of him also) show a much more varied poet than this passage implies.43 As to the new element in the programme, Horace, Persius’ picture is one of a much less aggressive critic, though critic he still is: omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico / tangit et admissus circum praecordia ludit, / callidus excusso populum suspendere naso (Pers. 1.116-18, ‘sly Horace touches every fault while his friend is smiling, and once let in he plays around the heartstrings, clever at blowing his nose and dangling the populace on it’). This description is of a milder, more sociable satirist, whose humour allows him to reach his target without alienating him.44 This 12

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models seems to be an acute judgement of how Horace works, especially in the epistles of book 1, unlike the rather tendentious portrayal of Lucilius. Horace’s overall picture of Lucilius had been complex because the emphases of his portrayals did not remain the same. Persius’ picture is much simpler. It retains only the single element of vigorous public criticism by name. Some complexity, however, is brought back by the addition of a picture of Horace, with its different sort of criticism. The description of Horace also reduces the emphasis on naming, and indeed when Persius comes eventually (we have been waiting since line 12) to whisper his secret in line 121 it is entirely generalised. There is both a degree of simplification in the picture of what satire is, at least as far as this passage (and especially Lucilius) is concerned, and also a degree of evasion in the downplaying of the element of naming. There is, however, a different complication. In describing his ideal audience a few lines later, Persius rejects the kind of person who is eager to mock (ludere) oddities of clothing and disabilities, the kind of person who gives himself airs for breaking (fregerit) some unfair measures as a minor local official, and the kind of rogue (vafer) who laughs (risisse) at geometrical figures traced (secto) in sand. All the words I have given in brackets are found in the passage describing Lucilius and Horace as well as in these lines (Pers. 1.126-34). There is some kind of connection, but it appears to be a messy one. It is not simply that the critical attitudes of the satirists are reflected (or contrasted) in some way by the philistine louts described here,45 for while the lout, who like Horace is a vafer, laughs (132) as Persius would like to himself (122), it is not Horace, but his friend-victim who laughed earlier, and, while Lucilius is the cutter in line 114 (secuit), in the later passage the cutting (secto, 131) is what the victim of the mockery does to the dust while drawing his figures. Ambivalent also, if slightly differently, is the ignorant local official who breaks some measures in line 130, for, while Lucilius broke something in line 115, that something was his own tooth: it is less than clear that one can say whether Lucilius is like the official or like the object of the official’s action. In the section at large there is a conflation of satirists and vulgar mockers, but also of vulgar or satirical mockers and their victims.46 f. Persius’ presentation of other models The texture of Persius’ verse is as allusive as that of Horace’s, but he does not have the same explicitness about his models. This is in keeping with his manner generally, always ready to suppress explicit connections. He cites Lucilius and adds Horace to the list of satiric predecessors, but there is little else. Near the end of the first satire, in the course of indicating his preferred audience, Persius suggests that a reader who is devoted to Cratinus, Eupolis, and Aristophanes will be an appropriate reader for him. 13

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Horace had listed the same three writers of old comedy as Lucilius’ starting point (Sat. 1.4.1ff.), and although Persius transfers the application of the reference from model to reader there is still a programmatic indication, if an indirect one. It suggests that Persius is a direct follower of Horace’s version of satire. Persius also has, in the fifth satire, a figure performing the role of moral teacher who serves in some degree as a parallel to the role played by Horace’s father in Satires 1.4. Cornutus, however, although he is presented as one who can tell the real from the specious (Pers. 5.24-5), who shaped Persius (Pers. 5.36-40), and with whom Persius has a special bond (Pers. 5.45-51), is nonetheless not presented as a model as such. g. Persius’ treatment of satire and other genres What Persius says of satire is chiefly found in the first and the beginning of the fifth satires, although there is also the brief poem in choliambics to consider. In the choliambic poem47 Persius distinguishes himself from writers of poetry in the grand manner, writers he characterises with the trappings of the fountain of the Muses, dreams of inspiration on Parnassus, and ivygarlanded busts (as in libraries)48 – writers of epic, that is to say, or writers in the epic manner. Somewhat like Horace in Satires 1.4, he is neither quite a poet nor not a poet: he offers song (carmen), but only as a ‘half clansman’ (semipaganus, 6). In the second half of the poem Persius says that poets (and he uses the same mock-elevated language as in the first half) are no more than parrots learning tricks to earn their food. Perhaps this is another Horatian posture, for Horace claimed to have started writing poetry for financial reasons (Epp. 2.2.51-2). Throughout this poem Persius expresses contempt for a kind of poetry which is portrayed mockingly as vacuous, corrupt, and full of elevated absurdities. The negative expression implies a sort of positive programme, one to do with real experience.49 In his programmatic poem, Persius places himself in a tradition defined by depictions of Lucilius and Horace as moral critics. Although his selfportrait is of one too timid to be comfortable with that role, he cannot help laughing, he says (122), or even guffawing (12) at the false surfaces of contemporary society. The laughter is like that of the old comedians (1.123-5), ‘bold Cratinus’ (audaci Cratino), ‘angry Eupolis’, and the ‘grand old man’ (Aristophanes). As well as the way these three iconic figures are characterised, we are meant to remember Horace’s description of the same three (Hor. Sat. 1.4.1-5). Criticism may be expressed in laughter, but it has a moral aim. It is not mere abuse, and there is no place for easy targets like one-eyed men or geometricians (127-33). As in the Horatian programme style is an issue as well as criticism. In 14

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models this regard Persius makes a quite different claim from Horace. His satire is not like conversation (Hor. Sat. 1.4.42), but difficult and concentrated (125-7). If it is not actually unreadable, it is certainly as good as unread (23). Although the content is partly to blame for this, the contrast with the smoothness of other verse in the rest of this satire makes it clear that the stylistic issue is important. Indeed, the two are interwoven, since Persius treats style as symptomatic of moral state. In the fifth satire the comic element is again applied in a context of moral criticism: pallentis radere mores / doctus et ingenuo culpam defigere ludo (Pers. 5.16, ‘scraping pallid habits and nailing fault with unservile wit’). However, what is striking (and quite different from his model, Horace) in the introduction to this satire and in the first satire, is the extent to which Persius does not define what he does directly, nor by assimilating satire to another literary form. Rather, he does so in terms of a thorough-going critique of other literature. In this satire, tragedy and epic50 are rejected in an assemblage of metaphors as airy, windy, nebulous, raucous, burdened, fumous, heated crowings and over-rich cannibalistic fare cramming the mouth, and the ethical dimension is brought out by the emphatically contrasting portrayal of Persius as both using a more downto-earth style (‘words that wear the toga’, verba togae; Pers. 5.14),51 and as having a moral purpose, moulded by his teacher, Cornutus. The opposition to other kinds of literature is more pervasive and more morally loaded than in Horace. In the first satire bad literary taste (frequently depicted in terms derived from physical processes, particularly eating and homosexual sex) is symptomatic of a defective ethical sense. Persius parodies and mocks various aspects of contemporary style (metrical fluency, archaising manner, rhetorical figuration) and especially mythological poems in the new epic manner (the Aeneid is defended against its modern detractors).52 Finally, a group of points concerning Persius’ satirical practice needs to be made. Although Persius lists both Horace and Lucilius as predecessors, he allots more space to Horace. The description of Horace, however, reduces the importance of naming, and it is very clear that Persius is extremely sparing with names. Apart from his addressees, Macrinus, Cornutus and Caesius Bassus, he does not name a single contemporary individual. Indeed in this respect (and a good number of others too) a page of Persius might seem to have other affiliations than satire altogether, were it not for one fact. On the one hand, Persius’ poetry resembles very much indeed what we think of as diatribe. Although this term needs handling with care, there is a body of material coming from various generic backgrounds which has a number of characteristics in common. These include the use of anecdote, a somewhat hectoring and pointed manner, elliptical turns of thought, the use of moral sententiae and commonplaces, abrupt changes of address, a free use of interlocutions, and 15

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre frequent snippets of dialogue or mimesis. We see this in the letters of Seneca, Roman declamation, the Diatribes of Epictetus – oral deliveries in Greek which we know from Appian’s record of some – various works of Lucian such as the Nigrinus, and Dio Chrysostom’s Orations. On the other hand, the Satires are densely packed with phrases, expressions, themes, and indeed whole structures drawn or adapted from one poet in particular, Horace,53 and predominantly the Horace of the Satires and Epistles.54 It is as though Persius is a satirist chiefly because he writes in verse and reworks Horatian material. h. Juvenal’s depiction of Lucilius and Horace Juvenal’s satires contain a good deal of material about his predecessors, satire, and other literature. The first book is headed by a poem we recognise to be in the format already used by Horace (Sat. 2.1) and Persius (Pers. 1) for programme poems. Although their use of the dialogue form is less fully-fledged and personalised than Horace’s, both Persius’ and Juvenal’s first satires show a clear dependence on his discussion with Trebatius about the dangers of writing satire. Juvenal also refers here, as Persius did before him, to Lucilius and to Horace.55 Elsewhere there is also an amount of programmatic material (nowhere so clearly linked to book structure).56 Juvenal’s depiction of Lucilius is a simplified and distorted one. Lucilius’ role as a figurehead for an established genre has by now become entrenched, just as the argumentative structure in which he appears has itself become formalised. The elements of naming and criticism, important in Horace’s and Persius’ depiction of Lucilius, have a perhaps stronger presence in Juvenal’s (1.153-4). On the other hand, the Lucilian variety we can still glimpse in Horace’s depiction of him is lacking in Juvenal’s and Persius’. So too the explicit discussion of Lucilius’ style which is so important in Horace does not appear at all in the later satirists. However, there is a stylistic dimension to the way in which Juvenal presents his Lucilius. In Horace’s depiction Lucilius is wordy and careless, but – as Horace is too – conversational; Juvenal’s picture is very different: at the beginning and end of his programme satire, Lucilius appears emphatically as an epic hero. Close to the opening of the poem (1.19-21) Juvenal puts the question of why he chooses satire rather than another kind of writing in this form: cur tamen hoc potius libeat decurrere campo, per quem magnus equos Auruncae flexit alumnus, … edam Why I would rather charge down this plain over which the great scion of Aurunca steered his horses … I will say.

16

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models ‘The great scion of Aurunca’ is a quasi-epic periphrasis, and charging over a plain in a chariot is symptomatic of the epic warrior.57 Later, when Juvenal tries to use Lucilius as a precedent in the discussion of safety, he writes (1.165-70): ense velut stricto58 quotiens Lucilius ardens infremuit, rubet auditor cui frigida mens est criminibus, tacita sudant praecordia culpa. inde irae et lacrimae. tecum prius ergo voluta haec animo ante tubas: galeatum sero duelli paenitet. Whenever ardent Lucilius thundered with his sword drawn, the listener whose mind is icy with crimes, whose heart sweats with unspoken guilt, goes red. Thence anger and tears. So ponder this first before the trumpets: the helmed repent too late of war.59

In the first of these passages (19-21), Juvenal is himself charging over the same plain as Lucilius had done before him: he too is an epic warrior. The second (165-70) prepares for an ironic back-down in which Juvenal (trying out what he can get away with against the dead)60 becomes less completely assimilated to his model. It is definitely implied that Lucilian satire is epical in manner. There is ambivalence about the extent to which Juvenal can aspire to follow his image of Lucilius, but the ideal satirist is clearly presented in epic terms, and indeed there is something distinctive about the relationship between Juvenal’s satire and epic. However, this picture of Lucilius is not only a pronounced distortion, but is also the very distortion that proves problematic for Juvenal. Had he used an idea from Horace (Sat. 2.1.30-3) and shown Lucilius, for example, as a poet who wrote about all sorts of everyday matters, the issue of danger need not have arisen. However, drawing Lucilius as heroic and unafraid virtually ‘forces’ Juvenal to a more extreme way out than either Horace’s or Persius’. Juvenal can be as ‘brave’ as his picture of Lucilius only if he writes about dead people – people who cannot fight back. This corner, into which Juvenal has backed himself, is, of course, an artificially constructed one. It is simply not the case that Lucilius was like this and that therefore Juvenal must try to follow as best he can. Rather, Juvenal’s satires are how they are meant to be, and Juvenal’s picture of Lucilius is shaped to lead us into them. If this picture is a more extreme one than we saw in Horace and Persius, that is because Juvenal’s satire is going to be more extreme than Horace’s and Persius’. If Juvenal writes about the dead, it is not because that is the best he can do; he pretends that is the best he can do in order to do it at all – to what end remains to be seen. Horace, too, is brought into Juvenal’s programme poem. Just as 17

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Lucilius is referred to by means of a geographical periphrasis near the beginning of the satire, so too, shortly afterwards, is Horace:61 haec ego non credam Venusina digna lucerna? (1.51, ‘Am I not to believe this deserving of a Venusine lamp?’). Horace called himself Venusinus at Satires 2.1.34-5 in a passage claiming that he is a warlike follower of Lucilius. That is appropriate for the aggression Juvenal is here attributing to his own response to the life that surrounds him, but there is a contrast between the two poets as well. The Horatian ‘lamp’ clearly implies the study and the literary craftsmanship that was essential, in Horace’s view, for the production of poetry; this is a very different picture from that of Juvenal racing to fill his wax tablets in the streets. It is also remote from the idea of a heroic public role. Juvenal is not interested in tracing a literary history from Lucilius, through Horace, to himself: these contrasts and similarities are position markers in his less than straightforward definition of himself. Juvenal creates a heroic and open-air Lucilius to try to follow and a studious and indoor Horace to be braver than. In both ways he creates an image of what satire ideally might now be like, but which his own satire actually is not like. Juvenal is using his predecessors as ciphers here. Of course Horace was a literary craftsman, but so is Juvenal. Juvenal uses these figurations of Lucilius and Horace to emphasise his own posture of being directly engaged with the experience of real life. There is obviously something paradoxical in the use of literary indices to measure unliterariness, but it is precisely this tension that we see embodied in the satires. Juvenal refers, apparently, to a third satirist in this poem: Cluvienus, of whom we know nothing (1.79-80). si natura negat, facit indignatio versum qualemcumque potest, quales ego vel Culvienus. If nature says no, indignation will make the verse such as it can, like mine or Cluvienus’.

It is possible, as Richard Lafleur suggested, that ‘Cluvienus’ is a third geographical periphrasis (after Auruncan and Venusine), meaning ‘the man from Cluvium’. This does not help us identify the man, however, and it is likely that Juvenal’s audience were not familiar with either Cluvienus or a satirist from Cluvium. It is certainly appropriate that the culminating claim of the paragraph – that even if nature refuses, still anger will itself produce verse – should be tied to a reference to an ‘anybody’. The implication that things are so bad that satire would be anyone’s automatic reaction supports the extra-literary pose of Juvenalian satire. Juvenal’s use of Lucilius and Horace in the first satire is a labelling of the first book as satire rather than an indication of any specific relation18

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models ship with either of those satirists. The names are used iconically, and proclaim that we are reading satire, but they only give us partial or misleading clues. It has become traditional to observe (cf. 1.155-7) that criticising individuals is too dangerous to be possible. This seems at first to presuppose that such criticism is actually part of the nature of satire, but the satirical struggle to get round the danger is so mannered and automatic that it seems performative rather than actual.62 i. Juvenal’s presentation of other models Juvenal is arguably the most literary of the three extant satirists, and yet he is the least inclined to present any other form of literature in the role of model. Near the beginning of the first satire he tells us that he too has had an education, that he has done the standard exercises of Roman declamation (see glossary), as though this is qualification for him to become a poet (1.15-18). It is, of course, true that the Satires are pervaded by the influence of declamation, but Juvenal is not here telling us that declamation is the generic starting-point for the satires; he is simply expending irony on contemporary poetry. In the tenth satire Juvenal holds up the figures of Democritus and Heraclitus, the laughing and weeping philosophers, as symbols of the tragic and comic perspective. Again, we are not looking at a pair of models so much as an indication that both the comic and the tragic view are easy targets for levity. Gone is the allegiance to Greek old comedy that Horace and Persius claimed. There is no figure in Juvenal to correspond to the role of Horace’s father, or of Cornutus in Persius’ satires. Late in the satires Juvenal writes of experience as something one can learn from (13.19-23), but his praise of philosophy is perfunctory enough even before it is dismissed later in the same satire (13.120-5). Juvenal reduces the content of the labels ‘Lucilius’ and ‘Horace’; he abstains from presenting other models, ironically suggesting that a standard education is enough to qualify one as a poet, and lays emphasis on the role of indignatio in the generation of his kind of poetry. In all this he intensifies and concentrates the satiric posture, already visible in Horace and Persius, of being in direct, unmediated contact with real experience. j. Juvenal’s treatment of satire and other genres Other literature is densely woven into Juvenal’s Satires, but as part of the texture rather than as subject-matter. He mentions the fabula togata (comedies with Roman settings) and (as Persius did; 1.51) elegy caustically in the first satire (1.3-4), and he is ironic at the expense of a range of poets 19

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre in the seventh satire (62-97; the satire also contains sections making fun of historians and orators: 98-104 and 105-49). The burden, however, of what he says about poetry concerns satire and epic. What Juvenal says about satire, both in the programme satire to the first book, and at the end of the sixth satire, is, at least at first sight, quite clear. The references to previous satirists are more automated, the distractions are fewer, and the concern with subject matter seems more direct. Certainly this will turn out to be misleading, but it is, all the same, what seems at first to be the case. In the first satire, Juvenal claims to explain why he wants to write satire. edam, he says (1.21): ‘I will tell you.’ The answer is channelled into two sections (22-80 and 81-146), the latter giving rise to the interlocutions about how safe it is to write like this which are derived from the Horatian programme satire. The two sections present similar material in rather different formats. The whole of the first is based on the structure, ‘When x happens, how can one not write satire?’ Within this there is clear patterning: references to Lucilius, Horace, and Cluvienus frame and halve the section, and each half is halved again by the question of writing satire; 30 and 63-4. The content builds up to a picture of the circumstances under which satire is almost inevitably produced. The subject matter, then, of satire is the social and sexual topsy-turvy world of the city of Rome, depicted in grotesque cinematic vignettes and touched up with sensational sententiae. The cast is full of rapidly, nightmarishly even, changing walkon roles. Many are named, though not with names that mattered in Juvenal’s day. The writing has some of the sensationalist effect of parts of Tacitus’ historical writing. Juvenal, however, writes (1.79-80) that in despite of talent, anger will produce satire, whereas historians, Tacitus included, professed to write without anger.63 The second paragraph is still part of the explanation launched in line 21, but it begins with a fresh programmatic statement. The topic of his ‘little book’ (libellus), Juvenal writes (1.85-6), is quidquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, gaudia, discursus All human activity, prayer, fear, anger, pleasure, joy, toing and froing.

This more or less universal inclusiveness (suggesting a philosophical perspective) is matched by an epic chronological scope,64 but the broad subject matter is rapidly summarised as vice, and specifically greed (87-8). The expansion of this topic in the rest of the paragraph is structured as a set of concentric rings65 with the virtual apotheosis of money at the centre. Overall, then, we have in the first satire a full and clear statement of what Juvenal is doing, much the clearest offered by any of the extant 20

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models satirists. Juvenalian satire is an outpouring of indignation at vicious greed. However, it is not really as simple as that. We have already seen how Juvenal’s proposed material (enshrined in the last two lines of the satire) resembles that of historiography. Juvenal’s self-proclaimed lack of impartiality, however, flies in the face of the programmatic professions of the historiographers. It may be, of course, that the impartiality of the historiographers is as suspect as Juvenal’s anger,66 but the similarity of material and the disparity of the programmatic professions combine to prevent the audience from easily gauging its response. In addition, the issue of naming has been, as in Horace and Persius, circumvented. The sixth satire occupies a book to itself. There is nothing like this in earlier extant satire. Obviously it cannot contain a programme satire, let alone one coming at the beginning of the book. Perhaps our impression of the conventionality of initial programme poems is over-fertilised by the high visibility of those in Horace’s second book, in Persius, and in Juvenal’s first book. Nonetheless, the inclusion of programmatic remarks in the concluding paragraph seems a striking innovation.67 In any case, they are emphasised by their climactic position. Here Juvenal talks as though he might be suspected of transgressing the rules of the genre, the lex priorum as he calls it (6.635-8): fingimus haec altum satura sumente coturnum scilicet, et finem egressi legemque priorum grande Sophocleo carmen bacchamur hiatu, montibus ignotum Rutulis caeloque Latino? nos utinam vani. You think we’ve made this up? That my satire has put on the tragic buskin? That it’s gone outside the bounds and law of those who’ve gone before, and my great song is a bacchic riot issuing from a Sophoclean maw, alien to Rutulian mountains and a Latin sky? I wish it were a dream!

There are several things to be said about this. First, we can see in the blurring of the boundary between tragedy and satire an echo of the blurring of epic and satire in the first satire. Second, the question itself of whether Juvenal has exceeded the bounds of satire (satura at 634) is phrased in words reminiscent of Horace’s statement that some people thought he was doing precisely that (Sat. 2.1.1-2; sunt quibus in satira videar nimis acer et ultra / legem tendere opus, ‘There are those to whom I seem to be too sharp in my satire, and to stretch the work beyond its law’). There is a tension here between the idea of Juvenal’s satire transgressing the generic boundary, and the implication that it is built into satire that it transgresses its boundaries. Third, there is the matter of how Juvenal’s question fits into its context. The sixth satire is packed with social and 21

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre sexual inversions, woven through with luxury, decadence, and outrage; when he reaches the topic of mothers killing their own children, Juvenal asks if his satire is turning into tragedy. Within a few lines he is suggesting that his satire-tragedy is actually even more monstrous than tragedy itself (because the crimes in satire are committed for money (643ff.; cf. also 8.215, 15.29) rather than for mad and furious passion). In this sense Juvenal’s verse is doubly transgressive; it crosses its own limits and those of tragedy too. Of course it is absurd to say that every street contains a latter-day Clytaemnestra (656), but we should see this as a figure putting the stuff of Greek tragedy into Roman streets and thereby questioning both the realism of Greek tragedy and the sensationalism of Roman moralising.68 The genre that Juvenal implicates in this competition is, by ancient convention, a lofty one, on a level with epic, and we should bear in mind his hostility to that genre too. The first satire begins69 as an irate response primarily to epic. In the course of his argument that modern life makes writing satire almost inevitable (1.30; 51; 63f.; 79f.), Juvenal momentarily raises the suggestion that he write epic, but only as though the idea would be self-evidently ridiculous (52-4). Finally, his interlocutor suggests that epic is a safe thing to write (1.162-4).70 There are critical comments in other satires too. In the introduction to the seventh satire (7.1-35), Juvenal suggests that would-be poets – he seems to have epicists primarily in mind – may expect patronage from Caesar. Caesar is looking for material to expend indulgence on (20-1). This is hardly a positive picture of epic poetry. Juvenal suggests that imperial patronage is a causative factor in the current decline of literature, and the supply of epics (like those mocked in the first satire) is one of its symptoms. In the main body of the seventh satire, in the section devoted to the inadequacy of poetic patronage (3697), the main impetus is again writers of epic (though Rubrenus Lappa represents tragedy; 7.72-3) and nothing suggests that any worthwhile poetry is produced. Little or nothing suggests it would be even if there were better patronage. The language Juvenal uses for the epics-inprogress of Telesinus71 and the like, writing merely on the expectation of patronage (22-9), is mocking.72 Even Virgil, representing (along with the lyricist Horace) a time when there were (allegedly) generous patrons, is ambiguously praised at best (7.62-71).73 On the other hand, Juvenal presents Lucilius as an epic hero (1.19-20, 165ff.). His satiric targets include, into the bargain, a distinctly epic-style charioteering Automedon (1.60-2), the epicised Domitian in the fourth satire, and a Virro with epic trappings in the fifth. In relation to his predecessors Juvenal increases the intensity of the critique of epic, but at the same time he also transforms himself as a satirist into a writer of something that can be confused with epic/tragedy,74 except that its content is real – or at least something that can be claimed to resemble reality. 22

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models Juvenal’s antagonism to epic and tragedy is much more violent than Horace’s opposition, and at least as strong as Persius’. His reasons, however, are not all the same. They lack the moralising component of Persius’ critique. On the other hand, he shares with Horace the feeling that epic is remote from real experience. To this, however, he adds the idea that this makes epic safe for writing in imperial society. The emphasis on real life appears in other contexts too. It is involved in the critique of education in the seventh satire. It lies also behind the preference for the lessons of experience to those of philosophy (13.19), and, especially, the suggestion that satire is an immediate direct reaction to experience that is repeatedly emphasised in the first satire. … difficile est saturam non scribere. nam quis iniquae tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se, … (1.30-1) it is hard not to write satire. For who can endure such an unfair city, so ironsouled as to contain himself …? nonne libet medio ceras inplere capaces / quadrivio …? (1.63-4)75 Don’t you want to fill up capacious tablets right at the crossroads …? facit indignatio versum (1.79) Indignation itself will make the verses

However, the aspiration to realism, the hostility to epic and the claim to realism are in tension with a number other features of Juvenal’s satire. Thus, the annexation of epic ground for satire is a paradoxical expression of hostility to epic. In addition, it makes Juvenal’s satire seem more literary than directly concerned with real life. The resolve to write against the dead, too, can be seen as a paradoxical way of dealing directly with experience, and the suggestion that a declamatory education qualifies Juvenal to write about real life is perhaps an inspired comic touch. We arrive, yet again, at a puzzle rather than an answer. Conclusion The satirists talk repeatedly as though satire is a constant form in which a defining characteristic is the public criticism by name of those who transgress society’s rules. They also talk repeatedly as though this ideal has somehow become dangerous and can no longer be practised in the way it once was. The satire cannot be public, it must be whispered; it cannot name living malefactors, it must be poetry and not itself. There is a 23

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre suggestion that Roman verse satire is a kind of old comedy in disguise. However, Lucilius, who acts as the link between old comedy and verse satire, is tendentiously represented by all the later satirists. It looks as though the issue of criticism by name is a sort of charade under whose cover quite other concerns are expressed. Over and again the satirists define themselves, at least in part, in relation to epic. There is always a contrast and usually, or perhaps always, a degree of hostility. Over and again the disagreement claims to turn on the relative distances between the two genres and real experience, and all the satirists claim to deal with real life. We might have accepted this without too much question coming from Horace, but in Juvenal we are given pause for thought. In both cases (and in that of Persius), that extra thought allows us to recollect how extremely literary the satirists are, as though their concern is less with reality itself (as if that were possible) than actually testing the ‘realities’ of different genres against each other. This may still allow ethical interests to be aired; although the permission to fulfil satire’s ‘obligation’ to criticise has, we are given to understand, been withdrawn, nonetheless a qualified permission to indulge in certain sorts of subject matter remains. What, however, the satirist makes of this remains to be seen.

24

2

The Generic Landscape The pronouncements of the satirists themselves are evasive. Nevertheless, the satirists are explicitly concerned with the relationship between their own kind of literature and at least one other, epic. Other genres, moreover, come into play by way of allusion, imitation, parody, and so forth. Because of both of these factors, the evasiveness and the relationships with other genres, it is necessary to supplement the satirists’ programmatic comments with an investigation into the matter of genre. A book cannot be read in isolation. It plays on the reader’s knowledge of the world, the reader’s personal experience, and that experience includes literature, however broadly defined. The author, naturally, cannot have a very precise idea of what the audience knows or has read, but some basic minima can be taken for granted.1 Thus (for example), a Roman writer of the early Empire would make the implicit assumption, because of the sociology of literacy and literature-reading, that his audience would have been exposed to Virgil. Such assumptions are harder for the contemporary English-language writer, since the book-reading public is far more diverse and diffuse. Even so, the author makes assumptions about the common coinage of human experience. Furthermore, the author may have a fairly well-defined primary audience in mind, which would allow a greater degree of effective play on shared cultural knowledge. Speech has a density provided by the non-verbal context of its occasion.2 With literature the audience is a much more complex and nebulous entity. Literature tends to be removed from such direct connection with a speechsituation and needs to use a wide range of language resources to make up the deficit. This is more than a matter of grammar and vocabulary: it involves tone, figures of thought, concealed presuppositions, resonances with cultural background and so on, and the way round the problem of not knowing exactly what the audience has read and experienced is (as Pliny describes in Ep. 1.20.12; cf. 2.5.7) to load the text, like a blunderbuss, with a calculated variety of projectile, and aim it at the core of the target audience. One category of projectile would be nuggets of intertextuality. The concept of intertextuality is, of course, useful in the process of explaining a text, but it does not dispose of the need to be aware of a generic framework. To be more specific, the relationship between Juvenal and the works of contemporary authors (especially Tacitus, Lucan, 25

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Martial, declamation, the moralising tradition) is not just a matter of the web of links between texts, but one of exemplary kinds of text, or the frames in which texts are read.3 The basic problem with discussing genre is (again) that there are different ways of cutting the literary cake – there are different kinds of ‘kind’.4 There is also the complication that the cake itself can be defined with different degrees of inclusiveness. As well as epic and satire, say, one might or might not include letters, graffiti, and legal documents, depending on immediate purpose. All, however, are verbal or linguistic manifestations. Although this is obvious, it is also fundamental, and the issue of genre needs to be set in the context of language-use more generally before coming to grips with the specifically literary genres of Roman poetry. Speech-act genres We speak long before we write (and thereafter speak more than we write). But we are already learning about the shape of the world before we speak. Not only are powerful pre-verbal cognitive structures and patterns built into language, but social structures and dynamics, themselves partly shaped by and modelled on natural patterns and cycles, are also reflected in the language we learn. Given these patterns, speech situations are inevitably patterned and in various degrees become conventionalised. This works at a multiplicity of levels. Social dynamics are reflected in levels of formality in grammar, vocabulary, and name-usage. Information conveying of all kinds is shaped by a pattern of moving from the known or given towards the new elements. There may, of course, also be a struggle to say something in a new way: the standard may be varied in all sorts of ways and for all sorts of reasons, but there are recognised standard situations and ways of handling them in speech. Greetings, congratulations, commiserations, conversations, stories, jokes, lectures, and so forth, all have recognisable gambits and devices and as such may be seen as protogenres which we assimilate and internalise from infancy.5 In literature, especially as we get further from forms which intend direct effects in the real world (e.g. Ciceronian defence speeches), there is a further layer of complexity due to the relationship with a more complex and less direct audience, and with already existing literary objects (some of which may belong to a very different time or place). Nonetheless, literature draws on experience and our spoken lives as well as on other literature and so there is clear room for fertilisation from these protogenres. Moreover, since our brains are wired by education, rearing, and the experience of life to produce and respond to social genres, and to recognise deviations from the standard, the same mental processes cannot but apply to the production and reception of literature. 26

2. The Generic Landscape A concept of kind, then, requires a considerable degree of fluidity, for the boundaries between literature and language are not clear-cut. In the literary sphere, although there are historically bounded genres with some degree of fixity and clarity of outline (Greek tragedy, say, the Icelandic saga, or the modern novel), it is only a relative degree of fixity. The kinds are never altogether static. There are, moreover, false starts and dead ends. There are works which have only opaque relationships to any previously existing set of characteristics. Ovid’s Fasti, though in elegiacs, is not what we think of as Roman elegy, and there are classical examples of genres that die young (arguably, for example, Socratic dialogue, Roman fiction, and Menippean satire). Nonetheless, just as culturally bounded social genres arise and change, and have different life spans and degrees of formalisation, so there is an evolutionary aspect to forms of literature. In this regard those genres which have a degree of relative fixity are particularly important. Generic fixity and the dominant genre In the Augustan period we see a number of genres (chiefly poetic, although historiography is also beginning to make itself felt) with marked and individual features: epic, elegy, lyric, satire, bucolic, didactic. There is in this, and in the programmatic statements of the poets, a new emphasis on being the first to find and transfer Greek genres into Latin.6 This may suggest a rather exaggerated picture of Greek poetry neatly laid out on a generic grid, but there are unevennesses in the real situation in Latin. It is true that there was an extended and acknowledged background in Greek (and Latin) for epic, and we know of other writers of epic besides Virgil. Much the same can be said of didactic, and perhaps of epigram. On the other hand, we know of a number of elegists, but the apparent background (apart from the formal aspect of metre) is very much less obviously related. What we may see as a clearly defined genre soon loses that definition as Propertius shifts the areas of interest and Ovid starts playing radical games over and over again with content and form (in the Heroides, Ars Amatoria, Fasti, and the exile poetry). To some extent Roman love elegy may be considered a genre because there was a succession of elegists, but there is another reason which can be seen more clearly in the more extreme case of Latin lyric. Latin lyric has, as usual, a Greek model; like love elegy it has no real Latin antecedents, but unlike love elegy it also has no real succession either.7 Horace’s Odes, arguably, constitute the entire corpus8 and might be said to belong to a genre chiefly because of the nature of the wider literary scene. They are written in a context in which there are exemplar genres (as, for example, reviewed in Sat. 1.10.40ff.) and in which the idea of genre and a genre-system (i.e. the Greek literary body) is important. 27

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre This is even more true in the case of satire: it avowedly lacks a Greek model, and had lain in virtual disuse since Lucilius. Thereafter it goes through huge changes with each satirist. Furthermore, although Lucilius is the satiric figurehead, there is – as we have seen – a problematic relationship between what he did and what his successors did. Nevertheless, these successors clearly write as though satire were a recognisable and defined genre, distinct from other genres. It is important to emphasise again that this is deeply involved with the perception of a genre-system which included clear paradigm-genres and also to observe that the list of genres which really have the required fixity of form to play this role is actually very small. It consists chiefly of epic and its cognate, didactic.9 Epic underpins the genre-system as it applies to verse. Other genres have a greater degree of fluidity and transience. They also show in various – sometimes antagonistic – ways the continual influence of epic material. This agrees with the Russian Formalist proposition that in any age there is a dominant (sometimes called royal) genre which shapes and colours the surrounding genres.10 Such genres can become worn out (‘habitualised’ and ‘automatised’ are frequently used in this context) and sometimes their vigour can be renewed by change of manner or content, usually by absorbing what is seen as lower grade material. This process (which may be associated with parody) reveals a tension between the dominant genre and those around it, for when epic material is reformulated for ostensibly lower genres (as, say, in the Cynthia poems in the fourth book of Propertius’ Elegies) the contemporary setting makes (however complex) a revaluation of the annexed material. In elegy and satire especially we see epic openly under attack, from different points of view. On the other hand, although epic also receives material from other genres (perhaps most anarchically in Ovid), when it does so there is, as Stephen Hinds has shown,11 a tendency for the new material to be marked as alien – generically alien, that is to say. Seeing a genre: alternative categories Because the concept of the genre-system is so strong, the composition of apparently didactic poems in elegiacs (Ars and Remedia Amoris, Medicamina Faciei Femineae, and so on), or the implication that even an epic might have elegiacs in it are still (intentionally) astonishing.12 How would it look if one were to publish an edition of the Metamorphoses with a coda in elegiacs at the end, as Ovid himself suggests at Tristia 1.7.3340)?13 However, although lists based on a genre classification are not infrequent,14 sometimes an emphasis on subject matter suggests a way of looking at literature from a rather different perspective. When Juvenal pairs Lesbia and Cynthia (6.7-8) as representative of the spirit of the age, he conjures up a picture of a particular kind of poetry, 28

2. The Generic Landscape identifiable by its own salient characteristics, and one which redefines standard generic boundaries. Love poetry, irrespective of narrowly defined genre, is also the point when Propertius (2.34.81-94) joins his poetry to a tradition comprising poets whose subject was a single dominating beloved, Varro of Atax15 in his slighter works, Catullus, Calvus, and the elegist Gallus.16 Admittedly we know little of Gallus, but the same point is made again, and for us more clearly because of the inclusion of Tibullus, when Calvus and Catullus, whom we think of as neoterics, are joined by the elegist Gallus to greet the newly dead elegist Tibullus in some Elysian glade in Ovid (Am. 3.9.59-66). Elsewhere Ovid’s list of authors for women to read to make themselves mentally attractive (AA 3.321ff.) is Callimachus, Philetas, Anacreon, Sappho, Menander, Propertius, Gallus, Tibullus, Varro’s Argonautica, and Virgil’s Aeneid. In this context, this too must be read as a cross-generic corpus of erotic literature.17 Ovid has another cross-generic list of erotic poets, this time to justify his own erotic poetry, in the Tristia (2.427ff.). The list includes Catullus, Calvus and others, Sisenna’s translation of the obscene (or so it was said) Aristides, and the elegists.18 Pliny too lists authors of erotic poetry as self-justification (Pliny Ep. 5.3). His list is of Romans of high social standing who also wrote unchaste poetry (including Cicero, Calvus, Asinius Pollio, M. Messala, and Seneca, and imperial figures including Julius Caesar and Augustus)19 and then broadens to include quality poets not necessarily of high social standing (Virgil, Nepos, Ennius, Accius). More striking, but perfectly natural, is Ovid’s cross-generic list of poets and works that he liked (Trist. 4.10.41ff.). The variety of the list is very noticeable: Macer’s didactic poem on snake-bites and their cures, Propertius, Ponticus for epic, Bassus for iambic, Horace for lyric. After mentioning that he only saw Virgil he adds, specifically as a group of elegists, Gallus, Tibullus, and Propertius, and puts himself chronologically in fourth (quartus, 54) place after them.20 Here, then, we have an interplay of different kinds of division.21 The features that might help make distinctions between authors or between kinds of literature, features such as form, content, style, tone, are not subject to a single fixed and allpurpose hierarchy: individual factors obtrude. We see, then, a matrix in which a number of more or less clearly defined genres stand out – one in particular, epic – but it is a matrix whose boundaries are fluid and pervious. The ‘new’ genre and audience reaction Literary categorisations can be unorthodox or individual. Stephen Hinds argues that Ovid, for example, by the way he reshapes the Aeneid in his own epic (Met. 13.623-14.582), presents it tendentiously as a ‘hesitant precursor of the Metamorphoses’.22 We have already seen how Propertius 29

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre and Ovid can use lists of poets to annex Catullus as a proto-elegist. In the more idiosyncratic lists we are close to conceptual anthologies and the miscellanies that might go into the formation of a new genre. This point can be strengthened by thinking of Virgil’s Eclogues. Virgil’s Eclogues owe an explicit allegiance to Theocritus, but behind this lies a more complicated reality: Virgil models the Eclogues predominantly, but not entirely, not on the Idylls,23 but on the bucolic poems of Theocritus together with some non-bucolic poetry by Theocritus, and with the addition also of the kind of poetry produced by Bion and Moschus – an anthology in other words. Other kinds of literature from Virgil’s own time form part of the picture too, notably Gallus’ elegies (especially in Eclogue 10). There is always a tension between being part of a tradition, subjectively defining that tradition, and reshaping it in the light of one’s own internal pressures. Catullus’ polymetrics provide further illumination of the subjective element here. We do not know for sure exactly what the little book (libellus) dedicated in Carm. 1 was,24 but the pointers in this programmatic dedication suggest it was like what we know as 1-60, or 1-61, and what we have here is a blend of three different and otherwise distinct generic strains: iambic, hendecasyllabic, and lyric.25 That this variety of metre was really an important aspect of the collection seems to be corroborated by the picture of an afternoon of impromptu verse-making with Licinius Calvus (Carm. 50), a picture which strongly suggests the concept of a polymetric libellus.26 Crudely, one might expect of iambic that it be abusive,27 that hendecasyllables be witty epigrams,28 that lyric poems be somewhat more elevated in tone, language, and content. However, each of Catullus’ shorter poems shows its own level and pattern of stylistic miscegenation. For example, the loftier manner associated with lyric appears also in the hendecasyllabic Carm. 46, and the tone of iambic colours the second half of 11, which is in a lyric metre. Indeed, as we know, the level of Catullus’ language can vary wildly within the scope of a single poem. Given the novelty, how did Catullus expect his audience to react to a collection in which a vision of a radiant but lost love (8, 11) rubs shoulders with ludic frivolities about other people’s girls (6, 10), partings and returns of friends (9, 46), petty theft (if even that is not an exaggeration) of napkins or writing tablets (12, 42), a comic metamorphosis (13), the death of a bird (3), social manners, versification, nice places (31, 44), nettles, casual sex, a rickety bridge, and vigorous abuse? By serving this miscellany, Catullus might perhaps suggest that the lyric tone which extends beyond the confines of those poems in lyric metres is a subjective illusion for the universally comic situation of love. Carm. 8, for example, is like a Plautine monologue and in a metre which had definite comic, even burlesque, connotations. However, perhaps there is another possibility: is the suggestion rather that life is a mixture of all 30

2. The Generic Landscape sorts of odds and ends, and that this mélange can be invested at any time with an importance beyond that which the serious old men of Carm. 2 might allow? The cramming of poems of different generic allegiance into one body of work creates a new genre, but at the same time removes the guideline of the familiar. Literary context and social change If we are to get out of this impasse we need to consider Catullus’ poetry in a broader context than that of its antecedents alone. We can trace vertical lines of influence as within Roman verse satire, for example, or Latin epic or love elegy. By extension one can trace more tendentious lines, such as a line of polymetric epigram-based occasional ‘realistic’ verse (Catullus, Martial, Statius’ Silvae), but this overlooks something important, namely the way the set of inter-generic relationships work. We would need, in other words, to consider the issue of Catullan subjectivity in the light of the context of Lucretius’ Epicurean didactic, Caesar’s autobiographical prose, and Cicero’s extensive writings.29 Social change is a major factor in genre-development: in the republican period we see social values being violently transformed, and the struggle being reflected and waged in the literature of the time. It should also not be forgotten that the Roman literary world of the late Republic was a small one. Catullus, Caesar, Cicero, and Lucretius had mutual connections. They knew who each other were and what they stood for, and so did their audiences: this gives a sense of urgency to the contrasts of perspective among these authors. Essentially, public values and duties are prioritised in Cicero’s works, whereas it is at the heart of Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura to argue that happiness can come only from a programme of withdrawal into private purposes. Nonetheless, the argument is given in terms accessible to the other point of view. Caesar’s works, on the other hand, concentrate their view, as Cicero’s do, on external political realities, but there is clearly a different equation between individual ambition and the general public good. In this context we see the importance of Catullus’ non-conventional treatment of what might otherwise seem merely the amusing and ephemeral trivia of epigram. The material of his poetry, all of it, is presented as a game,30 but a game that merits a high value judgement, just as in Carm. 5 the game of counting kisses has a high value attached to it in contrast to the business of counting money. We see the combination of frivolity and emotional engagement in Carm. 50 too. Here Catullus describes a playful day of poetry-writing with Calvus. Otiosi, lusimus, delicatos, ludebat, and iocum all emphasise the game-like quality of the writing-process, in particular the writing in various metres, but the imita31

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre tion of the language of love and the symptoms of pining away in the second half of the poem suggest, however whimsically (part of the game), that there can be a passionate emotional energy in precisely this sort of poetry. There are, of course, two aspects to the picture of inter-relationships between the literature of any given period, the one based on how they lie at a hypothetical ideal moment in the period itself, the other based on how the set of inter-relationships changes from period to period. In the larger context of this study, the particular importance this has is that Roman verse satire appears from time to time over a period of roughly 400 years. Although it purports to be the same thing, or to try to be the same thing, there is an element of fiction in this. The value of the individual raises itself as an issue through a variety of literary forms in the late Republic. The answers, if one may be so simplistic, provided by Catullus, Cicero, Lucretius, and Caesar contrast vigorously with each other. There is something quite individualistic about their mutual differences. The poetry of the next generation of poets is profoundly different. There are (as always) elements of continuity or inertia as well as changes and discontinuities. The same polar tension between the values of the public and private spheres is at work in Augustan literature, but the issue has a different profile. It is more problematic for the Augustans. The relative value of the individual animal is weighed against that of the herd in Virgil’s Georgics, just as personal loss and public gain are balanced both in the Aeneid and on Horace’s smaller scale in a satire like 1.5 or an ode like 3.14. Over the spread of literary forms, ideological commitment is generally more in the air, but ideological differences are present more equivocally. In their different ways Virgil, Horace, and Tibullus reflect and illuminate social values favourable to the Prinicipate, and represent the ruling élite in positive lights. Only Propertius seems to stand out (this will need consideration further below), and so the pattern of antagonism is clearly very different from that in the late Republic. Lucilius and Catullus: the centrality of ‘self’ Lucilius, coming before the transition from Republic to Empire, is an important index for gauging literary change: especially one points here to the aggressive individuality of his verse, his republican libertas, which he shares with Catullus rather than his generic progeny. Although later satirists portray Lucilius as an outspoken and fearless moral critic, the fragments and testimonia show how selective a picture this is. Certainly we see criticism of numbers of individuals, but often it is clearly comic or personal in tone. Often, indeed, Lucilius seems to be preparing the way for Catullus. Both poets have the author’s ‘self’ at the heart of their writing, a ‘self’ reflected in a broad sample of material. 32

2. The Generic Landscape In Lucilius other people’s ways of speaking are made fun of (e.g. 8393W), as they are in Catullus (84). One of the books of Lucilius’ Satires, according to Porphyrio (on Hor. Odes 1.22.10), was called ‘Collyra’ after Lucilius’ mistress, because that was its theme.31 Another fragment (10412W) seems to come from a speech of erotic persuasion like that of Anacreon 417. Perhaps there was a narrative context, and perhaps the girl replied, turning Lucilius (if he it was) down in 1043-4W. In this case we would have a comic32 autobiographical tale comparable to that in Catullus 10. According to Varro (LL 6.69, cf. 898-9) there was a scene in which Lucilius persuaded a woman called Cretaea to undress. Again, books 22 to 25 appear to have contained epigrams and epitaphs in elegiacs on freedmen and slaves known to or owned by Lucilius. Autobiographical anecdotes appear (a journey to Sicily in book 3) as they do in Catullus. Among traces of other anecdotes, we see, in book 11 according to Gellius who quotes them, the lines, conicere in versum dictum praeconis volebam / Grani (448-9W; ‘I wanted to put into verse a saying of Granius the auctioneer’). This bears a general but clear resemblance to the gambit in Carm. 6: volo te ac tuos amores / ad caelum lepido vocare versu (6.16-17, ‘I want to call you and your love to the heavens with witty verse’). Here Catullus teases Flavius about his activities with a girl, supposedly a rough one (in fact, the evidence that there was anything but an imaginary girl conjured up to tease Flavius is merely circumstantial). Perhaps Lucilius’ mockery of Granius was more abrasive (so it would seem from Granius’ appearance in book 20), but the similarity remains. There is also a similarity between Lucilius and Catullus at a more general level, namely that Lucilius’ presence, and that of his friends and enemies, in the verse reinforces his centrality as the viewpoint through which we read the satires (cf. 650-1W).33 In both authors, furthermore, there is a resemblance to the variety of content and manner we presume on the basis of Cicero’s letters to have been part of the everyday life of the Roman of the reading class, and in both a suggestion that this ephemeral content has some claim to longer-term value. Horace belongs on the other side of a major social and political watershed. His poetry could not have been the same as either Lucilius’ or Catullus’. However, despite the problems caused by presenting Lucilius as a fierce moral critic, he chose to write satire and to present his model in that light. If we ask whether Horace could simply have made his Lucilian nugae (‘trifles’, Sat. 1.9.2) by expanding such Lucilian nugae34 as Catullus 10, and played a Lucilian game with Catullus’ variety of metre by using only the hexameter – the metre used by Lucilius, but not by Catullus’ libellus – the answer surely has to be yes. What then did he gain by sailing under Lucilian colours? Genres, like masks, express as well as conceal; they permit certain kinds of expression, allow possibilities. Among these, in this case, we might number the precedent for mocking epic, the scope 33

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre for looking at other genres, a pose of libertas (‘liberty’) implying that libertas still existed (and therefore supporting the propaganda elements of the poems), an appeal to Roman self-image, and perhaps scale. Perhaps also the rather unrestricted subject matter of Lucilian satire might have attracted the unromantic realist and the ethical essayist. Competitive inclusiveness and generic antagonism The self-centredness of Lucilius and Catullus is something later poets (outside epic) aspire to, and their various attempts manifest the pressures of social change. Consistently, we see a pattern in which there are successions of surrounding genres reacting in different ways to the elevated mass of the dominant genre, epic. This is not a simple one-way process: real epics are not monolithically uniform, and epics themselves are affected by the surrounding genres. They incorporate material which remains distinct and indeed problematic. Hinds (2000) has shown how the love element which keeps appearing in Roman epic remains generically alien, indeed transgressive, no matter how regularly it happens. Elegiac colours are difficult in epic. Dido, for example, represents a crisis for Aeneas (and dies); in Ovid’s Metamorphoses (in book 11) the elegiac figure Alcyone does not fit in Ceyx’s epic world and their deaths result.35 The abstracted idea of a genre is expressive and genres, however much they mix, remain antagonistic. We do not, as Midas and Marsyas do, gain asses’ ears or have our skin removed for our judgements about kinds of literature, but the questions involved are real ones of some weight. Does love count for more than Caesar or vice versa? An elegist pursues an unheroic (unepic) course after the ideal of what elegy might be – a celebration of the private sphere and the life of love as opposed to the public sphere and all that the life of the citizen implies. Perhaps the beloved is unsatisfactory and the lover therefore seems mad – well, just what are we to make of that? I would like to answer this question in terms of what I will call competitive inclusiveness (a concept that will apply particularly to Juvenal’s use of other literature). We see epic incorporating alien material, and we also see non-epic forms taking on epic colours or incorporating epic narratives and characters. To some extent we can understand this as a feature of how authors try to write something new starting from a given framework. How the different elements measure up against each other, or what the chemical reaction of the mixture produces, are questions which may ultimately have only individual answers, but we can, at any rate, see in this process of exchange a broadening of tone or emotional resonance. The antagonism I have referred to may thus be explained partly as a matter of a general aspiration to inclusiveness. It has been suggested that authors desire to produce a body of work which attains a clear level of 34

2. The Generic Landscape completeness or fullness of utterance, to say something about what it is to be human, to catch a broad swathe of experience in their nets.36 In an obvious sense the large scale of epic gives room to fulfil this need; in an epic one can say something big about important aspects of the human condition. But there is also the element of competition to be taken into account. Aggressive competition is evident on a large scale in the workings of Roman society and politics. Although it is very obvious at the end of the Republic, it is by no means confined to that period. In the literary sphere it is something of which that kind of writing which hovers between theoretical and practical discussion is explicitly aware.37 One needs a model, but one needs to try and outdo the model even only in order to equal its quality. One needs to be aware of what features can be imitated and what are worth imitating, and that one must make the product somehow one’s own. There is always a tension between following a model and writing something of one’s own. This competitiveness, however, does not appear in the sphere of imitation or model-following alone. It works both within and across genres. To return briefly to Virgil and Ovid, we could argue that the incorporation of non-epic material has a different character in each. At the risk of gross oversimplification I would say that when Virgil draws colours and phrases from Catullus and other erotic poetry, it is to give credibility to his critique of the passions. Love (as also other strong individual emotions) is dangerous in the Aeneid: it subverts and distracts. It makes carrying this message the more effective if the new picture of love has a clear connection with that kind of literature which prominently (in terms of its thematic make-up and of its recentness in the poetry-reading audience’s field of vision) deals with love. On the other hand, when we see Ovid using the language and ideas of Roman love elegy in his epic, the Metamorphoses, it is rather that he is using this as one of a range of ways of subverting the notion of what an epic is. Whereas Virgil uses transgressive material in order to give firmness to his demonstration of its dangers, Ovid uses it to produce a transgressive epic.38 This competitive inclusiveness works within and across generic boundaries in various ways. Within genres there can be a posture of the current writer’s being inferior to his model, but we also find pointed inclusion of new subject matter. Within genres, though, the antagonism remains tempered because the current writer needs the generic model to stray from. Across genres the antagonism can be more open, as when Horace in his lyric poetry repeatedly suggests that love elegy is nothing more than protracted whining, or when Persius or Juvenal mock it in their satires. The antagonism shows most clearly and explicitly, however, in the relationship between epic and other genres. Other genres frequently make an issue of the difference between epic and themselves by contrasting their own slightness to the grandeur of epic. Despite the posture of inferiority, however, there is a recurrent point 35

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre made against epic which pulls in a different direction: that epic fails to make contact with what life feels like, it deals with unreal figures in extraordinary circumstances. This point is made emphatically by Horace in Satires 1.4, but it is also explicit in various degrees in the other satirists, and in the epigrams of Martial. A rather different point against epic is made in love elegy. Subjectivity and Propertian politics Love elegy and satire are the genres most openly antagonistic to epic, and of the elegists Propertius perhaps most of all. As suggested earlier, Propertius stands out among his contemporaries and raises (again) issues of subjectivity and genre. There is another reason for spending some time on him here, and that is that his use of literature outside his own genre will provide an interesting analogue for Juvenal. If we wanted to believe in Propertius as an Augustan poet we could regard his corpus as dramatising the madness of a thoroughly unsatisfactory citizen. Much of Roman elegy is inherently devoted to the madness of the lover, but for the rhetorically trained Roman audience empathy with a Propertius hopelessly torn between the attractions of Cynthia and the thought that if people regarded him as mad they could be right need not have entailed subscribing to the same view. However lamentable Dido’s fate in the Aeneid is, still, in the context of the themes of the Aeneid, she must be wrong to let her feelings for Aeneas distract her from the building of Carthage, just as Aeneas is wrong to let himself be distracted by Dido.39 Again, it is sad that birds have their homes chopped down in the Georgics, but farmers must have farms. It is, furthermore, never in the air that a reader might take seriously the anti-Roman speeches of defiant natives that are found repeatedly in Caesar, Sallust, Livy, and Tacitus, however rhetorically powerful their expression. Nevertheless, it remains difficult to be convinced about a Propertius politically sanitised in this way. Certainly the public and private spheres are also weighed against each other in all the major poets of Propertius’ time, and for Virgil and Horace love is a dangerous distraction, and not something that can rightfully claim for itself the terms of the Roman public value-system (fides ‘good faith’, foedus ‘contract’, amicitia ‘friendship’ etc). In this they clearly react against Catullus (who wrote, of course, on the other side of a political and social watershed). Indeed, insofar as Catullus has a profile in these writers, he tends to be rather negatively regarded. Propertius, on the other hand, in choosing Catullus as a model seems to align himself with Catullan values. It is difficult to see this choice of model as a signal in itself of comic madness (i.e. a sign that we need to read all the apparently anti-Augustan hints as actually anti-antiAugustan); rather, it seems to tend the other way. Propertius very clearly 36

2. The Generic Landscape follows on from the Catullus of the short poems, a body of work which explicitly pits public against private and puts the higher value on the private sphere. It is one thing for Catullus to do that in the vigorous literary rough and tumble of the late Republic, but for an author in the next generation and in a very different political and social climate to revive and develop precisely this aspect in a solid body of work is a very different thing indeed. On the other hand, this does not mean we have to believe in a radically subversive political Propertius. Perhaps, rather, the poet, attracted to the tones and possibilities of the Catullan corpus, might in pursuing them have been fumbling uncertainly between ‘Cynthia’ and ‘Caesar’, or might not have realised fully what the implications would mean. Genres have their own momentum and individual artists are not necessarily fully in control; the genre itself has a measure of power over what is said and what it means.40 Furthermore, the cumulative weight of such a body of work might well have its own effect: indecision, doubt, and madness can all be contagious, and the dissemination of its expression could be seen as subversive.41 We need also to consider what light Propertius’ allusions and references to epic throw on this matter. In the Aeneid Virgil borrows and transforms elements of personal poetry: in the new context their values must, however regretfully, be replaced by other more public priorities. What, then, of Propertius’ borrowings from epic? Do they make a similar but reverse judgement about epic? Propertius and epic At the most obvious level we observe the recurrent polarity of epic and elegy (construed as love poetry and regularly ‘denigrated’ as soft – mollis), and how epic stands also for public responsibilities and Augustan ideals.42 This has very much the air of two ideologies being weighed against each other, and the fact that Propertius recognises that his own particular love story could be seen as foolish, scandalous even, merely puts the opposition in an extreme form (since it envisages the possibility of such an unsocial love not being unhappy).43 There is more than this. The two Cynthia poems in book 4 draw their narrative framework from, respectively, the Iliad and the Odyssey and create a unity out of the two disparate poles that have been reverberating through the first three books. A unity, but not exactly a resolution, for the love story in these two poems is perhaps more deglamorised and unromanticised than anything in the earlier books. It would be too simple, of course, to take this as Propertius showing up the sordid realities of modern life by reference to an idealised legendary past, but equally it would also be too simple to believe that Propertius was showing up the absurd unreality of the legendary past by filling its narrative frameworks 37

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre with modern characters. The effect is much more subtle. Reality is complex and layered and contains our awareness of intertextualities between literature and life; the epic intertextuality Propertius applies to his fictional reality gives it a resonance and discordant complexity that echoes that of real life. To sum up what has been said about Propertius’ love elegy: we look at Propertius as writing in the elegiac tradition (in itself problematic since so much is lost, especially Gallus), a tradition which puts at its vanguard the crazed and/or heroic lover, and allows the poet to contrive and play with certain kinds of colour and ornament. There is however, no such thing as pure elegy and Propertius the elegist does not write in hermetic isolation from writers of other genres, nor is he read in that way. For both writer and audience the ethos or persona, that is to say the colour the poems are to be seen in, is conditioned partly by the conventions of the genre. Here the colour hovers between ‘This is the mad stuff that besotted lovers do’, and ‘How romantic!’ It is also conditioned by the larger generic matrix, and above all by the tension between the dominant genre, epic, and that genre’s other antibodies. Generic labelling; generic space and the generic grid No work is generically pure. The admixture of other voices is complex and there is probably always a certain residual indeterminacy of interpretability. However, some analogies may be helpful in trying to understand how to read generic mixture. It is perhaps not too naïve to think of a writer choosing a target genre and adding other ingredients as though the target genre were some kind of container. It may be additionally helpful to think of this process as related to anthologising. The author is also, like others, a reader, one with tastes and predispositions. Like other readers, the author has an internalised anthology of things he likes or that have attracted his attention; the anthology may be fluid, and will certainly be polygeneric. If we think of this anthology as a mental wardrobe, we can easily imagine the author wanting to produce an overcoat with some of the features of a cardigan, for example. Although my analogy here is a non-verbal one, it gives a constructive emphasis in that it promotes consideration of form, style, tone, material and so forth rather than meaning, which is better regarded as a product or epiphenomenon. There is another aspect of generic signalling which is relevant to this, namely generic labelling or identification. Because the Eclogues are in some sense a new thing in Latin literature, they could be regarded as belonging to a genre of ‘New annexations from Greek’ (of which there were other Augustan and pre-Augustan examples) rather than bucolic (for which there was no recent Latin background). In 38

2. The Generic Landscape that sense, Virgil’s Eclogues might have an ambiguous generic status: Virgil would then become the first writer of Latin bucolic only retrospectively, after a successor has appeared, except to the extent that he can have expected his audience to be able to infer from the appearance of his collection that there had already been, as it were, a blank space in the Roman generic field labelled ‘bucolic’.44 That Virgil could have had such an expectation is indicated by a number of considerations. First, Horace’s review of genres in Satires 1.10.40ff. suggests clearly that there is, conceptually speaking, a generic grid, and a grid in which Horace himself claims to be looking for a pre-labelled but vacant space, a grid, furthermore, in which already Virgilian bucolic occupies one such defined space.45 Second, one of the functions of the recusationes in which writers of ‘lesser’ genres purport to excuse themselves from writing epic is surely to write their own genre into relationship, via epic, with the rest of the generic field, to create a space. Third, allusions outside the home genre can be seen as a way of extending the range of the home form, and of stitching together areas of the generic field or negotiating the boundaries. Such allusions both assert and question the boundaries, in other words. Fourth, in the Augustan period literary output seems to differ markedly from that of the preceding period in that it appears as a whole to be channelled into a set of clearly distinguished genres with distinct profiles and leaving little or no remainder. However, it actually turns out on closer inspection that a significant number of the examples of ‘writing in genres’ are to some degree selfdefining novelties (eclogue, elegy, lyric, and perhaps – despite Lucilius – Roman verse satire). Circularity of genre – genre as permission These considerations imply that ‘genre’ in this period is implicated in a sort of circular argument. Something is an eclogue, or a satire, or an elegy because it creates for itself a space among other genres, implicitly an already labelled space, and then negotiates with the audience exactly what its definition and transformation of this alien form might mean. Transformation comes into the picture because there is always a struggle: the generic model provides a manner and content that attract the new author, but the genre itself wants to say certain things while the author, by virtue of being a polygeneric reader and living social being, also has his own axes to grind. The resulting mixture allows different voices or ways of seeing to be set against each other. The new work is the product of this tension, a composite entity which, although ‘intended’ by the author in only limited senses, nonetheless has the author’s imprimatur. To look at this from a slightly different angle, the generic model enables the author to say certain things, or certain things in a certain way. From the 39

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre audience’s point of view the generic label provides as it were a shared starting-point for understanding the transformation. The new work may say things which can be taken in different ways, or be hard to see through, but this is true also of live utterances in ordinary speech situations; it is a natural condition of human communication. Juvenal: sample passages These issues of ambiguity and relationship to the generic field are perennial in Latin literature. Satire changes. Each of the extant satirists is very different in some ways from the preceding ones, and each has his own contemporary social and literary context, his own way of fitting into it. As a harbinger of what is to be said later about Juvenal, I would like now to point to three sample passages, rather to flesh out the question of Juvenal’s relationship with his predecessors and with other genres than to solve it in advance. These passages concern Umbricius and the prostitute Chione (3.131-6), the account of a crushed pedestrian (3.257-67), and the passage dealing with provincial government in Satires 8 (87-139). In the first of these three passages (3.131-6) Umbricius, the speaker (apart from an initial introductory section), conjures up a figure, called tu and addressed in the second person, to stand for a certain type. From a set of contrasts in the passage, it is clear that the type this character stands for is indistinguishable from that of Umbricius himself (freeborn Roman male). In this passage, then, we see through Umbricius’ eyes the apparently lamentable predicament of a decent Roman citizen unable to hire a prostitute without worrying about the expense. divitis hic servo cludit latus ingenuorum filius; alter enim quantum in legione tribuni accipiunt donat Calvinae vel Catienae, ut semel aut iterum super illam palpitet; at tu, cum tibi vestiti facies scorti placet, haeres et dubitas alta Chionen deducere sella. Here a son of free-born Romans concedes the inner position to a rich man’s slave; he gives Calvina or Catiena what a legionary tribune gets in a year to judder on top of her once or twice, whereas you, when you like the face of a whore with clothes on, you stop and hesitate to lead Chione down from her lofty seat.

It is a matter of indignation that some rich man’s slave (a Greek, we infer) can afford to spend huge amounts merely to have sexual intercourse once or twice with some aristocratic Roman lady or other. Here the miscegenation and the social boundary-crossing are felt to be disgusting, as too is the degradation of the Roman ladies accepting money for sex. By contrast, 40

2. The Generic Landscape however, Umbricius presents his stand-in as the same kind of decent Roman who is his implied audience throughout his speech; if we take the passage out of context (as, arguably, we should do with the Martial epigram (3.30) from which the idea comes), we could perhaps observe – from our own socio-cultural perspective – mitigating factors. The Umbricius figure is at least attracted by the face of an individual girl, unlike the other figure who appears indifferent as to who his sexual partner is. It is not clear what alta deducere sella means exactly (literally: ‘lead down from a lofty seat’), but given the systematic set of contrasts in the passage it is perhaps meant to be different from semel aut iterum (once or twice). Perhaps then the Umbricius figure envisages some temporary but quasi-marital arrangement, allowing the possibility of a level of personal engagement. Although not all of us would accept this and some might see it in any case as a spurious sentimentality thinly masking the exploitative financial relationship, we could perhaps put the passage back into the socio-cultural context of Juvenal’s contemporaries and argue, possibly rather simplistically, that their attitudes to slavery and prostitution would allow a sympathetic attitude to the Umbricius figure; we could believe that Juvenal prompts us in this direction by reminding us (with the name Chione) of Martial’s sympathetic take on the same situation (Mart. 3.30). If, however, we put the passage back into the larger context of the satire from which it comes, we observe a very different kind of attitude to prostitution, a strongly moralistic one – and one with a distinct history in the Roman moralising tradition – earlier in Umbricius’ speech (3.62-6). Dual standards have to be involved, but whosever these are, and whether Umbricius is a satiric target for his hypocrisy or a figure more or less identifiable with the author’s viewpoint, on either reading the poem begins to look, at least on one level, like a jumble of inconsistent liftings from different genres. We ought also to ask another question in this context: if we are persuaded that Umbricius is a satiric target for his spurious sentimentality, how far should we revalue our assessment of the Greek slave? Is he, say, refreshingly honest, and to what extent are we alive to the possible excitement of casual sex across social and racial boundaries? That is to say, to what extent are condemnation and incitement implicated in one another in ostensibly condemning language? My second key passage (3.257-67) also turns on apparent inconsistency. nam si procubuit qui saxa Ligustica portat axis et eversum fudit super agmina montem, quid superest de corporibus? Quis membra, quis ossa invenit? obtritum volgi perit omne cadaver more animae. domus interea secura patellas iam lavat et bucca foculum excitat et sonat unctis striglibus et pleno componit lintea guto. haec inter pueros varie properantur, at ille

41

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre iam sedet in ripa taetrumque novicius horret porthmea nec sperat caenosi gurgitis alnum infelix nec habet quem porrigat ore trientem. For if the axle which is carrying Ligurian rock collapses and pours an overturned mountain on the crowds, what will survive of the bodies? Who will be able to find the limbs and bones? The whole corpse perishes utterly, just like the soul. Meanwhile his household is not worried; it washes the dishes and rouses the fire by puffing, resounds to the oiled scrapers, and arranges towels and fills oil flasks. The slaves are bustling about all this, but he is already sitting on the bank, a novice terrified of the loathsome ferryman without a hope of a barque for that muddy hole, unhappy man, having no coin in his mouth to offer.

Umbricius’ dystopic picture of the city includes possible fatalities due to traffic. One unnamed citizen is buried under building materials carried by a kind of articulated wagon we know also from Seneca (Ep. 90.9). His death is handled in two ways, first in terms of Epicurean materialistic physics, in the manner of Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura perhaps,46 and then, quite incompatibly, in terms of the standard poetic iconography of the River Styx. This second treatment, furthermore, involves a further complication, for it incorporates a Homeric reminiscence (the domestic household business carrying on in ignorance of his death reminds us of the death of Hector as described in Iliad 22.437-8) which has in turn some play against the way earlier in the poem the account of a tenement block burning down incorporates a Virgilian allusion (Aen. 2.311-12). Umbricius’ description of Rome alludes to the two most familiar epic accounts touching on the fall of Troy, the figureheads of the epic tradition. Were Juvenal’s audience meant to be swept away by this rhetoric and to see their living city as an epic nightmare? Were they to see some similarity between Umbricius and Suetonius’ picture of Nero singing an Iliou Persis (‘Sack of Troy’) as Rome burned?47 The picture is made more complex again with the incorporation into this Roman fire-scene of an adaptation of an epigram on suspected fraudulent arson by Martial, the selfproclaimed collator of real life (Mart. 3.52). The third key passage comes from the eighth satire and concerns provincial government. Here the literary background is essentially twofold. First, the format Juvenal uses in his address to Ponticus depends on a long tradition of advice to rulers in epistolary form.48 It is a form of panegyric and the advice is really advice in form only, its function being rather to characterise the kind of rule in which the recipient (allegedly) engages or will engage. Such addresses tend strongly to suggest both that power is a responsibility, and that the recipient is responsible in its exercise. Second, there is the content, for which Juvenal draws on the kind of material found repeatedly in Roman historiography, in the anti-imperial 42

2. The Generic Landscape speeches of non-Roman princes.49 These speeches regularly characterise Roman rule as a cruel and devastating tyranny, but they are, of course, to be read in terms of their context. They are not critiques of Roman power,50 but dramatisations of the more or less worthy opponents of Rome. Their content is in that way denatured by the generic context. In Juvenal’s poem, however, this context has been replaced by that of the form of worthy advice to governors. It seems that the mixture of the two genres could be genuinely subversive. Difference and genre It is legitimate to have used the term ‘genre’ here, although the one was a specific type of epistolary literature, the other a thematic element within the bounds of historiographical writing, albeit a thematic element marked out in formal terms (as speech within the narrative frame). We have seen that anthologising can have a role in the creation of potential genres, as evidenced by the formation of Virgil’s Eclogues. In that case we were dealing with an ‘anthology’ whose constituents were whole works, but, by re-using the term employed earlier in this discussion, kinds, one could remind oneself that there are different kinds of kind. What we need to make ourselves aware of now is how a kind is identified. The mind is prone to pick out similarities and make patterns and categories, and does so by picking out or observing distinctive features. The level of subjectivity or objectivity with which this is done is varied and depends on many things. In this context the difference between a whole work in a clearly labelled genre and, say, a passage within a work is merely a question of degree: the classification of an amount of text as belonging to a particular kind – whether new or established, whether even quite ad hoc – depends upon the perception of distinguishing features. These may be quite subjective: there is no exhaustive check-list of differentiating features, any three or five of which constitute a member of category x. There is no hierarchical package whereby, say, three out of five features from list A and any four from list B bestow membership. The beholder may see a feature that has not otherwise or before been remarked upon and emphasise it so that it becomes generically constitutive. We can list some of the areas in which differences are important, but must remain aware that combinations of differences are the rule. (i) Form: Under this heading formal features can distinguish such kinds of writing as epistolary, narrative, dramatic, discursive, listing. Epic is not the only genre in which narrative is used, but it is pre-eminently the narrative verse-genre. Satire does not have a distinctive form in this sense, though its variety of form in this sense is characteristic. (ii) Content: Under this heading various sorts of distinction can be 43

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre made, as between historical and fictional or mythical, perhaps tragic and comic. It is important to note that differences in thematic material (for example love, war, tricks, beekeeping, social behaviour) do not necessarily quadrate with formal (or indeed generic) differences. On the other hand, the insertion on any sort of large scale into epic of material from lower genres would encourage a different classification. (iii) Manner/style: In classical literature there is a clear stylistic difference between comedy and tragedy, and between other genres felt to be aligned with these two figureheads. If, say, an epic story were told in a style either not marked by standard epic stylistic features, or were clearly marked with other features, one would feel that a generic transformation was being effected. Juvenal’s relationship with epic comes under this heading and will be treated later (see Chapter 5). (iv) Size: It is deeply entrenched in Western literature that ‘epic’ demands a certain largeness of scale. Diminishing that scale generates other differences too. The epyllion is not the same as the epic. It has different emphases and values; Ovid’s shortened version of the Aeneid (Met. 13-14) is a tendentious interpretation of what the Aeneid might have been.51 Juvenal’s ‘Domitianic epic’ – the fourth satire – is about scale in more ways than one. Contrariwise, expanding the scale of an anecdote or epigram implies certain raised aspirations, broader parameters (as, for example, in elegiac expansions of epigram, or Juvenal’s huge sixth satire). (v) Function: We are used to generic speech acts (greetings, commiseration, congratulation); these clearly form a model for larger scale and more literary functions such as praising, recording, instruction, lamenting, and listing. It will be observed that some of these functions are inherently bound to specific forms. Recording events in the past is bound to have some narrative element. In addition, we can observe a number of literary genres with strong connections to such speech-act or proto-genres: the praise poems of Greek lyric, the narrative of epic, the abuse of iambic, and (according to its claim) the blame of satire. (vi) Metre: Under this heading one should also include the distinction between prose and verse. In classical literature history is in prose and epic in verse (although there are clearly similarities between the functions of the two genres). Furthermore, specific metres or types of metre tend to have pregiven colours (as very clearly with the vulgar comedy generally implied by scazons). However, it is not immediately obvious what one should make of the fact that epic, didactic, bucolic, and satire are in hexameters (or that we do indeed find Ovid writing ostensible didactic in elegiacs).52 (vii) Structure: One can conceive of many kinds of structural variety and difference, as in the use or non-use of ring composition, topic sentences, ordering by categories or chronology, but it is clear that differ44

2. The Generic Landscape ences under this heading only sometimes imply generic distinctions (as between history and biography). (viii) Allusion: It is widespread that allusion and reference is used in a programmatic function. Thus Horace refers in the Odes to Alcaeus and Sappho, the satirists to Lucilius, Virgil in the Georgics to Hesiod. Such references may be supported by less explicit allusions. Allusion is, however, a much broader phenomenon. Virgil’s cumulation of allusions to the Homeric poems, for example, do not only signal a modelling of the Aeneid on Homer, but a transformation of the epic genre. His allusions to Catullus, as we have seen, imply a thematic revisionism. Allusion in the satirists is particularly wide-ranging and this is a generically distinctive feature, as will be seen in more detail in successive chapters. (ix) Naming: Name types, formats, distributions, and frequencies tend very strongly to be generically distinct. This is perhaps particularly the case in classical literature where the names of bucolic are not those of epic, the names of satire are not those of elegy, and so on. There is an overlap here with other features: the fact that bucolic names stem ultimately from Theocritus (and therefore act as a generic marker) can be considered a particular form of intertextuality or allusion. The high frequency of naming in Horace’s and Juvenal’s satires seems to have a connection with their Lucilian programme of criticism by name, but it is also at a different level an aspect of both the content and the supposed function of satire. This topic will receive extended discussion in the next chapter. (viii) Miscellaneous: It is of the nature of observation that noticing similarities and differences involves an empirical and unsystematic element. Nevertheless, miscellaneous features can be important, as, for example, the numbers in Catullus’ polymetrics. Playing with numbers and the idea of counting is more part of the texture of Catullus’ polymetrics than most classical literature. There are mathematical poems in the Greek Anthology, and one could also point to the counting that can be seen in the Homeric catalogues of ships and heroes in the second book of the Iliad (and its successors in Herodotus and Thucydides). But there must also have been children’s counting games, and counting must have been an important part of the grown up world of Roman banking, trade, provincial government, and inheritance. This must have provided a resonant background for the games in Carm. 5 and 7. In this pair of poems Catullus divides the world into two polarised camps, the inhospitably serious one of ‘old men’, and another – one of childplay for consenting adults. Author-reader contract Depending on one’s intention or interest any of these – or many other things, such as the number of colour-terms, kin-terms or dialect – might assume a particular importance. But the poet writes for the poetry reader, 45

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre not for the antiquary or the linguist, or the scholar interested in the sociology of sex, and, furthermore, those are the terms on which the reader reads. There is an implied agreement in the act of reading, to the effect that: (i) There are different kinds of literature, a certain number of which are named and have a number of quite well-defined characteristics. (ii) These named kinds imply the possibility of other kinds, effectively creating invisible spaces in a generic grid, spaces which may be activated by a modification or specialisation of prior genre(s) sufficient to justify a claim to being a new genre. (iii) The features outlined above contribute to a sort of menu which will enable genre identification. Not that genre x has to be marked with a specific entry under each and every of the headings listed above, rather that under a sufficiency of those headings, sufficiently distinctive features are applied either to assign a generic label, or to locate the new work in relationship to other genres. (iv) The genre of a particular work, its relationship to other genres, provides some basic indication of the way in which it should be read, although this does not exclude the possibility of a good degree of residual ambiguity. Different literatures are literary in different degrees, and before returning to Juvenal and Roman satire it is worth setting the question in a very general light. What if we assume that the world is by its own nature multiple, pluralist and confusing? A literary artefact with any relationship to such a world could fly off in all directions, even if a particular direction were the author’s intended starting-point. The resulting brew of genres, whatever else it did, would wrestle with its own literary inheritance and with its audience’s cultural identity. It might assert, but would certainly also probe, that identity. In this way we come round in a circle: the claim to engagement with real or non-literary life made by all the satirists seems to be belied by their wildly eclectic literary pilfering, an intense involvement with issues of style, and a polemic engagement with the chief of genres; but at the same time this can actually amount to an engagement with the plurality of ways in which we see the world. There is, of course, a range of possibilities and degrees. While some ancient authors were directly concerned with immediate effects in the real world (Cicero’s speeches for acquitting clients, for example), this is only one point on a gradient and others had more consciously literary concerns. We find indications of this not only in the literariness of Roman verse, but also (and explicitly) in the declarations we find in the poets of being the first to annex this or that Greek genre into Latin. It is built into Juvenal’s comment on the ubiquity of Graeco-Roman culture (15.110). Given, then, a gradient of degrees of purposefulness and literariness, we 46

2. The Generic Landscape are right to ask to what extent the satiric frame, of all genres the most eclectic in its pilferings from others, can provide an organising viewpoint (an ethos in ancient terminology) and limit what sometimes seems an anarchic patchwork, or how far its concerns might really have been with issues of literary culture.

47

3

Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres Horace, Persius, and Juvenal, as we have seen, make an issue of criticism by name in their programmatic satires. Although the obvious significance of their pictures of Lucilius, in which this is a defining element, is evaded, names are still important. Not only do they remain an issue in satire, but we also see such distinctive patterns in how they are used in classical literature that their patterns may be construed as generic indicators.1 Since – as with other features – it is the set of differences between practice in one genre and practices in others that counts towards generic differentiation, it will be necessary to consider the naming-practices of the satirists in the context of the broader literary field. There are various problems involved in profiling the name-assemblage of individual genres (not least being that there is no absolute norm).2 Nonetheless one can see at the crudest level that the nameprofiles found in both Greek and Roman epic, in Greek and Roman tragedy, in old and new comedy, Greek and Roman bucolic, and of course satire itself, are generically distinct. The names of heroes in epic and related genres3 are not those of classical Greece or Rome,4 nor by and large of bucolic (which draws its names primarily from earlier bucolic); the place names used in bucolic are very different from those in love elegy; the eclectic mix of names in old comedy is very different from the naming habit found in new comedy. Historical and fictional narratives are different kinds of narrative and differences in naming are integrally connected with these differences. Historical narrative, for example, has more bodies of troops, fewer innkeepers (named or unnamed); the personages in ancient fictional narrative do not belong in advance to the audience’s knowledge-pool: they do not have the same resonance, and need to be brought into the discourse in more explicit or more consciously artful ways.5 Many more named characters of some importance in the narrative are found in historical than in fictional ones. Direct address and naming generally are more frequent in new comedy than in tragedy, as are terms of abuse. It is cumulatively a most striking feature of the names in the Eclogues that they circulate in kaleidoscopic amatory conjunctions, thus contrasting with the Catullan and elegiac tradition of addressing or musing about a single beloved, but resembling the patterns of erotic epigram and Horace’s Odes. This impression of the 48

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres generic distinctiveness of manner is increased if we bring didactic into the picture, since its generalised instructions go hand in hand with a particularly low incidence of names. Leaving epic and its closer relations aside, and tragedy, comedy, and bucolic, we come to a set of genres whose name-profile, human and geographical / topographical, is certainly variegated, but whose strong contrast with those other genres is very striking. Here we find characteristically urban (Roman) and contemporary names and settings: epigram, iambic, love elegy, lyric, and satire itself. In this list we should also be including the poems of Catullus (whether under epigram or iambic), Horace’s Epistles and Statius’ Silvae. With this group we are unlikely to find sets of features that line up to create neat subdivisions; various features – explicit rejection of epic, epic parody, political commitment, panegyric elements, criticism, and formal considerations like length (for example) – all form different patterns from each other.6 However, the contrast between the apparent contemporaneity of a predominance of names in these genres clearly does set the group apart from the larger genres (epic, didactic, tragedy, and comedy),7 and we can begin to see a core of more closely bonded genres surrounded by a more loosely linked penumbra. We see, for example, criticism in epigram, iambic and satire, rejection of epic in epigram, elegy, lyric, and satire, political commitment in lyric (Horace), some elegy and some satire (Horace), and an explicit claim to a purchase on real life in epigram, elegy, and satire. Although we can see numbers of these features combining in suggestive ways, anomalies cannot be ironed out. While the high rate of naming (and the kind of names used) in the satires of Horace and Juvenal fits well with recurrent elements in the programmes of the extant satirists – the explicit rejection of epic’s absurdity, and the claim to ‘realism’ – Persius, despite being a satirist (and writing in a genre which claims criticism by name is important) is very low on names. On the other hand, in Catullus, especially the Catullus of the polymetrics, we see some sort of resemblance to Lucilius and to Horatian satire. It emerges that what we seem to be looking at is a group interlaced with family resemblances which sometimes fall together in otherwise identifiable strands, but sometimes show contamination across strands or outside the group altogether. It is therefore necessary to consider, even if sometimes very briefly, this body of material quite broadly in order to see the context in which differences between the satirists need to be gauged. In pursuit of this I shall be making two general distinctions, one between real-world names (human and topographical) and mythological names, the other between those authors who aim at the texture of life and those whose concerns are filtered through an amatory perspective (though clearly not everything fits even this distinction with complete tidiness). 49

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Human and topographical names in Lucilius8 While it is true that Lucilius’ satires are fragmentary, we can observe that the fragments suggest free use of anecdotal material about contemporary individuals and a considerable variety of frameworks – narratives, dialogues, verse letters, a council of the gods, a parody of a trial, and so forth. We can also see that the characters involved often or mostly belong to the contemporary Roman world and that the setting is often Rome, but also reaches out with considerable freedom into the wider Roman world, and sometimes further afield into more imaginary spheres, as in the divine council in book 1 or the parody of Odyssean material in book 17. In general, the selection of names as far as we can see concentrates on more or less aristocratic Romans, though names suggesting lower status, sometimes Greek or servile, are also found. For what it is worth, in the fragments of books 26 to 30 there are some 40 human (mainly male) names, and 15 geographical names; in the fragments of books 1-21 there are some 70 human (mainly male) names and some 40 geographical names. Over and again in social and geographical settings and in formats we see foretastes of a Catullan character. Book 5 included a verse letter of complaint to one who let Lucilius down; book 14 seems to have contained an anecdote about a bad provincial quaestor; book 3 contained a verse letter to a friend about a journey to Sicily; book 9 contained an account of a walk and various sights in Rome; book 11 seems to have been made up of five or six anecdotes about contemporaries of Lucilius, some mocking, others more or less celebratory,9 and this variation between abuse and celebration of contemporaries particularly brings Catullus to mind. Human and topographical names in Catullus When we look at the shorter poems of Catullus – especially the so-called polymetrics – we feel that the corpus, like Lucilius’ satires, is liberally dosed with contemporary Roman names, especially male ones, and with places of the Roman world – Rome, that is to say, and after that places in Italy and beyond. In the 848 lines of the first 60 poems there are 122 human names (107 male) and 93 place names. If we add the short elegiac poems the impression of a well-populated poetic tract is reinforced,10 though the sense of place is considerably less specified. In the 320 lines of poems 69-116 there are 67 human names (53 male) and 14 place names. The people of Catullus’ world include poets, friends, personal enemies, public figures known to Catullus (including Memmius, Caesar, and Cicero). Of course, there is a very significant difference from Lucilius’ satires in the presence in Catullus’ poems of Lesbia.11 Here we have a female character with a role unlike any in Lucilius: although it is 50

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres true that there were apparently autobiographical erotic escapades in Lucilius’ satires, Catullus’ Lesbia is a sole-beloved (more or less)12 in an intense drama sustained over a number of poems. This difference derives a good part of its strength and significance from the way Catullus’ mistress is integrated into the ‘real world’ of the rest of the poems,13 a world which seems real in part because of its generic affiliation to that of Lucilius’ satires.14 Human and topographical names in Horace’s Epodes We might have thought that Horace’s Epodes belong to the same genre as Catullus’ polymetrics (both are called iambi by their authors, and Quintilian calls both Catullus and Bibaculus iambists at 10.1.96), but Horace claims to have been the first Latin iambist. More precisely, he claims in the Epistles to have been the first to transfer Archilochean iambic into Latin (Epp. 1.19.23-5), and Archilochus is in his writing kit as described in the Satires (Sat. 2.3.12). If we are to believe that Horace’s claim has any substance (as with his claim to be the first Latin lyricist, discounting Catullus as a precedent) the emphasis on Archilochus ought to be important.15 Despite obvious differences between Horace and his Greek model, there are resemblances. David Mankin draws an Archilochean picture of Horace as follows:16 ‘His audience, where he indicates it, is either his fellow citizens (7, 16) or his friends in the context of a symposium (3, 9, 11, 12, 13). These friends are real people, but his “enemies” , like those in early iambus, are mostly “stock figures” …. He speaks in his own person but also poses as an “Alfius” … and frequently says the worst things about himself (4, 6, 8, 11, 12, 14, 15, 17). Most of the poems pretend to be “direct speech”, but there is a “blame narrative” (5) and a “dialogue” that suggests this may also have been a technique of early iambus (17). Within other poems there is considerable use of narration and “talking characters” (4, 7, 11, 12, 13, 15).’ We may notice that two in particular of these resemblances between Horace and Archilochus are not shared with Catullus. Catullus’ enemies (unlike Horace’s) are like his friends in that they too are real people, and Catullus (unlike Horace) does not pose as a character with a name other than his own. In fact neither factor may be so important. Catullus could have read Archilochus as biographical (and naming real enemies as a generic feature), and while Catullus does not pose as an ‘Alfius’ he does present himself in comic poses (as for example in Carm. 8 with its roots in Menander and Plautus). We should probably conclude that in view of Horace’s emphasis on Archilochus in his claim about Latin precedents, the range of Archilochean metres he used must be significant. There is, however, another difference between Horace and Catullus, namely the kind of engagement with the world of the state that they show is different: 51

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre where Catullus refers to contemporaries of public standing it is not in their public capacity that he is interested. There is no allegiance to a political programme. Catullus celebrates and mocks people that belong to his world, whereas Horace celebrates Maecenas, Caesar, and a personal friend, Pettius, the addressee of Epodes 11, and mocks a number of named but unimportant ‘enemies’ – Alfius, Canidia and her witch-accompanists (Sagana, Veia, and Folia), and Mevius.17 The prominence of Caesar and Maecenas, and of political themes, is striking (and at least arguably Archilochean in a kind of way).18 There is another important difference between Catullus and Horace’s Epodes. Whereas Lesbia has a strong presence in Catullus, Horace’s loveinterest in the Epodes (as the Odes) is more plural and transient. Inachia, Lyciscus, Phryne, and Neaera are named, and there is the horrible woman of Epodes 8 and 12. In general, the human names, as in Catullus, assert realism, though there are considerably fewer: 40 human names, of which nearly half are accounted for by a small group of individuals: four are accounted for by Maecenas (distributed over four poems), four by Caesar (distributed over two poems), four by Canidia (distributed over three poems), and three by Inachia (distributed over two poems). The comparative lack of variety is startling and throws Caesar and especially Maecenas into prominence (and significance). Canidia, too, is prominent, but rather – like the anonymous horrible lady and the unnamed addressee of Epodes 6 – as a generic marker than in a politically meaningful way. Human and topographical names in Horace’s Satires Turning to Horace’s Satires, we feel a remarkable similarity to the Lucilian Catullus (the Catullus left behind when the proto-elegist is filleted out), and to Lucilius. One again receives the impression that the world of the poems is tricked out with circumstantial detail, including the names of people and places, and that this amounts to or is part of an assertion of a distinctive identity and difference. It would not be reasonable to try to produce a list of genres from which this difference is asserted. Inclusion or exclusion would be subject to too many opportunities for special pleading; very soon it would become a matter of accumulating comparisons and contrasts piecemeal. Thus there is a clear contrast between Horatian satire and epic, and a different contrast between Horatian satire and elegy, and a different contrast again between Horatian satire and bucolic (and so on). However, laying these contrasts end to end one can gather a set of descriptors for Horatian satire: it is urban, contemporary, unromantic, politically committed. One could probably go on, but even now it begins to seem that most of these descriptors have a cumulative direction: they point towards what we (though the 52

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres Romans had no word for it) would call realism, and do so as though this characteristic was part of the basic raison d’être for, or defining self-image of, the genre.19 We need to look at the selection and distribution of names in Horace’s Satires in rather more detail now. We find – as in Catullus – some friends (especially if we include the Epistles), poets, public figures (especially, as in the Epodes, Maecenas), but also a good number of names of unimportant figures as targets for criticism – moralists, freedmen, upstarts, money lenders – and people with typical or significant names.20 As with Lucilius and Catullus the cumulative impression is one of contemporary Roman society peopled with various individuals. Some crude21 statistics will flesh this out. There are 181 human names as against 27 divine or mythological names in the first book of Horace’s satires (a total of 208 in 1030 lines) and 133 human as against 46 divine or mythological names in the second (a total of 179 in 1083 lines. There are significant distributions of place names in Satires 1.5 and 1.9 (both forms of travel poem) and 2.4 and 2.8 (both involving the provenances of foodstuffs). We see straightaway that the overall selection confirms the impression of social and geographical realism.22 We see also that unevennesses of distribution are clearly visible. The dense cluster of names making up the list of the kind of readers Horace would like (Sat. 1.10.81), for example, reinforces the importance of a personal circle within a larger frame. Similarly, the distributions of place names in the four satires mentioned above contribute a sense of geographical rootedness to the whole of the two books in which they occur. On the other hand, the unevenness visible between the two books is both striking and suggestive of a shift in overall mode. While the number of names goes down a rather small amount, the number of human names goes down perceptibly whereas the number of divine or mythological names goes up quite considerably (largely due to the mythological setting of Sat. 2.5 and the mythological scenes in Sat. 2.3). This argues that concern with direct contact with the perceived human world is slightly less important in the second book than in the first. This difference goes hand in hand with the general difference between the two books which can be associated with the use of the dialogue form in the second, whereby Horace moves away from direct satire and towards more complex concerns with different ways of talking about the world.23 Although there is a difference between the two books of Horace’s Satires, it is small compared with the differences between the satires on the one hand, and epic, didactic, bucolic, elegy, and lyric respectively on the other. The concern with a sort of realism visible in the poetry and discussed in the programme poems aligns the Satires rather with Lucilius and Catullus. Against this background the level of political commitment expressed in the Satires is quite striking – and especially so since it is 53

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre rather criticism than praise that makes the strong appearance in the satiric programme. Human and topographical names in Persius In the 650 lines of Persius’ Satires there are 62 human names, proportionally already a somewhat low figure, including names of earlier writers, social type names, colourless praenomina, and historical names. The residue of contemporary-style Roman names is very small indeed. In this regard, Persius’ satires resemble passages of declamation, the letters of Seneca, or the Diatribes of Epictetus rather than any of the other Roman satirists – or indeed other Roman verse writers generally; his satires, that is to say, resemble those kinds of literature with some claim to have a strong interest in general ethical issues, and which have a thematic interest in the appearance-reality polarity. ‘Realism’ – if we can call it that – does not interest them because they have another reality to attend to. There is also no one in the Satires corresponding to Horace’s Maecenas – despite his Stoicism, Persius is politically quietist. Human and topographical names in Martial With Martial we see a profile more like that of Lucilius, Catullus, and Horace, although the number of human names (predominantly typenames of various kinds, for Martial claims to have no taste for personal criticism) is very large.24 This high frequency suits the realism Martial proclaims (10.4), especially the collage-like realism produced by collections of large numbers of small poems low in the literary hierarchy (12.94). The number of place names is also high, if not exceptional (though the number of names of locations within Rome is higher than found elsewhere). All this squares well with Martial’s subscription to a sort of anti-epic realism like that of the satirists (see 10.4). We should note also that the proportion of female names is rather higher in Martial, but this is in line with the tradition of epigram, where women are a frequent subject.25 Human and topographical names in Statius’ Silvae Statius’ Silvae may seem remote from Juvenal’s Satires, but they have a similar aristocratic population and both have a special relationship with epic. Both, moreover, use material from epigram. In some ways, we could see Juvenal’s Satires as inversions of Statius’ Silvae. The Silvae, despite their considerably greater scale, resemble epigrams, especially in their occasional nature, in the element of flattery, and in their metrical diversity. This diversity is not present in books 3 and 5. On the other hand, it is noteworthy, if slight, in the first two books and quite 54

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres arresting in the fourth book. This metrical evidence suggests that Statius is asserting a sort of continuity from Catullus and Martial to himself.26 As to the content, we have (for example) a marriage poem (1.2), the death of a parrot (2.4), a dinner party (4.2), villas (1.3; 2.2), the baths of Claudius Etruscus (1.5), Rutilius Gallicus’ recovery from an illness (1.4), the dedication of Flavius Earinus’ hair (3.4), a table statue (4.6), the tale of a tree on Melior’s estate (2.3), and the playful hendecasyllables to Plotius Grypus (4.9, recalling Catullus 14 and perhaps 50). As themes, these and others reflect the texture of everyday experience in a way analogous to the thematic consistency of Catullus’ polymetrics.27 There is a difference, though one which is perhaps easy to overstate: the variety of Catullus’ subject matter is only superficially centrifugal – Catullus himself dominates centre-stage of the corpus (as with Lucilius), whereas Statius’ variety clearly has much to do with the interests and circumstances of his patrons. As regards Martial, according to Bright (1980: 10-11), ‘Dozens of Martial’s epigrams touch on the same themes, events, and even individuals as the Silvae.’ In return, Statius refers to two of the Silvae as written like epigrams (praef. 2.16, referring to 2.3 and 2.4). However, while there is evidently much in common between Catullus, Martial, and Statius in terms of metre, spontaneity (whether real or apparent) of approach and content, and while Statius uses the language of Catullan modesty in the prefaces to the first four books,28 nevertheless the profile of name selection and distribution is very different – and different in a very significant way. Although the poems of the Silvae (except 5.4, to Sleep) are addressed or dedicated to individual contemporaries of the poet, living or deceased, and the poems are themselves framed around the person of the recipient, we rarely find in any of them other individuals (except occasionally Caesar, a wife or other relative). The result of this is that the poems individually are not populous in the way a satire of Horace, say, or even a very short poem by Catullus or Martial, or an ode of Horace, can be. Nevertheless, since the poems are moulded around the person, interests, and circumstances of the recipients, those individuals have considerable presence and the books (rather than individual poems) acquire something of the same well-peopled character. This is strengthened by the prefaces to the books, in which Statius reviews the poems contained and references to the individual addressees are gathered together. In addition, topographical names are very frequent indeed and help establish settings for these addressees both individually and collectively (there is also an element of stylistic elevation, especially in the use of geographical epithets – as we shall see in Horace’s Odes too). On the other hand, we meet in the Silvae a phenomenon quite disproportionate to anything in the other non-epic genres – a huge presence of mythological and divine names – indicating that a major generic contamination is going on. 55

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Human and topographical names in Juvenal With Juvenal we return to a satiric author. The immediate impression is that there are considerably more names in Juvenal than in either Horace or Persius. This is true in a superficial sense, for there are 331 names in Juvenal’s first book of satires, whereas in Horace there are 265 in the first book, and 276 in Epistles 1, and in Persius’ Satires there are 146.29 These figures include both human and mythological / divine names, but although this is true the sheer number probably still contributes a considerable amount to one’s feeling about the crowdedness of the respective authors’ poems. Separating out the non-mythological human names gives a rather less clear impression. Ranking by (human) names per book and names per 1000 lines produces somewhat different results, but neither is straightforward.30 However, one can see a tendency for naming frequency to tail off in Juvenal’s later books, and the same tendency (though less marked) in Horace’s Satires and Epistles 1. There is, however, a difference between Juvenal and Horace. One should bear in mind that a good number of the names in Horace are names of friends and other favoured persons and that many of these are significantly clustered – the writers of other genres in Satires 1.10, the potential readers at the end of 1.10, the fellow travellers in 1.5, and so forth. The world of Horatian satire is a world in which most people are, ethically speaking, more or less adequate, and where the socially and morally dysfunctional are made to seem clearly exceptional. The Satires of Juvenal create a very different world. Here the dysfunctional are in the ascendant, with the decent man a perplexed spectator at the side of the road – an impression nurtured by memorable street scenes (such as 1.37, 63-4; 3.236ff.). Over and above the impression of crowdedness, however, one needs to bear in mind two things: the nature of this population, that is to say the sources from which Juvenal’s names come, and the degree to which Juvenal’s practice varies.31 As to the question of variation, there are inequalities which are clearly related to thematic issues, such as the proliferation of Greek names in the third satire,32 a satire in which the protagonist, Umbricius, complains vigorously and at length about Greek infiltration into Rome. In comparison with the proportional figures for other satires of the first book, the figure in the third satire is not particularly high, but the satire is unusually rich in the names of both small Italian towns (coming in clusters, for example, at 169ff., 190ff., 223ff.), and Greek places. The Italian towns represent a sort of idealised vision of escape from what Rome has become, whereas the Greek place-names suggest the multiplicity of the sources of the tide of infiltrating Greeks. Another theme-related inequality is the mass of aristocratic names in the eighth satire, which concerns the value of lineage as against virtue. Place names, too, are high in the eighth satire, 56

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres because of the thematic element of governing provinces. In the ninth satire the unusually low frequency of personal names is perhaps to be explained by the fact that the bulk of the satire is delivered by Naevolus and he is characterised as thoroughly concerned with his own circumstances. Place names stand out again in the tenth satire, in the paragraph dealing with Hannibal, Alexander, and Xerxes, because of their expansionist aspirations. There are the names of the gods in the thirteenth satire, concerning belief in the gods’ role in punishing badness. Similarly, and in a quite straightforward way, the names of the councillors in the fourth satire reflect that satire’s account of an imperial council. Additionally, of course, there is a point made by the partial overlap with the councillors’ names in a fragment of Statius’ epic, de Bello Germanico, four lines of which were preserved in the scholiast’s comments on this satire. Also in this satire there is the thematic proliferation of names for the Emperor.33 Analogously, the frequency of Virro’s name makes a point in the fifth satire, where he is the addressee’s grand – quasi-imperial – but calculatingly mean patron. There is a perhaps more complex case in the tenth satire, in the section dealing with old age (10.188-288). This is the longest part of the satire and falls into two roughly equal parts. The first (188-239) has a Roman and contemporary setting. In it the exemplification of age is (very remarkably in Juvenal) virtually anonymous: the only name integral to the description in these lines is Phiale, the prostitute who will disinherit the old man’s proper heirs (236-9).34 By contrast, the other half of the section (240-88), while it ends with a flurry of historical (and almost entirely Roman) rhetorical examples, is in the main elaborately decked out with names from the world of epic – Antilochus, Peleus, Achilles, Assaracus, Hector, Cassandra, Polyxena, and Paris. Two others are given epic-style alternative names, Nestor (Pylius at 246), and Odysseus (Ithacum at 257). The anonymity of the Roman half of the section seems strongly to intensify the content of the paragraph – the anonymity and sameness of old people, their lack of identity and memory. The poetic names of the Greek half are harder to explain. There are evident touches of humour in these lines: Odysseus did not die before his father, but returned to be reunited with him. He is therefore a flagrantly inappropriate example. More strikingly comic is the image of Hector and his brothers bearing the corpse of Priam at 259-61. The cinematic use of the ‘part for whole’ figure in cervicibus (the ‘necks’ are the salient features of pall-bearers) invites literal visualisation of the 50 brothers lined 25 on each side with their necks straining. We might be tempted to take the two ‘old age’ sections to represent tragic and comic presentations, the grim Roman section as tragic and the whimsical Greek section as comic. Equally, however, since some of the Greek poetic names recall tragedy as well as epic, and since for the Romans real life was the stuff of comedy, we might take the tragic-comic polarity to be 57

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre reflected the other way round. Probably, since the polarity is ambiguously treated in the introduction to the tenth satire (10.28-53), the ambivalence here is intended.35 On the other hand, Juvenal’s frequency of naming does not always respond to thematic considerations. The low number of names in the fifth book seems to be such an instance. Although the Egyptian material might be a partial explanation for the low number of individual human names, this material does not fill the whole satire, and the figures for the book as a whole are very low. It looks as though we are dealing with a formal change in Juvenal’s approach to satire, and one emphasised by the proportionally high incidence of the names of philosophers and ancients rather than contemporary-style Roman names. There are, then, different factors involved in the inequalities of name selection and organisation in the Satires. Cumulatively, this helps distinguish Juvenal and Horace. In Horace’s Satires and Epistles we meet contemporary living figures, including Horace’s friends. Although there are some major figures like Maecenas, most are minor and often ludicrous. We also meet the recently dead (they are not usually marked as such) and here too most are minor and ludicrous. There are Lucilian characters, type characters with significant names, type characters whose names indicate their roles (Davus, Dama, and various stereotyped mythological names). In a number of unproven cases we may possibly be looking at pseudonymous contemporaries.36 Turning to Juvenal we find, as in Horace, type characters with significant names,37 names indicating social level or role (Greek names, for example, names of actors, gladiators and other performers, and generalised aristocratic names), a large number of literary names from various sources (including Catullus, Propertius, Virgil’s Eclogues, and Martial, the epigrammatist from whom Juvenal also took other material).38 There is, as with Horace, no significant evidence of cover-names or pseudonyms. On the other hand, there are features which sharply distinguish Juvenal from Horace: we miss a patron figure analogous to Maecenas (or the patrons in Martial and Statius, or Cornutus in Persius), or any names of people who could convincingly be called friends. Second, and this gives Juvenal’s satires a very distinctive character, we find a considerable number of historical names. We could describe the source of the historical names in terms of period – Juvenal uses Greek history, early Roman history, republican and imperial history. This may, however, be a rather misguided way of looking at the provenance of these names. Some were by Juvenal’s time standard rhetorical examples (Sulla and Hannibal, acknowledged as such by Juvenal himself) or had become widely disseminated commonplace figures (Socrates, Brutus, Curius, Fabricius, Decius, Catiline, Cicero), others come more specifically from the genre of historiography (Sejanus, Corbulo, Gracchus, Junius Silanus). The councillors in the fourth satire come – at 58

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres least in part – very specifically from Statius’ epic. We are also bound to notice how these historical names are intermingled irrespective of time and place, and indeed attacked as though they were Juvenal’s contemporaries.39 In a single paragraph the poet treats Cicero and Demosthenes as almost interchangeable icons (10.114-32), and in the next he treats Hannibal, Alexander the Great, and Xerxes in the same way. Indeed the Carthaginian Hannibal is, it seems, used as a Roman example (Graius in 138 corresponds to Alexander, barbarus to Xerxes, leaving Romanus surprisingly for Hannibal). It is part of the role of all five of these examples that they ultimately died because of their ambitions, and their death is therefore part of their portrayal. This, however, is by no means always the case: the literary figures in the seventh satire are required merely to end up poor because of the meanness of patrons, and so Lucan (Neronian) and Statius (Domitianic) are able to share the stage in a satire in which Quintilian (prominent under Vespasian) and Remmius Palaemon (a Tiberian and Neronian figure) too are equally present.40 Continually we notice that the historical names in the satires are blended timelessly both with each other and also with other kinds of names. Some samples will be illustrative. In a paragraph of the first satire (22-50) we have: the unnamed social stereotype of the eunuch (22); Mevia, a presumably aristocratic, but otherwise unknown woman appearing in the amphitheatre (22); Crispinus, probably an Egyptian who took a Roman name and was favoured, officially or unofficially, by Domitian and flattered by Martial (7.99; 8.48); a corrupt lawyer, Matho (see also Sat. 7.106; 11.34), referred to several times (coincidentally) by Martial;41 an atmospherically unnamed pair, the informer and the important ‘friend’ he informed against followed by a sample list of his frightened potential prey, Massa and Carus (notorious informers under Domitian referred to by Martial, Pliny and Tacitus);42 the Domitianic mime-performers Thymele and Latinus mentioned by Martial, who here stand for two unnamed Roman citizens; two unknowns, Proculeius and Gillo (40); two unnamed criminals (46-8), and – as a comparison – Marius, successfully prosecuted for extortion by Pliny and Tacitus in AD 100 (a case recently celebrated by Pliny himself; Ep. 2.11). Here the cumulative effect is of names from the Domitianic pages of Pliny and Tacitus mixed in with names from other sources, including Martial, and the low theatre, and perhaps from more recent scandal too.43 They are, however, all constructed as passing like a tableau vivant before the poet’s eyes as he writes. In the next section of the poem, there is a noticeable change in both the density and sources of the names. We find an unnamed husband profiting from his wife’s adultery in a rather Horatian scene (cf. Odes 3.6.21ff.); the young overwealthy show-off mockingly called an Automedon and his anonymous girlfriend; we find someone else who is reminiscent of Maecenas (a name familiar from Horace, of course, and historians, but also the moral59

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre ising of Seneca; Ep. 114.4-8); a powerful matron who is worse than the Neronian poisoner, Lucusta – a figure known from Suetonius (Nero 33), Tacitus (Ann. 12.66, 13.15), and Juvenal’s satiric predecessor, Turnus. This section is really very spare in named and present figures: Maecenas and Lucusta are brought in as comparative material, and Automedon is used as a mocking appellative. Nonetheless the Homeric, Augustan and Neronian flavours diffuse themselves into the larger context, a context which is – as in the preceding section – presented as actually there before Juvenal’s eyes as he stands in the street. The same sense of equal presentness is even more striking at the end of the satire, where the Lucilian Mucius and the Tacitean (or Neronian) Tigellinus are equally present as potential satiric targets. A few lines later the epic figures Aeneas, Rutulus (= Turnus), Achilles, and Hylas are paraded as safe targets, rather as though both they and the Neronian (or Tacitean) Tigellinus and the Lucilian Mucius are all waiting in the wings to come on stage and it is simply for Juvenal to choose which ones he wants. In conclusion: although there is in Juvenal a tendency for a Domitianic preponderance to assert itself often enough, it is both spasmodic and rarely or never pure. People from all periods of history mingle in the satires. This is, of course, inherent in the exemplifying manner of Roman rhetoric and rhetorical theory. It gives the historical names overall a sort of literary aspect. Many were traditional rhetorical exempla, and the Domitianic figures in particular had been given something of a literary reincarnation by the appearance of the books of Pliny, Tacitus, and Suetonius. If we consider the intermingling of figures from Catullus, elegy, Martial, and epic against this background we may feel that what we are seeing is part of the generic play that is especially present in the satires of Horace and – above all – Juvenal. We are faced with a constant shuffling of names from ostensibly immiscible genres. There are, of course, also the unknown names. They can be type names and may sometimes be significant,44 but the reader tends naturally to take them to be, if not actually the names of contemporaries, at least giving that impression. We have seen a range of genres – including satire, where it is repeatedly part of the generic programme – which use contemporary or contemporary-sounding names as an index of their connection with reality. In Juvenal these two elements, literariness and ‘realism’, are in strong tension with each other. We may believe that the ‘realistic’ use of names is, in Juvenal, another generic marker in the polygeneric amalgam of his satires. Divine and mythological names Over and above the appearance of human figures in this strand of Roman literature we have to take account also of the use of divine and mythological personages. 60

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres There is, of course, no straightforward distinction between the two categories of figure: heroes have divine ancestries or parentage, some become gods, and there are, in any case, different classes of divine figure (Jupiter, Priapus, and Circe, for example, are very different kinds of god). The gods of heroic legend may have the same names as the gods of cult and everyday exclamations, but have a different field of operation. In addition, the texts embodying the myths sometimes contain named minor characters introduced by the author. Despite all this, there is a recognisable core of characteristic names from the Graeco-Roman mythological story pool which includes well or even very well known ones such as Achilles, Agamemnon, and Ajax as well as much more esoteric ones. Outside epic, didactic, and tragedy, the natural home of such figures, these and names like these are mainly used to refer to the poetic personages whose names they are. When Horace (in the Odes), or one of the elegists, say, uses such names, he is simply drawing on the repertoire of poetic language.45 This is not exactly, or not always, true in satire. The names, it is true, normally refer to the usual gods, demigods, and heroes, but there is a tendency for the transfer into the new genre to be accompanied by an element of deflation, sometimes strong, which we tend not to find in the elegists or Horace’s Odes (or in Statius’ Silvae). As well as this, however, there is also a not very frequent, but very distinctive, usage to be found in satire, the practice of using such names as appellatives for non-mythological humans. The ‘Homeric’ Automedon riding the streets of Rome in Juvenal’s first satire is a good example. Certainly, there are cases of such a usage outside satire – Cicero’s armoury of insulting substitutes for names includes it (as for example his use of ‘Palatine Medea’ (Cic. pro Cael. 18) for Clodia),46 and we find occasional similar cases in the Horace’s Odes (Charybdis and Chimaera in Odes 1.27; melior Venus at 1.33.13), but in satire it gains strength and achieves something of a thematic value from the critique of epic that is concurrently being conducted. This is, therefore, one of the features that differentiates satire from other poetic genres. In the elegists too there is a negative attitude to epic, but that is because of their ideological game with its warlike aspects; the elegists are still free to infiltrate their own amorous world with names from epic. There may sometimes be an element of nostalgia, a sense that the world is different now, but even then allusion often bestows a patina of glamour on the contemporary context. By contrast, for the satirists there is a distinct tendency to a more complex, certainly a more open, tension: the reference to Automedon (1.61) mentioned above encapsulates the absurdly glamorised self-image of the contemporary delinquent, mocking it not only because of his distance from any heroic, epical world, but also because the ideal itself has something about it of a ludicrous and risible dream. 61

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Divine and mythological names in Lucilius As well as the diffusion of contemporary and contemporary type names throughout the satires of Lucilius (Lupus, for example, or Hortensius, Postumius, Nomentanus, and L. Cotta), mythological names too show up, though more rarely. Given the state of the text, it is no surprise that their functions are by no means always clear, although the leavening of tragic parody that we find throughout Lucilius provides a sort of supportive framework. There is, in any case, evidence of some variety in the way Lucilius uses divine and mythological names. In the fifth book there is a clear example of one being applied to a contemporary type when Lucilius describes ‘some Tiresias’ as old and coughing and groaning at the dining room doors (228-9W; cf. 230-1). An explicit comparison between someone and the ‘Tridentipotent’s’ (= Apollo’s) Hyacinthus is denied (i.e. made, presumably) in 311-12. There is also the straightforward mockery of people’s belief in Homeric monstrosities like Polyphemus (520-3). Evidence of use of divine figures on some scale comes in the first book, where contemporary Roman life is viewed through the format of a mock-council of gods (where divine names would have a natural place, and a few are visible in the fragments). Elsewhere there is a good deal less clarity. In the third book, for example (the base for Horace’s journey to Brundisium), Tantalus appears (136-7), possibly in connection with some discreditable incident on the way. We are told that in this book especially (Porphyrio on Hor. Sat. 1.10.53) Lucilius attacked, or made fun of, or scored points against the tragedian Accius, and this may perhaps be relevant here. In the sixth book an analogy is made between the situation in hand (whatever that was) and a Homeric rescue by Apollo when Lucilius quotes a half line from the Iliad (20.443).47 In the fourth book, Tisiphone has brought oil cooked out of the lungs and fat of Tityos (162-3W); other fragments suggest various possible contemporary settings. Some camp-beds date from the age of Deucalion in a fragment (284) in the sixth book. Rather more revealing, perhaps, is the parody of Odyssean material of which we can see traces in book 17: here Penelope (we infer) is addressed directly and Ulysses is named (565-6) and another fragment (567-73W) uses Alcmena and Helen in the course of deriding the possibility of absolute, unflawed beauty.48 Some of these examples, clearly, are trivial and clichéd. Instances like the parody of the council of gods must have included considerable play with divine figures, but mostly it looks as though Lucilius favoured variety too much to generate a large divine or mythological presence. Divine and mythological names in Catullus Mythological names figure hardly at all in the polymetrics of Catullus and not at all in the shorter elegiacs. Divine names are occasionally present in 62

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres both sets, more commonly in the polymetrics. Where they are found they are witty stylistic elegances, ornamentations (as Castor and Castor’s brother in the mock-dedication of Catullus’ boat in the fourth poem, or ‘either Neptune’ – salt or fresh, that is to say – in Carm. 31). The emphasis of the corpus falls strongly on the human participants – as it must have done in Lucilius. The lyric hymn to Diana (34) accounts for nine and the mock-epic search for Camerius in hendecasyllables (58b) another four: elsewhere Venus, Amor, and Jupiter make up a good part of the total. These too are part of the stylistic mélange which is one of the fundamental features of Catullus’ wit, though they are more recurrent and – at least in a sense – immediately functional. Venus and Amor (and the occasional Cupids) are poetically decorative, but they are also an obvious part of the iconography of love; the element of teasing incongruity in their use in such anthropomorphic poems is analogous to the whimsical use of formal generic patterns of some elevation such as the prayer (Carm. 2, 17, 31, 36, and 44), the dirge (3), and the sacral dedication (4). It is true that such symptoms of formal and stylistic elevation are unevenly spread through the polymetrics, but not that they are confined to the lyric poems. The libellus contains strands of distinct stylistic levels, but also each poem itself – iambic, hendecasyllabic, or lyric – contains a different mix of stylistic levels. There is in this an element of delight in variety and decoration for its own sake, and clearly wit is a strong factor. Symptoms of elevation, however, are also a sort of backdrop to the human configurations in the poems, pointing them up in different lights. This effect depends upon a sense of generic differences without expressing a strong or consistent animus against higher literary forms, for although elevated touches are often mocking in one way or another, they are so in varying degrees and sometimes (as in the elevation of tone in the hendecasyllabic Carm. 46) not at all. Divine and mythological names in Horace’s Epodes The number of human names in Horace’s Epodes is small (as we have seen). The number of divine or mythological names is not large compared to Catullus, say, but the proportion of divine to human names seems to be. In fact, this is largely due to the high figure in Epodes 17 (where it adds to the comic afflatus of the dialogue between the unnamed ‘Horace’ and the witch Canidia). Elsewhere in the Epodes, these names may elevate the poetical tone (Epod. 9, 13 [cf. Odes 1.7], 16), or suggest a degree of unrealistic exaggeration (Epod. 15). The usage is largely that also of the Odes. Divine and mythological names in Horace’ Satires Horace’s Satires, especially the first book, are sparser in this category of names than Catullus’ polymetrics, but their presence is more varied in 63

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre function and in prominence. Some are very slight and quasi-proverbial, such as the reference to Lynceus’ eyesight (Sat. 1.2.91) or the antiquity of Evander (Sat. 1.3.91). Marsyas, i.e. the statue of Marsyas, is hardly more than a location in Rome (Sat. 1.6.120) except for the whimsical personification. ‘Memnon’ (Sat. 1.10.36) represents a contemporary epic, personified as an epic hero. On the other hand, there is a number of more significant appearances of divine and mythological figures in the first book, integrated in various ways into the everyday fabric of the discourse, and to whose general effects such slighter or more fleeting references add support. In the opening section of the first satire a god makes a rather conversationally told and hypothetical appearance, offering to those dissatisfied with their occupations an instant and complication-free change, and thereby calling their bluff. This imaginary god, who turns out to be Jupiter (in line 20) and provides the momentum for the development of the rest of the satire, is on one level little more than an extension of everyday language, but at the same time we are aware that the episode is, nonetheless, a sort of depoeticised divine epiphany. Later in the same satire we see something rather analogous happen with the transformation before our eyes of Tantalus from a mythological figure, safe and amusing, into a contemporary Roman Anyman (Sat. 1.1.68ff.). Later again there is another similar move. After the quasi-programmatic treatment of Tantalus, it needs only a light touch for a scene of ostensibly recent scandal to become a demythologised version of the Agamemnon story, with the wealthy Ummidius playing Agamemnon to his freedwomanClytemnestra. The cumulative irony of these passages suggests that everyday life is not experienced in epic colours, that epic needs changing before it can really apply to us. The distance between epic and life is also reduced in a way which tends to undermine epic pretensions in other satires of the first book. The squalid delinquencies of primeval humans differ from the behaviour of Homer’s Helen only in that their names and stories are unrecorded. The cause of the Trojan war, Helen that is, becomes here no more than cunnus (‘cunt’; Sat. 1.3.107ff.).49 It is unusual to see the epic-poetic world compared with the time before rather than the time after, but the reductive effect is perhaps stronger as a result.50 In the second satire the idea of swapping epic names that has already been seen with Tantalus in the first satire is given another twist. This time a real-world girl who is presentable and free of complications becomes (in Horace’s bed) ‘Ilia’ or ‘Egeria’ – or any name he pleases (Sat. 1.2.125-6) – and thereby turns Horace into Mars or Numa. There is a double-edged effect here as though the poetic glamour of these names is sufficiently strong to bestow some of its magic on quite unpoetic sexual encounters, but at the same time the one kind of narrative is not too different from the other for some mud not to stick. The same tension is visible in a scene in the fifth satire (Sat. 1.5. 82ff.). 64

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres One night on his trip to Brundisium, the surely rather predatory and would-be fast operator Horace makes a fool of himself (stultissimus) by waiting for a girl to show up and have sex: when she does not arrive, still intent on Venus (that typical poeticism for love or sex) Horace falls asleep and ejaculates during the course of a dream. In the same satire, a little earlier, the travellers’ host nearly burns his house down by accident, and for a moment the scene resembles the fall of Troy with Vulcan (fire, of course) slipping out of the old stove and licking the roof (Sat. 1.5.71ff.). This is a more openly comic play with the epic cast-list, certainly, but, together with the invocation to the Muse (1.5.53) and the foundation-myth reference to Diomedes (92), not to mention the absurd ‘Cyclops’ who does not quite appear (63) in the exchange between Sarmentus and Messius Cicirrus, it contributes to an overall impression that the world of experience is a low-flying place remote from the loftiness of epic. This idea is extended further in the eighth satire where two more poetic gods, Hecate and Tisiphone, enter the world of the Satires only to seem as cheap and second-rate as the minds of the two poor and ignorant witches who call on them as they scrabble in a Roman bonefield. The epic pastiche in the fifth satire is sufficiently recurrent to have a strong cumulative effect. It is, however, already prepared for quite forcefully by Jupiter’s ‘epiphany’ and the Tantalus section in the opening satire, not to mention the programmatic discussion of epic in the fourth. Subsequently there is the mock-epic basis of the seventh satire (slight as that satire may be) with Hector son of Priam, Diomedes, and Glaucus vying as models for the human heroes, so that by the time we reach the ninth satire we are ready to see Apollo’s epiphany at the end of the poem not just as a closural allusion, but as (on one level of course) epicising the whole narrative of the poem as a heroic battle and divine rescue.51 Of course, it is not really like epic, and Horace portrays himself as a rather feeble presence: the rescue is amusing because of the disparity between the narrative and its epic para-narrative, but it is also a suitable culmination for all the earlier not-quite epiphanies in the book – Jupiter’s at the beginning of the first satire, the speaking penis in the second, the gods at the end of the fifth, Priapus (and in a different way Tisiphone and Hecate) in the eighth, and even the pest himself at the beginning of the ninth. The whole of the first book, although it is sparing in characteristically epic names, nonetheless uses them (along with epic pastiche and discussion) to keep epic alive in the reader’s mind as a sometimes amusing, sometimes rather ludicrous shadow. The second book of the satires has a noticeably lower total figure for human names, but the epic subset actually has a considerably higher figure. The increase in the latter class is almost entirely due to their concentration in two places: the sermon Damasippus serves on Horace (Sat. 2.3), and the dialogue between Ulixes and Tiresias (Sat. 2.5). 65

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre The mythological names and scenes in Damasippus’ sermon, like its content and manner in general, reflect the way of popular philosophy – a manner we can exemplify from the later Greek Diatribes of Epictetus. We might believe that this manner is being parodied here (and in Davus’ sermon in the seventh satire) and feel that corroboration comes from the fact that Damasippus’ thoughts are second-hand (Sat. 2.3.33-6), coming besides from the Stertinius whimsically paired with Empedocles in the Epistles (Epp. 1.12.20) and author of an unhoratian 220 books into the bargain.52 The reductive treatment of epic characters in the Tiresias dialogue may show this up. In the Tiresias dialogue we see an inverse image of the usual infiltration of epic features into contemporary discourse – here by contrast contemporary names, characters, and features infiltrate the ‘epic’ world of the poem. This is not just in the case of the ‘prophecy’ which draws the Roman story of Coranus and Nasica into the future tense of the Homeric scene, for even in the dialogue’s present, so to speak, Ulixes is shocked at the idea of showing deference to a ‘Dama’ (Sat. 2.5.18; 101) and Tiresias advises him to play the role of a (cross-generic) comic ‘Davus’ (Sat. 2.5.91) and to make ingratiating use of names like the obviously Roman praenomina Quintus and Publius (Sat. 2.5.32). Moreover, Tiresias describes winter in a pseudo-epic periphrasis in which a personification of Winter is substituted for by the Roman poet Furius (M. Furius Bibaculus). Although Horace is later prepared to make localised and ad hominem moralising use of Homer (Epp. 1.2),53 it would seem to be strongly reinforced here that epic cannot be used in moral discourse in a straightforward way, like that of Damasippus, but only in a radically altered state. This seems to be given a corollary by the extreme rarity of mythological names (there are some divine names in Satire 2.6, relevant in a poem where prayers are a structural and thematic motif) in the rest of this very human-perspectived book.54 There is, then, a difference between the two books of Horace’s satires, a difference of which his use of names acts as a kind of index. In the first book epic is something of a figure of fun, its sometimes ludicrous afflatus more or less concealing the essential lack of difference between its inhabitants and us, and also providing an entertaining decorative colour. On the other hand, the second book has less time for epic, and seems to have embedded in it a more astringently formed attitude. Divine and mythological names in Persius In the satires of Persius the high figure for mythological names (especially in view of the low figure for human names) seems at first sight to be very striking, but it is almost entirely due to the concentrations in the programmatic first satire and the programmatic part of the fifth satire. It goes 66

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres hand in hand with the case against grandiose literature. There is a handful of divine names in the second, where it is part of the thematic consistency of the poem – about prayers and true piety. In general, Persius is sparing alike with both human and epical names, and uses the latter only in the context of expressions of generic antagonism against epic and tragedy. It is a position which looks like Horace’s (and Juvenal’s for that matter) boiled down to an extreme degree. Only the use of Callirhoe (Pers. 1.134) stands out, suggesting both the name of a contemporary poem55 of the kind mocked in the rest of the satire and the name of a prostitute (the name is attested in Roman inscriptions and belongs to the right sort of class). This neat double meaning encapsulates Persius’ critique of epic and related genres. Divine and mythological names in Martial Martial, it will be remembered, is very liberal indeed with human names. Mythological and divine names, already infrequent in comparison with the other authors under review here, are very infrequent in comparison with the human figure. In the numbered books the flurry of eleven such names in 10.4 is exceptional, but is actually part of the expression of a rejection of epic substance and an espousal of an anti-epic realism like that of the satirists. In the De spectaculis divine and mythological names are considerably more frequent, contributing to the ornamental figuration of the panegyric (e.g. 15, 26, 27). Sometimes (e.g. 5, 8, 16b) there is a connection with the mythological charades of the amphitheatre56 which can in turn be combined with the conceit of Titus as attended and served by gods (6, 16b). This use of mythological figures, quite distinct from that of the numbered books, resembles what we find in Statius’ Silvae. Divine and mythological names in Statius’ Silvae With Statius’ use of divine and mythological names in the Silvae we find an alignment with epic, lyric, and elegy rather than with the satirists and epigrammatists. The numbers alone are striking, but in addition one must consider how the whole collection is deeply interwoven with epic allusions, colours, figures, gambits, and comparisons, not to mention Statius’ own awareness of his status as a writer of epic.57 I suggested above that the Silvae might be seen as expansions of epigram after Catullus and Martial, but it is clear that there is a thoroughgoing contamination with epic at work. The scale of the poems of the Silvae is one indication of this (Martial’s longest epigram, 1.49, is 42 lines long, and the vast majority are much shorter). The metre (predominantly hexameters) is the metre of epic. Of course, it is the metre of bucolic and satire too, but while connections with both genres have been suggested,58 neither fits terribly closely, 67

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre whereas to a reader aware of Statius as a writer of epic (something he draws the reader’s attention to himself, e.g. at Silv. 4.4.53-5, 88-100)59 the hexameter must have primarily epical connotations, as also the invocations to the Muse (always an epic or mock-epic gambit) at Silvae 1.2.46-9, to Erato at 4.7.2 (where the associations are explicitly with epic content) and the sea gods addressed at 3.2. As a poet, moreover, Statius is in direct contact with Apollo (Silv. 4.6.1-2). In this context, the frequency of mythological and divine names, and the foregrounding of numbers of the epic figures in the poems in which they appear, are strongly suggestive. Janus addresses Domitian at some length and prophesies eastern victories for him at Silvae 4.1.17-43.60 The river god Volturnus honours him in 4.3.67-95. In the same poem the Cumaean Sybil greets him as Jupiter come to earth (4.3.114-63).61 Against this sort of background the presence of Hercules becomes immanent in the statuette at Novius Vindex’s table (4.6), and the comparison of the people in the poems to epic heroes becomes more than decorative: it is a generic assertion. At Silvae 1.1.52-4 Statius compares Domitian’s horse-statue to Arion and Cyllarus; at 5.2.48-50 he compares Bolanus to Telamon; at 4.4.103-5 Vitorius Marcellus will outdo Theseus and Achilles; at 3.2.95ff. Statius imagines himself as Phoenix. In addition, the places associated with Statius’ addressees flatteringly embody their presence and properties (just as material possessions are made to do), but they are also given names, associations, and colours that make links to epic. There are analogues for the mythological presence in the Silvae in Hellenistic panegyric, and in Martial and the Eclogues of Calpurnius Siculus, and there are foreshadowings in some of the Odes of Horace, but the Silvae stand out among the works under review here as making the most thorough and unqualified assimilation of the contents of both a real world and an epic context. Divine and mythological names in Juvenal There is a stark contrast here with Juvenal, for he of all the satirists is the most antagonistic to epic. Perhaps there are political implications in this contrast. Epic was the most highly regarded poetic genre, and was repeatedly presented as capable of the most significant allegiance to the current political power; to attack epic may also imply an attack on the language of power (the fact that elegy had made epic its peculiar target is probably in some degree corroborative of this). Along with this more antagonistic position, however, we find in Juvenal a greater freedom with mythological and divine names than the other satirists. We can see this as a weapon in his satire on epic (as in the contemptuous review of mythological topics in the first satire and in the poets’ section of the 68

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres seventh), but also as part of the framework of the satires. From the time of Pyrrha and Deucalion, as Juvenal says in the first satire, or from the time of Saturn’s fall as he says in the sixth – this is the framework within which we are invited to view Juvenal’s use of mythological examples. As we have seen, he uses names freely from literature and history, and from a broad sweep of Greek and Roman history at that: the admixture of examples from the world of epic (as in the tenth satire) is perhaps a way of reducing epic to just another genre. Juvenal repeatedly subjects both historical and mythological Golden Ages to levity (e.g. 3.12; 5.57ff.; 6.1ff, 287ff.; 11.78ff.; 13.38ff.), as though the past is like the present (if generally harsher to live in), and the slighting of mythological names carries this on beyond the actual confines of such passages. This erosion of the standard contrast, together with the extended timeframe provided in the programmatic first satire, gives a home to a distinctive feature of the Satires, namely Juvenal’s use of mythological names as appellatives for the ordinary ‘contemporary’ population of the satiric world. We have already met the Automedon who shows off in front of his mistress in a chariot on the Flaminian Way (1.61-2). Here he is again: … fas esse putet curam spectare cohortis qui bona donavit praesepibus et caret omni maiorum censu, dum pervolat axe citato Flaminiam puer Automedon? Nam lora tenebat ipse, lacernatae cum se iactaret amicae. (Juv. 1.59-62) … the man who has given his substance to stables and lacks all the wealth of his ancestors still thinks it right to hope for the command of a cohort. There he goes, spinning his axles and flying along the Flaminian Way, a boy Automedon – for he’s holding the reins himself while he shows off to his great-coated girlfriend.

There is some precedent for this in Lucilius (the Tiresias at 228-9W) and Horace (see Proteus in Hor. Sat. 2.3.71),62 and, as already observed, it resembles a usage found in Ciceronian correspondence.63 In satire, however, the usage is particularly characteristic of Juvenal. Here is Umbricius’ neighbour in Rome, whose name (Ucalegon) comes from Virgil (Aeneid 2.312): … iam poscit aquam, iam frivola transfert Ucalegon, tabulata tibi iam tertia fumant: tu nescis; … (Juv. 3.198-200) Ucalegon’s already shouting for water and carrying out his last64 odds and ends, but below you the third floor is already smoking. You still don’t know!

69

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Later we find an Achilles who cures his insomnia by stalking the streets at night: ebrius ac petulans, qui nullum forte cecidit, dat poenas, noctem patitur lugentis amicum Pelidae, cubat in faciem, mox deinde supinus. (Juv. 3.278-80) Drunk and truculent, the man who happens not to have beaten anyone up is paying for it now, enduring the night of Achilles mourning his friend – he lies on his face, then on his back …

Then there is the use of Atrides for the Emperor in the fourth satire (4.65),65 the Prometheus needed to make the fish kettle in the same satire (4.133), and an African Ganymede serving wine to Trebius in the fifth (5.59).66 The Paris left by Eppia in the sixth satire (6.87) is the mime artist, a figure belonging to the Roman world, but we can clearly see the other Paris, the Homeric one, behind him – and therefore behind Eppia Helen as well. immemor illa domus et coniugis atque sororis nil patriae indulsit, plorantisque improba natos utque magis stupeas ludos Paridemque reliquit. (Juv. 6.85-7) Ignoring her home and husband and sister, without a thought for her country, the wicked woman left her weeping children and (the real surprise!) the games and Paris.

Later there is a Psecas (6.494) who takes part in the morning beautification of her Roman mistress, just as another Psecas takes part in the bathing of her mistress Diana in Ovid’s Metamorphoses (3.172). Thus the anonymous Roman lady – ironically enough – is a sort of Diana. The Hyacinthus at line 110, Bromius at 378, and perhaps the corruptible Osiris at 541 provide more fleeting cases. The same satire ends with a climactic cluster of such figures: Belides and Eriphylas, and Clytemnestra and her victim-Atrides people the contemporary Roman world and turn it into an epic and tragic battlefield in which (one imagines) Juvenal courses around on his Lucilian chariot.67 In scale, chronological sweep, and geographical range, and in its personnel, Juvenal has set satire up as a transformed epic, and marked epic itself as just another genre like elegy, epigram, history, and bucolic, to be ground up and recooked. Names in love elegy and lyric68 Lyric and love elegy share the urban and contemporary setting of satire and their differences from it further illuminate the generic patterning of 70

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres name profiles. They are more sparing of human names than most satire, but they are freer with mythological or divine names (in elegy’s case despite an anti-epic programme). There is an amount of erotic content which has a widespread effect on the name profile. Topographical names and epithets are also used to reinforce the impression of reality, but often additionally contribute to stylistic elevation. The comparative paucity of human names is largely a factor of the concentration of the poems in these collections on individuals, often addressees, who occupy the foreground in their poems. In elegy the relatively new figure of the elegiac mistress looms large, and the plurality of minor figures in satire finds little place in the intensity of the poet’s erotic obsession.69 Such other figures as we find are largely foils to what the beloved stands for – a wayward life of passion – and represent a life attuned to public (especially military) duties, the poetry of war (epic) as opposed to the poetry of love (elegy), or the temptations of infidelity.70 In Horace’s Odes the individual addressees are likewise foregrounded, and here too there is an ideological element at work, though of a different kind, for Horace’s use of the male addressees persistently adumbrates Augustan ideals and values.71 Here the potentially subversive element of elegiac eroticism is rejected. Horace does not follow the post-Catullan pattern of immersion in a private sphere dominated by a single woman (more or less), but upholds the more conventional erotic attitudes of Lucretius and Cicero, and the older-fashioned variety of female names found in erotic epigram (and perhaps Lucilius).72 Indeed, Horace is persistently involved in a polemic critique of elegy which reinforces the idea that the erotic element in literature has now become ideologically charged. Mythological names are comparatively high in frequency in love elegy and lyric. They variously intermingle the everyday world and the world of myth, and assert a degree of stylistic elevation. They both define themselves as not epic, typically in the recusatio, but show they are happy to draw on the epic tradition for material, decoration, scenes, narrative elements, figures, and stylistic features. In elegy this is sometimes a complex and uneasy matter because of its strongly voiced opposition to epic, and particularly so when the poet’s eyes are most open to the imperfections of his beloved. In lyric it is more natural: Greek lyric was a complex amalgam of various kinds of poetry including hymns, praise poems, wedding songs, and courtly symposiastic entertainments, and stylistic elevation, indeed grandeur, was part of its make up. Here we see two distinct genres with clear affinities in their thematic consistency, which nonetheless react against each other precisely within that area, i.e. in their handling of the core themes of love and the political context. In this we see something rather unusual: for the most part other genres react to epic (as indeed lyric and love elegy themselves do), but independently as it were. Here we see a more or less explicit admission of 71

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre in-fighting amongst the surrounding genres. Nonetheless, the idea that generic distinctions are reflected in naming profiles is again reinforced, and we can begin to see how all genres stand out in various ways from each other and from epic. Conclusion Three issues have a high profile in this chapter: criticism, the experience of the contemporary world, and the relationship to epic. Criticism or mockery linked with the use of names seems to be an important element in satire, Catullus, and Martial.73 This is not, however, a completely straightforward matter, for criticism by name is – to say the least – limited in Horace, downplayed in Persius, and equivocal in Juvenal. On the other hand, there were clearly also elements of praise or celebration in Lucilius and the Satires of Horace. Mockery with names, it is true, has a strong presence in Catullus in the form of personal abuse, but this is really only part of something else, namely the centrality of Catullus’ own personality in the poems, where celebration is at least as important an element. By contrast, criticism has only a rather peripheral presence in elegy, where it is an index of dissatisfactions with the beloved, and its connection with naming is much weaker. The issue of everyday life is also tied to the use of names, for the presence of contemporary or contemporary-style names is an index of concern with contemporary society. We see this in all the material here under review (and as an element in Virgil’s Eclogues as well). There are, of course, differences. In the satirists the use of names purports to be part of a critical look at contemporary reality, whereas in Catullus (and the same is true in some degree of Lucilius) the issue is framed in much more individual terms. In Horace’s Odes the use of names in general bears a strong resemblance to that of Catullus, except that there is a pronounced ideological element in the selection and organisation of the names. The male names are not just those of friends, but have a political significance as well. They revolve around the figure of Augustus and their presence allows contemporary social issues some airing. There is quite a strong analogy in this with the way in which the names (and not only the human ones) in elegy function as foils to the beloved (and again allow the airing of ideological issues). This ideological organisation may also apply in some degree to Statius (although the recipients should be seen as patrons rather than figures chosen for ideological symbolism; the political subtext is clearly more intended and functional in Horace and the elegists). Apart from the Emperor and Statius’ family, Statius honours ‘neopatricians, a novus consular, an immigrant (African) equestrian magnate, provincial Italian aristocracy, great and minor freedmen, new families advanced swiftly by Vespasian after the Flavian victory, Domitian’s 72

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres younger appointees, and older senators and equestrians living in glittering retirement’ (Hardie: 1983, 69). Statius (unlike Martial) is interested rather in formal praise of the public, official existence than in the private social lives of his addressees. Apart from the Emperor and his own family, seven of the 18 people honoured in the Silvae are senatorial, generally young men at the outset of their careers. Apart from Rutilius Gallicus none are imperial governors or advisers, but in about half the cases they are associated with Epicurean retirement or quies (which had in this period distinct political overtones, connoting acceptance of the political status quo).74 The varied collection of lives implied by the Silvae could be construed as a set of models for living under an (or ‘the’) Emperor – rather an inverse of the cumulative effect of the major names in Juvenal (see Chapter 4). As regards the relationship with epic, mythological and divine names have a special role. In the satirists it is quite largely a matter of generic antagonism. Lucilius, Horace, Persius, and Juvenal all indulge in epic parody and use names in pursuance of this. They all suggest that epic is remote from the real world, and (with different degrees of force) that writing epic is (therefore) safe. There are differences of emphasis, for Persius’ moralising critique of contemporary literature is unique to him, and the suggestion that there actually never was a glamorous world corresponding to the epic manner is hinted at in Horace, but very strong in Juvenal. Both Horace and Juvenal suggest that epic deserves no preeminence, but is just one of a range of genres, but it is Juvenal who insists on this in the most multi-layered way, and his introduction of epic names into his polygeneric population is one of the means used. In the elegists antagonism to epic is a different matter; despite their generic antagonism, the elegists yearn to invest their world with the glow – and parts of the apparatus – of epic, even if the real world of their affairs is often resistant to successful glamorisation. The mythological element in Horace’s Odes and Statius’ Silvae is quite different. Horace is not without irony (as in the Homeric teasing in Odes 1.6 or 2.4), but on the whole the mythological names embody generic allegiance to the concept of Greek lyric. They elevate the poetic aspirations of the poems and the presentation of the people in them. In this we could see a contrast with the elegists Tibullus and Propertius, whose attempt to use myth as a frame is (generically, because this is elegy and about selfish mistresses) bound to fail. We could also see (as with the human names) a foretaste of Statius’ panegyrics. The Silvae, it is true, resemble Horatian lyric (and include poems in Horatian metres), but there is more to Statius’ mythological names than just that. We might argue that the presence in force of mythological and divine names along with the preponderance of the hexameter in these avowedly impromptu pieces in different metres is analogous to the incor73

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre poration of a lyric element in the corpus of Catullus’ short poems. Statius is bringing into post-Catullan epigram a new scale and new material and this comes (and Statius lets it be known that it does) from epic. In contrast to the satirists and Martial, Statius’ mixture of the texture of real life and epic does not express antagonism. Clearly the poems of the Silvae are not epics or parts of epics, but they can be seen as expanded and epicised epigram.75 We have seen how naming profiles are involved in patterns that express and draw their significance from the attribution of difference. Elegy says it is different from epic, and so does satire, but differently. Horace’s Odes and Statius’ Silvae say they are like lyric and epic, but the Odes say they are different from elegy. These differences are generic, and we see here genres defining themselves in terms of generic labels. There are, of course, other kinds of difference. If we consider political allegiances, for example, we see more similarities between cross-generic pairs like Catullus and Lucilius, or Horace (in all his works) and Virgil, or Persius and Seneca, than between writers belonging to different times within the same generic tradition. A domestic interior by Vilhelm Hammershøi is very different from a superficially similar domestic interior by his model, Vermeer. In terms of the three areas under discussion, criticism, the experience of the contemporary world, and the relationship to epic, we have seen that the element of criticism by name is avowed by the satirists, but with at least a degree of speciousness. The human names in satire certainly express an interest in realism and the real world, but not always a straightforward one. Horace’s satires have a strong panegyric element not in Persius or Juvenal. Juvenal’s eclectic collection of different kinds of literary names evinces an interest in a very literary concept of ‘realism’. There is, however, an element of criticism which we see repeated throughout the history of Roman satire, and that is the criticism of other genres, and above all epic. Epilogue: self-naming Sufficiently broad outlines have been drawn to make sense of another special category of names in verse: those of the respective authors themselves. We do not find this in narrative epic. In didactic, we find it in Hesiod’s poetic initiation near the beginning of the Theogony (Theog. 22), and in personalised conclusions in Virgil and Ovid (V. Georg. 4.563; Ov. AA 2.744, 3.812). These are related to the convention of the sphragis, the final poem or section in which an author gives some autobiographical material as a kind of signature. We find self-naming in Ovid’s Remedia Amoris (‘Cures for Love’) too, as a marker of his status as an authority (RA 71, 72, 558).76 Outside the didactic tradition, we find self-naming in Lucilius, Catullus’ short poems, Horace’s Satires, Epodes, and Odes, the love74

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres elegies of Tibullus, Lygdamus, Propertius, and Ovid, Ovid’s exilic elegies, and the epigrams of Martial.77 It is absent from the poems of Statius’ Silvae and from bucolic poetry.78 On the whole, the usage is characteristic of the more comic, urban-realistic, and autobiographical modes. Amongst the satirists we find self-naming only in the fragments of Lucilius and Horace.79 The absence of self-naming in Persius is perhaps not the same as it is in Juvenal; Persius’ Satires do and Juvenal’s do not otherwise include quasi-autobiographical material, and in Juvenal the absence is in keeping with the rhetoric of anger (which excludes or does not require the presence of personal details) of the earlier satires, but outlasts it too. Juvenal’s own presence in the Satires remains invisible.

75

4

Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal The preceding chapter was preparatory to a discussion of Juvenal’s relation to epic and other genres. There is, however, a group of named figures in the satires who merit an account of their own first. These are the figures who have some significant role in individual satires as a whole, rather than merely local or contributory roles in the texture of the verse. Such figures, in formal terms, are primarily addressees and interlocutors, but narrative characters are also found in this role. Not every addressee has this kind of organic function in a satire (Fuscinus, Volusius Bithynicus, and Gallius in the last three satires clearly do not), but there is a significant number of cases in which one might say that such figures frame the satires in which they are found. It will already be clear that there is some precedent for this in Propertius and to some extent in Tibullus, where part of the function of both the beloved and of the other addressees is to surround the poet (the poet as the dramatic character implied by the ‘I’ of the poems) with strongly contrasted viewpoints and to act as foils to each other. In the case of the elegists the different perspectives centre on the friction between the public and private spheres, and this is integral to the elegiac collections. There is also the example of Horace’s Odes, where numerous addressees have a significance both in the odes in which they occur and also in the collection at large. All this can be seen as an evolution from the formal use of addressees in (particularly) epigram and Catullus. As well as this, there is the satiric tradition. There are large-scale characters in the satires of all the extant satirists whose roles hover sometimes rather ambiguously between foil and mouthpiece. The extent to which such figures are used varies. They are least visible in Persius (where we may think, perhaps, of Cornutus in the fifth and Alcibiades in the sixth satire), but almost omnipresent in the second book of Horace’s Satires, and quite frequent in Juvenal. There is also a formal aspect to be considered, since they may figure as addressees, substitute speakers, interlocutors in dialogues, or characters in narrative. Lucilian satire uses a variety of approaches – dialogue, epistle, narrative – and the characters that people these forms contribute a major element to the individuality of Lucilius’ use of these forms. Horace uses an equally broad range of formats, but in a more systematised manner. His first book 76

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal of satires includes discursive and narrative satires, his second relies heavily on dialogue-form; the first book of the Epistles contains twenty poems in the form of letters, and the second two (or three, if the Ars Poetica belongs to Epistles 2) longer ones. It is particularly in the second book of Satires and first book of Epistles that one sees the presentation of individual characters having a major role in individual poems. Here the respective interlocutors and addressees and their points of view are seminal to the meaning of the poems. In the Satires of Juvenal we see variety of form and person contributing as much as it does in Horace, but not in the systematised manner of Horace. Rather, we return to the Lucilian farrago of manners. I shall review the use of such major characters in Horace and Juvenal in turn. Major roles in Horace Horace uses individual figures around which to mould his moralising hexameter poems, chiefly in the dialogues of Satires 2 and the ‘letters’ of Epistles 1. Most of the figures have names that Horace’s contemporaries would recognise and know something about, and this knowledge would have made a contribution to their understanding of the poems. In addition to this there is the characterisation provided in the poems themselves; the poems depend on the interaction between what the audience already knows and how Horace presents and reacts to the figures. First, then, the characters of the dialogue-satires. Seven of the eight poems in Horace’s second book of satires are dialogues or reports of dialogues (Sat. 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 2.5, 2.7, 2.8). In one case neither of the two speakers is Horace (2.5) and in all the others apart from the first the main speaker is the interlocutor rather than Horace. The remaining satire (2.6) contains a significant dialogue scene in which Horace’s presence is implied and another speaker has the dominant role, telling the story of the Town Mouse and Country Mouse. The significant others in these poems are Trebatius, Ofellus, Damasippus, Catius, Tiresias (the other figure in this poem is Ulixes), Cervius (2.6.77), Davus, and Fundanius and Nasidienus Rufus.1 Horace’s audience would have known something from outside the Satires about Trebatius, Damasippus, Catius, Tiresias, Davus, and Fundanius, and about Maecenas and Varius who have supporting roles in the eighth satire.2 Catius, Damasippus, and Trebatius appear in Cicero. Damasippus and Trebatius may have still been alive. Fundanius was a contemporary and writer of comedy, Davus is a stereotypical name for a comic slave, and Tiresias stems from Homer and Greek tragedy. These would have been sufficient to give the audience a starting-point in a sense of reality, or familiarity, especially as the Trebatius who occupies the opening poem is probably the least distorted, parodic, or artificial in presentation. Ofellus is introduced in his satire as though he would not be 77

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre familiar to the audience, but Horace’s assertion (Sat. 2.2.112) that as a boy he knew Ofellus brings him into line. The treatment of these figures has to be seen first of all in the context of the tradition of dialogue-writing. In the recent past Cicero had written philosophical and literary-theoretical dialogues involving real people. Here, as in Horace, the conversations were not historical.3 The tradition goes back to Plato’s Socratic dialogues, and Platonic models are visible for Horace’s fourth and eighth satires, and in a more generalised way for the dinner conversations exemplified in the tale of the two mice in the sixth. There is also the reference to Plato at the beginning of the third satire in the context of literary models (it is unlikely that the comedy writer is meant here). Taking this into consideration with the posture Horace takes in the dialogues in which he is one of the actors, it has seemed compelling to see Socrates as Horace’s role model4 (adding to and/or replacing the other role models brought up at various points in the satires: Lucilius, Horace’s father, etc.). However, although it is commonly taken that Horace is Socrates, there is no guarantee that he is an adequate Socrates. I will be suggesting that the interlocutors are not necessarily so very laughable. Rather than the interlocutors enacting the role of the Platonic stooges whose inadequacies are revealed by Socrates’ ironically non-judgemental questions, I would say that in writing these satires Horace presents himself as a man assuming a Socratic posture, but one whose adequacy for the role is variable. Satiric themes, indeed sometimes the same themes as in the first book, are thus given an ambivalent treatment.5 Satires 2.1 This ambivalence is weakest in the opening satire of the book. Here Horace has a discussion about writing satire. The interlocutor is C. Trebatius Testa,6 a iurisconsultus (legal adviser) and friend of Cicero (Cic. ad Fam. 7.6-22). His legal persona and his sense of humour7 go a long way towards explaining the Horatian dialogue in which he appears. It is framed as a legal consultation. Whimsically, this is converted into both a medical consultation (Sat. 2.1.5-9), and a Callimachean recusatio in which Trebatius takes Apollo’s role. As Muecke points out (1995: 209), Trebatius’ short replies are practical and lawyer-like, but Horace continually goes off on other tacks – indeed he seems to have the flimsiest case possible, peppered with loopholes and weak arguments. In formal terms, Horace outwits Trebatius at the end of the poem by means of an equivocation on a point of law;8 it is part of the fun of the poem that Trebatius has already outwitted Horace on a point of poetics earlier in the poem by turning Horace’s programmatic figurehead around, using Lucilius as a model not for satire, but for praise-poetry.9 78

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal Satires 2.2 It is with the second satire that the ambivalence of the ‘Socratic’ method begins to emerge. Here is a figure whose historical reality the audience has to take on trust, and who is therefore entirely dependent on Horace’s presentation of him. What Ofellus says himself is confined to the final section of the poem (Sat. 2.2.116-36), a small but important section which gives a perspective for viewing the rest. All the preceding part is Horace’s second-hand report of Ofellus’ precepts (cf. Sat. 2.2.2-3). We might rather take Horace’s disclaimer (nec meus hic sermo est; ‘It isn’t me speaking here’) as a device to soften the message by suggesting that it is one Horace needs to come to grips with as well as the audience. Ultimately, however, we may feel that this draws attention to the difference between Horace’s reproduction of Ofellus’ views and the direct presentention in Ofellus’ ‘own words’ at the end. I would like to suggest that Ofellus’ account of the simple life acquires credibility from the realistic circumstances it describes. It is, moreover, a congenial picture because of its emphasis on sociability. There is both fun and endurance here. Ofellus’ ‘simple life’ makes Horace’s version look like a rather idle and luxurious towndweller’s half-baked attempt to rehash some clichés. The satire is perhaps less about the excessively luxurious lifestyle than about derivative moralising.10 When Horace wishes that he could have lived in the old days when boar was eaten high (because it was better to keep it for a late guest than eat it on one’s own while still fresh; Sat. 2.2.92-3), the reader may suspect that self-deception lies behind the nostalgia, and recall the way dissatisfied people hankered after other lives at 1.1.3-19. The reader may also be aware that later in the book Davus accuses Horace of precisely this. Satires 2.3 and 2.7 The third and the seventh satires need to be considered together. In each a named character lectures Horace on a Stoic paradox. In each the lecture becomes a direct criticism of Horace himself. Damasippus, according to Cicero, was an agent in the purchasing of estates and works of art (ad Att. 12.29, 33, ad Fam. 7.23). According to Horace he was ruined, but saved from suicide by a lecture from Stertinius the Stoic, a lecture which he purveys (with what accuracy we are left ignorant) in turn to Horace. Davus is a stock name for a comic slave (cf. Sat. 2.5.91); Davus has learned some material from the Stoic Crispinus’ porter and has been waiting for the courage to say it to Horace. Both characters have something comic or absurd about them in Horace’s presentation, and neither’s lecture is original – indeed we might expect both to be parodies in part or whole of Stoic moralising. There are, however, curiosities. In the first place, both Damasippus and 79

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Davus use the Horatian manner specifically of the Horatian lectures that open the first book. Damasippus uses the same kind of lecturing gambits as are found there11 – analogies, anecdotes, examples, fable, and myth. Davus uses an indirect introduction with examples as Horace does in all three of the opening satires of the first book. Davus’ contrary Priscus is very like Horace’s changeable Tigellius (Sat. 1.3.1ff.). He turns to the subject of his speech via an intervention from Horace, just as Horace turns to his subject via interlocutions at Satires 1.2.23 and 1.3.19-20 (and, for that matter, Horace’s version of Ofellus’ discourse at 2.2.7). Davus’ opening shot against Horace is like Horace’s argument at 1.1.19ff. Both Damasippus and Davus are images of Horace as satirist. Not only that, but when they criticise Horace he resents it just as the victims (and potential victims) of satire do in his own apologies for satire (Sat. 1.4, 2.1): having tried to silence Damasippus with increasing irascibility, he finally does so only by pretending to concede; as for Davus, he had better leave off, Horace says at the end of the poem, or he will (as slave – and despite the freedom of the Saturnalia) be punished.12 In these two poems in particular moral judgements are made and invited, but they prove tricky to pursue. The ethical critic, generally speaking, has a tactical problem. If he criticises us (the audience) directly, we evade the point by thinking his criticism unrealistic – the satirist is too good to be of this world. On the other hand, if he criticises other people, we are free to go along with the criticism and accept the scapegoat provided by it. Our own sense of being better than other people in some respect at least, and therefore good enough to get by, is reinforced. In these two poems Horace puts himself in the role of the audience of the first book of his Satires, and thereby makes himself a figure for the audience to identify with: to the extent that we have doubts about his attempt to evade criticism we begin (potentially) to question our own moral imperviousness. Satires 2.4 In the fourth satire the Platonic model is clear, for the teasing of Catius – in particular about the authorship of the lecture he goes on to deliver – is reminiscent of the Phaedrus.13 This puts Horace in a very clear Socratic stance and we are invited to think that Catius is somehow unsatisfactory – too devoted to food perhaps, or materially obsessed. There was a long tradition of instructional literature in Greek and Latin, and more particularly with regard to this poem a long tradition of instructional poetry. Standard subject matters include farming and astronomical phenomena, but there are many more areas covered, such as snake-bites and atomic physics. There had also long been a broad strain of food-related material in Roman literature, especially in moralising litera80

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal ture,14 and these two strains, the didactic and the culinary, are blended in this poem. We could look at the poem in formal terms like these and see it as a Latin experiment in form and content,15 but the context of the book in which it comes, and the broader generic background, lead us to expect some ethical element. Can we, then, see Catius as purveying an unbalanced key to the question of life? The content of Catius’ lecture, on its own terms, appears to be quite unobjectionable. What Catius says is generally orderly (reflecting the course of a Roman dinner) and apparently sound enough.16 An interest in food, its preparation and presentation, is, in itself, quite innocuous. In terms of didactic literature, one presumably did not need to be excessively interested in snake-bites to be part of Nicander’s intended audience for his didactic poem on the subject, nor in astronomy to read Cicero’s version of Aratus’ Phaenomena. It is perhaps no more than amusing that Catius’ claim to be the first to serve Alban grapes with apples and wine-lees and tartar, and white pepper and black salt on little dishes (Sat. 2.4.73-5), could almost be a parody of the frequent (and often tendentious) claims to be the first to write this or that kind of literature in Latin that we find in this period – including Horace’s own later claim to be the first to have transferred lyric and iambic into Latin.17 This, however, is a long way from making Catius a symptom of flaws in society. If Horace is a Socrates in this Socratic dialogue, he falls short of anything more than a possibly amiable tease.18 The poem may, however, also be a joke at the expense of the foodmoralising which is part of its background.19 Satires 2.5 and 2.6 Tiresias and Ulixes (Sat. 2.5), and the minor figure Cervius (2.6.77), need little comment. As regards the Homeric satire it is enough to say here that Tiresias’ advice is cynical (although sound in its own terms), and that the naïve Ulixes is more or less ready to accept it: there is no figure in the poem who acts as an ironic Socrates allowing the other to reveal his own inadequacies. As regards the other satire, Cervius is not such a large-scale character as the others in the second book, but he still has his significance. He tells the paradigmatic concluding tale of the Town and Country Mouse. The idea of the simple life is blended with the element of the Town-Country contrast which is conventional in Roman moralising and important throughout this particular poem,20 and Cervius’ tale illustrates the moral. Although it has a sophisticated humour in its telling,21 that (of course) is Horace’s work. If we look at how Horace presents Cervius’ telling of it, we notice that Cervius is old (the name suggests the proverbial longevity of stags – cervi – in Latin; cf. Juv. 14.251) and tells anilis fabellas (Sat. 2.6.77-8, ‘old wives’ tales). This particular old wives’ tale is a fable – as though Cervius is close to 81

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre his second childhood – and there is a hint that he regularly trots out this and other such tales. There is also a discrepancy with the preceding context: Horace has said that at his place in the country the conversation is not about fripperies such as other people’s town and country houses (Sat. 2.6.71); however, despite its moral dimension, that is what Cervius’ tale is, both at the superficial level of its content, and at the level of its being a response to comments about someone’s money (78). Yet again in the dialogue part of this poem we find the direction of the apparent moral content less precise in its aim than we expect. Satires 2.8 The last poem of the book is the most deeply evasive, and therefore deserves a fuller treatment. In a replay of the basic outline of Plato’s Symposium,22 Horace meets a friend, Fundanius, who reports the events at a drinking and dinner party given by one Nasidienus Rufus. Fundanius, we know, was a comic poet (Hor. Sat. 1.10.41) and we know too how Horace presents satire and comedy as related (Sat. 1.4). We might, therefore, expect that Fundanius represents a point of view like Horace’s,23 and that his negative presentation of Nasidienus justifies our trying to make additional negative inferences. Following this line we might see Nasidienus as analogous to the social manipulator in Sat. 1.9.24 The setting of the poem reinforces the reader’s desire to see the poem from an ethical angle: the dinner party is often a symbolic element in Roman literature.25 Food, moreover, is an important element in Roman moralising, and in this book of satires. As a literary motif the dinner is significant because of its social function and symbolism. Intimately tied in with the workings and expression of amicitia (‘friendship’), the occasion embodied the gathering together of fellow-citizens to share food; by the seating arrangement it embodied also both social unity and social grading. The dining room was further within the house than the hall – which those who came to the morning salutatio26 would enter – and therefore represented a privileged place.27 Over and above this, since the figure of Maecenas is integrally linked with the theme of amicitia in (especially) Satires 1.5, 1.6, 1.9, and 2.6, a dinner poem in which Maecenas appears inevitably suggests that amicitia will be important in the poem. These considerations make it even more tempting to take Nasidienus as one who attempts to use the bonds of amicitia improperly, i.e. for his own selfadvancement. There is, indeed, irony at the expense of Nasidienus, but it is less than clear that it is that kind of irony, or that it is the only level of irony in the poem. Certainly it is ironic that when the awning collapses on top of the meal it does not appear to be the attempts of his own supporter (2.8.25-6) that cheer up the weeping host (although Fundanius says so at 59-61), but 82

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal the ironic rhetorical consolation-speech of Maecenas’ ‘shadow’ Servilius Balatro (Sat. 2.8.64ff.). It is clear that Nasidienus is too imperceptive to tell that he is the object of mockery, but it is less clear how justified the mockery is. Nasidienus’ dinner is neither mean nor careless. He explains things about the food and its preparation very much in the manner of Catius in the fourth satire;28 this may not make him a good or entertaining host (and, indeed, this rather than the food itself is what Fundanius criticises at 92-3), but it does not make him a culpable social manoeuvrer.29 It is true that Fundanius tells Horace (us) that Nasidienus bewailed the apparent demise of his dinner party as though it were the untimely loss of a son (58-9), but it is part of the comedian Fundanius’ manner to exaggerate comic effects (as when the collapse itself is dressed up as a mock-epic incident; 54-6). On the other hand, both of Maecenas’ shadows, Vibidius and Balatro, may seem to us boorish in their attitude to the host’s wine (33ff.; cf. 81ff.) and both are mocking at 81ff. Fundanius himself identifies with the mocking attitude and at the end of his account describes the guests’ desertion of the unfinished dinner merely as revenge (93). Maecenas himself, although the occasion is a dinner and conversation is a generic expectation, says nothing – according to Fundanius’ account – even when addressed by Nasidienus (16-17). In the very last lines Fundanius says, ‘We got our revenge, getting away without tasting anything, as if Canidia had breathed on it worse than African snakes.’ Canidia appears in the Epodes (3, 5 and 17) and the first book of Satires: Fundanius’ use of her name here suggests either that Fundanius assumes that Horace and he will take the same point of view, or that Horace has put the name in Fundanius’ mouth as a seal of approval.30 It is, however, hard for us not to feel that the behaviour of Fundanius and the other fugitives is less than ideal,31 unless we construe it as a comically exaggerated tale told by Fundanius at his own expense. In this case we could interpret the comic approach as allowing the lack of ethical simplicity to represent a form of realism. The apparent absence of satirical criticism may defy the reader’s expectations of food satire, but the reader’s expectations have surely been defied throughout the second book. Horace’s multiple perspectives The dialogue form in the second book of satires allows other points of view to be set against Horace’s, with the result that the contents are refracted in a complex way. As we have seen, the characters involved would all be familiar to the audience in one way or another (in the case of Nasidienus one has to assume this to be so), and most were real people. In their individual dramas and in their differences from each other and from Horace, they emerge as abrasive and the conflict of viewpoints is dynamic. We are not entitled to extract simple straightforward moral lessons, perhaps espe83

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre cially in the case of Fundanius, whose poem ends the collection, and whose viewpoint – which Horace makes us think he shares – is comic and not moralising. In all this we may feel that contact with real experience is an issue, that different literary decorums – especially comic and moralising – are being put in the scales against each other. This process can be seen as a development from the more singular perspective of the first book (especially if we look at Damasippus’ and Davus’ lectures using the format of Saires 1.1-3 against Horace). It can also be seen as fulfilling the implications of the opening lines of the second book about the difficulty of getting the degree of criticism right, and is carried still further in the first book of the Epistles, where the main themes (friendship, philosophy, poetry, and the town versus country contrast) are set in the multiple and mutually interacting perspectives of the different personalities and attitudes of the addressees.32 Major roles in Juvenal Persius does not use major figures as filters or refractors in his satires to any significant degree. Bassus and Macrinus do not have more than a formal or local significance in their satires, though they do show that the format of the Horatian epistle (specifically as found in the first book) has been naturalised in satire; Cornutus’ importance is mainly confined to the introduction of the fifth satire; we are left with the way in which Alcibiades acts as a foil to Persius’ Socrates in the fourth satire. In the importance of the role of the addressee and interlocutor Juvenal (as in various other respects), shows more similarity to Horace, for there is a good number of persons whose identity, name or presence affects the way the relevant satire needs to be read. There is a difference, however: Horace followed the tradition of the prose dialogue, using (predominantly) real contemporary or near-contemporary figures for his dialogues (and epistles).33 The significant figures in Juvenal’s Satires are less consistently drawn from specific individuals, more likely to be types or historical figures.34 The names of Juvenal’s major characters are more in line with his use of names generally. The following list includes both such major figures, and also other figures who have a formally equivalent status. The more important will emerge in the course of discussion. Satire 3 Satire 4 Satire 5 Satire 6 Satire 7 Satire 8

Umbricius Crispinus and the councillors Trebius and Virro (?Ursidius) Postumus Telesinus Ponticus, Rubrenus Lappa 84

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal Satire 9 Satire 11 Satire 12 Satire 13 Satire 14 Satire 15 Satire 16

Naevolus and Virro Persicus Corvinus and Catullus Calvinus Fuscinus Volusius Bithynicus Gallius Juvenal Satires 3

Umbricius is the interlocutor in the third satire, a dialogue of some three hundred lines. Umbricius’ (single) speech occupies the bulk of the piece and Juvenal remains silent at the end. In formal terms this structure resembles one of Horace’s dialogues in particular, the third satire of book 2, which is roughly of the same length (it is Horace’s longest) and in which Damasippus does the bulk of the talking (although in this case Horace does get the last word, albeit a rather lame one). Moreover, although Damasippus is sometimes interrupted by Horace, his speech is essentially a lecture or sermon, i.e. a continuous unity, just as Umbricius’ speech is essentially a declamatory exercise, i.e. a continuous unity. One has to ask how we are meant to take Umbricius, and how we know. Is he, say, simply a mouthpiece for Juvenal, or actually a satiric target? There are three overlapping issues to concentrate on: the way in which he is set up by the poet; the content of his speech; and finally his name. As to the first issue, we note that we are told in the first lines that he is an amicus, that Juvenal is upset by his departure, and that he is leaving Rome for Cumae (close, Juvenal points out, to Baiae). All these pieces of evidence are important. The opening statement, quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici / laudo tamen, … appears to mean something like ‘Although upset by the departure of my old friend, still I praise him …’, but amicus is thematic in the first book, reaching its culmination in the last word of its last satire (5.173);35 if it were assimilated to the thematic use it would mean ‘client’ rather than ‘friend’ – and how exactly might we justify not doing this? Laudo when used elsewhere by Juvenal is virtually always ironic,36 and confusus might as well mean ‘confused’ or ‘bewildered’ as ‘upset’.37 Umbricius’ destination itself is ‘doorway’ to Baiae – but Baiae had had a bad reputation since the late Republic.38 Of course, Umbricius is actually going to Cumae, but since his speech makes much of fleeing Greeks and vice, the fact that Cumae was the oldest Greek colony in Italy and still Greek in influence contrasts oddly with the numerous small Italian towns Umbricius mentions wistfully in his speech.39 As to the content of Umbricius’ speech, we note that in matter and manner the speech resembles a declamatory exercise.40 The remains of a declamation by Papirius Fabianus which are preserved for us in Seneca’s 85

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Controversiae (2.1.10-13) have much in common with the latter parts of Umbricius’ speech. In corroboration of this we may observe that Umbricius’ name – which we learn immediately before his speech begins – suggests umbra (‘shade’) and both that word itself and various derivatives, all meaning ‘shade’ or ‘shady’ (umbraculum, umbratilis, umbraticus, umbrosus) can all connote the unreality of the rhetorical schools and, furthermore, that at the very opening of Umbricius’ speech, in the same line that we learn his name, he refers to ‘the decent arts’ (artibus honestis; 3.21), which means that sort of education.41 Other authors (and Juvenal himself) deride declamation for its lack of contact with reality,42 and perhaps we are tempted to read Umbricius’ speech as the product of one who has listened to too much of it. There is, however, a curious fact about the poem’s introduction which leads us to qualify this. The speech falls into two halves, the first concerning inadequate returns (21-189), the second a nightmare picture of the physical dangers of living in Rome (190-267). The themes of the first half are introduced in Umbricius’ speech itself (21-8) and not in the poet’s introduction; the themes of the second half are introduced by the poet (6-9) and not by Umbricius himself. This may encourage us neither to swallow nor to reject Umbricius’ views whole. The body of the speech certainly contains oddities. After Juvenal’s mocking reference to Cumaean myth (2-3) and Numa (12), Umbricius’ opening literary ornamentation, including another Cumaean myth and the three Fates, stands out. His attitudes to prostitution – as suggested in Chapter 2 – seem to indicate different generic allegiances or double standards. Of course not everyone who left Rome for the Campanian coast was vicious. Silius Italicus and Statius retired there,43 and the area had long been one associated with Epicurean quietism,44 but we have already seen also that if Umbricius claims to flee Greeks and vice, his destination is not only wrong on either count, but also wrong in terms of his lists of small Italian towns. So Umbricius is marked out for us by the poet as a speaker whose words cannot be taken at face value. Of course it remains true that the rhetorical manner is typical of Juvenal, especially in the first two books, and the patchwork of incompatible generic borrowings is equally not confined to this satire. Why, then, might Juvenal need to use such a figure as Umbricius as the main speaker if he could have made the same kind of satire in his own versipellic voice? We should answer this question by saying that Juvenal did not need to do so, but that doing so nonetheless presented him with a satisfactory number of opportunities. For one thing, it allowed him to use the dialogue form for variety. It also allowed some rhetorical absurdities to be enjoyed, absurdities such as the ridiculous opening of Umbricius’ speech, or Umbricius’ losing track of his situation and addressing the citizen body (60) instead of Juvenal. It allowed, furthermore, a dramatic 86

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal situation which itself provided further opportunities. The departure, for example, permitted an inverted game with Aeneas’ arrival in Cumae on his way to Rome, and another game with the end of Virgil’s first eclogue. Umbricius in this satire embodies the satiric inconcinnities that we find elsewhere in Juvenal; the discordant patchwork of literary voices that flows from his mouth is, in effect, both the medium and the target of the satire. In a way Umbricius is Roman literature,45 a melting pot in which different generic strains jostle to reveal themselves,46 and his name and place in relation to the poem’s thematic structure give the reader an interpretative key. Juvenal Satires 4 The bearing of the fourth satire47 is more straightforwardly directed against large-scale characters: The characterisation of the councillors is an important part of the satiric strategy of the poem, as is Domitian’s looming presence and the double appearance of Crispinus both within and outside the imperial council. Eleven councillors (or ‘friends’ – amici – cf. 4.75) appear in the fourth satire: (Plotius) Pegasus (77), (Q. Vibius) Crispus (81), Acilius (perhaps M’. Acilius Aviola, consul AD 54) and his son (M’. Acilius Glabrio), Rubrius (Gallus) (195), Montanus (107), Crispinus (108), Pompeius (110), (Cornelius) Fuscus (112), (Aulus Didius Gallus) Fabricius Veiiento (113), and (Lucius Valerius) Catullus (Messalinus) (113).48 We have, thanks to the scholiast (commenting on Juv. 4.94) four lines of an epic, the otherwise lost De Bello Germanico (‘About the German War’), by Statius which lists three of the same people, Crispus, Veiiento, and Acilius. The fragment appears to be part of a longer list, and is likely to be part of a prelude to an account of a council-meeting. Evidently Statius’ list had a different order from Juvenal’s, but it is very likely that Juvenal has this poem in mind in his epic parody. However, it is not just epic parody that is in hand here, for what Juvenal says of the councillors amounts to a critique of the various accounts of how one could survive (and maintain integrity) under an Emperor which we have from Pliny and especially Tacitus. The political thought of the period shows a small number of stereotypical ways of surviving under the Empire. There are the many plotters, self-advancers, and manipulators who often, but by no means always, overreach themselves and end up badly (like Sejanus), and appear over and again in Tacitus’ historical works. There are those who flagrantly oppose the Emperor, people like Helvidius Priscus and Thrasea Paetus, who doom themselves as a result, and about whom Tacitus and Pliny clearly feel uneasy.49 There are by contrast those who escape the dangerous notice of the Emperor by indulging in luxuries or pretending to be stupid.50 There are, finally, those held up as creditable examples, who 87

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre conducted their public affairs unobtrusively yet efficiently, thereby serving the state without incurring the enmity of the Emperor.51 Of this group Tacitus’ father-in-law, Agricola, is the prime example, accorded by Tacitus a biography of his own, the Agricola, and it is clear that he stands for Tacitus and those like him. Of these ways of surviving under the Empire, the first is plainly exemplified in Juvenal’s satire by Veiiento, Catullus, and Pompeius. Those who oppose the Emperor are not only conspicuously absent, but the issue receives explicit notice in the description of Crispus (and at some length) precisely as a useful adviser if any opposition were possible under Domitian (84-93). Those who escape attention by pretence are represented by Juvenal in the person of the younger Acilius (99), as we can see from the comparison with the archetypal Brutus who pretended to be mad to escape Tarquin’s attention.52 But of course it is not possible to pretend to perform in the arena, and Juvenal is here playing on doubts expressed in other authors about this mode of survival.53 The final category, the decent people who keep a low profile, do not appear in Juvenal’s poem, or rather it is clear that they are subsumed under other headings, the compliant, however reluctant, like Pegasus and (especially) Crispus, and the quietists like Rubrius and Montanus, or even Crispinus (who has a low profile in the meeting). The distinction, indeed, between the quietists who indulge their loyal epicurean quies and those who are merely self-seeking is very hard to define. The core of Tacitus’ – rather defensive – political thought is undermined by Juvenal’s transformation of the typology as embodied in his parade of councillors. Domitian is present at the council, of course, but remains silent, an ominous and frightening presence. All the councillors appear to race to the call,54 but only three dare to speak (the blind but murderous (113) Catullus, facing the wrong way, at 119-20, the prudent (113) Veiiento at 124-8, and the slow, fat (107) Montanus at 130-5) in what resembles a competition (cf. non cedit Veiiento, ‘Veiiento did not yield’, 123). The fear – explicitly referred to at 75 – shown by the haste and the predominant silence as well as the competitiveness presents an indirect characterisation of Domitian. At a different level, a contribution is also made by the epic parody in which the narrative is framed, with its due invocation of the Muse at the beginning (26-36), the subject matter of a council, and the similarity to a catalogue.55 Imperial epic suggests an equivalence between Jupiter and the Emperor,56 and divine councils are a recurrent feature of epic. In a way this too is a divine council, for Domitian is like a god (70-1), and is flattered as such by the suggestion that he have a Prometheus in attendance (133), and by the idea that the fish on which the satire is hung presented itself to be caught (69), for this idea resembles the symptom of Domitian’s divinity in an epigram by Martial – that the fish in a fishpool at Baiae answer his call (Mart. 4.30).57 Juvenal incorporates parody of 88

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal imperial epigram with a parody of imperial epic to make a point about the Emperor’s effect on literature. There is, however, another point inherent in the use of mock-epic in this poem, and it is to do with the contrast in tone between the two sections, the opening one dealing with Crispinus, the other dealing with Domitian’s council. Whereas the comparatively trivial figure of Crispinus is treated to a tone of angry satire, the very different figure of the Emperor is treated in a mock-epic manner. The contrast questions the efficacy of anger, for if Crispinus deserves anger, how can one cope with Domitian, but since Domitian is so much worse than Crispinus, the anger expended on the latter is seen to be out of perspective.58 It is as though Domitian is so bad that the anger he generates needs an easier outlet.59 The remaining character of importance in the fourth satire is Crispinus. He has a role in both parts of the poem, and a very different role at that. In the opening section he is a monstrosity (monstrum, 2), and his monstrous behaviour is touched on sufficiently to make him seem like a sort of replica, if on a smaller scale, of a Caesar.60 His single-handed consumption of a large fish in the first part is paralleled by Domitian’s receipt of a vast – almost global61 – fish in the second. By very strong contrast he is a rather insignificant figure in the council description of the second part of the poem – neither the best, whatever little that amounts to, nor the worst. If, however, we turn the question round and imagine what the deadly Pompeius or Catullus might have been like outside the court we can see how pointed the difference between Crispinus’ two roles is. Domitian tyrannises the court; outside, the courtiers – even slight ones – mimic his role; below that level, the fear ramifies as even the shores are filled with informers and seaweed inspectors (47-9). Juvenal Satires 5 In the fifth satire two figures contribute: the addressee, Trebius, and his rich amicus (‘friend’), Virro. Trebius is, Juvenal imagines (12), invited to dinner by Virro. Juvenal pictures to Trebius what the dinner will be like, finally revealing (156ff.) to his angry but abject addressee that what motivates his rich patron’s cruelty is not meanness, but sheer pleasure in humiliating his poorer friend. We should think of Roman society as stratified and in the form of a pyramid. Although there were, of course, friendships between social equals, the dynamic force is the vertical binding of contiguous layers through exchange of favours and social observances. The relationship of amicitia (‘friendship’) which was expressed by these observances, was a fundamental social force in Roman society. Juvenal’s presentation of it in the fifth satire is concentrated on a pair of amici; both sides of the relationship are represented, and this makes the satire an appropriate conclusion for the first book, in which amicitia is a recurrent 89

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre theme. It is also appropriate that the setting of the poem should be a dinner, for as we have seen food and particularly the dinner have strong connections both in literature and in life with the values of amicitia. The two chief springs from which the dynamism of the poem comes are the dramatic inter-relations of the speaker, the addressee, and the third figure (Virro), and the associations woven around the two-tier menu of the dinner.62 Virro is set up as a regal figure by the unequal distribution of food (and the connotations applied to Virro’s), and by the use of rex (5.14, 130, 161) and dominus (5.49, 71, 81, 92, 147).63 Trebius, by contrast, emerges as an insignificant figure who aspires to Virro-like condition (137ff.).64 Juvenal’s strategy as Trebius’ addressor is to show him a picture of what dinner with Virro will really be like in order to rouse Trebius from his abjectness to positive indignation. He does so by describing the two contrasting menus that will be served to Virro and to Trebius, and by weaving around them the contrasting sets of associations just referred to. At the point at which Trebius is served the most loathsome sounding item of the meal (and therefore the point at which his endurance ought to break), Juvenal himself apostrophises the host, but addresses him not in terms of anger, but of restraint (5.107-13). However, Trebius does not rise to the prompt: the next course, a Meleagrean boar for Virro (115ff.) and nothing at all for Trebius, is an insult which in the dramatic structure of the poem recognises that Trebius has failed to meet the challenge – an insult dressed up by the artful cutting and slicing of the meat Trebius does not receive so that no indignity may be lacking (see 120). Indignation, that other theme of the first book, does not work and Trebius deserves his friend (170-3), a fit culmination of the first book’s theme of friendship, and its steady exposure of the inadequacy of indignatio.65 Juvenal Satires 6 The addressees of the sixth, seventh and eighth satires can be seen as framing and colouring devices rather than fully functional dramatic roles. Postumus is the recipient of a rhetorical set-piece on marriage, i.e. a progymnasma.66 It is folly to marry, says Juvenal in grotesquely exaggerated terms (6.30ff.). Nowhere – not even in the country – is there anyone worth marrying. The poem is not, however, as simplistic as this paraphrase makes it sound. First, there is the obvious fact that in the various pictures presented to us through the poem, the husbands do not always emerge very creditably. We could, of course, dismiss that as a blind spot on the author’s part, but there is also the fact that the author has taken pains to indicate that the addressee is aligned with Ursidius, the (apparently) notorious adulterer. Finally, we should be aware of the different voices that make themselves heard through interplay with other genres (particularly elegy, mime, historiography, and tragedy). 90

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal In the opening sections of the poem we are frequently reminded of elegy (or perhaps more precisely love poetry, since Catullus’ non-elegiac sparrow poems are included). Within a few lines of the beginning we are shown the repellent chastity of our troglodyte antiquity, and – in strong contrast – the elegant, sophisticated, and emotionally cultured society of modern literature (7-8):67 civilisation includes adultery. Other allusions to Propertius follow68 and there may also be an ironic allusion in the addressee’s name69 to the proverbially faithful pair, Postumus and his wife, celebrated by Propertius (Prop. 3.12). There is, moreover, an echo of Ovid’s Ars Amatoria (‘Art of Love’):70 looking in the places recommended by Ovid will not produce wife-material. This parallelism surely makes the reader question his own attitude to both the Ovidian and to the moralising view of sex and marriage. The apparent substance of the sixth satire is questioned at the outset by refraction through the filter of erotic poetry (later through other genres), but the figure and name of the addressee may well be contributory elements in this. If one’s audience is a Postumus like Juvenal’s there is little point in serious moralising. To put it another way: what kind of ‘moralising’ would work on this kind of Postumus? Juvenal Satires 7 In the seventh satire a piece of dissuasive rhetoric arguing that literary pursuits bring little or no returns is addressed to a Telesinus. The categories dealt with in the main body of the satire are poets, historians, and legal orators, and the two kinds of teacher, the more advanced (rhetores) and the elementary (grammatici). The decline in quality of literary output was frequently dealt with71 and usually in terms of paucity of patronage, and this satire bears that as its surface meaning; throughout the satire, however, the irony directed at the practitioners suggests they have insufficient talent to produce anything different in any case. The teachers are also implicated, the rhetores for continually having their pupils rehash declamatory exercises mocked so often for remoteness from real life,72 the grammatici for their obsession with esoteric mythological detail which can lead only to the kind of mythological poetry Juvenal mocks in this poem and elsewhere. We may now ask how Telesinus fits in with this. The introductory paragraph in which he appears (7.25) deals with poetry and patronage (imperial and other), and is largely a pastiche of the gambits of imperial court poetry.73 ‘Caesar’s search for material for patronage (cf. 7.21) reminds us that Telesinus’ epic may suggest that it is not the absence of imperial patronage that causes the poor quality of modern poetry, but its presence: imperial epic is – as Juvenal indicates in the fourth satire – flattering and, as he says already in the first, safe compared to other forms of 91

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre writing. We know nothing of an epic writer of the name Telesinus (and the language of 7.24-7 clearly portrays him as an epic writer), but mention of a poet in Telesinus’ position would have meant little or nothing to Juvenal’s audience. Telesinus is a fiction. Apart from a few and obviously irrelevant other personages, the rare name had one holder of at least some prominence, the consul of AD 66.74 This Telesinus was apparently a philosopher and not a poet,75 but that does not matter. In a paragraph referring to the hope that might be had in imperial patronage, the name of a writer (even if a philosopher rather than a poet) forced to leave Rome for his writing by the Emperor (Domitian)76 is highly suggestive about just how safe or unsafe different kinds of writing are. Juvenal Satires 8 Ponticus is the addressee of a poem about the relative values of merit and birth. The cognomen is not very common,77 and for us its flavour is not wholly clear. In Roman verse it occurs elsewhere only in Propertius, Ovid, and Martial, in the first two as a friend (Prop. 1.7.1, 12; 1.9.26; Ov. Trist. 4.10.47), and in Martial in eight epigrams,78 mainly in discreditable contexts, but none seemingly relevant. Highet believed the name, like other geographical cognomina, reflected a triumphal ancestor, but lesser persons also ‘annex cognomina of this type’, as Syme puts it,79 and the name was not borne by any of the old (and in any case now largely defunct) aristocracy.80 On the other hand, there is a Cn. Domitius Ponticus who was legate to the proconsul of Africa in 77/8 and, Syme suggests, may have been a new senator from Bithynia-Pontus.81 Although there is nothing to suggest that this Ponticus is Juvenal’s, the evidence of the name suggests that Juvenal might have it in mind to suggest a member of a relatively new aristocracy, a suitable type for receiving advice on the importance of merit rather than ancient lineage. If this is speculative, it is, on the other hand, most important to observe that Ponticus is portrayed as imminently expected in the province (unnamed) which will accept him as governor (8.87-8) for this allows Juvenal to project upon him the lesson cast in the form of advice to governors (and other such) which forms the heart and centre-piece of the satire (8.71-145).82 Juvenal Satires 9 With the ninth satire Juvenal returns to the dialogue form, and the character of his interlocutor is the peg upon which the entire satire depends. Naevolus83 can be seen as a more extreme version of Umbricius or Trebius, and the connection is reinforced by the reappearance of Virro (9.35) from the fifth satire as Naevolus’ rich amicus. Naevolus does the bulk of the talking, but not in one single span (as Umbricius did); rather 92

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal he is enticed by the other speaker’s interjections into delivering four more or less independent and predominantly angry speeches relating to his unkind situation. The undermining of indignatio visible in the first book proceeds further here, as Naevolus’ anger does nothing to prevent him from being an utterly self-centred and self-pitying creature with rather too grand ideas about his place in the universe. The mixture of voices generated in this satire by the interaction between Naevolus and the other speaker is remarkable: Naevolus sees himself in terms that are an absurd mixture of the grandly didactic (9.27f.), the Priapic (43ff.), elegiac (125ff.), and epical (135ff.). Juvenal treats him as comedy (1-26) and as a selfdeceiving would-be bucolic figure, a ‘Corydon’ (9.102). Juvenal Satires 11, 12, 13 The addressees of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth satires are different from those we have seen up to this point. They have more integrated roles in the satires in which they appear than do Postumus, Telesinus, and Ponticus, but they are not dramatic roles in the manner of Trebius or the interlocutors of the dialogues, Umbricius and Naevolus. Their characterisation may seem generally thinner, but this is because it is split or fragmented by the purposes Juvenal has for these figures, a purpose involving a new and more complex relationship with the audience. Further discussion of the issue of performance will be given in Chapter 7, but some basic points can be made here. First, these three addressees are required by the formal rhetorical genres that their three satires are modelled on: the invitation (11), the sôtêria (12),84 and the consolatio (13). The three satires all concern issues of wealth and lifestyle, and the names of the addressees are in various ways suggestive. Persicus’ name has connotations of luxury and gourmandising85 which fit the simple meal to which he is invited with ironic effect. The twelfth and thirteenth satires both concern what might be called moderate disasters in comparison with the wealth of the victim, and Calvinus’ name (appropriately) suggests considerable wealth.86 Catullus, the victim of the storm in the twelfth satire, also has a possibly ominous name. It may have a bad colour from the murderous Catullus (the one appearing in the fourth satire), but it may also suggest something farcical or mimic (after the Catullus who wrote mimes) about the whole adventure (cf. the tone of 12.22ff., 81-2). The addressee, Corvinus, has a plainly suspect name in a poem touching conspicuously on will-hunting, since corvus (‘crow’) is a frequent metaphor in such contexts (notably Petr. 116). The remaining satires The remaining satires too are all addressed, but the role of the addressee is different again. Fuscinus (despite a verbal play on his name),87 Volusius 93

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Bithynicus, and Gallius (at least as far as one can see) are barely if at all more than formal markers of epistolary format. The addressees in earlier satires do not all have equally integrated roles in their satires: Postumus, Telesinus, and Ponticus are more tangential than Trebius, Persicus, and Calvinus, and Juvenal may have felt that he had finished both with the dramatised major figures of the earlier satires (including Umbricius and Naevolus), and with the kinds of experiment with the role that we find in the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth satires. Conclusion We have seen how Horace’s major figures are used to refract the themes of the satires of the second book, and how they would have been in greater or lesser degree familiar or readily comprehensible to his audience. The names of Juvenal’s more prominent characters may seem rather less patent, but, as we have begun to see, some sort of case can generally be put forward. Persicus combines a range of verbal, historical, and social connotations. Umbricius’ name recalls metaphorical senses of umbra and related words, Corvinus suggests a metaphorical sense of corvus, and perhaps the meaning of naevus (‘blemish’) is relevant to Naevolus. The characters of the fourth satire were well-known recent historical figures, and Telesinus’ name may make a point by way of reference to a particular historical individual. Trebius’ and Calvinus’ names may be marked for social level, perhaps Ponticus’ too. At the weaker end of the argument there is some opacity about the names of Catullus in the twelfth and Virro in the fifth and ninth satires. The use of major characters, addressees, interlocutors and narrative figures that we have seen in this chapter has antecedents and analogues in non-satiric literature – in the Odes of Horace, the Elegies of Propertius, even the Silvae of Statius – but to some extent we are still seeing a phenomenon connected with the satiric programme of realism. In Horace this is connected specifically with the dialogue form with its implied affiliation to the Socratic figure and to comedy. In Juvenal there is more of a suggestion that the poems are different from their more flattering analogues (perhaps especially Statius, and perhaps one should include Pliny’s letters as well here).

94

5

The Satirists and Epic 1 The three satirists whose work has survived in complete books are very different from each other in style, thematic consistency, and structure. We can tell also that they were very different from Lucilius. However, there is a persistent admixture of other genres in their works (and Lucilius’), which is the more striking because (as we have seen) the satirists all claim in one way or another to have an extra-literary purchase on reality. We need, therefore, to look at how the satirists use other literature. Although it is a feature of the satirists to blend a multiplicity of other genres into their satire, we have seen how the satirists are prone to comment more explicitly on the presence in the literary field of epic than they tend to be of other genres, and so their use of epic is an appropriate starting-point for discussion. The review of the naming practices in non-epic verse provided some evidence for the idea that epic was a key figure in the generic field, a dominant genre, and that reaction to it helped shape and colour the surrounding genres. Within this picture, satire and elegy claim different kinds of special relationship with epic – both antagonistic, but on different grounds. Elegy resents its warlike ideology, but tries to hold on to its grand poetic savour. Satire rejects it as divorced from reality in terms of content and style. Nevertheless, Horace purports to accord epic the respect of counting it as ‘real’ poetry, and Persius claims the right to redeem the language of epic’s affiliate, tragedy, by using it for a particular topic (his feelings for his tutor, Cornutus). More strikingly still, Juvenal while mocking actual examples of epic portrays himself (via his picture of Lucilius at the outset of the first satire) as an epic hero, and claims the right to epic territory in his satire. He does this most explicitly at the end of the sixth satire, but it is clearly already implicit in the use of epic language in the fourth. Through all this, we may see satire setting itself up not just as anti-epic, but at the same time as a sort of para-epic. There is, of course, a degree of paradox in this: Roman epics, particularly those of Ovid, Lucan,2 and Statius, contain their own subversive elements – Ovid above all, in whose epic one finds parodic elements, burlesques, and the use of concentrations of typical epic features as a stylistic index to differentiate one passage or tale from another.3 Nonetheless, the epic-writers were negotiating with a notion of what an epic might be, and in doing so 95

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre subscribed to an ideal, however unrealisable, of what epic is. The opposition of other genres towards epic is to this extent an opposition towards a fiction, but a fiction accepted by the writers of epics. As well as what they say about it, there is the matter of how the satirists use epic, for epic names, scenes and tones are in varying degrees woven into the poetic fabric of the satirists.4 Such allusions allow us to draw a crude picture of what epic is for the satirists. Satire’s ‘typical’ epic First, however, we should be aware of references to paradigmatic epic writers – above all Homer and Virgil, but also Ennius. Varius too appears in this role (Hor. Sat. 1.10.43; Odes 1.6) and Horace pairs him with Virgil (Epp. 2.1.246, AP 54). Virgil is repeatedly cited in this capacity and his role was constantly reinforced by his place in Roman education, and further entrenched by his afterlife in quotations in other works. Quintilian puts him as outstandingly at the head of Roman epic in his review of literature.5 Juvenal’s Telesinus could also be counted as a paradigmatic composer of epic: although he was presumably unknown to the Romans as an epic writer, Juvenal characterises him as typical. Epic authors can be generalised to the point of anonymity. So with the authors presented as typical in Persius’ first satire, and those at the beginning of Juvenal’s first satire. Such references exemplify the kind of thing that falls under the heading of epic. They tend to show a broad general notion of a genre that is concerned especially with war and mythological heroes.6 Apart from these explicit targetings of epic in satire, we find allusions and parodies which allow us to build up a picture of the satiric construct of epic. It is especially characterised by loftiness of style, and marked by a number of linguistic features such as vocabulary, apostrophe, effects of word order,7 use of similes, certain kinds of metaphor, personification, periphrasis and metonymy (particularly the use of the names of gods for that for which they stand, as Mars for war, Ceres for bread, Bacchus for wine and so on). All these features can be seen in (and mark) satiric uses of epic colour. Mannerisms such as the invocation of the Muse, formulaic ways of introducing and closing speech,8 and the formal descriptive figure known as the ecphrasis9 might be mentioned here, of which the first two are parodied by satirists. Among the satirists Juvenal’s fourth satire shows perhaps the most persistent use of the epic manner and on the largest scale (although one might also mention Hor. Sat. 2.5, the dialogue between Tiresias and Ulysses).10 In the poetry of the satirists this loftier style always stands out as different. In its new context the style reveals itself, as it were, as somehow inappropriate for the world of experience: it becomes absurd, or appro96

5. The Satirists and Epic priate only in an ironic sense. This viewpoint is shared by epigram, and generally by Catullus’ polymetric corpus. The situation is different in other poetric genres. These tend in varying degrees towards greater elevation of language; stylistic features which would stand out in satire do not necessarily do so in lyric or elegy,11 or in didactic, tragedy, or Statius’ Silvae, or even in bucolic (despite its affirmation of lowliness: V. Ecl. 6.5, 8, 10). Rather, the loftier mannerisms we find in those genres are parts of a poetic language which is to some extent held in common. ‘Typical’ epic content As well as style there is content. For us one of the core features of classical epics (and parodies, such as the Batrachomyomachia, ‘The Battle of the Frogs and Mice’) is the centrality of war. We have already seen how it is particularly characteristic of elegy to present epic as having war as its chief concern, typically in the recusatio, and to make this the basis of a sort of ideological antagonism. We have also seen how satire, equally antagonistic to epic, concentrates rather on its unrealism. For the satirist, war is part of what epic is,12 but it is not an issue for the satirist in the same way as for the elegist.13 However, the concept of the warrior-hero does have some programmatic import for both the elegist and the satirist. In elegy this has the form of the ‘soldier of love’ figure, whereby the elegiac lover becomes a sort of generically modified hero. In satire we see Horace describing himself as in terms of a brave sword ready-for-defence (Sat. 2.1.34ff.), a sturdy Lucanian or Apulian, and we see Juvenal present Lucilius as an epic charioteer in the first satire, and use epic colourings for the would-be satirist’s role at the end of the satire. The satirist as epic warrior is, however, not a completely unambiguous figure. In the ninth satire of Horace’s first book, when Apollo rescues Horace from a tricky predicament in the streets of Rome, Horace himself is turned into a hero, but a distinctly comic one. Lucilius, moreover, is not the only epic charioteer in Juvenal: there is also the dissipated Automedon ridiculously flaunting himself in front of his mistress (Juv. 1.60). Of course there is also the other strand of epic, the Odyssean, in which heroes make a sea-journey. Sea journeys are programmatically rejected by elegists. They become part of the symbolism of the public sphere against which the elegist weighs his private world. In satire, however, the seajourney has a very small role. It is that part of the political mission in Horace’s Brundisium journey (Sat. 1.5) which Horace, rather conspicuously, does not describe since his part is by then over (and the poem’s narrative finished). For Horace the barge (11ff.) is quite enough. This presents Horace – as he presents himself elsewhere – as small beer in the public world. In a number of places in all three extant satirists seavoyaging is part of the iconography of the materialistic merchant,14 and 97

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre there is in Juvenal the adulterous wife who – while accompanying her loutish lover – is happy to handle the ropes on board ship, but who would be seasick if her husband were there (6.98-113), and some Odyssean allusions are made by Naevolus (9.64-5, 149-50). In short, satire has little use for journeying as an epic index.15 By contrast, the cast list of epic heroes has widespread currency in revealing a generally shared notion of the epical. There is (yet again) a distinctiveness about satire. Whereas for other genres the epic characters are part of the poetic repertoire, for the satirists they embody epic’s ludicrously exaggerated representational manner. Juvenal refers dismissively to typical potential epics as Heracleids and Diomedeids (1.52-3), and goes on to mock elements of the Theseus and Icarus stories (1.53-4). There is too the whole epic machinery of the gods.16 This plays little role in satire’s picture of what epic is (though enough to mark it out as a recognisable epical feature), but a quite noticeable one in elegy. In epic, Gods appear and intervene in the mortal sphere; outside epic too17 there is a kind of divine epiphany – in which Apollo appears to a poet and prevents him from writing epic, but encourages or obliges him to continue in his proper course. This is typically a scene of elegy and lyric (in Ovid Apollo is replaced by Cupid: Amores 1.1) and very much part of the polarisation of epic on the one hand and the ostensibly slighter genre on the other:18 in Horace’s satire, however, it becomes shorn of its divine trappings (Sat. 2.1; cf. 1.10.32ff.). There is also, of course, Apollo’s rescue of Horace at the end of Sat. 1.9, but even here the real rescuer19 is human and the divine one is figurative.20 Moving rather further from the epic divine machinery to the use of the gods more broadly, other gods besides Apollo have a role in the slighter genres. Pan along with Apollo presides over Arcadia21 (and the Muses can be addressed in bucolic); Bacchus, Priapus, Amor, Cupid, and Venus have considerable roles in elegy (the cast is rather different in lyric with its hymnal antecedents); and other gods appear in elegy too. It is not just that the love deities can be prayed to (though they can); they appear to be able to grant or refuse prayers, to protect the lover walking the streets at night. In general, the gods often have an immanence in the elegiac world which is different from their presence in epic, but very unlike their manifestation in the world of satire.22 In various ways, then, the gods distinguish both satire and elegy from epic, but without at all aligning them with each other. Content also covers the use of generic set pieces: battles, storms, funeral games, teichoscopies (scenes in which a spectator formally views the prospect from a city wall), hunts, serpentine monsters, lineages, catalogues, councils of the gods. Perhaps one might list speeches here, although they are marked by form rather than content. The list is not, of course, exhaustive and not all of its members are (or could ever be) of 98

5. The Satirists and Epic equal importance. They are somewhat like the features that contribute to family resemblances in that it is not required that a particular uncle should have a particular feature in order to partake of the family likeness, and noses or eyes probably outweigh ears on the scales. In terms of epic features, frequency, appearance in more or less canonic authors, and importance in the dynamics of a particular epic all contribute to the perception of an element as characteristically epic. Most of the generic set-piece elements listed here appear in one or more than one of the satirists, in the more or less travestied form that particularly suggests that the original is a characteristic feature. The epic battle-scene is parodied in Horace’s Brundisium satire (1.5.51ff.) and relevant in Juvenal’s fifteenth satire. Storms23 are a thoroughly rehearsed strand in the epic tradition (and that of tragic messenger’s speeches), pilloried in Juvenal’s first (1.8-10) and parodied in his twelfth satire, most explicitly where he compares the storm in his poem with a poetic (i.e. epic) storm (12.22-4). Lineages are a regular feature of heroic speeches like that of Glaucus’ scale model of an epic in Iliad 6 (144-211), and Horace uses this in his mock-epic battle on the journey to Brundisium. There is also a very brief jibe in Juvenal’s seventh satire (7.234-5). Otherwise, lineage is a theme in Horace (Sat. 1.6), Persius (6), and Juvenal (8). In all three cases the burden of the message, however complicated in the detail, is that lineage should count for less than merit, and contemporary social realities are more at issue than epic resonance. Councils of the gods are burlesqued in Lucilius (book 1) and in Juvenal’s fourth satire (with Domitian replacing Jupiter).24 There may be a particular connection between Lucilius’ divine council and one in Ennius, and there certainly is between the councils in Juvenal’s fourth satire and Statius’ lost epic on the German war. Speeches are found in satire, especially Horace’s, but generally have other antecedents than epic. Speeches of some length and often marked with formulaic or quasi-formulaic headers and footers are characteristic of epic, but not of elegy, lyric, or didactic. Although bucolic poetry has speeches, the characteristic formats differ. In bucolic, the amoebean dialogue, competitive exchanges of ‘songs’,25 and the presentation of much of the speech as song and/or dialogue marks it off from epic. Satire too differs from epic in the way it handles speech: the format, scale, manner, and content all tend to be markedly different. The considerable amount of speech in the ninth satire of Horace’s first book or the dialogues of the second (even the Homeric parody of Sat. 2.5) show this very clearly, even more so the rapid and unmarked fluctuations of voice in Persius. There are, however, moments when the epic speech is visible behind the satiric texture, as in the mock-epic exchange of abuse before a fight (that does not actually materialise) in Horace’s Brundisium satire (Sat. 1.5), which parallels the vaunting before a pair of epic heroes fight 99

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre each other in battle, or the epic combat-speech lying behind the squabble between Horace’s Rupilius Rex and Persius (Sat. 1.7). There are also occasional epic formulations such as at Graecus (‘But the Greek , …’, opening a speech at 1.7.32), Nasidienus ad haec (‘To this Nasidienus , …’, 2.8, 75), the speech formula unde et quo Catius (‘Whence and whither , Catius’, 2.4.1; cf. also Plat. Phaedr. 227a), or the closing motif used by Lucilius (18W), but by and large the epic speech does not feature largely outside epic (and, perhaps, its successor historiography). Of course, the comparative scale of epic and satire is a contributory factor here. Funeral games, teichoscopies, and serpentine monsters figure little if at all in satire. Hunting features in one of Varro’s Menippean Satires (the Meleagers) and there are amphitheatrical references in Juvenal (1.22-3; 4.99-101) which may convey ironic allusions to the motif.26 Catalogues, however, are especially iconic of epic – they even find their own parodies inside the genre, as with Ovid’s catalogue of dogs that killed Actaeon interposed just as the story of Actaeon’s end gathers momentum (Met. 3.206-25). We think of the Homeric catalogue of ships, but not a book of the Iliad lacks catalogue material, and the form ramifies through all classical literature, often with intent to make a Homeric connection (as in Herodotus and Thucydides). Epic’s half-brother didactic is another natural home for listing. Now, it is true that catalogues and catalogue-like forms are found in Juvenal especially of the satirists, but the form ramifies so endlessly in classical literature that it is not at all clear that epic resonances are felt in them. Juvenal’s fourth satire, for example, has a sequence of named personages brought on. Perhaps this is rather an epic ‘parade of heroes’ than a catalogue as such, but still the context of mocking Statian epic – and a council scene at that – gives us some sort of connection anyway. However, although we certainly find categorised organisation of material often enough – as for example the follies in Damasippus’ and Davus’ speeches in Horace (Sat. 2.3, 2.7), fitfully echoed in two of Persius’ satires (Pers. 3, 5), the categorical divisions of Juvenal’s seventh and tenth satires, and the four catalogues that make up the immense sixth satire, it would perhaps be better to call these cases listings rather than catalogues, and not think of them as necessarily epical in form.27 There is an illustrative case in Juvenal’s tenth satire: … circumsilit agmine facto morborum omne genus, quorum si nomina quaeras, promptius expediam quot amaverit Oppia moechos, quot Themison aegros autumno occiderit uno, quot Basilus socios, quot circumscripserit Hirrus pupillos, quot longa viros exorbeat uno

100

5. The Satirists and Epic Maura die, quot discipulos inclinet Hamillus; percurram citius quot villas possideat nunc quo tondente gravis iuveni mihi barba sonabat. (Juv. 10.218-26) … a regiment of every kind of disease dances round; if you asked their names I could more easily run through how many adulterers Oppia has loved, how many of the sick Themison has killed in one autumn, how many partners Basilus, how many minors Hirrus has cheated, how many men tall Maura soaks up in a single day, how many pupils Hamillus bends over; I could more quickly run through how many villas he owns, the one at whose shaving my youth’s thick beard sang.

The passage as a whole resembles the widespread ‘as many as’ poeticism.28 The motif is disseminated widely and details – most obviously the comparisons and the number of comparisons – vary. Juvenal’s comparisons involve seven categories, which makes them like a list, especially since most examples of the motif are more sparing. The passage is not a catalogue, but one may still consider its relation to an epic format. The remarkable passage which ushers in the Homeric catalogue of ships has six comparisons (fire, flocks of birds, leaves and flowers, swarming flies, herdsmen and flocks of goats, a bull among cattle; Iliad 2.455-83), of which two in particular (leaves and flowers, and swarming flies) illustrate the huge numbers of the Greeks. Elsewhere Achilles speaks of ‘gifts as numerous as sand’ (Iliad 9.385). The language of leaves may suggest transience rather than numerousness as such (Iliad 6.146-9; cf. Mimnermus fr. 2), but contributes to the spread of a poetic mannerism. Virgil, enumerating the varieties of vines in the Georgics (2.103-8) conflates Catullus’ innumerable sands (7.3-6; 61.199-201) with Apollonius of Rhodes’ (Arg. 4.214-15) or Theocritus’ (16.60-1) waves. Ovid’s exile poetry (in elegiacs) uses sand, fish, fish eggs, flowers, ears of corn, apples, and snow (Tr. 4.1.55-60), and ears of corn, thyme, birds, and fish (ex Pont. 2.7.25-30) to illustrate the profusion of his troubles. Although we see this motif crossing generic borders,29 it is clearly always one of an elevated poeticism – even when the poet plays with it as Catullus and Ovid do. Juvenal’s language is distinctly un-epic, but it has been put into a template that can still be felt to have an epic resonance. The result is astonishing: there is some similarity to the multiple comparisons for woes in Ovid’s exile poetry, but the gratuitous unpleasantness of Juvenal’s comparisons and their accumulated dysfunctionality militate strongly against the poetic register the format suggests. Absent features; size, love, history, and didactic There is variety in the extent to which epic features are represented in satire. There remain three or four features, and ones of some importance, which are quite absent from the satiric image of epic. 101

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Most obviously, there is the matter of size. Epics are large. Since satire is on a much smaller scale there is little scope for reflecting this, though it can be mocked, as in the opening of Juvenal’s first satire.30 It is, however, perhaps part of the background to the unparalleled size of the sixth, but apart from this the hugeness of epic is largely taken as read by the satirists. Second, there is love. This is a major element in the Aeneid and bulks large in Ovid, Valerius Flaccus, and Statius, but it does not figure to any extent in the satirists’ picture of epic. Indeed, love is largely absent also from the lyric and elegiac showing of epic (since they are about love and are at pains to maintain a defining distance between themselves and epic). In the Remedia Amoris (‘Cures for Love’) Ovid asks fortia Maeonio gaudent pede bella referri: / deliciis illic quis locus esse potest? (373-4; ‘Bold wars rejoice to be reported in hexameters: what place is there there for love’s delights?’). However, even within epic itself love is treated as generically alien material, stuff that does not really belong.31 In this matter, satire, lyric and especially love elegy conspire to accept an image of epic that is unreal, but is also an image to which epic itself contributes. The attack is on what epic aspires to, not on what particular epics happen to be like.32 Third, there is history. Among references to paradigmatic epicists, Homer and Virgil have priority, and the comparatively low profile of even Ennius, certainly of Silius Italicus and Lucan, is striking. Historical epic33 is largely absent in the satirists’ picture of epic (though it figures in Horace’s and Persius’ recusationes – Hor. Sat. 2.1.13-5; Pers. 1 – and Juvenal parodies one in the fourth satire), and one concludes that overtly historical epic is not seen as belonging to epic’s archetypal form. It certainly appears to be the minority form, and therefore a weaker and less significant target, and indeed if the satirists’ charge is the absurd distance between epic and real life, to read mythological epic as central to the genre sharpens the criticism.34 Finally, there is the matter of didactic poetry. It too feeds its influence into satire (and it has its own tendency to show satiric characteristics), but although it is treated by Quintilian and others as one of a kind with epic (see Quint. 10.1.85-92),35 satire does not include (nor do elegy and lyric)36 didactic in their picture of epic. One might indeed feel that the influence of Lucretius is so pervasive in Horace, especially in his first three satires, that he is almost being presented retrospectively as a kind of satirist – or Horace himself as a kind of didactic poet. ‘Typical’ epic in satire and elsewhere In all this material we face a complex set of positionings. Both satire and elegy set themselves against epic (on different grounds). Both, however, 102

5. The Satirists and Epic claim some ground from epic. Satire maintains an increasingly aggressive mocking stance, but elegy, although its opposition to epic is presided over by Apollo, god of recusationes, admits gods for wider purposes than this, and also admits epic narratives (as does lyric too),37 and translates epic scenarios into contemporary urban settings.38 Although satiric references to elegy are few (though derisive in Persius and Juvenal),39 it is perhaps not so ironic, even given the opposition elegy claims to epic, that, such as they are, these references associate rather than distinguish the two. In the satiric construction of epic reviewed above (which is of course simplified here, since the different satirists are not yet separated) there is clearly an element of ‘bottom up’ analysis shown in the empirical observation of detail or feature (evidenced in parodies and so forth). The naming of characteristic authors and listing of typical themes indicates there was also a ‘top down’ element, a general notion of what broad outlines epic might have. To this extent, the way the satirists’ idea of epic seems to have been formed appears to resemble the way in which we imagine any contemporary reader’s idea was formed. The idea that a genre is somehow a real thing independent of individual examples is frequently, but perhaps over-rigorously, criticised;40 readers often think of genre like this, and to that extent the perception has a psychological reality. It is important to consider how the literate audience perceived epic,41 and if we ask, as we should do, to what extent this notion of epic really was general, we can point both to the use by Cicero of the word heros for men such as Cato (ad Att. 1.17.9), Cassius and Brutus (14.6.1), Plato and Aristotle (Rep. 3.8), and (ironically) Clodius (ad Att. 4.3.5), and also to the criticisms made of the frivolousness of Ovid’s epic by Quintilian and Seneca.42 There is also the fact that similarities between the picture of epic both in satire and in elegy and lyric clearly emerged in the discussion above. There were, of course, different emphases: satire’s attack emphasises the distance between epic and real experience, whereas elegy is more concerned with making love and war into opposing themes representing elegy and epic respectively. Epic is cast as the poetry which has no room for love, and therefore as in direct ideological opposition to elegy. It was also beginning to emerge that from their different positions the different groups of genres get different things out of epic. Touches of epic style, for example, are always felt in satire to stand out as consciously different, separate from real experience, and often thereby amusing or ridiculous (even in Juvenal whose use of the epic manner is more pervasive), whereas elegy implies a yearning that the loftier style should somehow be appropriate or that the elegiac experience should live up to the style. These qualifications, however, only show that the outlying genres have different perspectives on epic; to a large extent their pictures of the genre are strongly compatible. We may now survey the satirists in turn. 103

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Lucilius and epic We know very little indeed about the satiric writing of Ennius43 and virtually nothing about that of Pacuvius. We can see, however, that in his satires (and in some of the possibly satiric minor poems) Ennius used a mixture of high and low style, and parodied the lofty manner of his own Annales.44 In any case, it is Lucilius who is persistently held up as the founder of the genre. Even here we are still on uncertain ground because of the fragmentary nature of the remains of Lucilius’ Satires. Nonetheless, it is possible to make some observations. We find, first of all, a broad range of levels of style mimicked and parodied.45 We repeatedly find parody and mockery of tragedy and tragic language. We find epic language, as in the speech-closing motif at 18W (cf. V. Aen. 1.81; 6.76) and the use in Greek of a Homeric half-line (267-8W = Iliad 20.443). According to Horace, moreover, Lucilius found fault with Ennius (but as one not claiming to be any greater himself).46 We find, besides, mockery of Homeric fancies (520-3), the presence of mythological figures,47 and the use of mythological names (mockingly) for contemporary types (Tiresias at 228-9, 230-1). More strikingly, we find a council of the gods used as the basis for a whole satire – perhaps even for a whole book.48 Servius (at Virg. Aen. 10.104ff.) writes that the whole Virgilian passage (totus hic locus) is transferred from Lucilius.49 There must be some exaggeration in this (and other such statements), but it may point towards Lucilius’ council being of some scale.50 It may also be of significance that Ennius’ epic had a divine council about Rome’s foundation in his book 1, whereas Lucilius has his divine council in the first hexameter book (book 1), but about the Rome’s destruction.51 Above this, there is the fact that, after his first five books of satires (2630), Lucilius settled on the hexameter as his satire’s exclusive metre. This may indicate a claim to a special relationship between satire and epic. The hexameter, it is true, was already used for didactic and bucolic poetry, but there are two considerations which go a long way towards removing this as an objection. First, these were Greek rather than Latin genres at this time, with a lower profile in the Latin literary field as a result. Second, epic and didactic are clearly related (from some points of view they may be regarded as parts of a single genre), and bucolic may be seen as a humanised reaction to epic. Morgan therefore has reasonable grounds for arguing that Lucilius’ apparently crude hexameters are constructed as both an assault on epic aesthetic values (matching the thematic assault), and as part of Lucilian satire’s ‘obsessive self-definition vis-à-vis epic’.52 Horace and epic With the later satirists we move on to drier ground. We have already seen how in his first programme poem Horace sets satire and comedy on the 104

5. The Satirists and Epic one hand and epic on the other against each other (Sat. 1.4) as part of a programmatic discussion that has a sort of weight that applies over at least the whole of book 1, and by a sort of inertia probably over book 2 and the Epistles as well (although the moral function of epic is re-evaluated somewhat in Epp. 1.2). Epic tones, scenes, and characters are woven into both books of the Satires. On the larger scale there are the Odyssean parody of Satires 2.5, and the construction of Satires 1.9 (looking backwards from the Homeric final line) as a divine rescue from the field of conflict.53 On a smaller scale, but arguably just as important, Horace’s Tantalus reference in the opening satire of the first book deserves to be mentioned again. Although the passage derives from a didactic poem (cf. Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura 3.980), the boundary between didactic and epic is not constant, and the passage is a programmatic one which makes a show of setting the poetic mythological world side by side with the ordinary world of the audience. The same idea is extended by Horace’s alter-satirist, Damasippus, with Orestes (Hor. Sat. 2.3.132-41), and, with less explicit scaffolding, Ajax (Sat. 2.3.187-213). On a smaller scale again, but still significant in proportion to the size of the satire that contains it, there is the epic parallel to the quarrel between the paltry pair Rupilius Rex and Persius in Satires 1.7.11-18. At a more local level there is, as well as the sprinkling of mythological names dealt with earlier, a range of allusive effects. We shall see this well by looking at the range of phenomena visible in one satire. Horace Satires 1.5 Egressum magna me accepit Aricia Roma Hospitio modico: rhetor comes Heliodorus, Graecorum longe doctissimus; inde Forum Appi, Differtum nautis, cauponibus atque malignis. (Hor. Sat. 1.5.1-4) Aricia received me – having set out from great Rome – with modest lodgings. With me the teacher Heliodorus – by far the most learned of Greeks. Then Forum Appi, stuffed with bargees and evil inn-keepers.

Horace begins the fifth satire of the first book in a way calculated to sound deeply unepic; unepic in rhythm, phrasing, vocabulary, and content. This effect, however, is soon punctuated with a very different sounding line and a half: iam nox inducere terris / umbras et caelo diffundere signa parabat (Sat. 1.5.9-10, ‘Already Night was preparing to draw shadows over the earth and sprinkle stars in the sky’). We have here an epic-style time periphrasis, whose main purpose is to (un)prepare us for the plunge back into the world of barges and their sailors, and quarrels and common talk in loud voices. 105

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre The tone raises itself again for a line (24) when the travellers disembark: ora manusque tua lavimus, Feronia, lympha (‘we wash our faces and hands in your spring, Feronia’). Here we notice the divine apostrophe, the sacral ritual, the use of the poetic lympha for water. Again there follows a plunge to a lower level, but this time it is different. First, the previous passage of heightened language was background description, whereas here the travellers are doing something (washing) which has a similarity to sacral acts. Second, the tone falls, but more briefly, for line 26 – impositum saxis late candentibus Anxur (‘Anxur, set on far-shining rocks’) – has that chiastic arrangement of nouns and epithets favoured especially by hexameter poets (proper ones, that is, rather than satirists like Horace). This elevation of poetic temperature preludes the expected arrival of Maecenas. The temperature rises again with the arrival of Horace’s special friends Plotius, Varius, and Virgil (Sat. 1.5.39-44), with excited language and explicit affirmations of friendship and joy. This is the centre of the poem. Shortly after this there is an interlude, an anticlimactic spat between two freedmen (51-69) which is given the apparatus of epic battle narrative – an invocation (modified) to the Muse, (un)heroic lineages, and antiphonal vaunting. The abuse contains whimsical allusions to a humanised and bucolic (pastorem, 63) version of the epic Cyclops which is filtered through the medium of a comic dance, and to tragedy. Sarmentus needs no tragic mask because he is facially disfigured. That is Cicirrus’ joke, but the audience can play with other ideas – Sarmentus needs no tragic mask because he is real, not a dramatic figment; he needs no tragic mask because he is ridiculous and pretensions to tragedy would be absurd. When this episode is over, it is only a few lines before there is another pocket of epic. At the next town there is an accident in the kitchen and the host nearly goes up in flames (arsit, 72; cf. ardet, V. Aen. 2.311), nam vaga per veterem dilapso flamma culinam / Vulcano summum properabat lambere tectum (73-4, ‘For Vulcan slipped through the old kitchen and errant flame hastened to lick the top of the ceiling’). Here there is the poetic use of a god’s name for his attribute, Vulcan for fire (but the god is put into the comic setting of an old kitchen), and the personification of the flame encased in that hexameter stylism, the insertion of the verb (here properabat lambere) between a noun and its epithet.54 There is a similar case soon after that escapade, in the passage in which Horace makes a fool of himself by waiting for a girl who does not turn up, and whom he rancorously or ruefully calls mendacious (82). His eager anticipation breeds dreams and his solitary ejaculation during a sexual dream is, in terms of poetic hierarchies, the low point of the poem. All the more striking that the word Horace uses for sex is another (poetically cliché) divine periphrasis (‘Venus’, 84). Morgan has argued that the town that cannot be named in hexa106

5. The Satirists and Epic meters (87) – the next town along the route, 24 miles further on – is an allusion to Lucilius, and that both satirists are making a show of the way their subject matter is inimical to the epic metre and to the genre it stands for.55 The next town on the journey, Canusium (91), allows Horace another fleeting epical touch. The reference to the town’s founding allows Diomedes of Homeric fame to be mentioned, and in addition we remember that foundation myths were part of the substance of epic (culminating later in the Aeneid). This is the location for the departure of Varius and the emotional temperature once again rises and is once again marked by one of the stylisms of serious hexameter poetry (primarily epic, that is to say), a combination of the chiastic arrangement of nouns and epithets with a centrally located verb (93, flentibus hinc Varius discedit maestus amicis, ‘Hence departed Varius sadly, to the weeping of his friends’). Ordinary, perhaps even bathetic, details about the road and the weather occupy a few lines and then another foundation myth – of sorts – makes a more obviously mock-epic play. ‘Gnatia, on whose construction the waternymphs scowled’ (Rudd’s translation for Gnatia Lymphis / iratis exstructa, 97-8) characterises the water of this town as bad (information about the water is something of a thematic leitmotif in this travel poem; cf. Sat. 1.5.7, 88-9) by substituting the water-nymphs for a founding deity of any stature, and by then substituting their anger for an appropriately foundational smile. The entertainment unwittingly provided by this town, its claim that incense melts spontaneously on the temple steps, leads to the distinctly Lucretian (cf. Lucr. De Rerum Natura 5.83, 6.56) profession of rational humanism. This touch has a perhaps rather whimsical solemnity about it – especially in the light of the throw-away quality of the next (and final) line of the poem – but it remains a profession with quite a powerful resonance in a period of possibly imminent civil war. We have in this poem a satire filled with epic touches, mostly comic, but not always at the same level, nor the same sort of comedy. Some of it may mock romantic pretensions (as the use of ‘Venus’ at 84). Some of it may actually provide a warming of the poetic temperature for quite other purposes, as for the heralding of the arrival or departure of friends (friendship is both thematic and at the heart of this poem). Perhaps all of it builds up to an elegant literary entertainment which contributes to a characterisation of Horace in his capacity as Maecenas’ friend – i.e. to the characterisation of Maecenas in turn as a potential audience for such entertainment and as the friend of poets (of whom there are three on the journey with him). Maecenas is not, we infer, the tool of a barbarous aspirant to tyranny. Perhaps all (or most) of it also emphasises by contrast the observation of the real world of experience, which in this poem is both exceptionally broad (for satire) in geographical reach, and precisely that world which is threatened by the possibility of civil war. 107

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Persius and epic Despite his programmatic espousals of quite other subject matter, epic resonance is frequent in Horace’s satires. It is mostly marked as different from the satiric (or real-world) context, though it is also in a number of ways part of it too. With Persius we see a different picture, although in other respects he is so markedly Horatian. As we have seen, epic names are largely concentrated in Persius in the first and the programmatic part of the fifth satires. So too with epic allusion more generally. Outside those two places and the short choliambic prologue, the reference to Ennius and his dream of being Homer in the sixth satire (6.10-11) is quite exceptional. Here Persius quotes a line of Ennius praising the port of Luna; cor iubet hoc Enni, postquam destertuit esse / Maeonides Quintus pavone ex Pythagoreo (‘So said Ennius the wise, after he snored off being Quintus Homer descended from Pythagoras’ peacock’). The reference is to the prologue to Ennius’ epic, the Annales, where, apparently, Ennius had a vision of Homer, who claimed to have been a peacock and to have passed his soul to Ennius (see Ann. 13, 14W). We do not know whether the line comes from Ennius’ epic or his Satires (or elsewhere), but perhaps we have here a piece of anarchic Persian humour: Ennius needed to sleep off his mad epic-induced dreams before he could get down to the ordinary world of sensible satire. Such inspirational dreams have already been mocked and dismissed in the prologue (Prol. 2ff.) in a parody of high poetic learning. This is where Persius makes his claim to be a poetic outsider, and it is of a piece with the programmes expressed in the first and fifth satires. The epic infusion there begins with Persius’ use of ‘Polydamas and the Trojan ladies’ (Pers. 1.4) to denote those who would read Labeo’s inept (so we are told by the scholiast) translation of the Iliad56 rather than Persius’ verse. There is of course an ironic appropriateness in the use of a Homeric name for the readers of Homeric-type poetry. In addition, Persius uses the ‘Trojan ladies’, to make a preliminary hit at the moral effeminacy of the Roman audience and (its corollary) their taste in literature. This taste is further pilloried by means of metaphors of food and sex, by caricatures of the readers, and by parody of what is read. The peopling of contemporary Rome with all those Polydamases and Trojan ladies gives a strong initial impetus to the idea of the moral contamination having epic or epic-related forms as a particular symptom. This is topped up periodically throughout the course of the poem. Persius mimes for us a poetry reading (different from the one he is giving us) in which the effeminate poet performs what he has composed in private, poetry which gropes and tickles another orifice as much as – or through – the ear. The lofty seat from which the poet reads (sede leges celsa, 17) probably combines a continuation of the sexual innuendo (cf. the alta sella 108

5. The Satirists and Epic at Juv. 3.136) with an epic resonance (see V. Aen. 8.541, 11.301, Albinovanus Pedo 12, Luc. 5.16, Stat. Theb. 2.385).57 Friction between these two levels surfaces again with the rather Ennian, but stuffed, Romulids (31)58 whose enquiries about divine poetry are answered by an effeminised poet’s Phyllises or Hypsipyles (34). Phyllis and Hypsipyle appear in Ovid’s elegiac game with epic material, the Heroides (2 and 6), and Hypsipyle appears in the epics of Apollonius (Arg. 1), Valerius Flaccus (Arg. 2), and Statius (Theb. 5). Those, Persius says, or some other sentimental bardic stuff (vatum … plorabile siquid, 34).59 The epic manner has by this time, Persius implies (and with some truth), become pervasively eroticised. The audience, Persius goes on, assent: adsensere viri (36) is a distinctly epic formulation (cf. V. Aen. 2.130).60 Some lines later Persius tilts at Attius’ (probably the Labeo of line 4) Iliad and in a parallel move the little elegies (elegidia) dictated by crudi … proceres (‘dyspeptic chieftains’, 50-2). A number of points are scored with economy here: with the eroticisation of epic, it and elegy have become practically the same thing (a point implicit in the Phyllises and Hypsipyles of 34) and this suits the taste of the aristocratic audience – an audience which sees itself as somehow epical in grandeur (this is the point of the poetic word proceres), but an audience which has gluttonously swallowed its poetic food too quickly (crudi).61 There is further mockery of muddle when Persius satirises the obsession with smoothness (63ff.) which unfoundedly believes itself capable of epic. Persius’ anarchically mimetic language, however, imitates the confusion of such perfectionists, and the description of epic sounds skewed – in mores, in luxum, in prandia regum dicere (‘on the customs, the splendours, the dinners of kings’) could almost be a way of describing satire – and it is the following res grandes (‘great themes’), Musa (‘Muse’), and especially heroas sensus (‘heroic thoughts’) that confirm it is a form of epic that is Persius’ particular target. A passage parodying antique tragedy, or rather mocking the contemporary taste for it, leads yet again to an image of the sexual excitement with which the noble audience responds (82). The poets are incapable of producing anything other than a debased form of epic, a form which reveals their moral inadequacy and which is accepted with enthusiasm by its equally rotted audience. There is more parody of the contemporary manner in the next section (92ff.), in which epic or epicising is again at issue. Persius’ parodic ‘quotations’ imply that these feeble new poets are epicising in manner and content (especially lines 93 and 99-102; cf. the names at 105), and it is ironic that Persius should indicate their insufficiency by using a phrase which Horace self-deprecatingly used to liken his satiric verse to Lucilius, and to contrast it with epic (cludere versum, 93; cf. Hor. Sat. 1.4.40 and 2.2.28). Persius, in his own way (and as Horace did in his) is turning the tables on the standard hierarchy with epic at the top and satire in a 109

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre different league. The impression we are given is of vacuous smoothness, and indeed Persius mimes the smooth poets’ antipathy to Virgil’s epic as based precisely on the aspect of smoothness (96-7), for the metrical features we see in Persius’ parodies of these new poets can all be paralleled in Virgil, except their fashionable avoidance of elision (see Barr, 1987). If we also notice a feel of the Catullus of the Ariadne epyllion or the Attis poem, or of Ovid, about some of the phrases Persius uses in his parodies62 this is doubtless because of the persistence of post-Catullan new poetry.63 The opposition Persius shows to smoothness without content matches the same opposition in terms of behaviour elsewhere in his satires: throughout the corpus there are recurrent images of testing surfaces to find out what is below or real. As regards verse, the point is primarily aimed at contemporary literature irrespective of genre, but the picture is heavily coloured with epic and the epicising manner. True, the Aeneid is excused, but that belongs to a different time. The final epic flourish is in the transformation of Persius into Midas’ barber (see Ov. Met. 11), digging a hole and whispering into it – digging with his stylus in the papyrus, itself about to whisper, of his book – something better than any Iliad (119-23). We think immediately, of course, of Attius’ Iliad, but nulla (‘not any’) is more inclusive than this: Persius’ satire is better than any Iliad. Persius claims a down-to-earth and compulsive honesty by way of his digging-barber act, a claim made by all the satirists, and to the detriment of epic. The fifth satire begins with the fanfare of an epic commonplace – the need for a hundred mouths64 to do justice to the poetry (Pers. 5.1-2) – except that Persius tells us it is used by epic writers and tragedians alike, as though there is no difference. Epic is denoted by rewriting part of the epic pastiche Horace had used in his rejection of epic (Sat. 2.1.15). The following lines burlesque the content of tragedy, adding a snipe at the drawing of inspiration from Helicon’s poetic spring (cf. Prol. 4), mingling a handful of its names along the way, and transforming the mouth motif into a dense stew of metaphors. The charge here amounts to the unseriousness of the tragic-epic axis: hidden behind a grand surface it amounts to no more than mist, air, puffed up cheeks and lungs, the blare of trumpets. It would respond to Cornutus’ testing with a hollow sound. Persius’ campaign against grand literature is different from the antagonism we see perhaps in Ennius, certainly in Lucilius, Horace, and (as we shall see) Juvenal. First, it is concentrated very heavily in programmatic chunks rather than woven into the whole fabric of the corpus. Second, the opposition is more ethically polarised: in Persius the epic-tragic dyad is a symptom of moral decay rather than merely disjunct from experience. Persius is more single-mindedly hostile than Horace, who praises Varius as an epic writer (Sat. 1.10.43-4), enjoys seeing life resemble a comic version of an epic (Sat. 1.5), and is happy to be a sort of hero rescued by Apollo 110

5. The Satirists and Epic (Sat. 1.9). Persius’ hostility may be matched by Juvenal’s, but the latter’s objections are more multi-dimensional and set within the context of a more wide-ranging critique of literature. Juvenal and epic; contemporary epic? Juvenal prominently parodies Statius’ lost de Bello Germanico (‘About the German War’) of c. AD 90 (Juv. 4), and refers to the Thebaid (Juv. 7.82ff.), published around AD 91. He refers also to Lucan (7.79), who died in AD 65. He may allude to the Argonautica (1.7ff.) of Valerius Flaccus, who died in AD 92 or 93. Apart from these figures, all predating the Satires by at least twenty years, Juvenal refers or alludes to ‘typical’ epics – the unknown Cordus’ Theseid (1.2) – and ‘typical’ subject matter – Heracles, Diomedes, Icarus (1.52-4), Aeneas, Achilles, and Hylas (1.1624). Although it is convenient sometimes to refer to some of these figures as Juvenal’s contemporaries, we know very little about the poetry of the time in which Juvenal was writing. During the second century we know only of one more or less conventional epic, and that from after c. AD 160, an Alexander-poem by Clemens.65 This paucity of evidence is made more troubling because our picture of subsequent Latin literature suggests a drastic change in literary taste had been at work in the intervening period. There is a case for suggesting that, just as Juvenal’s names come largely from the past, so too the epic literature he draws on is a timeless cultural inheritance from the past. Epic paraphernalia in Juvenal We may begin to review Juvenal’s use of epic by recalling his distinctive use of mythological names, as for example the Automedon on the Flaminian Way (1.61-2), the Ucalegon in Rome (3.199), the African Ganymede (5.59), or the Eriphylas and Clytemnestras.66 As well as this we find Juvenal using mythological names in direct speech to contribute to making the speaker sound absurd (3.25, 27; 9.135-6). Individually and cumulatively these cases contribute to a friction between Juvenal’s satire and epic. We found, too, epic characters used in their own person as examples (including a large cluster in the old age section of the tenth satire; 10.246ff.). The cumulative effect these references have is to reinforce the impression that the population of Juvenal’s satires is a polygeneric literary cocktail. In some of these cases there are at least ambivalent touches. When the repellent Naevolus decorates his situation with Homeric allusions (9.37, 64-5, 149-50) or refers to his fate with didactic (9.27ff.) or mythological (135-6) grandeur we may wonder what it would take for epicisms really to apply to any ordinary life. In any case we see mockery of mythological subjects as material for poetry in the program111

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre matic opening of the first satire (and, along with their role in education, in the seventh), and elsewhere, for example in the burlesque of Odyssean material in the fifteenth satire (15.13-26). Gods are especially prone to slighting references. There are small-scale cases (for example Mars and Venus at 2.31, Jupiter and Mars 6.59), but there are also passages which by their size or location acquire a larger significance. The divine apparatus is mocked in the concluding section of the second satire (2.149ff.), and the introductory paragraph of the sixth (6.1-20). In the latter passage Juvenal makes fun of the golden age myth (which can be traced back to Hesiod and is given a complex transformation in Virgil’s Georgics), but in the thirteenth satire he manages to make light of the golden age and its successor at the same time (see especially 13.38-52).67 In terms of thematic consistency this connects with the irony expended on ‘the good old days’ which is a recurrent motif throughout the corpus, and with the secular sensibility visible prominently in the tenth (see especially 10.346-66) and thirteenth (see especially 13.78ff.). As well as this, however, we can look at the importation of these easily ridiculed epic figures into the satiric world as an ironical reflection of the golden age when men and gods mixed freely. There is more epic paraphernalia besides. Morton Braund notes the use of epic imagery in the programmatic first satire ‘when the speaker urges himself to action at 1.149-50 with the words utere velis, totos pande sinus (“use your wings, open the sails right out”) and when he depicts Roman wives as creatures swept along by the power of their emotions with an epic-style simile (6.649-50)’.68 Not all similes are epic, but Gillo’s pallor at the prospect of earning from a rich old lady his reward for sexual services is described with a pair of contrasting similes (itself an epic feature), one of which comes from the Aeneid (Juv. 1.42-4; cf. V. Aen. 2.379ff.), and in many of Juvenal’s similes there is an epic element.69 Editors also observe the appearance of the Underworld at the end of the second and in the course of the third satires (2.150-1; 3.265-6), and the reworking of Achilles’ grief at Patroclus’ death in an episode also in the third satire (3.278-80). In fact, the third satire reworks epic scenarios repeatedly, with Umbricius mirroring Aeneas’ arrival at Cumae, Rome miming the fall of Troy according to both Virgil and Homer, and frequent other allusions. The fourth satire is permeated with epic and epicisms, and the fifth has Virro’s food decorated with epic allusions that provide a running contrast to the connotations supplied for Trebius’ food. Virro’s apples, for example (5.150-2), are like those of the Phaeacians (‘you might believe them filched from the African sisters’ as Juvenal ironically calls the Hesperides).70 The whole of the first book is set in an epic time-frame by the use of Pyrrha and Deucalion as a point of origin in the first satire (1.81-4). There is also the characterisation of Lucilius as an epic charioteer, which in turn makes the whole satiric world of the book a field for the heroic satirist, Juvenal. Of course the content of these scenes and frames registers a difference 112

5. The Satirists and Epic between the epic and the satiric worlds, but also claims a relationship between the two genres – not necessarily a reciprocal one, as we shall see later. The claim, so far as we have considered it till now, works on two levels, that of more or less explicit programmatic assertions and that of the cumulative effect of the material briefly rehearsed above. The programmatic assertions give a context for the material, but are not entirely straightforward: they contain both a critique of epic – its safeness, its political fawning, its irrelevance – and an appropriation as well. The satirist is presented as an epic hero, and Juvenal questions whether his subject matter trespasses on epic territory. There is clearly a tension between these two directions, and it is reinforced at the level of style. Juvenal and the grand style – epic and declamation It has long been held that Juvenal writes in a grand style71 and evidence is provided in various forms, but the matter is not as simple as it first appears. We recognise first of all that Juvenal is a highly allusive poet and so we can find embedded echoes of a range of genres, both prose and verse, in varying degrees of loftiness. In this sense Juvenal could be deemed polystylistic rather than grand in style, unless one set of allusions clearly dominated the others. However, if we were to take Juvenal’s programme and his use of mythological names as giving the epic strain this kind of dominance, there would still be problems. When he adopts features of the epic manner Juvenal is using the epic style for a purpose of his own, and we should decide whether he is using epic as a moral benchmark against which to judge the discrepancies of his satiric subjects, as a tone to solemnise his attack on degeneracy, or for some quite other purpose. Second, there is the sheer weight of the presence of declamation in the satires – in phraseology and phrasing, rhetorical figures and tones, themes, commonplaces, and overall structures.72 We might see this influence as so pervasive that we would be tempted to see Juvenal’s verse as a web of polygeneric allusion suspended in a basically declamatory mode. It is, however, not this simple either. Juvenal writes in hexameter verse and this entails stylistic choices which are simply not relevant in declamation, a point to which I shall return shortly. In addition, for all the declamatory features that are plain to see,73 the basic arrangement of too many satires clearly belongs to Latin satire. For, example, the first satire is in the tradition of programme satires, the third – however declamatory Umbricius’ speech is – is a dramatic dialogue after the model of Horace’s dialogue satires, and the fourth (at least in large part) is a mock-epic narrative also with Horatian antecedents. The subject matter of the fifth satire – a horrible dinner – belongs especially to the realm of satire. As well as this, Juvenal’s use of declamatory themes and tones is itself too 113

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre often a little suspect. The moral sententiae that are part of the declamatory style are rife in the Satires, but are quite often followed by undercutting irony (maxima debetur puero reverentia, si quid / turpe paras at 14.47-8, for example; ‘A child is owed the utmost respect – if you have something shameful in mind’).74 Moreover, the exempla that are so much a part of the rhetorical manner in general are sometimes so flagrantly out of place (Quintilian at 7.186ff., Ulixes’ father at 10.278) or inappropriately treated (Hector and his brothers carrying Priam’s body at 10.258) that one has to see them as having some sort of comic function. There are clear signposts, too, that Umbricius’ speech is itself a parody of declamatory themes and the declamatory manner (Braund argues the same for the sixth satire).75 Finally, the indignatio programmed in the first book is a rhetorical construct – it suits pathos, the fiery emotion due to outrageous crime, and goes hand in hand with the grand rhetorical style, the genus grande – but we have to recall that Juvenal treats this indignatio to increasingly ironic or negative presentations. Umbricius, already a target of parody, is angry, as is Trebius, who seems rather more plainly abject and deserves what he gets (5.173). Juvenal’s interlocutions highlight Naevolus’ already flagrant anger, and he is an even more obvious satirical target. When we reach the thirteenth satire, Calvinus is openly being mocked for his anger (13.11-17). Juvenal uses a broad range of declamatory features, but essentially his position seems to lie somewhere between fellow-traveller and parodist. Nonetheless, unless we believe that epic has actually taken over the declamatory manner for itself,76 the declamatory elements provide too much contamination for us to see Juvenal’s manner too simply as epical. Juvenal and stylistic impurity A number of features, according to Powell (1999), erode the validity of describing Juvenal’s style as grand. He points to a persistent stylistic contamination, the mingling with more elevated features of various prosaic elements such as diminutives, unlofty vocabulary, and certain turns of phrase. He concludes that in general Juvenal belongs with the pedestrian satirists and that epic features in his poetry stand out against this background as different. He goes on to say that ‘epic’ passages in Juvenal may indeed be infiltrated by the lower style of the linguistic matrix in which they are set: ‘some passages … appear to shift about so quickly from the everyday world to the world of epic and back again that the unwary reader might get an impression of a chaotic mixture of stylistic levels’ (1999, 327). While this is broadly true, it does need qualification. Juvenal’s metre is the hexameter, the metre of epic. The hexameter, however, is capable of great variety. One could argue that Horace’s hexameters (as he admits) are more prosaic than those of the Aeneid. Persius’ hexameters are distinctly 114

5. The Satirists and Epic rough. However, while Juvenal’s hexameters are rougher than those of the epics of his approximate contemporaries,77 I would suggest78 that they are less so than either Horace’s or Persius’ are than those of theirs. In his own context, Juvenal’s verse tends to be less unliterary than that of his satiric predecessors. None of the satirists is uniform. In Juvenal, the effect is most pronounced in the earlier books of his Satires, least pronounced in book 4. Horace’s hexameter books make a fairly steady progression upwards from the pedestrian level of Satires 1. At the local level, individual passages of any of the satirists show fluctuations of stylistic level, but one might think of the satirists as using a more or less ‘normal’ stylistic level as a base from which to diverge for special effects. On the other hand, in such a heavily contaminated manner as Juvenal’s it is difficult to find what one might think of as ‘pure’ Juvenal, free of stylistic mixture. Even the final section of the tenth satire, where the thought seems as direct as anything in Juvenal, the vocabulary, tone, and manner are still hybrid. Furthermore, individual instances of elevated or poetic word order, for example, cannot automatically be registered as ironic or parodic. At the beginning of the sixth satire there is an unusual concentration of elevated stylistic features. Even here, however, it is too simple to talk of parody. Modern civilisation is shown as adulterated at the same time as the poeticised Golden Age is revealed as uncouth. This is what the standard poetic Golden Age looks like viewed through the contaminated eyes of the post-Golden era, the ‘Ninth Age’ (Juv. 13.28). The complex mixture of styles mirrors the complexity of the perspective we are invited to share. Overall, one has to remember that Juvenal’s plainness, such as it is, is a pose – essentially the same pose as the claim of being untaught by philosophy (13.120-5), and of having been exposed only to a simple declamatory education (1.15-7) – and the plainness, highlighted by the literariness of the fragments it contains, is a generic marker which in turn draws attention to the literariness which highlights it. We see this in Horace – who has a good deal to say about style, simplicity, variety, and being different from epic – and in Persius with his programme of cleverly juxtaposed words in everyday dress, and we see it from the very opening words of Juvenal’s first book: semper ego auditor tantum? numquamne reponam vexatus totiens rauci Theseide Cordi? Am I always to be just in the audience? Never to get my own back, though vexed so often by hoarse Cordus’ Theseid?

What these lines reveal is that this is satire (what else could the first four words begin?), and that it wants to turn the tables on epic (and other liter115

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre ature). What is different about Juvenal is that his antagonism to epic is more extreme than Horace’s, and more persistent – but also part of a broader critique of literature – than Persius’, as we shall see in the next chapter.

116

6

Other Genres in Satire1 Surrounding genres variously react to, and try to incorporate elements from, epic. Satire and elegy tend to be the most explicit in this, but satire’s literariness, despite claims to an extra-literary purchase on reality, goes far beyond this. A wide range of the content, personnel, and manners of other kinds of literature is woven into the poetry of all the extant satirists. To a large extent, other literature is a good part of the substance of Roman satire. All the satirists imply or state some degree of hostility to epic, but this has to be set in the context of their treatment of other literary forms. In this they are very distinct from one another. Persius is, by and large, narrower in scope, though perhaps more distilled, than Horace or Juvenal. Neither Persius nor Juvenal put forward as diverse a range of extra-satiric models as Horace does. Finally, the profiles of diatribe, declamation, didactic, and elegy differ in the works of the three satirists. Other genres in Horace We have already considered the Socratic element in Horace’s second book of satires. Direct allusion to Plato’s Socratic dialogues is closest in two particular satires (2.4 and 2.8), but the Socratic influence pervades the whole book, manifesting itself in the use of the dialogue form, the everyday subject matter, and Horace’s self-presentation throughout the book. Horace stands in for Socrates although he leaves his adequacy for this role questionable. There is also a conflation with comedy which becomes explicit in the final satire of the book, the conversation with the comic writer Fundanius. Horace’s ethical concerns are advertised by the shadow of Socrates, but wrapped in layers of ambiguity, of which the comic contamination is one sign. An ethical concern is also implicit in the presence of diatribe and Lucretian didactic. The first three satires of the first book have the form of impromptu philosophical discourses.2 They share the framework of a reason-nature polarity in which generally reason and nature urge in the same direction, but – especially in the third – nature sometimes needs a corrective from reason. The Aristotelian concept of the Golden Mean is also worked into the body of the arguments. The indirect introductions 117

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre (using pairs of contrasting examples) further build up the sense that the three satires make up a single organic group, and give weight, besides, to the presence of ethical concerns in the rest of the book. We find the same format in the second book, but this time Horace is subjected to the moral discourses by others – others who have in a number of cases themselves heard the discourses from others – and the question of how seriously they can be taken becomes, as we have seen, subject to a comic overview. Lucretius, although he is not cited as a model, contributes to what amounts to a programmatic utterance in the first satire (1.1.25-6, cf. Lucr. 1.936f.), and not infrequently Lucretian passages are reworked or a Lucretian tone is sounded. In a spirit of ingenuity Horace transfers Lucretius’ satiric passage on lovers’ blindness (De Rerum Natura 4.1160ff.) from the satire in which it might almost have been expected (Sat. 1.2) to the following one, where its point is translated into one about moral judgements (Sat. 1.3.44-8). Although some of the allusions to Lucretius may seem lighthearted, or even frivolous, there is nonetheless a sense in which Horace is claiming a parallel status for his satires in an unstated programme.3 Horatian satire – especially if we think of the portrayal of Horace’s father as teacher – can be seen as a form of didactic. Horace Satires 1.2 Horace’s generic mixture covers a much broader range than just this, of course, as a sample satire will show effectively. The second satire of the first book begins (1-4) with an extraordinary carnival: ambubaiarum collegia, pharmacopolae, mendici, mimae, balatrones, hoc genus omne maestum ac sollicitum est cantoris morte Tigelli. quippe benignus erat. The colleges of Syrian music-girls, drug-salesmen, beggars, show-girls, clowns – all people of that sort are sad and troubled at the death of Tigellius the singer. He was that generous.

The opening is strikingly un-epical in metre, syntax, and vocabulary. The first line is a three-word hexameter with a five-syllable word at the end. The first sentence is a list, colloquially summed up in hoc genus omne (‘all that sort’) and leading to a prosaic statement. The first word is an oriental import not paralleled elsewhere in Latin until Petronius (74.13) and Suetonius (Nero 27), and the last word of the line is Greek. Both words – and the others in the list – indicate low and disreputable social levels.4 The ragbag mixture of various kinds of waif and stray who are said to lament Tigellius turn the carnival impression into that of a sort of funeral proces118

6. Other Genres in Satire sion, so that there is a tension between vulgarity and an imaginary solemnity. This bizarre flurry sets the level against which subsequent variations of literary provenance and tone are gauged. Immediately the manner settles into that with which the reader is familiar from the preceding satire, with contrasting examples, comments on how people justify to themselves the pursuit of extreme and dysfunctional ways of life, vivid interlocution, and at lines 20-2 the application of a model from Terentian comedy. A ‘Where is this leading?’ gambit (23; cf. 1.1.14-15, 1.3.19-20; 2.7.21-2) brings on an Aristotelian maxim (the Golden Mean, 28) illustrated with an anecdote. This brief tale (What Cato said on catching a Well-known Man leaving a Brothel) is doubtless unhistorical, and may have been attached to other names in its history.5 It makes most sense if we read it as an interlocution, to which Horace’s answer is another quotation (What Cupiennius says). Already we can see Horace’s argument proceeding by way of the friction between different voices, voices from different kinds of literature, and the next line of the poem moves the argument to a general level through a grotesquely reapplied piece of Ennian epic (Sat. 1.2.37-8, cf. Enn. Ann. 471-2W).6 The citation of a legal opinion (46) extends the range of sources even further, and it is extended even more at lines 68ff. Here the diatribe-interlocutor’s role is handed over to the infatué’s penis, a motif drawn from Priapic epigram (cf. Anth. Pal. 12.232; Carm. Priap. 83) and reappearing variously (Hor. Sat. 1.8; Ov. Am. 3.7.69ff.; Petr. 132). Priapic epigram is a slight form, marked by the expenditure of ingenuity and various degrees of craftsmanship and stylistic elegance on the recalcitrant subject matter, despite which the solemnity of vocabulary7 in prognatum consule (‘sprung from a consul’) is surprising and all the more incongruous in its dependence on the very low word cunnum (‘cunt’). Comedy, anecdote, and Priapic epigram are the sources of good sense so far. In what follows more elevated poetry stands for folly. The reference to Cerinthus (81) as a point on a beauty-scale probably alludes to the puer delicatus (‘fancy boy’) of erotic epigram. Erotic epigram, however, is certainly the point of the parodies of Philodemus (Anth. Pal. 5.132) and Callimachus (31, Anth. Pal. 12.102) at 92ff. and 105ff. For Horace – as for Lucretius in his fourth book – this kind of poetry does more than represent the folly of erotic obsessions: it is part of the culture of erotic sensibilities, their supporting framework.8 Supporting this critique is a general comic colouring; the business of the mendacity of beauty and the use of good features to distract from weaker points has much in common with comic material preserved in Athenaeus (see 13.568-9). Lines 125-7, moreover, strongly resemble a fragment of the choliambic mime writer Cercidas (P.Oxy. 1082).9 Philodemus appears once more, at 120ff., but this time he is cast in a supporting role for Horace’s unpoetic, unromantic position: Horace’s 119

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre argument proceeds by a patchwork of not necessarily consistent borrowings from a wide spectrum of literary levels. The poem ends (Sat. 1.2.127-33) with a return to the depths: the vulgar entertainment of the mime-shows, with their farcical adulterous action and abrupt endings. Horace’s imaginary discovery by a returning husband is presented as just such a mimeshow. In this case, the lowness of the genre reinforces the argument: a Roman of social standing would not want to be the object of vulgar laughter, however much he might – as Augustus did – enjoy watching the mimes. Cicero somewhat similarly alludes to the mime in order to ridicule the prosecution in his defence of Caelius,10 but Horace uses this kind of knockabout ending elsewhere with less directness. The closest comparison is with Satires 2.6, but 1.9 and 2.8 have some similarity too. The plots of the mime were well-known and often alluded to (e.g. Cic. Phil. 2.65; Ov. Tr. 2.513-4), but are not always used, in their literary transformations, for ridicule. The adulterer’s escape11 may lie behind this scene in Horace, but may also, and less farcically, be felt in Propertius (Prop. 2.23) and Ovid (Ov. Am. 3.4). Likewise, the interrupted or ruined party may lie behind the end of Horace’s Town and Country Mouse tale (Sat. 2.6) and Nasidienus’ dinner (Sat. 2.8; cf. also Trimalchio’s dinner at Petr. 53, 78), but may also be felt in the more emotionally complex lonely party Propertius has in his fourth book (Prop. 4.8). It is clear that Horace’s use of mime is part of a broader context than techniques of ridicule.12 Rather, it is part of the broadness of the spectrum of allusion that he seeks. If we compare this satire, the second of the first book, with its multiplicity of vulgar elements, with, say, the journey to Brundisium with its frequent drawings on epic, we see very clearly the extreme variety of Horace’s farrago and the importance of this element in the consistency of the Satires. Other genres in Persius Persius is a very different poet. The Life of Persius tells us that he started writing satires in response to reading Lucilius’ tenth book. There are very few fragments left of this book – hardly more than ten lines – but from the fragments and some of the comments of those who preserve them it is clear that the book (or a satire in it) had literary concerns and contained a modified degree of criticism of Ennius and at least a mention of Accius. Since the Life further tells us that it was after reading this book of Lucilius that Persius eagerly set about composing satires in which he meant to disparage first himself and then the generality, and to harass recent poets and orators, it would seem to follow that this picture should reflect something of the character of the tenth book. It certainly reflects something of the character of Persius’ first satire, and we will remember that Persius is 120

6. Other Genres in Satire said to have begun the first satire with an allusion to Lucilius’ first book. However, while it is true that our knowledge of Lucilius is fragmentary, and we do not know what we are missing, nevertheless Persius’ obvious indebtedness to Horace is so strong that there does not seem enough room left for a significant input from Lucilius too. Other literature is insignificant in comparison. The piece of Terentian comedy that Persius uses in the fifth satire (161ff.) comes not direct, but through Horace (Sat. 2.3.259ff.). Moreover, as we have seen, even Persius’ attack on the grander genres is largely confined to programmatic pieces – the choliambic prologue, the first satire, the opening of the fifth. In contrast, Persius’ indebtedness to Horace exists at the level of phrase, passage, and whole satire. It is not, however, limited to Horace’s Satires, or indeed his hexameter poetry at large, but covers the whole Horatian corpus irrespective of generic boundaries. From our small knowledge base it seems exceptional that one of a satirist’s prime models, perhaps the prime model, should be a poet’s oeuvre rather than a purely satiric corpus, but Persius’ indebtedness is curious in another way too. Horace’s philosophical eclecticism includes a strong tendency to make fun of Stoic positions, whereas Persius uses the text of Horace as a medium for a strongly Stoic position.13 I suggested earlier that the Stoic sermons of Damasippus and Davus to which Horace is subjected in two satires (Sat. 2.3, 2.7) deserve more credence than is usually allowed, but they are clearly not free of doubt: Persius, on the other hand, uses these sermons as the base for two of his own (Pers. 3 and 5), but turns, as it were, a blind eye to any questionability. This matter of philosophical allegiance has a further connection with Persius’ use of literature, for philosophical literature is clearly of very great importance. Horace, as we have seen, characterises his hexameter poetry as ‘Bionian’, and some of the satires show diatribe-like features, but Persius goes considerably beyond this. His reworkings of the sermons of Damasippus and Davus are more single-minded than Horace’s original presentation of them. There are, moreover, striking resemblances between Persius and Epictetus.14 Epictetus’ oral moralising discourses were in some way recorded by Arrian. Since they are later than Persius, in Greek, and not in verse, we infer that conventional material is being channelled into different forms quite widely disparate in time, profile, and language. What adds to this impression is the more general, but still rather striking, resemblance between Persius’ satires and his contemporary Seneca’s moralising letters (in Latin prose), moralising passages of Roman declamation (improvised oral rhetorical demonstrations with a fictive legal framework), and various works in later Greek, especially Lucian and Dio Chrysostom, which differ from Epictetus in having a more self-consciously literary context. This similarity is not just one of ethical content, but also of general manner – the frequent use of other points of view, the appar121

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre ently almost improvised sequence of thought, the importance of the section, the level of generalisation and so forth. The sparseness of contemporary names in Persius’ satires suits this context rather than that of his own genre, satire. However much Persius draws on Horace, and however much Juvenal seems a radically different poet from Horace, it begins to look as though Persius is further from anything we might see as a mainstream Roman verse satirist. On the surface he has the same concern to locate himself in contrast to other literature, but Horace and Juvenal – Lucilius too, the fragments seem to show – carry this much further and more broadly into the texture of their work. All four poets claim a direct purchase on real experience, but the medium of moralising discourse may have seemed to the apparently bookish Persius to provide precisely that. Other genres in Juvenal; declamation Juvenal’s web of allusion is broad.15 It includes epic, didactic, elegy, epigram, lyric, bucolic, declamation, moralising and philosophical literature, literary-critical discourse, and historiographical writing, and works them into complex amalgams. His debt to declamation is well known.16 Declamatory turns of thought and phrase abound, as do declamatory sententiae, and declamatory topics (as especially in 3, 6, and 13). The hectoring rhetorical persuasion typical of declamation is seen often (as for example in 5 and 6). There is, however, a good case for making a clear distinction between Juvenal’s use of declamation and Persius’ use of the Stoic moralising tradition. For one thing, Juvenal is mocking in his references to declamation (1.16-17; 7.150-75). Then, it is by no means clear that his use of declamatory topics and figures is straightforward. Here we seem to face a graded scale. The tenth satire contains strongly declamatory passages and turns (compare, for example, 10.168 with Sen. Suas. 1.5), and presents a straightforward case which seems quite incontrovertible. Prayers can be granted and may result in disaster for the beneficiary. Therefore pray, if for anything, not for uncertain goods, but for that which will enable you to bear whatever Fortune brings you, a sound mind and healthy body. The treatment may be leavened with frivolity, but it is difficult to see how the core argument can be deflected. On the other hand, if we look at the sixth satire on its own we can see that Juvenal cannot have been serious about all that is expressed therein (better to commit suicide than marry?), and that it is at least to some extent a parodic patchwork of literary attitudes, but without an indication of what the poet’s own views were. In the case of the third satire the position is somewhat clearer, in that Juvenal’s introduction prepares us to see Umbricius’ speech as shot through with inconsistency. Declamation is part of the character of the age, and Juvenal absorbs it into his manner, perhaps more fully than many 122

6. Other Genres in Satire others, but he is not a versifying declaimer: Juvenal’s use is too ambivalent for that. Juvenal and Martial Also well known is the reworking of material from Martial’s Epigrams.17 Here too there is a certain ambivalence. Sometimes, as with the case of the fraudulent burning of Persicus’ house in the third satire (cf. Mart. 3.52), Juvenal seems merely to rework the same idea. In this case Martial’s doubt is removed (et merito iam / suspectus, says Juvenal; ‘and already deservedly suspected’, 3.221-2), and what was a self-contained epigram has now been provided with a context with which it interacts in a rather complex way. However, there is no sense that Martial’s perspective is exposed to irony. On the other hand, the treatment of Chione earlier in the same satire (cf. Mart. 3.30) is implicated in a set of connections with the immediate context, and with the preceding paragraph, so that Umbricius’ Martial-like attitude becomes suspect. Cumulatively, one gets the idea that Juvenal’s subject matter is a blend of material taken from declamation, Martial, and historiography, and that the mixture claims a real life provenance, but is implicated in quite anarchic dissonances. Juvenal and historiography Historiography deserves a few comments. Again, Juvenal’s attitude is not straightforward. As we have seen, Juvenal’s names are often historical names, and would have had a degree of currency from the appearance of Tacitus’ Histories and Annals.18 The mixture of these names with the others in the satires produces an overall effect of literariness and may also suggest timelessness and – in a more complicated way – realism. On the other hand, historians are mocked in the seventh satire (98-104), and, although the fourth satire has in the foreground a specific link with Statius’ poem on the German War, the satire can also be seen as a vigorous critique of the political thought most cogently embodied in Tacitus. In rather the same way in the eighth satire Juvenal subverts (by combining them) the sub-genres of epistolary advice on provincial governorship and historiographical ‘anti-imperial’ speeches of revolting natives.19 Juvenal and the moralising-philosophical tradition Before proceeding to verse genres, we may also mention the philosophical and moralising tradition. This is of considerable importance in different ways in Horace and Persius. Juvenal disavows philosophical professions. In this he is distinct from Persius, who parades his education at the Stoic Cornutus’ hands, and Horace, whose father may have disavowed formal 123

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre philosophy, but whose own philosophical education is revealed in the Epistles, and whose interest is clear throughout the hexameter poetry. Nonetheless, Juvenal does draw on the moralising philosophical tradition, notably in the section on friendship in the third satire, in the tenth, in the consolatory moves in the thirteenth, and in the section on the development of civilisation in the fifteenth. In the first of these cases, there is a clear element of parody, but a parody which suggests rather that friendship has become a parody of what it ought to be rather than that friendship literature is particularly ludicrous. In the tenth satire, at the other extreme, Juvenal seems to have a conventional message and not to undercut it. On the other hand, the thirteenth satire, where he again draws on philosophical moralising literature, is also where Juvenal disavows philosophical knowledge as unnecessary and unhelpful. Elsewhere, he is mocking of various philosophers: maybe Socrates, certainly Democritus and Heraclitus, and perhaps Seneca. Juvenal’s attitude is, as with declamation, Martial, and historiography, perhaps well described as opportunistic. We have already considered how in the death-in-the-street scene in the third satire he puts in unresolved juxtaposition both a mythological and an Epicurean materialist view of death. He is not so much interested in what really happens, so much as the jarring inconcinnity of the two views. We see the same kind of discord in the parallelism between prostitution as seen through the medium of Martial (Juv. 3.131ff.) and as seen through the medium of the moralistic tradition (Juv. 3.65ff.).20 Juvenal and bucolic When we turn to Juvenal’s attitude to other verse genres we tend to see the same sort of ambiguous opportunism. Bucolic is a good example. Three passages are noteworthy: Satires 3.315-22, 7.1-3, 27, and 9.102. In the first of these Umbricius is saying farewell as he leaves Rome with its Greeks and vice for Cumae, convenient for Baiae. The situation also reminds the reader of the end of Virgil’s first eclogue. Here the not unattractive character Meliboeus has lost his place in ‘Arcadia’ and Tityrus offers him, even if rather belatedly and absent-mindedly, the respite of brief hospitality. In Juvenal’s poem the absence of any such response – or any response at all – is noticeable and perhaps contributes to the undermining of Umbricius’ credibility. In any case this is yet one more genre added to those from which Umbricius cobbles his speech together. For Umbricius life is so packaged in literature that the contents are quite inscrutable. In addition to this, the language of the end of Umbricius’ speech reminds the reader quite strongly of some lines at the end of one of Calpurnius Siculus’ Eclogues (5.119ff.).21 In this didactic-influenced poem the aged Micon gives his foster son advice after the manner of the Georgics 124

6. Other Genres in Satire about how to take over the business of tending plants and animals. The situation has a sort of inverse appropriateness to Umbricius’, for his departure from his home breaks any such sense of continuity as they enjoy. In addition, their rural context is quite different from either the place Umbricius is leaving or the place he is going to. In this set of correspondences and contrasts we see no particular animosity towards bucolic, but this may not be so true in the next case. At the beginning of the seventh satire Juvenal has a pastiche of an appeal for imperial patronage. A number of poems addressed to Augustus do not address him directly, but use a formal substitute:22 Juvenal imitates this protocol by placing Caesar at the head of the poem while formally addressing Telesinus as a potential candidate for patronage. In the first lines we may be reminded of Calpurnius Siculus (4.97-8) and at line 27 we recall Calpurnius again (4.23).23 There are other more disparate echoes. Behind materiam and indulgentia in line 21 we may perhaps see respectively Ovid (Tr. 2.32, 382, perhaps even AA 1.49) and Statius (Silvae 3.4.64, 5.2.125ff.) or the like. Behind the sleepless (vigilata) hard work required for producing poetry we glimpse, among others, Ovid (Fasti 4.109; cf. Stat. Theb. 12.811; Ciris 46). Mixed in with this we also see (in line 29) Persius’ sarcasm about poetry produced for patronage (Prologue 5-6). This last is the incongruous element that subverts the cocktail of conventional imperial flatteries. Juvenal uses Calpurnius here, and this time with distinct antipathy, but not as a bucolic writer as such. Rather his satire constructs and mocks a genre of ‘imperial-flattery literature’. Juvenal Satires 9; bucolic and other genres Bucolic surfaces again, and much more explicitly, in the ninth satire. Here Juvenal begins one of his responses to Naevolus (9.102) with an address drawn directly from Virgil’s Eclogues (2.69). The connection between the two contexts is quite a powerful one. Both Naevolus and Corydon are engaged in dramatic dialogues (Naevolus with an unnamed interlocutor, Corydon with himself) in which they berate in their absence their male beloveds (so to speak) for some kind of ill-use, real or imagined. Virgil’s Corydon finally tries to call himself to his senses – perhaps rather unconvincingly – to forget the beautiful but scornful Alexis, and set his hand belatedly to at least some of his Arcadian duties. His sensible inner voice does this beginning with the words a Corydon, Corydon, quae te dementia cepit? (‘Ah Corydon, Corydon, what madness has taken you?’). Juvenal’s Naevolus has no such sensible inner voice: that role is taken by his interlocutor, who similarly tries to call Naevolus to his senses, beginning with the words o Corydon, Corydon.24 Naevolus is as deluded as Corydon, which draws attention to the difference between the two situations and the two beloveds. Alexis is beautiful 125

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre and scornful, whereas Naevolus mocks Virro for believing himself young and beautiful (Juv. 9.46-7). Corydon would offer his beloved Alexis presents; in Juvenal’s poem Naevolus expects presents from his ‘beloved’ Virro (9.54ff.). Alexis scorns Corydon’s desires, whereas Virro requires the gratification Naevolus puts such effort (he says) into providing. Corydon desires Alexis unrequitedly, whereas Naevolus has physical relations with Virro, but for pecuniary reward. Just as Alexis does, Virro exerts power over his lover, a control which allows his Corydon no more satisfaction than Alexis’ does his. The parallelism hints strongly at how abstracted from any reality the Eclogues is (eclogues are), but Naevolus is content to accept the application of this poetic colouring to his own circumstances (see 9.124), just as in the rest of the satire he is ready to use various poetic colours for them himself. Here, as in the previous case, it is not enough to consider Juvenal’s (or Naevolus’) use of bucolic in isolation. What we have is a poem with a comic frame in which different voices are set incongruously and in various mixtures – epic, didactic, Priapic verse, elegy, and bucolic. Interwoven also is the satiric voice of the interlocutor. The interlocutor (Juvenal, if we like) begins by asking about Naevolus’ wretched appearance. The extended and exaggerated commentary on Naevolus’ manifest change bespeaks comic banter,25 and his former (or so Juvenal infers from his appearance) promiscuity is dealt with in terms that remind us of Ovid’s Ars Amatoria26 and Juvenal’s Ursidius (6.42-4), who is himself conceived of as a character in an adultery mime. Naevolus’ reply jarringly draws on much loftier literature. In utile et hoc multis vitae genus (‘This way of life too is useful to many’, 9.27) Juvenal suggests didactic: utile multis recalls Ovid (AA 1.159 and 2.642), utile et hoc genus suggests the kind of catalogue which has a natural place in didactic instruction, and vitae genus suggests the lists of ways of life which had a long lineage in serious and elevated poetry.27 In addition nullum operae pretium (‘no reward for one’s labour’) may have a slight Ennian flavour.28 Naevolus’ ostentatiously small list of gifts received interrupts this solemnity with a colour possibly reminiscent of Martial’s Epigrams,29 but he returns immediately to a loftier philosophical strain (32ff.). Not for long, however, as this application of a cosmic level of understanding fate30 to the workings of Naevolus’ private parts (33) contains within itself the inconcinnity we see throughout this more or less didactic reply to Juvenal’s mimic question (an oscillation of tone which repeats itself over and again in the rest of the poem: cf. especially 124ff., 135-6). The complexity of the passage does not end there. In nil faciet longi mensura incognita nervi (34, ‘the unparalleled scale of your long member will achieve nothing’) we are doubtless led (even after the pointer in partibus illis / quas sinus abscondit, ‘those parts hidden by the clothes’) to expect something more like the tempora longi / servitii of Umbricius’ 126

6. Other Genres in Satire speech (3.124-5, ‘the timescale of my long service’). Juvenal here conflates a satiric thought and phraseology with a Priapic one (cf. Priap. 80.3). The condemnatory tone of the one has its ground shifted by the context of the other; though the line remains condemnatory, its effect is quite different. Juvenal plays a similar game with the audience’s expectation a few lines later, when kinaidos (approximately = ‘sodomite’) replaces sidêros (‘iron’; Od. 16.294, 19.13) in the quotation at line 37. In the next lines a wild fluctuation goes on. The imaginary interjection at line 39 resembles in a general way the lively mimesis Horace extracts from Greek erotic epigram (Philodemus) at Satires 1.2.120 or that at Ov. RA 301, but computat et cevet (‘he counts up and wiggles his tail’) is strongly derogatory and satiric (cf. Juv. 5.14-15, 6.651, and for cevet cf. Pers. 1.87, Juv. 2.21). This is followed by language which points at the amoral world of comedy, Martial, and Priapic epigram (see Plaut. Cas. 455, Priap. 25.6, 52.8, Mart. 1.92.11-12, 11.88, 13.26): an facile et pronum est agere intra viscera penem / legitimum atque illic hesternae occurrere cenae? / servus erit minus ille miser qui foderit agrum / quam dominum (Juv. 9.43-6, ‘Or is it that simple, that easy to exercise your lawful penis right up in his entrails, and run up against yesterday’s dinner? The slave who hoes the field is less wretched than the one who hoes his master’). In the whole of the opening of Naevolus’ first speech the generic affiliations of his comments are constantly shifting and blending. Extremes of level are juxtaposed and contaminated repeatedly. At one level one could talk as though Naevolus has a moral and literary colour-blindness and is unaware of the absurdity of seeing himself in grand terms. Alternatively, one could describe what is going on by saying that there are two frames here. The first and more proximate frame is the Priapic one of Naevolus’ situation. Within this context, moralising and non-moralising literary colours fluctuate and are destabilised. The second, or outer, frame is the comic-mimic one of Juvenal’s introduction, through which we view this literary mélange. Juvenal’s Virgilian allusion later in the poem (102) contributes to this mixture by, so to speak, talking Naevolus’ language. Bucolic is revealed as yet another attractively coloured lens through which Naevolus and his like can see themselves (we can see ourselves). We come back, in other words, to the old question whether Juvenal has any interest in moral issues. The answer has to be yes in one sense at least, that the subversive pitting of different kinds of literature against each other questions their moralities, and therefore the morality of the society that produces and reads them. We can, however, take this further. Morality and literature; Juvenal and love elegy Naevolus’ speeches reveal him as a character we might feel it easy to judge harshly. His lack of interest in anyone’s point of view but his own, his 127

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre mercenary core, his calculated impregnation of Virro’s wife, his saccharine and poetic self-pity all contribute to this. The comic frame of the satire, moreover, does nothing to prevent us from doing this. It does, however, help Naevolus remain someone other, someone who is not ‘us’. Even taking Roman attitudes to masculinity and homosexuality into account, his distastefulness makes him fair game as a scapegoat. Nevertheless, there is something in the application of features of Priapic verse to the fundamental Roman social value of amicitia, which is less easy for the audience to divert. The poem becomes more than a comic picture of Naevolus and Virro and their pecuniary sexual arrangement; it becomes the circle in which the audience is forced to ask how good the fit is between a picture of a mercenary sexual arrangement and one of how (Roman) society works. The discussion of Juvenal’s treatment of bucolic necessarily expanded to take in other genres too, but it is still worth while giving some account in itself of Juvenal’s treatment of elegy, both because it has more presence than bucolic, and because elegy’s own anti-epic programme might seem to put it in the arena directly with – or against – satire. The main impetus of the satirists’ attack on literature is against epic. Elegy is a marginal target in the programmatic passages of Persius and Juvenal (see Pers. 1.51, Juv. 1.4), and does not figure in Horace’s satiric programmes at all. Outside the programmatic context it has no significant presence in the satires of Horace or Persius,31 but it does make itself felt in those of Juvenal. Its absence from Persius requires no special explanation, since his concern for other literature is centred on the programme pieces. On the contrast between Horace and Juvenal, however, a little does need to be said. Both Horace and Lucretius (in DRN 4) satirise the role of erotic literature in the moving toyshop of the heart, and it may seem odd that Horace confines himself to using erotic epigram rather than also making fun of elegy in Satires 1.2, especially given Horace’s literary opportunism and range in the Satires. There is a strong contrast with the Odes, where Horace frequently hits out at elegy. Although the Odes are indeed later than the Satires, the contrast largely persists into the Epistles and seems to show there is more than chronology at work. It does not seem enough to suggest that elegy grew from insignificance between the Satires and the Odes (Horace returns to silence over love elegy in the Epistles and Ars Poetica).32 The question may, however, have more to do with the greater need of the Odes to distinguish themselves from elegy than with Horace’s Satires as such. Love elegy had ceased to be of any great significance as a living genre in Juvenal’s time, but its appearance in the texture of his satires is analogous to his eclectic and atemporal use of names. Elegy still belonged to Roman literature and was still read; there is no reason why it should 128

6. Other Genres in Satire have been excluded from the literary mixture of Juvenal’s Satires, nor treated in a meaningfully different way from, say, bucolic, and indeed Juvenal is at least as ambivalent with the one as with the other. We have already seen how at the beginning of the sixth satire Juvenal constructs a parodic vision of the Golden Age in which the crudity and ugliness of the early and innocent inhabitants are mercilessly subjected to the perspective of the audience which reads Catullus and Propertius. Juvenal is not simply satirising the sophisticated love poetry of the Romans33 as morally inadequate. Both here and as the poem proceeds, very different literary voices are played against each other in such a way that we are obliged to contemplate how alluring we actually find such Lesbias and Cynthias. Comparatively few of us are murderers, but adultery is at least within the reach of most of us, and in this area our moral judgements tend to be heavily compromised by the proximity of our own vested interests. Drama lets us identify – at a safe remove – with the flawed and the compromised. It does so through the interplay of character and situation. In Juvenal dramatic voices are replaced by a cast of literary voices. Juvenal’s apparently moralising attack on elegy at the beginning of the sixth satire is partially and productively undermined by this quasidramatic complexity, leaving the reader not quite sure what he is swallowing. Juvenal’s other elegiac references are susceptible to the same sort of treatment. At the end of the ninth satire, for example, Naevolus provides a wish list, neither a very modest nor a grotesquely luxurious one, and despairs of even such good fortune as ever to become ‘poor’ (pauper, 147). Fortune fails to respond to his prayers, and uses wax from the ship which, unhearing, escaped the Sirens. The rococo decoration of the simple thought is flagrantly poeticising and recalls Homer via Propertius (Sirenum surdo remige adisse lacus, ‘to approach the Sirens’ pool with unhearing oarsmen’, Prop. 3.12.34). The line is part of an Odyssean synopsis which predicts the faithful husband Postumus’ return to his faithful wife Galla after his military service. This broader context, however, is not relevant to the actual point of comparison – Fortune ignoring Naevolus. The most that can be said is that it has an indirectly ironic resonance with Naevolus’ promiscuous and calculating character. It is inappropriate in a way which is not unlike the other literary borrowings in his speeches. Another Propertian allusion, in the third satire, is embedded with other allusions. Umbricius begins his tirade against Greek interlopers by sounding Roman notes: the address to the citizen body (Quirites, 60, picked up by Quirine at 67) and the reminiscence of Aeneas’ journey towards the Graia (poetic) urbs (V. Aen. 6.98) of antique Rome built into Umbricius’ fleeing of the Graeca (unpoetic) urbs of his own Rome. He goes on to unfold what ‘Greek’ means: 129

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre quamvis quota portio faecis Achaei? iam pridem Syrus in Tiberim defluxit Orontes et linguam et mores et cum tibicine chordas obliquas nec non gentilia tympana secum vexit et ad circum iussas prostare puellas. ite, quibus grata est picta lupa barbara mitra. (Juv. 3.62-6) Yet what portion of the dregs is really Achaean? Syrian Orontes has long been discharging into the Tiber its language, its ways, cross-string harps and flute-players, its native drums, and the girls ordered to take their stand at the Circus. Go there, all you who fancy barbarian whores in embroidered headgear.

The rhetorical association of music and vice goes back to Scipio,34 and the word faecis (‘dregs’) makes a connection with a passage in Lucan’s epic, the Bellum Civile (‘Civil War’; see especially 7.404-5).35 Another very different echo also stands out, from Propertius’ celebration of foreign prostitutes (2.23.21-2, et quas Euphrates et quas mihi misit Orontes, / me iuverint; ‘I’m for the girls the Euphrates and Orontes send’). Propertius’ poem is a reaction against Cynthia’s waywardness and pretends to its own morality (not unlike that of Hor. Sat. 1.2), but even though Umbricius is mocking those who take pleasure in exotic prostitutes, the contact between his moralising and Propertius’ posturing is very uneasy indeed. To accept fully and whole-heartedly Umbricius’ echo of Scipionic moralising one would have to relinquish the poetry of Propertius, poetry which Juvenal insistently reminds us of. The reader is pushed into wondering just how hard that might be – as he will be again with the Propertian reference at the beginning of the sixth satire. To add to the complexity we should realise that this part of Umbricius’ speech already contains in its mixed tones the seeds of the tensions that are developed when he returns to the topic of prostitution from a quite different angle at 3.131ff. A final elegiac example comes from the second satire. Towards the end of the poem Juvenal conjures up a picture of the Underworld, complete with Styx and its traditional paraphernalia, in order to contrast the dead of the past with the debased newly dead. Juvenal’s esse aliquos manes (‘That there are spirits’, 2.149) clearly recalls Propertius’ sunt aliquid manes ( ‘The spirits exist’, 4.7.1). That is how Propertius begins his account of the abrasive dream-visit he receives from the dead Cynthia. What has a love story blended of discordantly sordid and sentimental elements and written up in a complex literary amalgam to do with the desperate moral degeneracy Juvenal parades before us? Within moments Juvenal tells us that not even children believe all this, and his picture of the underworld is dismissed with such contemptuous brevity, and then resurrected so perfunctorily (sed tu vera puta, ‘But suppose it’s true’, 153) that it is hard to take at all seriously the subsequent account of ancient 130

6. Other Genres in Satire heroes lining the far bank of the Styx and watching the new arrivals come across in Charon’s boat. When we throw out the Ferryman’s bathwater, just how much baby can we keep hold of? We are not sure how much of our mental library we have to rethink, how much of it is just childish stuff. As we have seen, the stylistic difference between satire and epic is part of the programme of all the extant satirists. Other genres are parodied or burlesqued, chiefly by Horace and Juvenal, but less consistently and without the back-up of explicit programmatic comments. The treatment of other genres is differentiated. Didactic, for example, shows up rather differently in the three satirists, elegy is perhaps surprisingly unnoticed in Horace’s Satires,36 and epigram has a quite different profile in the Satires of Horace and Juvenal. We need now to look at the generic interrelations at a more general level. The generic field; non-reciprocal pairs and gradience A writer in any given genre has the antecedents of previous writers in that genre. Of course, much may have changed since even the latest predecessor wrote, and the extent to which this is obvious varies according to genre. However, there is always an additional relationship, and that is with a sort of detemporalised idea of epic. This is clear in hexameter verse, i.e. didactic, bucolic, satire, and even the Statius of the Silvae (although the Silvae is not a purely hexameter collection); each of these reacts differently to epic. However, the picture extends beyond the hexameter poets, for both elegy and lyric admit epic narrative material, and each admits a programmatic relationship with epic. Satire and elegy stand out amongst the others in that their antipathies to epic are explicitly flagged up, but they do not significantly relate themselves to each other, either as mutually hostile or as allies against epic. What we have here is a core genre and a stellar system of rivals and derivatives which largely ignore each other – a system, in other words, of genre-pairs in which epic is always one of the members of the pair. These pairs are asymmetrical, or non-reciprocal, in that in each case the other member reacts to epic in some way, be it rejection or inclusion, but epic – at least ostensibly – does not react in return. Of course epic changes in reaction to the surrounding literary context – it becomes more evidently eroticised for one thing – but it continues to regard material derived from outside as alien and transgressive.37 Another point needs to be made in order to clarify the set of intergeneric relationships. We can list literary features and try to assign them to genres, but this is not straightforward. There is no clear-cut matching even of sets of features and specific genres. Assemblages are indeed handed down, but individual features may be found scattered across generic boundaries. Thus, the wide-ranging generic miscegenation that 131

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre seems more characteristic of satire than of other verse genres can also be seen in Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis (‘Pumpkinification of Claudius’) and Petronius’ Satyrica. Another case in point is the opposition to epic which is not located in one genre, but shared between elegy and satire. Indeed the various features by which surrounding genres make any sort of claim on epic belong here too. In considering genres as assemblages of generic features, we could legitimately talk of gradience in the sense used in linguistics to describe the lack of discrete boundaries between nouns, verbs, adjectives, and other such ‘parts of speech’. Typical generic assemblages of features are an abstraction – there is no example of a ‘typical’ epic – but the idea of a typical assemblage is, nonetheless, of the greatest importance in reading specific examples of a genre with all their contaminations. This point is particularly relevant to the literariness of elegy and satire. Both distance themselves from epic, and a case can be made for seeing both Propertius and Ovid as trying increasingly to include and assimilate epic material in their own genre, rather as one might claim for Horace and Juvenal. What makes these apparent similarities actually part of the difference between the two genres is the mental map of sets of generic features. Thus the epic question is, in elegy, part of the politicised opposition of love and war, personal and public, whereas in the satirists it is rather part of a wide-ranging critique of literature, dramatising the literary voices of the satirist’s age in a sort of polyphony.38 This mimetic variety is one feature in the menu of features available for satire, but a recurrent and especially important one.39 All Roman literature, of course, is allusive. This is not the place for an account of the literariness of other genres, but some further soundings will help narrow the focus on the satirists. We know that Virgil constantly replays earlier literature (including, of course, earlier epic), but there is a sense in which we feel these voices are in their new context subordinated to an epic vision. Likewise, Seneca in his epistles uses a wide range of allusion, but these are harmonised into the philosophy of the new context.40 In satire this becomes less and less convincing: by the time we reach Juvenal, it is definitely the sense of unresolved difference and variety that is foregrounded. Perhaps rather surprisingly, Propertian elegy seems to provide some sort of precedent. Here epic is both used as a foil in the elegiac self-definition, and becomes a source of tones, frames, and material which, when transferred into the elegiac context, generate complex discords and tensions. Perhaps, however, the closest point of reference outside satire for Juvenal’s unruly chromaticism – and here again there are superficial reasons for surprise – is an epic, the wayward Metamorphoses of Ovid, in which the epic tone is constantly eroded by tones drawn from elegy and elsewhere.

132

7

Juvenal and Performance1 A genre implies a certain type of relationship with its audience. The epic mouth does not have the same informal familiarity as that of the neoteric short poem. Performances of the two kinds of literature are different kinds of social occasion and the mouthpiece is subject to different etiquettes. In this general sense there is a connection between the issues of performance and of genre. We also know that poetry readings were important from the Augustan period onwards: we have various witnesses to the performance of poetry in front of more or less open gatherings, the social event known as the recitatio (‘recitation’). Horace expresses his aversion to the recitation scene, but Pliny is enthusiastic, and Tacitus and Juvenal provide more colour.2 There was always opportunity for dramatic effects of voice and gesture. There was further encouragement from another sphere, too, and that is declamation, an improvised performance art in which dramatic verbal effects were highly admired and given a high value. The influence of declamation was increasingly pervasive in Latin literature from around the beginning of the first century AD.3 There is also the matter of generic manner conceived of as a voice. The generic mixture that we see especially in Horace and Juvenal dramatises itself as a mime show of different and competing voices. We can connect this with the ancient figure of speech, mimesis, whereby the speaker mimics the expression of another point of view. This can take the form of a direct interlocution, a sort of imaginary or hypothetical direct speech, or a looser reflection of a vocabulary or tone that might characterise the other point of view. We could be dealing with direct quotation, but more likely with imaginative construction or reconstruction. We can see this figure very widely spread, but perhaps particularly in declamation, diatribe, Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis and Petronius’ Satyrica. It is the mimicking element that gives this figure a dramatic or performative twist and I shall discuss it further shortly. Performance has something of a thematic role in satire,4 but it is part of the sociology of literature in which satire was a part. This raises issues of interpretation, since (as Reckford writes) ‘in satire, as in comedy, interpretations multiply with performance’,5 and perhaps nowhere more insistently than in Juvenal’s Satires. In them performance is exploited in 133

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre a highly sophisticated way for a range of effects, including what one might call meta-dramatic. There is a good deal to say about how performance (i.e. the performing manner) affects interpretability in Juvenal, and particularly about the changing strategies he adopts in manipulating audience expectations, and the very conscious (and rather Ovidian) manipulative games he plays with the audience, especially in some of the later satires (perhaps especially 11 and 12). There is also the dramatic element inherent in Juvenal’s pose in the earlier satires as someone suddenly and angrily bursting into speech, but the background to this is broad and needs some preliminary outlining. Performance was endemic in the literature and life of the early Empire. The art of declamation was practised both as a school exercise and as an adult entertainment, and had a far-reaching influence on the manner and thematic consistency of Latin literature, not least on Juvenal.6 It must also have been a formative influence on the lives of educated Romans, and the idea of life itself as role-playing was also given much discussion in general terms, and with specific regard to life under the Emperors. I want now to pick out two strands from this amalgam of life and literature for further consideration, namely declamation and the dramatic aspects of the daily life of the Roman upper classes. Declamation The staple exercises of declamation were the controversia (‘dispute’), in which the speaker would take one side in a fictitious and legal case, and the suasoria (‘persuasion piece’), in which the speaker urged a historical or mythical character to pursue some course of action. The declamations were performed off the cuff, listened to, criticised, discussed, and written about. The influence of these exercises is partly (and perhaps superficially) a matter of a list of characteristics: the proliferation of pointed encapsulating sentences, figures of speech such as the apostrophe, choice of vocabulary, extensions of meanings of individual words, sentence length, choppiness and pithiness, the use of standard commonplaces, sensationalism of manner and content. One has also to reckon with the influence of specific passages and sententiae. All of this is relevant,7 but in essence, as Winterbottom writes (1980, 60), ‘we are looking for a certain tone of voice, hectic, hectoring and melodramatic. The declamatory writer takes pleasure in epigram and point, but also in outrageous paradox, exaggeration, and ingenuity of all kinds.’ The overall impression is distinctly characteristic of improvised performance. In addition, role playing is obviously built into the controversia and, though perhaps less flagrantly, the suasoria, and there are, besides, points of contact between declamation and the situations of comedy, not to mention the scope for characterisation. Ovid, part of the 134

7. Juvenal and Performance declamation scene himself, preferred the suasoria because of its higher character content, and the smaller need for argumentation (Sen. Contr. 2.2.12), and his poetry combines interest in character and the manner of declamation.8 Play-acting and real life The second strand that needs consideration is the element of play-acting that seems to have become rife in imperial society. Suetonius tells us about Nero’s interest in performance (Suet. Nero 20ff.), Nero who, says Suetonius, sang the Iliou Persis (‘Sack of Troy’) in tragic garb as Rome burned (38), and in disguise prowled the streets of Rome by night in search of adventure and robbery (26).9 Juvenal has similar material about Messalina (6.115ff.). Life in the Neronian court involved people in a set of roles in which language and meaning were disjunct, or that is the impression Tacitus aims to give in his account of the exchange of speeches between Seneca and Nero (Annals 14.53-6), ending as he does, Seneca, qui finis omnium cum dominante sermonum, grates agit (‘Seneca gave thanks – the end of all conversations with an emperor’). The later authors Tacitus and Pliny have much to say about pretence as a way of surviving under the Emperors (this is reflected also in Juv. 4), and Seneca himself had things to say about role playing: in Ep. 80, for example, the poor are happier than the rich because the rich have to play the part of being happy (6); again, the mime-show of life gives us roles which we act badly (7); at Ep. 120.22 we all, except for the Stoic wise man, play multiform roles, changing our masks back and forth. Seneca’s tragedies reflect this too, though at a more openly literary level: in them the dramatis personae seem often to be posturing or self-dramatising, and their motivations can be deeply perplexing, despite their readiness to make speeches about them. This idea of role-playing is deeply entrenched in another Neronian product, Petronius’ Satyrica. This obviously represents a fictitious world, but is worth citing here as a reflection of the tastes and interests of the same period. ‘In Petronius’, according to John of Salisbury’s neat formulation, ‘almost the whole world plays a part’ (… fere totus mundus iuxta Petronium exerceat histrionem; Polycraticus (1159) 3.8). Petronius (in the role of Encolpius) makes the same point explicitly (80) and implicitly: his frequent use of the verb clamo (‘shout’) and its compounds – including declamo – is meant to signal how the heroes of the Satyrica live a life which, however bizarre in itself, is the more bizarre because of their constant self-dramatisation, in particular on declamatory models.10 We should remember here how frequently the declamatory exercises were criticised as unrelated to real life,11 how the shadowy school is contrasted with the reality of court cases under the sun.12 135

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Literary voices and impersonation There is another point to make about Petronius, and that concerns the degree to which the first person narrative is a harmonised unity. (It will already be clear from earlier chapters that this may have a bearing on the unharmonious patchwork of Juvenal’s allusions.) Roger Beck argued that the speaker in Petronius’ novel is, as it were, an older, wiser Encolpius ironically recalling his youthful follies, a position I tried to develop in an article of my own in 1987.13 Both of us were, I think, trying to find ways round the position set forward in Peter George’s 1966 article in Arion14 in which he wrote (a) that the first person is quite simply an unresolved amalgam of two distinct elements: the voice of the author, elegant and refined, and the voice of an Encolpius who is no wiser than the Encolpius in the story, and (b) that the author uses the first person form as a convenience (and for vividness), slipping into mimetic passages to make fun of Encolpius’ naivety and rhetorical afflatus. The role-playing is assumed when it suits the author (a point I shall apply to Juvenal below). Recently, Jensson has presented the narrative voice of the Satyrica in a rather different light.15 For him Encolpius tells his story using a kind of narration not used in public speeches, characterised by impersonation (ad Her. 1.8.13, Cic. Inv. 1.27; cf. Quint. 9.2.58), i.e. the dramatic livening of the account with mimicking of the kind of things the characters might be thought to have said. Cicero illustrates this with a passage from a speech in Terence (Adelphi 60-4), in which Micio enlivens his soliloquy with an impersonation of his brother Demea’s way of talking to him. Jensson cites the same passage from Cicero and another from the anonymous rhetorical treatise, the Ad Herennium (3.14.24) to show the dramatic nature of this sort of narrative and point up its performance aspect. He further mines the Ad Herennium (4.10) for the author’s sample of the plain stylistic level (figura extenuata), finding this use of mimesis (‘impersonation’) one of its features. All this is not only a highly elegant account of the first person voice in Petronius, but also shows his background in rhetorical education, a background which also contributes to explaining the sort of variety of voice we see in Juvenal. I would shortly like to flesh out this picture by reconsidering the question of multi-interpretability, and by giving an account of some of the ways in which Juvenal manipulates the performance element in the satires. There are, however, some performance-related points that can be disposed of first: timing and voice. Juvenal and performance We have no direct access to what a performance of the Satires looked or sounded like, but at a general level certain features are inevitably rele136

7. Juvenal and Performance vant, others possibly so. We do not know how the timing was done, but we do know that timing enhances effects in the script. The following lines are ordered in such a way as to give opportunity for skilful pacing and delivery to bring out the careful gradations in a beautifully arranged ‘crescendo of absurdity’.16 ne quid tibi conferat iste, quem colis et Musarum et Apollinis aede relicta, ipse facit versus atque uni cedit Homero propter mille annos, … (Juv. 7.36-9) … so he doesn’t have to bestow anything on you (the one you leave the hallows of Apollo and the Muses to worship), he is himself a poet, second only to Homer – and that because Homer’s a thousand years older.

The patron justifies his reluctance to give the poor poet money; after all, he is a poet himself – only surpassed by Homer in fact – and that only because of Homer’s unfair advantage, antiquity.17 Likewise, we have no direct evidence of the use of voice, but we can point to passages which suggest opportunities for the reciter. The frequent abrupt interjection of another point of view (as at 6.142, ‘cur desiderio Bibulae Sertorius ardet?’, ‘So why is Sertorius inflamed with longing for Bibula, then?’) would demand a certain inflectional adeptness to clarify the continuity and the alternation of perspective, but other passages would encourage impersonative efforts for their own merits. The erotically charged Greek words characterised as lascivious (lascivum) at Satires 6.194-5 (‘zôê kai psychê’, ‘My life and soul’) call for an intonation to dramatise what it is to be lascivious. The frequent bits of direct speech suggesting dramatic scenes (e.g. 1.101ff., 125-6; 6.146-8) likewise call for expression. Voice is explicitly at issue in a passage in the eleventh satire. Epic, both Homer’s and Virgil’s, are found here in a context in which performance is brought to the fore. Juvenal has been describing for his addressee’s benefit the erotic dancers that Persicus might be expecting (11.162) but who, it turns out, are not going to be present. Instead, there will be recitations from the Iliad and from Virgil – clearly the Aeneid (11.180-1). ‘What does it matter what voice such verses are read with?’ asks Juvenal (182, quid refert, tales versus qua voce legantur), implying that the performance is not likely to meet high standards. We are not told that the quality of the dancing is good, but its description clearly gives us to understand that it fulfils its aims and objectives. This contrast is insidious: we see with our reader’s mind’s eye the effective, if morally disgusting, writhing of the dancers’ bottoms, and we hear with our reader’s mind’s ear a wellmeaning but not very good performance of some piece of epic. We may feel 137

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre that Persicus would rather have had the dancers, and we may wonder how strongly we disagree with him. In essence, we are offered the same sort of disturbing contrast in the sixth satire (Cynthia and Lesbia versus cavewomen) or the third (austere cultural purity versus the enticement of exotic prostitutes). At another level, it surely does matter how verse is read, and we can only imagine what possibilities a lector might feel this passage offered in the way of mimicking a poor performance. One might also wonder about the range of possible ways in which the lines describing the dancers might be read: how might prurience and condemnation be measured against each other in the reading? Performance and interpretation Reckford suggests that ‘we might usefully experiment with the reperformance of Persius’ satires’.18 There might be practical, theoretical, and assessment problems, but, to pursue the point just made about reading a passage in the eleventh satire, we can certainly look once more at the passage in Satires 3 where Umbricius presents the viewpoint of the man who has to ponder whether he can afford to take Chione down from her tall seat (3.131-6). Let us forget the subtly different views on prostitution already expressed by Umbricius at lines 62-6 and contemplate the indignity to which ‘you’ are exposed. Umbricius presents this ‘you’ as a decent sort who likes a particular girl, but whose circumstances are difficult. The second person form creates a character we are invited to identify with. Or do we remain separate and despise the saccharine sentimentality with which Umbricius dresses up his own sexual attitudes, and the way he creates a bogey-man to enhance the good light in which he is putting himself? For a live performance the text is a script which allows of considerable latitude in pitching the tone. This question, of course, applies to the whole of Umbricius’ speech, and we have already seen how Juvenal places pointers that tend to undermine him in the opening of the satire, his destination and motives, his name, and so forth. There is another pointer, of a different kind, in the use of a similar, but smaller, piece of character-writing in the second satire, where Laronia makes such questionable claims (see further below) that Juvenal’s emphatic seal of approval sounds suspicious. This provides something of a model for what happens in the third satire. There is also the fact that amicitia is a theme that runs through the whole of the first book, and the different angles of vision we get of it help give a frame for Umbricius’ position. The double introduction, however, allows the possibility that Umbricius’ speech cannot be dismissed completely as substanceless ranting. It is true that Juvenal makes Umbricius begin his speech with an extraordinary level of rhetorical inflation, but the speech 138

7. Juvenal and Performance falls into two parts: the first (Umbricius’ gripes about money at 21-189) is introduced by Umbricius himself (21-8), but the second (the dangers of living in Rome at 190-314) is introduced by the poet (6-9). It could be argued that we are entitled to take the nightmarish picture of urban danger of the second part more seriously than Umbricius’ social complaints. On the other hand, this, the nightmarish section, is as literary as anything else in the speech19 – if not more so. We are no closer to resolving the issue, except in realising that the same problem lies at the heart of all Juvenal’s work. The literariness is everywhere, and the rhetorical manner is not confined to Juvenal’s interlocutors.20 What Umbricius shares with the Juvenal of other satires is the unharmonious mixture of incompatible voices. Umbricius, by speaking, implies a recipient for his message: he creates a domain which he fills with his discordant patchwork. The uneasy question the listener in the audience is left with is how closely that domain resembles the unresolved tangles of his (or her) own psyche. Within these limits it is still possible to expend either more or less sympathy on Umbricius, but that is a question of moral judgement, and the answer is not meant to be easy. The conflict of genres as drama This kind of ambivalence is a core feature of Juvenal’s satiric writing. The individual satire becomes a stage for the poet or his performer to enact a dialogue between multiple literary voices. This is, in fact, dramatised at the outset of the corpus. semper ego auditor tantum? numquamne reponam vexatus totiens rauci Theseide Cordi? inpune ergo mihi recitaverit ille togatas, hic elegos? Inpune diem consumpserit ingens Telephus …? (Juv. 1.1-5) Am I always to be just in the audience? Never to get my own back, though vexed so often by hoarse Cordus’ Theseid? Is someone going to get away with reciting his comedies, someone else his elegies? Will the mighty Telephus get away with wasting the day?

The opening of the first satire is abrupt and dramatic. The precise impact of the drama is the product of these words uttered in the recitation context (which we imagine, but which the first audience had in front of them). What is dramatised here is a poetry recitation – a poetry recitation at which Juvenal has been present in the audience and listening to the usual mythological fare. At a certain point his endurance snaps and he heckles, interrupting the performance, disrupting it entirely and stepping forward 139

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre to replace it with his own performance.21 One could call this effect metatheatrical, though rather differently from the metatheatrical tricks in Plautine comedy where we think of the breaking of the dramatic illusion as the actors conspire with the audience. Juvenal rather creates than breaks a dramatic illusion here. There is more to be said about these opening lines. From the first moments of this programmatic poem, the space in which Juvenal performs is transformed – by the performance – from a recitation hall into a dramatic space for a conflict between genres. Indeed, since there is an ambivalence about whether the performance space, the hall, contains the performance (Juvenal reciting), or the performance of the words creates an imaginary performance-space for this drama, one can see these opening lines as programming Juvenal’s satire itself as an arena in which the different genres contend with each other. Playing with the audience Performance implies a relationship with the audience. Juvenal controls this relationship in a range of ways. He is, indeed, artful in his manipulations of the audience. I shall shortly discuss some major examples of this, but there are some small-scale illustrations to look at first. The following passages show a kind of game with the audience. fugerunt trepidi vera ac manifesta canentem Stoicidae; quid enim falsi Laronia? (Juv. 2.64-5) Trembling, the Stoicids fled as she sang the clear truth – for what did Laronia say that was false? his ego quem monui? Tecum mihi sermo, Rubelli Blande (Juv. 8.39-40) To whom was this advice directed? I’m talking to you, Rubellius Blandus. neu suspecta tibi sunt haec, Corvine, Catullus, pro cuius reditu tot pono altaria, parvos tres habet heredes (Juv. 12.93-5) Lest you have any suspicion about this, Corvinus, Catullus, for whose return I am setting up so many altars, has three little heirs.

In the first of these passages Juvenal closes off the indignant speech made by Laronia in reaction to hypocritical homosexuals. The claims she makes are sometimes overstated or false,22 and Juvenal’s exaggerated imprimatur on the speech must be intended to provoke the audience into 140

7. Juvenal and Performance disbelief. In the second passage Juvenal has been addressing Ponticus (vocative in line 1) on the topic of the unimportance of birth compared to merit. The opening 38 lines contain a mass of aristocratic names in clusters, suggesting that they are no better than each other (note the various words for ‘or’ – the double vel in 21, the seu in 26 and the aut in 37). In this context, the way in which Rubellius Blandus is suddenly produced from nowhere as an extended example of worthless aristocracy seems to tempt the audience into seeing him as effectively interchangeable with the uncharacterised Ponticus.23 In the third passage Juvenal again plays upon audience reactions: the unexpected gambit, neu suspecta tibi sint haec (‘in case you suspect this’), must prompt the thought, however momentarily, that Juvenal’s sacrifice for Catullus’ safe return from a storm at sea is not actually altruistic, and perhaps this (like ‘change the name and the tale’s about you’, Hor. Sat. 1.1.69-70) in turn inculpates the audience by assimilating it to the Corvinus who cannot, apparently, take what he sees in this instance at face value.24 Persius takes the subtle inculpation of the audience as a characteristic of Horatian satire (Pers. 1.116-18), but as we see more and more Juvenal does it too in his own way. The earlier satires The performance elements in the bulk of the first to the tenth satires are varied, but comparatively straightforward. What we have just seen in the twelfth is rather different, and different in a way which is a good illustration for what happens is the eleventh satire. To gauge the development some general outline of the dramatic element of the earlier satires will be useful. The third satire is a dialogue in form, although Umbricius does all the talking, and the characterisation of the main speaker is a fundamental feature of the poem. The dramatic situation is coherently conceived. In the fourth satire, much of the force and point of the poem derives from the strong contrast in tone between the strongly satiric section on Crispinus and the ironic mock-epic of the Domitianic part, a contrast in tone which would obviously come to life powerfully in a real performance. In this satire too, the situations dealt with in the poem are coherently conceived, but Crispinus is presented quite differently in the two parts, inside and outside the court. Outside he is monstrous, inside he is dwarfed and timid. The fifth and sixth satires have obvious relations to school rhetoric in form (suasoria) and (especially the sixth) content. Again the dramatic situation is coherently conceived, and already implicit in the suasoria form.25 The character element is stronger in the fifth satire, where Trebius has a strong presence (and so does Virro); Postumus is a rather more formalistic element in the sixth, and the addressee in the seventh satire is more vestigial again, as well as more tenuously related to the main treatment. This 141

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre trend seems to be continued in the eighth satire, where Ponticus’ role is difficult to pin down, but in the ninth satire, another dialogue, the dramatic situation is consistently presented and the character of Naevolus is central to the satire. There is more variety again with the tenth satire, which lacks any dramatic context and resembles the kind of treatment found in Epictetus, Lucian’s Nigrinus, Persius’ Satires, Seneca’s letters and so on, the popular philosophising which was channelled into a range of forms, but is found in its most pure form in oral or quasi-oral (i.e. performance) contexts. In one way or another the performance aspect of all these satires is straightforward. The dramatis personae of the poem are important, the audience is important, but they remain independent of each other. In the eleventh and twelfth satires, however, the performance element is more complex and more dependent on the interplay of performer and audience. Juvenal Satires 11 In the eleventh satire Juvenal begins with over 50 lines of vigorous satire at the expense of over-luxurious eaters, as though in this the second poem of book 4 we are about to see a second diatribe-type poem like the preceding satire. At line 56, however, the satire takes a completely unexpected direction, an apparently friendly address to one Persicus about a simple meal to which he has been invited by the author. Persicus’ name is, in a poem about food, at least suspect,26 and I have argued elsewhere that the menu offered to Persicus at 64-75 sows seeds of doubt about his real interest in truly simple food.27 But Persicus’ role, while never characterised in any depth or vividness (unlike Umbricius, Trebius and Naevolus), is not even presented consistently. There are touches of colour throughout which seem to treat him as a jaded sophisticate and not as the willing recipient of the kind of invitation Juvenal has apparently sent, especially 162ff., which seem to invite him to salivate over the possible prospect of erotic dancers, only to rub his nose in the real fare on offer: Homer and Virgil, badly read at that. It is as though Juvenal creates and holds up before his audience a cardboard cut-out figure – the ‘poet’s friend’ who is agreeable to simple food, but every now and then gives a nudge and wink to the audience, implying a shared joke at Persicus’ expense, but a rather different Persicus this time. And just as there are two Persici, so there are two audiences – or rather each member of the audience is split, for we may like to see ourselves as decent and moderate, but the reality is more complicated. The dramatic situation in this satire is not simple and consistent in the way it is in, say, the third, fifth or ninth satire. This does not mean that it is inferior or less well crafted, merely that it uses a different sort of approach to performance. We find the same kind of phenomenon in some 142

7. Juvenal and Performance apparently out-of-character touches in declamation, where the declaimer perverts the tone of direct speech with terms that imply a wholly different set of attitudes or value judgements, but this is really just part of the taste for multiple voices which is demonstrated by almost any page of declamation, speeches by Cicero or in Tacitus and so on, with their use of interjections, interlocutions, and such. The metatheatrical element in Plautine drama may also be worth keeping in mind, and the same taste is catered for in the way Apuleius ‘plays hide and seek’ with the reader of the Metamorphoses, and keeps peeking through the fabric of his novel.28 Juvenal Satires 12 If we try to take the dramatic situation of the eleventh satire seriously, we create problems: if Juvenal mocks Persicus, what is the point of the invitation? On the other hand, if Persicus is a friend, how do we explain the presence of the first 50-odd lines, and the curious mixture of tones in which Persicus is addressed? In this satire Juvenal shows an interest rather in the piquant variety of tone and the ironic effect of his game with the audience than in dramatic coherence. The same is true, perhaps even more true, in the twelfth satire. Here Juvenal addresses Corvinus and explains the reason for the sacrifice Juvenal is about to conduct (83ff.). The reason for the sacrifice is the escape from a storm at sea of Juvenal’s friend (29), Catullus. Juvenal wants to circumvent Corvinus’ suspicion about his motives and points out that Catullus has three heirs. The rest of the poem is expended on the topic of will-hunting. This synopsis gives an illusion of more dramatic consistency than the details support. The storm is a grotesque parody of an epic convention and the portrait of Catullus ditching his luxury goods as the self-emasculating beaver even further reduces any real impression of Catullus as a friend, or even much of a real character at all (he is suspiciously like the satiric stereotype, the greedy and foolhardy trader). The end of this section reduces Catullus’ escapade to a ripping yarn trotted out by buffoonish (capite raso; for the ‘shaved head’ cf. 5.171) sailors. Once we reach this point, the interest shown by Corvinus in Juvenal’s attitude to Catullus becomes less credible. Furthermore, Corvinus is such a shadowy creation in his own right that the coincidence of his name and the topic of will-hunting (captatio) seems too good to be true,29 for corvus (‘crow’) is often used in this connection, most strikingly perhaps by Petronius (Sat. 116), in the description of Croton as wasted by will-hunting and populated entirely by metaphorical crows and carrion. Instead of trying to construe a realistic drama from these materials, we should see the poem as an opportunistic collage starting from the kind of situation we see in Horace Odes 3.8, with the poet explaining the reason for a sacrifice to a passer-by and leading to a dramatic surprise or change of direction as the poet pretends to be 143

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre concerned about the impression he is giving (like the tangential ‘don’t suspect me’ gambit in Horace Odes 2.4) so as to pass on to another conventional topic. This change of direction is the motivation for the final section of the poem and is clearly a dramatic effect, though not one that depends on characterisation and coherent situation, and has something in common with a key feature of the thirteenth satire.30 Juvenal Satires 13 With the thirteenth satire31 we return some way towards the dramatic coherence of the earlier satires, although Calvinus is not strongly characterised, but there is a different sort of effect in this poem. The satire has been described as an ironic consolatio, but for the most part Juvenal uses standard consolatory techniques (although, of course, the thing for which Calvinus is being consoled is not the usual topic of literary consolations). The striking difference comes just after line 190 when Juvenal turns aside from the standard consolatory strategy, which was to mitigate the rawness of the bereavement and help the victim master and cope with unruly emotions. At this point in the satire Juvenal, as it were, gives up the attempt to console Calvinus in that way, and goes on to a different tack, namely suggesting ways in which Calvinus’ desire for revenge might be satisfied. The more desperate these sound,32 the more it is conveyed to the audience that Calvinus’ feelings for his money are such that he is utterly inconsolable when he is deprived of any of it. This satire, like the twelfth, turns about a dramatic moment when Juvenal changes his approach. The last satires Of the last three satires one can register first of all that the performance aspect is again different: the addressees are neither simple dramatic characters, nor opportunistic amalgams, but simply formal devices to indicate epistolary form. The declamatory awareness that can be seen throughout Juvenal remains in force, but Juvenal has moved on again from the innovations of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth satires. In formal terms (variety of format and persona, the unparalleled length of the sixth satire), as well as in his awareness of the possibilities of playing with the audience in different ways, we are struck by Juvenal’s persistent tendency to innovation.

144

8

Juvenal’s Satiric Identity One can easily list similarities among the extant satirists. They all profess some sort of desire to criticise current malefactors by name, but this is only a part – and generally a small or very small part – of what they actually do. Nonetheless, they all make a show at least of writing about ethical issues. They all have a reactionary interest in literature, and especially epic. They all use a mixed style. All of them have a first person point of view and a predominantly discursive, non-narrative approach. There is also the sense that each satirist follows in a generic succession of satirists, and all follow – or purport to follow – the example of Lucilius. However, these similarities need to be considered in the light of numbers of clear differences. The extant satirists are different from each other in content, tone, organisation, and scale. There are other subtler differences of rhetorical design or presumed purpose. What, then, does it mean to assert that there is some constant generic identity, and what is the significance of the Lucilian professions made by post-Lucilian satirists? ‘Lucilian satire’ and social change Morgan comments on how the ‘outspoken, politically opinionated and … self-consciously Roman’ Lucilius became part of the Romans’ sense of themselves. Romans like Cicero ‘were in the habit of reaching for the satire of Lucilius when they wanted to express something essential about their culture …. Adoption of the Lucilian mode conveys all that is right with the Roman world, is one way of putting it.’1 There was, however, a political and social gulf between Lucilius and his followers, and another between Horace and his. When subsequent satirists subscribe to a Lucilian flagship, they are implying that there is a continuity, that what they write is the same kind of thing as Lucilius wrote. There is a sort of implied suggestion that satire, once inaugurated, is a permanent and static entry in the literary field. But satire is not a permanent transcendental reality. The individual satirist is also part of his own time, his own social and literary context. Social change is a major factor in genre-development (see Chapter 2), and there are changes between the age of Lucilius and his successors, and between Horace and his, and so on. Perhaps that between Lucilius (and 145

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre his contemporaries) and Horace was the most marked – at any rate of all the satirists Horace is the most obsessively devoted to programmatic statement and explanation. The possibilities for Lucilian poetry are in Horace’s day very different, and Horace is at pains to work around the question of how like and how different (and in what ways) he is from Lucilius. However, genre-development is not simply a matter of passive response to social change. Horace is his own man too, with (among other things) a distinct didactic leaning, and we should look on his Lucilian professions (and those of the later satirists) partly as rhetorical postures, postures assumed because they allow the satirist to produce the kind of satire he does. For Horace the illusion of literary sameness, that he is somehow writing the same kind of thing as Lucilius did, bestows a number of permissions: it allows a concern for ethical matters, for contemporary life, for a certain centrality of the authorial self, and so on. It also suggests, since Horace is following Lucilius’ example, that there is still a place for libertas (‘freedom’) in political discourse, that old Roman values are still valued in the Augustan world. In this sense, Horace’s Lucilian pose is coherent with the Augustanism of the social and literary context. By Persius’ time, however, this picture of Lucilius is more clearly a historical one. Later writers make a good deal of high-profile hostility to Nero, to which they attribute a Stoic colouring.2 Thrasea Paetus and Helvidius Priscus figure in particular in this context. The writers of the period show a widespread commitment to Stoicism (witness Lucan, Seneca, and Persius himself), and Lucan and Seneca are implicated in antiNeronianism. It would, however, be wrong to begin to suspect a ring of anti-imperial Stoic writers. Seneca and Lucan owed their advancement as well as their subsequent deaths to the Emperor, and while Calpurnius Siculus3 and Seneca may have criticised a specific Emperor, none of these figures had any systematic anti-imperial programme. Where political comment is explicit, it is usually eulogistic. Persius’ Satires (as also Seneca’s philosophical writings) share the Stoic improvement programme of the period, but are politically silent.4 The outspoken Lucilius belongs to the past, and Persius presents himself in strong contrast as a whisperer rather than a Lucilius. Juvenal Juvenal was writing some 60 years later than Persius.5 Turmoil and civil war followed Nero’s death, but from AD 69 the Flavian Emperors, Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian ushered in a long period of domestic calm under successive Emperors. After his violent end in AD 96, Tacitus and Pliny affected to hate the memory of Domitian, presenting his reign as a reign of terror. They had, however, owed their advancement to him. We 146

8. Juvenal’s Satiric Identity may wonder what sort of discontents – or guilts – are being expressed by the creation of monsters in the past. We may wonder what sort of discontents could be expressed when the current Emperor is always to be called good. Ahl suggests that the rhetorically trained Romans could use praise to express criticism covertly.6 Conversely, Suetonius’ critical pictures of past Emperors apply to the present, implying a set of ideals from a particular social perspective.7 Juvenal’s pictures of a decayed nobility, rich and overpowerful freedmen, and aggressive women may refract social changes8 and the concerns of the educated audience, but this does not mean that Juvenal shares the attitudes of, say, Pliny, Tacitus, and Suetonius, and we have already seen how the fourth satire is a critique of Tacitean thought.9 Although Juvenal makes safeness an issue (1.150-72), it is not worked through the Satires persistently enough to suggest that it is a major thematic concern.10 Rather, what we see are novel literary treatments of usually conventional themes, and the interest in the effects caused by striking literary juxtapositions and mixtures remains throughout the corpus. Juvenal holds up Lucilius as a model of outspoken freedom of speech, using the word simplicitas (1.153), but flagrantly diverts this Lucilian candour to turn it against the dead (170-1), making it a travesty of itself. However, the contrast between Lucilian satire and safe literature at the end of Juvenal’s first satire does not only reveal the ‘safeness’ of the latter; it works backwards as well, questioning also the validity of Lucilian satire as a cultural icon, part of the Roman self-image. However, this is only one part of Juvenal’s anarchic patchwork of the literary heritage. Just as Juvenal’s names are drawn from different layers of the past, so too is what we can see of his literary borrowings. Our view of the literary texture of the Satires is hampered by our ignorance, but the contemporary scene must somehow be borne in mind.11 Statius and Martial were dead before the Satires began to appear, perhaps Pliny too. There was some overlap between Juvenal and Tacitus and Suetonius, but then a gap before Fronto, Aulus Gellius, and Apuleius. In this gap Greek literature continues to generate didactic, narrative and mythological epic, epigram, hymns for shrines, festivals and competitions, dramatic competitions, as well as poetry with a more prominent musical element (the citharodia). Some of this activity centred on Hadrian – for example, the narrative by Pancrates from Egypt about a lion hunt in which Hadrian killed a lion attacking Antinous, and citharodic songs about Antinous. Our knowledge of Latin literature in this period is less forthcoming. By the end of the second century the interest in rhetorical display seems to have increased and an archaising interest in older literature had made itself felt. In the period in question we know of Hadrian’s small poems in various metres and work in unusual metres by Florus and Annianus.12 We know with certainty of only one epic produced in the second century (by Clemens), but that is too late for Juvenal.13 Despite the 147

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre rhetorical and timelessly literary nature of Juvenal’s satire, we have to a large extent to content ourselves with setting Juvenal in the context of his predecessors rather than his contemporaries. From the little that we can see, however, this may be a fairly accurate reflection of the literary composition of the Satires.14 We have come a long way from Horace. In his satires we can see a direct manipulation of the audience’s attitude to the political realities of a world where change was alarmingly visible. We see this political engagement in other poets of the time, in the Georgics and the Aeneid, in love elegy. Subsequently, satire becomes politically disengaged, whereas love elegy (for which politics might be seen as a raison d’être) dies out.15 Juvenal: entertainment, variety, and innovation Social change explains much about why satire changes so dramatically over its history. However, one must also remain aware of an active element on the poet’s part. Juvenal was a poet writing in a generic tradition, modelling himself on predecessors, but also altering and competing. He is, through the course of his satiric output, trying all the time to do new things to keep his audience surprised and entertained. The structures and formats he uses change continually. The style and voice are novel, distinctive, and evolving. As to structure and format, we have seen the progression from a dramatically coherent approach to one in which Juvenal plays metatheatrical games, so to speak, with the authorial persona, and then on again to a more epistolary form. We have seen the unparalleled length of the second book. We have seen variations of approach: the use of a more or less sermonising manner, rhetorical address, dialogue (and that of different kinds), and narrative are interwoven among the satires. There is also the cluster of satires using conventional sub-genres for which rhetorical protocols were to hand, the invitation, sôtêria, and consolatio of the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth satires. There is, moreover, the variation in typology and scale as regards significant figures within the satires (characters like Umbricius, Crispinus, Trebius, Telesinus, and Ponticus). The first satire lacks such a figure, containing instead a multiplicity of minor figures. The same is nearly true of the second satire, with the qualification that Laronia assumes a greater degree of importance (and speaks). In this she anticipates the role of Umbricius in the third satire. The fourth satire is different again. It has again one major dominant figure (Domitian), but twelve smaller-scale foils. The final poem of the book uses (as the central one also does) a dramatic form, this time a piece of persuasion. The addressee, Trebius, replaces Umbricius as the specimen amicus, but has the role of addressee rather than speaker. In addition, the incorporation in this poem of another important character (Virro) makes 148

8. Juvenal’s Satiric Identity a pair so as to embody the duality of the amicitia relationship. This arrangement echoes the balancing of Domitian and Crispinus in the fourth satire and looks forward to the connection between Naevolus and Virro in the ninth. This sort of patterning can be seen on a smaller scale too. The tenth satire has again a multiplicity of minor parts, but in carefully graded groups. The overall structure corresponds to that of the seventh satire: it is a sequence of five categories, subdivided into a group of three publicly orientated headings – the central one being smaller than the outer two – followed by a pair dealing with more domestic themes. Within the first category more patterning is visible: its first section is largely filled with one figure (Sejanus), the second with two (Cicero and Demosthenes), and the third with three (Alexander, Xerxes, and Hannibal). Style and content The pre-eminent themes of the satires are well-worn – food, dinners, prayers, will-hunting, sex, and perhaps above all amicitia. There are, however, novelties and individual slants. There is material unprecedented in satire in the fraudulent denial of a loan in the thirteenth satire, the very striking Egyptian cannibalism of the fifteenth, and the military material of the sixteenth. There are too the unusually broad provincial background of the eighth and the imperial court scene of the fourth. Over and above this, there is the general sense that the subject matter of Juvenal’s work, however, conventional, is written on a larger scale and involves more egregious crimes (or crimes presented as more egregious), than that of his predecessors (unless Turnus was also like this). This is not, however, simply a matter of content, for it is inter-related with the indignant manner that is – albeit ambiguously – part of Juvenal’s style. As to that style itself, we have seen how Juvenal takes the basically pedestrian manner of earlier satire and at first goes some way towards raising its aesthetic aspirations in comparison with epic, though not so far that he cannot still incorporate parodies of the epic manner for local effects. The declamatory afflatus with which his satires are also coloured (also present in epic) is, at least as far as we can see, a new thing in the satiric tradition, and closely tied in with the angry persona with which Juvenal opens his corpus. Here too we see an evolving poet, since the role of anger changes as the books proceed. At first it is the programmed voice, but even while still within the first book indignation is becoming increasingly exposed to subversion, and by the thirteenth it is openly criticised (it returns in the two last satires).16 Despite differences of tone from his predecessors we still see the texture of the verse filled with the litter and detritus of the real world: cobblestones, gold rings, birds under temple eaves, and so on. There is, however, 149

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre in Juvenal a much greater tendency to what one might call cinematic focus than in his predecessors. At Satires 3.262 the personification of a puffed cheek (rousing the hearthfire) visualises the salient part. A few lines later the verse pans to the windows that are the apertures through which a sudden death may be admitted (275). In the fourth satire Montanus’ belly (4.107) is the salient feature in his appearance. At Satires 10.238 the pars pro toto figure points at that body part which is relevant to Phiale’s strategy, and likewise it is the bellies forced to eat human flesh that are the appropriate parts for forgiveness at 15.103-6. Other examples (a small and random selection) of this phenomenon are the throat at 14.10, the details of the interlocution and its sequel at 14.60-7, the spitting at 11.175, and the plank at 12.58. These elements produce a whole, but not an easy, uniform whole. The reality-effect of the cumulating references to real-world elements combines with the apparent scale of the misdemeanours Juvenal deals with and his pointedness of utterance to suggest a powerful engagement with real issues. On the other hand, the dense literariness and stylistic impurity of the texture, which cut against this, cannot be separated out. The poetic voice and breadth of imagination are uniquely vigorous, but quite anarchic. Satiric background to Juvenal as moralist To list topics and describe style, however, cannot fully locate Juvenal’s relation to the satiric genre, since he – as his predecessors do – also claims some status as a moralist, and this is a matter of attitude as well as content. We must, therefore, return to that question. A cursory glance at his antecedents will be useful. Lucilius was not what we would think of as a moralist. Apart from other considerations, there is too much else in the satires. However, there was in his engagement with contemporary issues, and his outspoken tongue, something that the pragmatic Roman mind could present in an ethical light. Some of the engagement with contemporary realities lasts into Horace, although there are differences of manner and substance. In particular, there is a real strain of interest in ethical issues visible in Horace’s poetry, and attested in autobiographical contexts in the Epistles. (e.g. Epp. 1.1; 1.2; 2.2.41ff.). As we have seen, however, he becomes more and more circumscriptive in dealing with ethical issues and matters of ethical judgement as his works proceed. It becomes more and more clear that ethical judgements are not easy things to make. With Persius we move further into a more private sphere, but the ethical concern we saw in Horace remains, and is indeed made more central. The diatribes of Damasippus and Davus which are hedged with some ambivalence in Horace (Sat. 2.3, 7) are revisited in Persius (Pers. 3 150

8. Juvenal’s Satiric Identity and 5) without – it seems – Horace’s ambivalence. What Persius says may be thoroughly conventional, but it is hard not to believe that he meant it. Juvenal as moralist? We have then a background for Juvenal in which criticism may be problematic, but an interest in ethics is standard in some form or other. What his satires are clearly not about, however, is the criticism of contemporary transgressors. Their perspectives are too undermined and ambivalent, too refracted through other literature, to be directly concerned with contemporary social ills. Nor are the Satires about specific contemporary political issues. They are not topical, and indeed there was a measure for the Roman audience to gauge this by, for Juvenal’s satires are clearly less topical than Horace’s (and clearly less topical again than Lucilius’). A few other points, however, also emerge quite clearly. First, there is the recurrent appearance in Juvenal of the oppressoroppressed pairs traditional in Roman moralising – the mean patron and the ill-used client, the capricious tyrant and the frightened councillor, the defrauder and the defrauded, the will-hunter and his prey, the unsatisfactory wife and the suffering husband. In every case where these figures, and those like them, appear in the Satires, the standard polarisation of good and bad is undermined. Trebius and Naevolus deserve their Virro, and the simplistic moral judgements of the moralising tradition are consistently subverted. Second, the question of moral judgement is also implicated somehow in the tendency Juvenal shows to paradox. In the second satire (2.15-19) open depravity is the less culpable (and blamed on fate), but the awful climax the poem moves towards is an open and indeed public homosexual wedding (135-6). Similarly, in the fourth satire, Crispinus appears at first to merit the utmost indignant satire, but the other part of the poem shows indignant satire to be dwarfed by the much more terrible figure of Domitian. Indeed the calculated exposure of indignation to a more and more negative attitude must also be remembered here. The third general point is less conclusive. Although the later books (book 4 onwards) revolve around major aspects of social experience – wealth, family, and what society and civilisation are – their overall approach is not structured. The contrast with the first three books is striking. Here we have one book, the first (of five satires, roughly symmetrical in terms of length), in which amicitia provides the major thematic material, and another book, the third (of three satires), in which different aspects of amicitia (literary, provincial, social) again provide the bulk of the thematic consistency. In each of these cases an epilogue poem contains a patron-client pair in which the patron is called Virro. In between these books, there is the single poem, the sixth satire, making up 151

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre one book in itself, and dealing with marriage. Thus the fundamental male relationship of amicitia frames and counterbalances the fundamental mixed-sex relationship of marriage. The arrangement of the first three books suggest an attempt to build up an inclusive satiric treatment of Roman society on a major scale, with the remaining books adding more collagistic supplements. This consideration, concerning structure and theme, is not conclusive, because – obviously – it does not take into account what Juvenal says about his subject matter, or the way in which he says it. There is a certain all-embracing inclusiveness, thematically speaking, but there is a literary inclusiveness too in the way Juvenal’s satiric corpus contains other generic voices. This at once demonstrates the competitiveness endemic in the literary field, and also returns us to the question of morality. Satire, like any genre, allows certain things to be said or dealt with. Actually it allows a great number of things to be entered as subjects, but in particular it encourages the inclusion of topics that moralising writers deal with. Thus Juvenal’s satire contains, for example, aristocratic ladies doing erotic dances. It is something of a cliché of a certain kind of criticism that Juvenal’s picture (6.320ff.) is repellent and not exciting at all. But of course it is exciting, although it may also be disturbing. We take this discordant material inside us and it tries to resolve itself there, in our hearts, but the resolution is not an easy one. A degree of self-knowledge and honesty is (perhaps) forced upon the audience by sleight of hand. Not all cases, however, are like this. It is difficult to conceive any moral framework in which killing one’s children for money (6.638ff.) is justifiable. On the other hand, the buying and eating of large and very expensive fish (4.15ff.) is a more relative matter. There are cases, the amphitheatrical murders (3.34ff.) for instance, where we might feel a judgement is due, but would not feel confident that Juvenal’s critical tone is based on the grounds upon which we would feel it to be deserved. If we looked for a moral viewpoint from which all Juvenal’s criticisms made sense, invoking cultural difference to explain the criticism of eunuchs being able to marry (1.22), we would still run up against oddities, such as Umbricius’ apparently inconsistent attitudes to prostitution, the apparently climactic evil of poets reciting in August (3.9), or Nero’s writing of a Trojan epic (8.221). Juvenal is free with moral judgements, but we cannot always be ready to accept them at face value, and quite often we are encouraged to question their grounds or validity. The same goes for Juvenal’s sententiae. Time after time they demand our heart’s agreement. Who could fail to respond to the sequence of brilliant epigrammatic expressions at Satires 10.140ff., including, ‘Who would embrace virtue if the reward wasn’t there?’ and immediately following that with, ‘Many a time the glory of a few has obliterated a nation.’ These things seem to be true and always to have been true. This, of course, needs 152

8. Juvenal’s Satiric Identity rather more probing. Such summarising utterances can only be appropriately applied on particular occasions – but on those occasions it is possible that they are wrongly, not rightly, applied. Who could not be impressed by the neatness and easy applicability of nemo repente fuit turpissimus (2.83, ‘No one reaches the depths of disgrace in one go’)? A judgement, however, is here being applied in a context concerning dress and sexuality where we might feel its application perhaps questionable. Such utterances are rhetorically powerful, but their danger is that they can be so easily applied (a point Juvenal makes openly at 14.205). Again, we might invoke cultural difference to try to rationalise the judgements expressed in this way in Juvenal, but again we might feel that Juvenal is already doing the questioning. The woman caught in adultery (6.279ff.) who immediately comes up with a short speech culminating in clames licet et mare caelo / confundas, homo sum (283-4, ‘However you rant, however you mix up sea and sky, I am a human being’) uses a fine-sounding argument to a suspect cause. Again, maxima debetur puero reverentia (14.47, ‘A child is owed the utmost respect’) becomes debased coin in the very next phrase – si quid / turpe putas (‘if you’re planning something bad’). Juvenal is liberal with these moral epigrams – as indeed Seneca is – but while we find them memorable, powerful, and readily transferable to new applications, we are not allowed to accept them uncritically and wholesale. They are, moreover, too questioning for us simply to say that they express the attitudes and prejudices of a particular social class. Rather they are part of the fabric of the Satires, like the borrowings from other literature, and – just as they are – deeply ambivalent. Juvenal’s satire and the generic field; the idea of a supergenre The moralising material that Juvenal weaves into the stuff of his satires is – from one point of view – to do with real life, or at least real life as seen through books. The moralising and the realism, though, are repeatedly questioned by the combinations of different literary voices (and measured against the dominant genre, epic). Books do not work in isolation from each other. We have seen how in Roman literature we have something like a solar system in which epic is the sun and other genres are paired with it and are variously subject to and react against its gravitational field. Satire fits into this picture too. All genres, however, have also to establish a distinctness for themselves, and satire’s way includes this issue of moralising, the question of realism, and the unusual degree of explicit literariness. Satire, especially in the hands of Horace and Juvenal, parades within itself a generic and stylistic kaleidoscope. However, whereas Horace’s miscellany is subordinated to the expression of a rational persona, probing and questioning the subjectivity of the moral perspective, in Juvenal’s the moralising element is one element in a broader cultural perspective. 153

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Juvenal takes, so to speak, the whole world of Roman literature and exposes it to a highly declamatory manner. There is a double appropriateness about this. On the one hand, declamation was the home of a great deal of standard moralising, but in addition the declamatory manner tended strongly to be characterised by dramatic variegation of voice. This is taken much further in Juvenal in whose satires different literary voices are continually pitted against one another in his discordant impersonations. Indeed, in the opening lines of the first poem, Juvenal’s satire itself becomes a space in which the poet acts out this wrangling of genres. In this way Juvenal lives up, too, to the competitive inclusiveness that characterises the whole generic field. I suggested earlier that in the third satire Umbricius stands for Roman literature. We could see him as an embodiment of how Juvenal’s satire works: it, as he does, contains unresolved the discords of all sorts of genres. There is a claim here that the Satires stand above the generic field, in judgement on it, as though satire were not just one amongst other of epic’s rivals, but actually what one might call a ‘supergenre’,17 a genre presiding over the rest. Yet there is, for all this literariness, a concern for moral values implicit in the reviewing of the language of the tribe. Contained in Juvenal’s verse the different generic voices may come to stand for the multiple voices of our own internal psychomachiae, playing themselves out within our minds, and perhaps at our expense, in a salutary Infernal Comedy. In this way Juvenal, the Gil-Martin of Roman satirists, works on the audience from the inside by embodying in his satires a sort of model of the audience’s cultural and moral identities.

154

Appendix Names in Satire and Related Genres

Names per book Lucilius* Catullus 1-60 Catullus 69-fin Horace Epodes Horace Satires 1 Horace Satires 2 Horace Epistles 1 Horace Odes 1 Tibullus 1 Propertius I Ovid Amores I Persius Martial 1 Statius Silvae 1 Statius Silvae 4 Juvenal 1-5 Juvenal 6 Juvenal 7-9 Juvenal 10-12 Juvenal 13-16

human 110 122 67 40 181 133 103 72 33 53 23 62 230 35 49 167 88 135 82 56

mythological 40 44 3 55 27 46 44 140 95 75 77 43 30 160 110 53 46 53 43 68

geographical 60 93 14 86 57 90 129 177 36 71 30 41 85 183 188 111 76 80 104 82

*in books 26-30 and 1-21 Names per 1000 lines Catullus 1-60 Catullus 69-fin Horace Epodes

human 144 209 64

mythological 52 9 88 155

geographical 110 44 138

no of lines (not valid) 848 320 625 1030 1083 936 904 810 702 774 650 827 792 724 990 695 668 704 814

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre

Horace Satires 1 Horace Satires 2 Horace Epistles 1 Horace Odes 1 Tibullus 1 Propertius I Ovid Amores I Persius Martial 1 Statius Silvae 1 Statius Silvae 4 Juvenal 1-5 Juvenal 6 Juvenal 7-9 Juvenal 10-12 Juvenal 13-16

human 176 123 110 80 41 75 30 95 278 44 67 169 127 202 116 69

mythological 26 42 47 155 117 107 99 66 36 202 152 54 66 79 61 84

156

geographical 55 83 138 196 44 101 39 63 103 231 260 112 109 120 148 101

Glossary

Alcaeus: see lyric Archilochus: see iambic Bion of Borysthenes (c. 325-c. 255 BC): as slave of a rhetorician, Bion received a good education and was later set free and inherited his master’s wealth; studied philosophy eclectically in Athens. He was influenced by the rough humour, criticism of conventions, and shamelessness of the Cynics. He went from town to town giving lectures. bucolic: Graeco-Roman poetic genre, effectively inaugurated by Theocritus, among whose Idylls are a number of hexameter representations of an idealised and heavily stylised pastoral existence. Virgil was the first, or first significant, Roman bucolic poet. We hear of bucolic poetry by Messalla (64 BC-AD 8) and Turnus (q.v.), but the chief figure after Virgil in the period of Roman satire is the probably Neronian Calpurnius Siculus. Caesar, C. Iulius (100-44 BC): major political and military figure whose rise to power and murder paved the way for the establishment by his adoptive son, Octavian, later Augustus, of the Principate. He wrote two major works, the De Bello Gallico and the De Bello Civili, putting his own outstanding generalship in the plain view of the literate public. Callimachus (c. 305-c. 240 BC): Greek scholar and poet. Early in life migrated to Alexandria and became a schoolmaster, later librarian. He was heavily involved in literary arguments, presenting his aesthetics polemically in various poetic works. He became a profound influence on Roman poetry, especially from the late Republic onwards; for the Romans his name stood for brevity, polish, learning, and craftsmanship, and was worn as a badge by numbers of poets, especially Propertius. For the Romans, his ideals were encapsulated above all in the form of the recusatio (refusal to comply with conventional aesthetics) which Virgil transferred from Callimachus’ Aetia and used in Eclogue 6, which itself becomes one of the sources of Roman Callimacheanism. Callimachus wrote mythological narratives in the Aetia (in elegiacs) and Hymns (hexameters and – Hymn 5 – elegiacs). He also wrote epigrams, Iambi, and various scholarly works in prose. His mythological manner is characterised by narrative sophistication and the admixture of personal and realistic touches. Calpurnius Siculus, T. (probably flourished c. AD 50-60, though some still argue for later dates): Calpurnius wrote seven pastoral poems in hexameters. The first, central, and last of the set are innovative in the urban and courtly detailing. Catullus, C. Valerius (c. 84-c. 54 BC): poet of provincial background of some standing, and author of epigrams in elegiacs (including love poems and poems of abuse – Cicero and Caesar are two of his targets), short poems in a range of epigrammatic and lyric metres incorporating a Lucilian range of everyday

157

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Roman subject matter and using contemporary Roman names freely, and a smaller number of longer poems (mainly in hexameters, and including the epyllion on the marriage of Peleus and Thetis) mostly using mythological material and centring their concerns on marriage. His influence can be seen widely in subsequent Latin poetry, especially in elegy, epigram, and Statius’ Silvae, but also in Horatian satire. In his elegiac love poetry Catullus makes much of transferring to love the terminology of the language of Roman aristocratic friendship. Cicero, M. Tullius (106-43 BC): orator, political figure, voluminous writer in various genres (including poetry), but especially concerned with rhetorical theory, ethical, and philosophical issues. His speeches of opposition to Antony brought about his death, and subsequently he became a virtually archetypal representation of the ideal orator. Large numbers of letters were published soon after his death, covering a vast range of material, including the complexities of his political relationship with Caesar. Despite the immense ideological difference, Cicero admired Lucretius’ (q.v.) didactic poem, the De Rerum Natura. declamation: Roman declamation had a two-fold existence, as the school exercises in the rhetorical Roman education system, and as the same exercises used as an adult social pastime. The chief exercises involved impromptu speaking; in the suasoria the declaimer attempted to persuade a personage (usually historical) to follow a particular course of action at a given moment; in the controversia the declaimer took one or other side of a fictitious (and often sensational) legal case almost always involving anonymous stereotype characterroles. The adult pastime became highly influential on Roman literature, encouraging a degree of sensationalism, a moralising flavour, and the mannered use of brief and verbally pointed encapsulating summary phrases and sentences. This can be seen especially in Petronius, Seneca the Younger, Lucan, Tacitus, and Juvenal. didactic: Graeco-Roman poetic genre, not clearly distinguished by the Greeks or Romans from epic, and like the main epic tradition in being written almost exclusively in hexameters. Hesiod (c. 700 BC) appears as the figurehead of the genre, but the tradition is actually extremely diverse. Poems in the Hesiodic manner continued to appear (and provide a format for Virgil’s Georgics), but the physical and philosophical speculations of Parmenides (said to have been 65 years old in 450 BC) and Empedocles (c. 493-c. 433 BC) – partial antecedents for Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura – have a quite different intent. Compared to the epic tradition, there is in didactic a lack of clearly defined limits on the possibilities for subject matter – physics, farming, snake bites, astronomy, fishing are among the topics found – and this probably encouraged such generic hybrids as Ovid’s (q.v.) Ars Amatoria. In Latin the didactic poems of Lucretius and Virgil (and this is reflected in Ovid’s parodic Ars Amatoria) contained an element of moralising and reference to contemporary settings that occupies common ground with Roman verse satire. elegiacs: a Graeco-Roman metrical system, alternating hexameters and a modified form of the hexameter (the pentameter). The metre clearly has some resemblance to that of epic and early Greek elegists often have a military content and ethos and show similarities to Homer in their language. Subsequently, the metre becomes common for mythological and historical

158

Glossary narrative. The appearance in the first century BC in Rome of a strain of quasiautobiographical love-laments has very little directly to do with this. Rather one might see the erotic interest as part of an elegy-epic polarity (marked by the divergent metre) which acted out in the literary field contemporary ideological tensions. elegy: although there was a varied mass of elegiac poetry in Greek, to parts of which Roman elegists referred, nonetheless Roman elegy established itself as a distinct genre emphasising sophisticated self-dramatisations of the poet as besotted lover. The form mainly flourished in the Augustan period, its chief exponents being Gallus, Tibullus, Propertius, and Ovid (who ultimately took elegy in new directions which had essentially no followers). We know of other elegists in the period, but Ovid treats these four as the canonical list. Ennius, Quintus (239-169 BC): brought by Cato to Rome from Sardinia, where he was serving with the Roman army, and subsequently patronised by M. Fulvius Nobilior (cos. 189 BC) and taken on the Aetolian campaign which Ennius celebrated in his poetry. Nobilior’s son made Ennius a Roman citizen (184 BC). He composed tragedies, comedies, the Annales (a hexameter epic covering the history of Rome from the escape from Troy), four books of satires in various metres, various individually titled works some of which may or may not have been satires or related to the satires. Only fragments remain of any of Ennius’ works. epic: Graeco-Roman epic stems from the Homeric Iliad and Odyssey; there was a large mass of epic material in Greek. The tradition was brought to Rome by Livius Andronicus’ free version of the Odyssey in saturnians, Naevius’ account in saturnians of the First Punic War, and Ennius’ hexameter Annales. By Horace’s time there was a large body of epic material, historical and mythological, in Latin hexameters. Grandeur of concept, elevation of style, and the centrality of heroes and war were dominating characteristics. Related forms are the Greek narrative hymn in hexameters or elegiacs and the Latin epyllion. The conventional epic seems to have been obsolescent or obsolete by Juvenal’s time. epyllion: hexameter poem offering mythological narrative on a small scale and usually in a narratologically complex manner. Catullus Carm. 64 involves two stories, the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, and the desertion of Ariadne by Theseus. The mannerisms of Hellenistic Greek poetry are incorporated in the ‘epic’ manner of such poems. Other examples, of lesser quality, are extant (e.g. the Ciris), and we know of other likely titles of lost poems (including the famous Zmyrna of Catullus’ contemporary Cinna), but in addition we find epyllion-like structures built into larger units, as with the involving of the tale of Aristaeus and the bees with the story of Orpheus and Eurydice within the fourth book of Virgil’s Georgics, the Pasiphae section in Eclogues 6, and repeatedly within Ovid’s Metamorphoses. The form seems especially associated with the Catullan period. epigram: Graeco-Roman poetic genre, an unelevated form allowing a vast range of satirical, erotic, and everyday subject matters, often involving a witty turn or humorous point. Brevity is one of the most deeply entrenched characteristics. Epigram selected from a range of metres, especially elegiacs and hendecasyllables. The form has a long history, but its flowering is c. first century BC onwards. Gallus, C. Cornelius (c. 69BC-26 BC): poet, general, friend of Virgil and (for a time) Augustus. Augustus renounced the friendship and Gallus committed

159

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre suicide. Gallus figures prominently in Virgil’s Eclogues (6 and 10), and was taken up as generic figurehead by the Roman elegists. He wrote four books of love elegies in which Lycoris – a literary alternative name, apparently for Volumnia Cytheris – figures prominently. He also wrote a poem on Apollo’s shrine at Gryneum. Parthenius dedicated to him a collection of mythological love stories in Greek prose. Almost none of his poetry survives. hendecasyllables: Graeco-Roman metrical system based on lines of eleven syllables in a fixed arrangement of longs and shorts. The metre is typically epigrammatic, and admits a wide range of unlofty material. hexameters: a metrical system of six feet used by Greek and Roman poets. Its origins are lost, but from as early as we see it, it is the metre of epic and the related genre of didactic, and as such has a distinct level of grandeur. Subsequently, it is used in Greek and later again in Latin for bucolic poetry. Certainly in Theocritus we can see bucolic as in some degree a sort of para-epic, de-heroified and scaled down. The monster Polyphemus becomes a besotted lover. The hexameter is also taken over by Lucilius and all subsequent Roman verse satirists: here the tension between the two genres is clear and palpable, and pointed up by an almost hostile use of the same metre. Hipponax: see iambic Horace: Q. Horatius Flaccus (65-8 BC): his father was a freedman, but Horace was well educated in Rome and Athens, where he was swept along with the civil war on the republican (losing) side. After Brutus’ defeat at Philippi (42 BC) he got back to Rome and established himself as poet. He joined Maecenas’ circle after Virgil, and became one of the poetic spokesmen for the new Augustan values. His work covered various genres, iambic (epodes), lyric, hexameter satire, and related hexameter collections (the Epistles). iambic: Graeco-Roman poetic genre. Early Greek Iambic is prominently, though not exclusively, characterised by more or less comic narratives involving low scenes of sexual and / or violent mayhem. Abuse of named individuals was seen as having a pivotal role in the genre, and Archilochus and Hipponax were held up as generic exemplars. These characteristics are picked up in the iambic poetry (and hendecasyllables) of Catullus, and in a more consciously artificial (and more anonymous) way in a number of the Epodes of Horace. Of Latin poets, Quintilian (q.v.) cites only Catullus, Bibaculus, and Horace under this heading. Juvenal: D. Iunius Iuvenalis (later first century and early second century AD); practically nothing is known of his life. He produced five books of satires (perhaps the last one or two were posthumous editions) in roughly the first quarter of the second century. Lucan: M. Annaeus Lucanus (AD 39-65); of equestrian family, with Seneca the Younger as his uncle. Perhaps Lucan studied Stoicism (as Persius did) under Cornutus. He became associated with court circles, but, earning Nero’s disfavour, he became implicated in Piso’s unsuccessful plot against Nero, and was obliged to commit suicide. Apart from many works now lost, he wrote the hexameter epic, Bellum Civile, about the civil war. Its main figures are Pompey, Cato, and Caesar. The poem has a grim magnificence and bleak moral grasp, and the use of a rather declamatory manner gives passages a semblance of being foretasters of Juvenal.

160

Glossary Lucilius, C. (died in old age 102/1 BC): of rich and noble family, owner of large estates, and friend of major aristocratic figures of the time. He did military service in Spain from 139 BC and was at the siege of Numantia (134/3 BC). He wrote thirty books of verse, almost all satires. The earliest (26-30) were books of satires in various metres, with the hexameter making an appearance in book 29, and excluding all other metres in book 30. Thereafter (books 1-21), all the satires were in hexameters, an innovation followed by all subsequent Roman verse satirists. Books 22-5 appear to consist of epigrams and epitaphs in elegiacs. The satires show an immensely wide range of subject matter – dinners, sex, spelling, social manners, military escapades and so forth. They express aristocratic social values and attitudes – for later Romans like Cicero they expressed ‘Romanness’ and were subsequently seen as characterised by libertas – Roman aristocratic freedom of speech. For later satirists, Lucilius stands above all for a now lost licence to criticise important contemporaries by name. Lucretius: T. Lucretius Carus (probably 94-55 BC); virtually nothing is known of his life, except that he was a friend or dependant of the aristocratic C. Memmius who appears occasionally in Catullus’ short poems. His only known work was the hexameter didactic poem in six books, the De Rerum Natura, which expounded Epicurean physics with a view to dispelling the superstitious fears caused by religion, and the irrational and frenetic pleasure- and powerseeking generated in compensation for those fears. The emphasis on the achievement and sustaining of personal happiness is in tension with the emphasis on public responsibility in Cicero’s works, but his account of the follies of romantic love are also in contrast with the postures of Catullus’ Lesbia-poetry. His accounts of the fear of death (book 3) and the follies of love (book 4) feed into the satiric tradition. lyric: Graeco-Roman poetic genre; Greek lyric was a performance art involving both music and words. The tradition has strong regional variations because of its intimate links with the social structures and events of local powers. A huge – potentially endless – range of metrical variation is found, although the choriamb (– ‰‰–) appears to be a key metrical element in lyric systems. Subject matters are also highly diverse, including marriage, drinking, the winning of Olympian and other games, the discontents of exile, the treachery of allies, love, deaths. Major figures include Alcman, Sappho, Alcaeus, Anacreon, Pindar. Although poems were written in lyric metres before Horace’s Odes appeared, Horace claimed to have transferred the genre from Greek into Latin. He favoured the simpler stanzaic metrical systems rather than the unlimited strophic varieties, and – apart from the commissioned work, the Carmen Saeculare – the idea of singing has only a symbolic association with his lyric poetry. There is only occasional evidence of Latin lyric as a genre outlasting Horace. Maecenas (?-8 BC): friend, counsellor, and diplomatic agent of Octavian (later called Augustus). As well as being a key figure in the political world, he included in his circle a number of poets including Virgil, Varius, and Horace. These in turn became to some degree poetic spokesmen for the new Augustan regime and the social and ethical values which it used to bolster its position. Martial: M. Valerius Martialis (c. AD 40-c.104): writer of Latin epigrams. He commemorated the opening by Titus of the Flavian Amphitheatre (AD 80) in a

161

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre book of epigrams (Liber Spectaculorum, or Spectacula), produced two books (AD 84-5) of whimsical labels in verse for dinner gifts (Xenia and Apophoreta), and twelve books of epigrams in various metres (mostly elegiacs) in which the life of contemporary Rome is presented in often witty or pointed verse snapshots. Imperial flattery and the sophisticated fringes of obscenity occupy a significant place in the corpus. He addresses a Iuvenalis who may or may not have been the satirist. Pliny the Younger paid for his return to Spain where he died shortly afterwards. Menippean satire: Quintilian refers to another, older, kind of satire than Roman verse satire, viz. Menippean satire. He describes this as written in a mixture of prose and verse. Quintilian cites M. Terentius Varro (116-27 BC) alone under this heading. The fragments resemble verse satire in variety of form and reference, though there seems to be a greater degree of fanciful invention, and fewer realistic names. Later prosimetric works (Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis, and Petronius’ Satyrica) have other antecedents, and there is no evidence of the form outlasting Varro, whom Quintilian cites rather dismissively as one more learned than eloquent. metre: in Greek and Roman literature there is generally a tendency for particular genres to settle into particular metres. Individual metres often acquire a stereotypical characterisation which is always important even if there are many instances of metres behaving away from their standard image. Thus hendecasyllables and iambics are low and comic, scazons are even more so, and lyric metres and hexameters are elevated (with satire’s lower hexameters in open opposition). Ovid: P. Ovidius Naso (43 BC-AD 17.): pursued poetry instead of an official career. He wrote the elegiac Amores, somewhat whimsical variations on the conventional themes of Latin love elegy; the Heroides, love letters in elegiacs from deserted mythological heroines to the heroes who have left them; the Ars Amatoria and Remedia Amoris, both using the urban erotic material and the metre of love elegy, but casting it in the mode and structure of the didactic genre; the Metamorphoses, a hexameter epic, telling many stories instead of one, linked with flights of ingenuity and almost all containing a metamorphosis. The narrative manner is a complex interplay of the techniques, devices, and approaches of other genres, especially elegy; the Fasti, another many-storied compilation framed around the festivals of the Roman calendar, but in elegiacs; the Tristia and ex Ponto, collections using the form of Roman elegiac collections, but dealing with his relegation to Tomis on the Black Sea; various other lost or fragmentary works are known of, perhaps the chief of which may have been the tragedy Medea (praised by Quintilian). Pacuvius, M. (220-c.130 BC): nephew and successor of Ennius. Mainly a composer of tragedies, but also wrote satires (of which nothing survives). Persius: A. Persius Flaccus (AD 34-62): of rich equestrian family, with Stoic connections. Studied with the Stoic philosopher Cornutus. Wrote six satires in hexameters with a prologue (or possibly epilogue) in scazons. These were published after Persius’ death. Petronius (first century AD): author of an extended fictional narrative cast as the recollections of one Encolpius whose adventures resemble papyrus fragments of the low comic strain of Greek fiction. The hero, his fickle lover, and a movable

162

Glossary third wander from place to place on the edges of society. Sex and violence are never far away, and the educated characters see the events through an absurd language compounded of declamation and the loftier literary genres. The literary patchwork has much in common with Roman verse satire, though there is nothing to suggest it belonged to the variant tradition of Menippean satire. The author is commonly, but not on adequate grounds, identified with the Petronius whose colourful life and death in Nero’s court is summed up by Tacitus (Ann. 16.17). Pliny the Younger: C. Plinius Caecilius Secundus (AD 61-c. 112): forensic orator, friend of Tacitus the historian. Pliny published nine books of letters (as consciously literary artefacts). The thematic range is reminiscent of the posthumously published books of Cicero’s letters. Pliny draws attention to his successes and qualities, his range of acquaintance – including literary figures, such as Martial and Silius Italicus. Two books of short poems, apparently not unlike those of Martial, do not survive, but with the antecedent of Horace’s verse letters, it is possible to see Pliny’s letters as generically related to occasional poetry. A tenth book gathers official letters and rescripts concerning Pliny’s governorship of Bithynia. Propertius, Sextus (born c. 50 and dead before 2 BC): pursued poetry rather than a public career. Four books of elegies survive, at first largely love poetry after the manner of Catullus’ Lesbia-poetry, and probably also after the manner of the first of the canonic elegists, Gallus. His Augustan affiliation is much more ambiguous than that of his contemporaries, and in his poetry love and war, and elegy and epic, are opposed with distinctly ideological resonance. His later elegies assume a more mythopoeic manner, and assume a distinctly Callimachean pose: they deal much in aetiologies, learned allusion, and sophisticated distortions of linear narrative, often using speeches, especially the speeches of distraught females. Pliny (Ep. 6.15; 9.22) knew a poet, Passenus Paulus, who claimed descent from Propertius, who (we infer) married and produced at least one child, despite his ideological stance (Prop. 2.7). Quintilian: M. Fabius Quintilianus (c. AD 30 to probably post 100): forensic orator and teacher of oratory – probably the first rhetorician to receive a treasury salary (under Vespasian). The Younger Pliny was among his pupils. His chief literary work (and the only one to survive) is the Institutio Orationis (probably published before Domitian’s death in AD 96) which covers the training of the orator from babyhood to adulthood. The tenth book includes two long reading lists interspersed with various kinds of value judgement, of approved authors (first Greek, then Latin) in poetry (subdivided into poetic genres), historiography, oratory, and philosophy. Sappho: see lyric satire: Latin poetic genre. Although the stories of all genres are individual, there is a strong tendency for Latin genres to claim descent from Greek ones. Roman verse satirists, however, refer to Lucilius as though he originated the genre, and Quintilian in his review of Latin literature asserted that satire was wholly Roman. In fact, we know of Roman verse satire before Lucilius – the miscellanies in various metres of Ennius and Pacuvius. Lucilius clearly gave the genre a defining stamp for later Romans, and all subsequent satirists use the hexameter which Lucilius used exclusively in all his satires except those of the earliest

163

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre books. The chief names seem to have been Lucilius, Horace, Persius, perhaps Turnus, and certainly Juvenal, and the temporal range of the genre spans some 300 years – considerably greater than that of Roman elegy, somewhat less than that of epic. Like bucolic, however, it appears to have attracted only a thin sprinkling of authors over the large space of time. scazons: a particular form of iambic in which the penultimate syllable is long instead of short, producing an off-balance effect. The metre’s invention was attributed to the early Greek iambist Hipponax (who certainly used it much) and it thereafter always retained the image of a metre stereotypically reserved for vulgar, abusive, and rough comical material. Seneca the Elder: L. Annaeus Seneca (55 BC-c. AD 40): father of Seneca the Younger and writer on rhetoric. His Oratorum sententiae divisiones colores originally devoted at least twelve books to Roman declamation, ten to the controversiae, each with a preface, and at least two to the suasoriae. The extant portions provide samples of the impromptu work of the declaimers drawn from Seneca’s memory. Discussions and anecdotal material to do with declamation are interspersed among the samples and also gathered in the prefaces. Seneca the Younger: L. Annaeus Seneca (c. 3 BC-AD 65): son of Seneca the Elder and philosopher, imperial adviser, poet, and writer. Nero’s tutor and adviser, he was eventually obliged to commit suicide for alleged implication in the Pisonian conspiracy. Seneca wrote ethical treatises, essays in the form of letters, tragedies, and the prosimetric Apocolocyntosis, a mock-deification of Claudius, Nero’s imperial predecessor. Silius Italicus (c. 26-c. 101 AD): won fame as a legal orator, was consul in AD 68 and gained high praise for his administration of Asia (c. AD 77). Retired to Campania. Author of Punica, a hexameter epic poem on the Second Punic War. He is referred to flatteringly by Martial, and less so by Pliny (Ep. 3.7.5). Statius: P. Statinius Statius (c. AD 45-96): born at Naples, Statius’ father was a poet and schoolmaster. Statius achieved fame and popularity as a poet, won the prize at Domitian’s annual festival at Alba (probably in AD 89), but not the quinquennial Capitoline contest (probably in AD 94). He produced a hexameter poem on Domitian’s German wars, perhaps a libretto for a pantomimus (Agaue), the hexameter epic, Thebaid (c. AD 91), and display occasional poetry for numbers of patrons, gathered in the five books of the Silvae, a polymetric set of collections appearing from AD 92 onwards. A hexameter epic, the Achilleis was left unfinished at his death. Suetonius: C. Suetonius Tranquillus (born c. AD 69): author of scholarly and biographical works, including the De Vita Caesarum, twelve biographies from Julius Caesar to Domitian. In these Suetonius treats the subjects under headings rather than chronologically; much anecdotal material is used, and there is free use of material adumbrating the vices of his subjects. An implicit moral programme may be discerned in the negative portrayal of previous Emperors. As with Tacitus, the material overlaps with much in Juvenal’s Satires. Tacitus, Cornelius (born c. AD 56), Roman orator and historical writer. He was at pains to understand Rome’s state and the place within it of the Senatorial class, the old ruling elite. His major historical works, the Histories and Annals, successively go further into the past, towards the watershed between the Republic and the rule of Emperors. It is in his mature manner that he presents

164

Glossary his vision most clearly as a kind of anti-history in which the shards of Roman greatness and the memory of earlier history highlight the corruption of values in the ruling elite, and the admixture of poetical and declamatory elements in the complex style reinforce the sense that its own subject matter is putting the generic frame under intense strain. The period dealt with in the Histories and Annals overlaps with many of the figures appearing in Juvenal’s Satires. Theocritus: see bucolic Tibullus, Albius (born between 55 and 48 BC): seems to have been affected, like Virgil, by Octavian’s land confiscations. One of the four canonic (according to Ovid) poets of Roman elegy. His two books are of uncertain date (book 1 is post 27 BC). In the first book, Tibullus acts the role of lover of Delia, a typical elegiac mistress, and (untypically) a boy, Marathus. In book 2 he is in love with a different mistress, Nemesis. As in the other extant elegists, there is a tension between the private emotion of love, and public responsibilities. The ancient high regard for Tibullus is a critical problem, although there are those who regard him well. Turnus: Domitianic satirist praised by Martial (7.97; 11.10). Only one line survives, mentioning the Neronian poisoness, Lucusta (also mentioned by Juvenal). He may also have written bucolic poetry. Valerius Flaccus, C: probably died in AD 92 / 3 before completing his hexameter epic, the Argonautica, which was probably begun in AD 80. Almost nothing is known of his life. Varius, Rufus (first century BC): eminent elegiac, epic, and tragic poet; friend of Virgil and Horace. Of his works only fragments survive. Varro, M. Terentius (116-27 BC): see Menippean satire Varro of Atax, P. Terentius (born 82 BC): Roman poet; only fragments and comments by other writers survive, attesting an historical epic (Bellum Sequanicum), a mythological epic (Argonautae), amatory verse, didactic, and – according to Horace, unsuccessfully – satire. Virgil: P. Vergilius Maro (70-19 BC): Roman poet. Among those eminent poets to whom Maecenas extended patronage, and who became spokesmen for Augustan values. Various works gathered in the Appendix Vergiliana used to be attributed to Virgil. Works of undoubted authenticity, however, are the Eclogues, ten poems in the bucolic genre, the Georgics, a four book didactic poem ostensibly about farming, and the Aeneid, an epic tracing the origins of Rome back to the Homeric story-pool (and prefiguring Augustus).

165

Notes

Preface 1. Genre-awareness has grown prolifically for a number of reasons, and genre studies have also gained by extension into linguistics and sociology. In the overlap between these areas, a productive analogy between literary genre and types of natural speech can be made. In general terms see Altman (1999); Bakhtin (1981); Beebee (1994); Selden (1994). Duff (2000) provides an excellent reader of modern theoretical writing. For speech act theory, linguistics, and genre see Bakhtin (2000); Berkenkotter and Huckin (1993, 1995); Devitt (2000). In the classical field see Cairns (1972); Depew and Obbink (2000); Conte (1994), (1996); Gale (2004); Harrison (2002); Hinds (2000).

1. The Satirists on Satire and its Models 1. We cannot read the satires of Varro of Atax and the others referred to, but not named, by Horace (Sat. 1.10.46-7), those of P. Manlius Vopiscus (Stat. Silv. 1.3.103), those referred to, but not named, by Quintilian (10.1.94) or those of the better known but lost Turnus. 2. We can see this expanded very considerably in Hor. Epp. 2 and AP. 3. See Courtney on Juv. 6.635; Brink at Hor. AP 135. 4. Cf . Juv. 7.102 on historians. 5. Roman elegy is perhaps even more metamorphic than satire, but while it is (especially in Propertius’ hands) free with programmatic indications it does not have the same tendency to explain itself in openly discursive ways. 6. All references to Lucilius use E.H. Warmington’s 1967 Loeb edition. 7. The chronological order of Lucilian books is 26-30, 1-21 (books 22-5 are not satires, but epitaphs and epigrams about slaves and freedmen known to or owned by Lucilius, written in elegiacs). 8. See Lucil. 632-4, 647, 650-1, 665, 666, 669, 670-1, 672-3, 674, 690, 691, 700, 702, 703, 714, 727-34, 735. 9. There is also evidence of some mockery of philosophy; see Coffey (1976), 52. 10. Cf. Lucil. 1066, 1067, 1069, 1070, 1075, 1078, 1079, 1085, 1086, 1091. There is also a good deal of tragic parody and we are told by Porphyrio (on Hor. Sat. 1.10.53) that Lucilius attacked the tragedian Accius, especially in book 3. 11. According to John the Lydian (Mag. 1.41) Lucilius wrote comedy in hexameters after the Greek Rhinthon (the third-century BC writer of phlyax plays, a form associated with South Italy, normally in iambic trimeters and giving comic versions of tragic themes and ludicrous scenes of daily life and mythology). 12. For Lucilius’ occupation of a special place in the Romans’ sense of them-

166

Notes to pages 3-7 selves see Morgan (2005), 177-8; ‘adoption of the Lucilian mode conveys that all is right with the Roman world’. 13. In multa cum libertate notabant (‘They noted many things with freedom’; Hor. Sat. 1.4.5) notabant is a censorial term; the analogy had already been more explicit in Cicero (Rep. 4.11; cf. Brut. 224). Note also the quasi-legal malus ac fur (‘evil-doer and thief’). Libertas (‘liberty’) is a defining republican value which outlasted the Republic in the language of Roman ideology. 14. The pairing of Horace and Lucilius at Hor. Sat. 1.4.56ff. is primarily stylistic rather than thematic or generic. 15. Sale multo / urbem defricuit, ‘He scoured the city with much wit / salt’, Hor. Sat. 1.10.3-4. 16. See Jones (2000), 23-4 on this passage. 17. C. Trebatius Testa, iurisconsultus and friend of Cicero (Cic. ad Fam. 7.6-22). 18. Trebatius says that this would be better than hurting Pantolabus and Nomentanus in abrasive verse, using a line from one of Horace’s earlier satires (1.8.11). However, the name Nomentanus comes from Lucilius (80-2W; the Nomentanus in Hor. Sat. 2.8 is rather different). 19. Sappho and Alcaeus, according to Aristoxenus fr. 71a-b (Wehrli) used their books as confidants. 20. Perhaps it is naïve of us to expect a programmatic depiction of a model to be shaped exclusively to the immediate context. There are a number of levels which could have been present more or less simultaneously to Horace’s mind – what he thought Lucilius was like, what he thought he himself was doing in his current work, what he felt he had done up to this point, and the direction in which he might have been beginning to feel it would be productive to go. 21. Cf. pinguis (‘fat’) at [Virg.] Catalepton 5.4; 9.64. 22. Horace also paraphrases a Callimachean programmatic epigram (31 = AP 12.102) in order to reject its literal application (in the matter of romantic aspirations) at Sat. 1.2.105-10. 23. For comedy and real life note Cicero’s phrase speculum vitae (‘mirror of life’; Cic. ap. Euanthius de fabula 5.1) and cf. Quint. 10.1.89 on Menander; Ov. RA 376 on comedy as opposed to tragedy. 24. Although the fragments are very meagre, we should at least be aware of a possibility that Lucilius’ twelfth book (455-464W) contained a recollection of Lucilius’ father’s advice to himself and his brother, accepted by the former and not by the latter. 25. Lucretius goes on to use the figures of Tityos, Sisyphus, the Danaids, Cerberus, and the Furies in the same way (3.984-1023). 26. See Fraenkel (1957), 90ff.; Rudd (1966), 20ff.; Dyson (1980). See especially Hor. Sat. 1.1.1-19 and Lucr. 3.1066-75. 27. The use of euphemism (Hor. Sat. 1.3.44-8; Lucr. 4.1160ff.); the rise of civilisation (Hor. Sat. 1.3.99ff.; Lucr. 5.925ff.); the theology at the end of Hor. Sat. 1.5 (where didici, 101, suggests ‘I have learned from Lucretius’; see Hinds (1998), 1-5 on such allusive markers); the fleeing from oneself in Hor. Sat. 2.7 (put in the perhaps doubtfully authoritative mouth of Davus) and Hor. Epp. 1.11 (cf. Hor. Sat. 2.7.112f., Epp. 1.1.83ff., 1.11 and Lucr. 3.1053ff.); inversely, there is the mockery of the ‘Epicurean’ ideals of Catius (Hor. Sat. 2.4), for which cf. Muecke (19972), 177. 28. Anderson (1963) = Anderson (1982), 13-49; Braund (1988), 143-8.

167

Notes to pages 8-11 29. See also ludo etc. in Cat. 50 and Hor. Sat. 1.4.138; 1.10.37. 30. See Kindstrand (1976). 31. Cf. n. 39 below. 32. See Gottschalk (1982; 1983); Jocelyn (1982; 1983); Muecke (19972), 6-8. 33. We should perhaps be reminded of the Golden Mean, a major theme in the first book. 34. Horace uses the word satura for the first time here (Sat. 2.1.1), as though a recognisable kind of literature called satura (with its own law, legem, 2) is what he had been writing all along. 35. The unexpectedly unqualified scribam is like the surprise turns upon which Hor. Sat. 1.6 is built, at merito (‘Rightly’, 22), causa pater (‘My father was the reason’, 71), and Romam (‘to Rome’, 76); see Harrison (1965). 36. On Horace’s pedestrian hexameters, diction, word order, and syntax in the Satires and Epistles see Mayer (1994), 13-23. 37. The picture is not wholly black and white, however, for although he mocks ‘Alpinus’’ epic (Sat. 1.10.36ff.), and his expressions of inability to write epic (Sat. 2.1.12-15; Epp. 2.1.250ff.; cf. also Odes 1.6) may be disingenuous, nonetheless Varius is praised as an epic poet at Satires 1.10.43-4 (cf. Virgil and Varius at Epp. 2.1.245-6). 38. Horace frequently parodies or makes jibes at Roman love elegy in the Odes, but there is hardly a trace of this in the hexameter poems (perhaps see Epp. 2.2.90105). Perhaps the similarities between the subject matters, situations and themes of the Odes and elegy make maintaining a difference the more important. 39. Horace also wrote two books (three, if the Ars Poetica is counted; on the title of the work see Rudd (1989), 19) of epistolary poems in hexameters, and their relationship to the Satires needs some accounting for. The first book of Epistles has much in common with the Satires. The most obvious difference is the use of the epistolary format, but the second book of satires is also clearly different in formal terms from the first. We should see in Horace’s hexameter writing a continuum of innovation. Moreover, Horace uses the word sermones (‘conversations’) for the Satires (Epp. 1.4.1 and probably 2.2.60), but also for the Satires and the Epistles together (Epp. 2.1.250). He also uses sermo in the singular (Epp. 2.1.4) in a way which suggests ‘an epistle’. When Horace reviews his poetic output as evidence of his originality near the end of the first book of epistles, he refers to his annexation from Greek of iambic and of lyric (Epp. 1.19.21-34): that he does not mention the Satires suggests that Horace is looking at his other poetry from the perspective of his current genre, and that this current genre therefore includes the Satires. A slightly different division still ends up with Horace writing in only three genres. In the review of things lost to age in Hor. Epp. 2.2.54ff., Horace includes poetry: from this perspective, as it were outside poetry (as in Epp. 1.1), he refers to only three kinds – lyric, iambic, and Bionian sermones (cf. p. 8 above). We should note here that in the Epistles 1 we see the very pervasive presence of real-life experience to which Horace repeatedly attributes such importance, and here, if anywhere, he is closest to the programmatic depiction he gives of Lucilius in Satires 2.1. 40. The life tells us that Lucilius’ tenth book inspired Persius to write satire, and the scholiast informs us that one of the first two lines (probably the first, though the reference is slightly unclear) of Pers. 1 is Lucilian. It has also been

168

Notes to pages 11-16 suggested that the first line is Lucretian. See Hendrickson (1928); Bramble (1974), 67; Zetzel (1977), 40-2; Sosin (1999), 281-99; Powell (1992), 249-50 n. 21. 41. An injunction we find inscribed on funeral monuments (cf. Petr. 71.8; CLE 838) – there is something imposing and dead about the literature Persius targets. 42. Persius often seems anarchic. Cf. especially Pers. 3.53-5 and 5.64-5 for the presumed target message of Stoicism represented in what seems a mocking manner. 43. We should also remember that according to some Lucilius was comis and urbanus (Hor. Sat. 1.10.65. Cf. also Cic. de Or. 1.72; 2.25, homo doctus et perurbanus; Cic. de Fin. 1.3.8, cum multa venustate et omni sale; Gellius 18.8, facetissime (on Lucil. 186). 44. The nose has required explanation. It draws on Persian language of weighing and testing (including on balances) and on a Horatian phrase for Lucilius’ acumen (emunctae naris at Hor. Sat. 1.4.8; see too Phaedrus 3.3.14), but also reminds us of Horatian phraseology for a perhaps unsociably scornful attitude (at Sat. 1.6.5-6 Maecenas is not guilty; at 2.8.64 Balatro is). See Perini (1966-7), 233-64. Commentators have distinguished two elements here: Horace’s mild treatment of his friendly reader and his more contemptuous attitude to the public at large. However, the appositional nature of callidus … suspendere (‘clever at suspending’) does not encourage us to do this; it should be an expansion of the preceding lines. I would argue that the nasal balancing act is part of Horace’s game in the reader’s heart, a diversion while Horace really touches on his friendly reader’s faults (cf. Rudd (1966), 155). Criticism of Damasippus, Davus and Catius, perhaps Nasidienus too, distracts – temporarily – and inculpates the reader for accepting it too readily. 45. So Dessen (1996), 38. 46. If there is any significance in calling Horace by his cognomen, Flaccus (Flopeared), in a poem in which ears can be symptomatic of poetic and moral bad taste, or can be rinsed with vinegar, it is again an ambiguous one. 47. The poem appears as a prologue to the satires in two good manuscripts (on prefaces see Coleman on Statius Silvae 4 praef.; Lightfoot (199), 222-4). It could, however, be an epilogue, or indeed a free-standing epigram that became attached, perhaps in the editorial activity of Cornutus and Caesius Bassus after Persius’ death. 48. Pliny NH 7.115; 35.9ff. for busts in public libraries, Mart. 9 praef.; Pliny Ep. 3.7.8 for private libraries; Ov. Tr. 1.7.1f.; Juv. 7.29 for the ivy garlands. 49. This is the kind of programme we see later in Martial’s Epigrams (10.4) and earlier in Horace’s satires (especially Sat. 1.4). 50. Epic is identified by allusion to Horace’s illustration of the kind of poetry (epic) he cannot write (Pers. 5.4; cf. Hor. Sat. 2.1.15). 51. The espousal of a pedestrian style follows Horace. Persius indicates only a relative simplicity, for the toga was somewhat formal. 52. A brief courtroom analogy (Pers. 1.83ff.) is drawn from Hor. Sat. 1.10.25ff., and there is a parody at 71ff. of the writing of poetic commonplaces that would-be writers of epic cannot manage. Elegy comes into the picture at 51, briefly, and as though epic and elegy are much the same kind of thing. 53. Despite Horace’s Epicurean tendencies, his acolyte Persius is Stoic. Reckford (1962) considers it oversimplified to characterise Persius as a Stoic moralist. Contrast Skoviera (1973).

169

Notes to pages 16-20 54. Fiske (1913), 1-36; Rudd (1976), 54-83; Hooley (1984, 1997). For Pers. 3 and 5 cf. Hor. Sat. 2.3 and 2.7. See also the Terentian scene Persius (Pers. 5.161ff.) gets from Horace (Hor. Sat. 2.3.259ff.); note too the line in the programmatic introduction of Persius’ fifth satire (Pers. 5.4) which is drawn from Horace’s programme satire (2.1.14-15). 55. Juvenal does not refer to Persius here, although his use of the motif of ‘death in the bath’ at 1.142-6 probably demonstrates an awareness of him (Pers. 3.98ff.). Nor does Juvenal refer to Turnus (of whom virtually nothing survives), who appears to have been well regarded, and who may have been an influence on Juvenal; on Turnus see Martial 11.10 (cf. 7.97.8). On his possible relationship to Juvenal see Coffey (1979). 56. On the book divisions see Jones (1999), 119. The second book, comprising the sixth satire alone, very clearly contains programmatic comments towards the end, but there is little or nothing programmatic in the seventh satire. The fourth book, opening with satire 10, contains little more than a pointer (in the tragiccomic figures of Democritus and Heraclitus): the thirteenth satire, at the head of book 5, lacks even this. 57. Ovid (AA 1.39-40) uses a chariot in programmatic lines near the beginning of the Ars Amatoria (blending it with the idea of territory marked by a plough; cf. Fasti 4.819): haec nostro signabitur area curru; haec erit admissa meta premenda rota (‘This area will be marked by my chariot; this turning post is to be scraped by my wheel’). This is both similar to and different from Juvenal’s use: similar because the Ars purports to be a didactic, i.e. epic-related, poem, and an epical chariot is therefore legitimate; different because Ovid transforms it into a racing rather than a war-chariot in line 40. 58. Juvenal’s picture of Lucilius’ drawn sword contributes to Lucilius’ heroic aura and casts doubt on the satiric sword (also an ensis) which Horace claimed reluctance to draw (Sat. 2.1.39-42). 59. There are resemblances here to Lucilius 1078W; see Griffith (1970). The archaic form, duelli, enhances the epic tone. 60. Juvenal’s satire against the occupants of tombs (1.170-1) may recall Persius’ implication that he is, as a satirist, a tomb desecrator (Pers. 1.112, cf. Petr. 71.8; CLE 838). 61. LaFleur (1973) observed that the lines following Juvenal’s allusion to Lucilius are denser with names than the lines following the allusion to Horace (one of the only names is Maecenas and the first vignette in the section following the mention of Horace is reminiscent of Hor. Odes 3.6), as though the single paragraph 1.22-80 is split into two sections, each reflecting the manner of the satirist who is referred to at the head of these sections. 62. An extreme position would be to argue that Horace, Persius, and Juvenal all portray themselves as backing away from open criticism of contemporary malefactors in order to criticise the political conditions of their times (cf. Freudenburg (2001)). One could then compare Horace’s comments on the dangers of writing history in Odes 2.1 and Tacitus’ comments on the impossibility of writing anything but a maimed kind of history (Ann. 4.32-3). Perhaps one could argue analogously that Lucan’s abject Neronianism embodies the message that freedom of speech has been eradicated in a post-civil war Rome (cf. Hinds (1998), 83-91). 63. Tac. Hist. 1.1.3; Ann. 1.1; already parodied in Sen. Apoc. 1.

170

Notes to pages 20-22 64. Despite Lucian’s jest that Pyrrha is the beginning of history (Rhet. Praec. 20), the reference to Pyrrha and Deucalion gives the programme a specifically epic sweep. See Morton Braund for resemblances to Ovid’s account (Met. 1.253-416). 65. vitiorum … patuit sinus (‘The maw of vice has gaped’, 87-8)::vitium … pande sinus (‘vice … open your sails’, 149-50); solitary-dining (94ff.::136ff.) and the sportula (‘the dole’, 95ff.::127ff.); dramatic vignettes of greed and queuejumping (97ff.::120ff.). As regards the two sportula parts, note also the chiastic verbal pointing between secreto (‘in secret’, 95), sportula (95) primo limine (‘on the very threshold’, 95-6) and vestibulis (‘halls’, 132) caulis atque ignis (‘cabbage and fire’, 134) tantum ipse (‘just himself’, 136). 66. Juvenal’s indignatio suffers gradual erosion as the satires proceed (cf. Braund (1988), 1-23). Umbricius’ anger in the third satire resembles Juvenal’s elsewhere in the first and second books, but his credibility as a spokesman is at least questionable. In the fourth satire anger is an inadequate response, in the fifth Trebius (and not the Juvenal in the poem) is angry, but that does not save him from being abject, and finally in the thirteenth Calvinus’ anger is explicitly condemned as childish. 67. It is true that the sphragis convention of a final piece or section containing autobiographical material is some sort of preparation for this. See e.g. Callim. Aet. 4, fr. 112Pf; V. Georg. 4.559-66; Hor. Odes 2.20; 3.30; Epp. 1.20; Prop. 1.22; Ov. Met. 15.871-9. Cf. also Hor. Sat. 1.10.76-92. 68. There is a further complication in that in the sixth satire a resemblance to Ovid’s Ars Amatoria is signalled (perhaps most obviously at 6.60-2), for the Ars itself claims a real-world distance from traditional poetic (specifically didactic) inspiration (Ov. AA 1.25-30, especially usus – ‘use’ – at 29), even if rather whimsically since on the one hand Hesiod’s Works and Days is highly practical at one level and Ovid’s poem might claim a literary realism, but is obviously not a text-book for practical use. 69. On Juv. 1.1-21 see Henderson (1995), 101-37. 70. Tacitus, in a programmatic passage, explains away the triviality of his own Annals and notes that writing histories of the Punic wars is now safe (Tac. Ann. 4.32-3). 71. We know nothing of an epic-writer called Telesinus. Likely enough, neither did Juvenal’s audience; Juvenal is certainly not referring to a completed poem available to the public. 72. Although he mentions an Agaue, Statius’ epic Thebaid is Juvenal’s main target. Perhaps the Agaue was ‘pure’ poetry (cf. intactam, 7.87) subsequently turned into a mime. 73. For other dismissive treatments of epic in Juvenal see pp. 111-13. 74. Epic and tragedy share the material of the ‘heroic age’. Furthermore, although when combined with carmen or versus the word heroicus denotes epic, when referring to characters of the story-pool it can be applied as well to characters who are tragic as to those who are epic in their profile. Heros, too, when it applies within the world of literature, cannot really distinguish epic and tragedy. There is also a general similarity in the performance of a narrative with extensive use of speeches for the different characters and the performance of tragedy as drama, reinforced by the perception of the Iliad as tragic (see e.g. Plato Theaet. 152e; Arist. Poetics 1448b-9b). In general, stage words (tragicus, scaenicus,

171

Notes to pages 23-28 mimicus) can apply metaphorically to situations in real (for tragicus cf. Cic. Brut. 55.203; de Or. 3.8.30; Livy 1.46.3; Prop. 2.20.29; Hor. Epp. 2.1.166; AP 236; Ov. Tr. 2.407; Mart. 8.18.8; tragice at Cic. Brut. 11.43; Sen. Ep. 100.10; tragoedia at Cic. de Or. 1.51.219; 2,52.205; Quint. 6.1.36. By contrast, words from non-dramatic genres do not tend so to apply. This ability for stage-related words to apply beyond the stage is part of the generalised metaphor of life as stage, for which see Jones (1991). 75. One should remember (as also in the context of Cat. 50) that wax tablets (cerae) were very much an un-literary mode of communication, used typically for daily ephemera.

2. The Generic Landscape 1. On the complexity of the audience see Devitt (2000), 707-11. 2. See Brown and Yule (1983). 3. On this distinction cf. Hinds (1998), 41-2. 4. See Cairns (1972), 6; Depew and Obbink (2000), 3; Beebee (1994), 3; Selden (1994), 39-64; Volk (2002), 25-68. In this context we can look at Juv. 11 as satire and as invitatio, 12 as satire and as sôtêria, 13 as satire and as consolatio. 5. Cf. Cairns (1972), 34 on genres arising from responses to recurrent situations. See Bakhtin (2000), 82-97; Todorov (2000), 200-9; Berkenkotter and Huckin (1993); Berkenkotter and Huckin (1995), 4-13. 6. On such positionings, see Hinds (1998), 52-83. 7. Quintilian in his review of Latin literature writes that Horace is virtually the only Latin lyric poet worth reading (10.1.96), but adds, rather perfunctorily, Caesius Bassus, the addressee of one of Persius’ satires (Pers. 6.1ff.) and refers also to living talents who far outshine him – perhaps unconvincingly since this is a recurrent motif (cf. 94 on satire, 104 on history, 122 on oratory and 3.1.21 for the general thought). We know also (from Statius; Silv. 1.3.103) that P. Manlius Vopiscus attempted lyric (and satire and epic), and Pliny regarded Passenus Paulus well (Ep. 9.22.2) and knows of amateur lyricists (3.1.7; 7.4.9). 8. There are poems in lyric metres by Varro in his Menippean Satires, by Catullus (and others of his time) and Statius, but no extant collections of lyric. Horace ignores Catullus in claiming to be the first Latin lyricist (Odes 3.30; Epp. 1.19.23ff.), though we should note that he ignores Catullus on arguably less secure (or more tendentious) ground in also claiming to be the first Latin iambist (Epp. 1.19.23ff.). 9. On the hazy border between epic and didactic cf. n. 35 below, citing Volk, Gale. 10. See Opacki (2000). 11. Hinds (2000), 221-44. 12. There is some sort of mitigation provided by Callimachus’ hymn (5) in elegiacs in a collection of hexameter hymns. 13. There is, of course, a mass of Hellenistic mythological narrative in elegiacs. 14. Horace lists comedy, tragedy, epic, bucolic, and satire (Sat. 1.10.40ff.) and epic, elegy, iambic, tragedy, and lyric (AP 73-85); Ovid lists epic, tragedy, iambic, elegy (RA 373ff.); Quintilian lists epic-didactic, elegy, satire, iambic, lyric, tragedy, comedy, history, oratory, philosophy (10.1.85ff.); Martial lists epic, tragedy, lyric,

172

Notes to pages 28-30 satire, elegy, and epigram in a descending hierarchy (12.94). Ov. Am. 1.15, asserting the immortality of the fame poets achieve, lists Greek (9-18) and Latin (19-30) poets: each is given a brief characterisation which makes it look as though the intention is to convey a broad generic coverage. See too Hor. Epp. 1.19.21-34; 2.2.54ff. 15. Lyne (1978), 178 suggests that Varro imitated Catullus’ Lesbia poems. 16. In this poem Propertius opposes this kind of poetry, love poetry, to epic, tragedy, didactic and Virgilian poetry: the Aeneid, Eclogues and Georgics are all characterised, but the transition to the next section of the poem suggests they form a particular kind of poetry, viz. poetry by Virgil. 17. For Callimachus and Philetas as love poets see also Prop. 2.34.31-2. 18. In the preceding section Ovid deals similarly with Greek literature and covers Anacreon, Sappho, Callimachus, Menander, Homer, a number of tragedies, Aristides, Eubius and Hemitheon. 19. The full list is: Cicero, Calvus, Asinius Pollio, M. Messala, Q. Hortensius, M. Brutus, L. Sullam, Q. Catulus, Q. Scaevola, Servius Sulpicius, Varro, more than one Torquatus, C. Memmius, Lentulus Gaetulicus, Seneca, Verginius Rufus, Julius Caesar, Augustus (Nero is ‘passed over’), Virgil, Cornelius Nepos, Nerva and Tiberius. 20. When Ovid puts himself in fourth place chronologically he omits a number of elegists of whom we know. He is creating a generically based canon. 21. It should also be remembered that manuscripts of Tibullus contain a very odd compilation indeed, which appears to have a plurality of rationales. 22. Hinds (1998), 106; see 100-22 for the full discussion. 23. The modern arrangement of the Idylls is due to Stephanus in his Poetae Graeci (1566); the manuscript tradition is messy. There are at least three different selections and arrangements and various hybrids. See Gow (1952), xxx-lxix. For Callimachus and Lucilius see Puelma Piwonka (1949). On Theocritus’ supposed bucolic book see Lawall (1967); Halperin (1983), 136; Hunter (1999), 27-8. 24. Perhaps, like Cavafy in modern times, Catullus produced a number of ad hoc gatherings of poems, possibly with different dedicatees. 25. Jocelyn (1999) has shown that the language and grammar used make it clear that Catullus recognised the distinctions between iambic, hendecasyllabic verse, and lyric. 26. Varro’s verse inserts in the Menippean Satires show a strong overlap with the metres of Catullus’ polymetrics (they include poems in iambics, scazons, hexameters, hendecasyllables and lyric metres). There is, however, the obvious difference that the context of these pieces of verse is the context of the individual prosimetric satires in which they are placed. Ross (1969), 155-60, stresses the dissimilarities between Laevius’ Erotopaegnia and Catullus. Petr. Sat. 5 has a poem starting in one metre and changing to another. Even in the prosimetric narrative tradition this seems remarkable. 27. The word iambi is used by Catullus and others (Cat. 36.5; 40.2; 54,6; Porphyrion at Hor. Odes 1.16.22, quoting an otherwise unknown Catullan hendecasyllable) in a way which suggests a body of at least largely abusive material including poems in hendecasyllables. 28. Hendecasyllabi (12.10; 42.1) also suggests a body of at least partly abusive material, at least largely in hendecasyllables. See Loomis (1972), 34-42 for the

173

Notes to pages 31-37 history of the hendecasyllable; see Quint. 1.8.6; Pliny Ep. 4.14 for an association with obscenity. Tacitus uses the word carmina at Ann. 4.34.8 to refer to poems by Bibaculus and Catullus abusing Caesar, irrespective of metre; cf. Cat. 57 in hendecasyllables and 93 in elegiacs. 29. See Minyard (1985). 30. In the polymetrics Catullus also refers to his poetry as nugae (‘trifles’, 1.4), versiculi (‘little verses’, 16.3; 50.4) and ineptiae (‘foolishnesses’, 14a.1). See also ludo (‘play’) in Carm. 50. 31. The manuscripts have it as book 16, but the fragments known to come from this book do not seem to square with this. Either one or some satires in the book, now lost, were enough to justify the title despite other themes being present (as with ‘Lesbia’ used as a label for Catullus’ miscellaneous libellus), or the manuscripts are wrong. It has been suggested that book 21 (of which no fragments remain) is meant. 32. Perhaps 1039-40W belong to the same narrative, building towards the comic anti-climax. Perhaps there was another ‘autobiographical’ narrative of an argument with a mistress called Hymnis and reconciliation in sex (cf. Prop. 4.8) in book 29 (887-99W; a Hymnis is referred to also in the unplaced fragments, 1166-7 and – where Lucilius appears to say that she claims to have made him her slave by incantation or singing – 1168). 33. A similarity in terms of the abusive content is also implicit in the description of Lucilius, like Catullus, as an iambist (Diomedes GLK 1.485.11-17; Apul. Apol. 10). For Ennius’ background in Greek iambic see Muecke (2005), 36-7. 34. Lucilius uses the terms sermo, ‘conversation’ and ludus, ‘game’ (1039M, apparently also at Lucil. 1085 and 1086W) and schedium (see Ingersoll (1912), 59ff.), which implies an element of improvisation (1131W)); cf. nugae at Cat. 1.4 and Hor. Sat. 1.9.2. For ludo see Cat. 50 and Hor. Sat. 1.4.138; 1.10.37. Lucilius claims to impart something important in such verse as he can write (quibus potest) in 791-2W. For versibus … quibus potest cf. Catull. 1. 35. See Knox (1986), 9-47 on elegiac and other elements in the Metamorphoses. 36. See Hardie (1993), 1 for the ‘totalising impulse’ of epic; cf. Bakhtin (1981), 4-40; Conte (1994), 115-25; Jenkyns (2005). 37. For Latin theoretical material see Russell (1979). 38. For competitive inclusiveness in Ovid’s elegiac poetry cf. Harrison (2002). In the Heroides and Fasti he plays with epic content, in the Ars Amatoria and Remedia Amoris with didactic form and scale. 39. Jupiter’s is the final version of history, and Aeneas’ duty is represented by Jupiter (and Anchises and Mercury), whereas his emotions are ascribed to Juno (mistakenly assisted by Venus). 40. This remains true even though it is the poet who chooses the genre. 41. See p. 138 on the extent to which performance might leave open or narrow down the scope for audience subjectivity. 42. Propertius will not attend Tullus overseas (Prop. 1.6; cf. 2.30B; travel is a constant antibody to love in the elegies), but is a soldier in real war (= love) or a slave, that most unRoman thing to be, subject to public criticism (Prop. 1.12; 2.30B); love is madness or illness (1.1; 1.10) and sets love elegy before war-epic (Prop. 1.7; 1.9; 2.1; 3.3; cf. 3.9); at a public celebration of military triumph Propertius is a spectator merely.

174

Notes to pages 37-49 43. For Propertius’ addressee Postumus (Prop. 3.12), the amalgam of epictravel and love is less fraught. 44. On the concept of a generic space (as applied to Ovid’s Heroides) cf. Conte (1994), 117. Note also how in Cicero’s De Legibus Atticus claims that Rome has no historian who can rank with the Greeks, and urges the Cicero-figure to fill the gap (Cic. de Leg. 1.5-6). 45. Arguably, Horace’s first ode performs a similar function, giving a pageant of occupations which also stands for a review of different types of literature, and in which Horace creates a space for himself which is already labelled ‘Greek lyric (Latin version)’. 46. Seneca discusses the issue from a different point of view (but also using the word mons – cf. Juv. 3.258) at Ep. 57.6-7. 47. Suet. Nero 38. 48. Cf. Isoc. ad Nic.; Cic. ad Q. fr. 1.1; Pliny Ep. 8.24; see Zucker (1928), 21722. 49. See Caes. BG 7.77; Sall. BJ 81 (cf. Hist. 4 fr. 69M); Livy 10.16.4ff.; 21.19.9ff.; 26.13.4ff.; Tac. Agr. 15, 30-3; Hist. 4.14; 4.68.4; Ann. 1.59; 14.31-2; Dio 62.3-5. 50. Observe Tacitus’ cynical comment at Hist. 4.68.4, where Julius Valentinus brings out ‘all the usual things brought up against great empires’ (cuncta magnis imperiis obiectari solita, ‘everything customarily brought up against great empires’). 51. See Hinds (1998), 104-22. 52. See p. 28.

3. Names and Naming in Satire and Other Genres 1. For names as a generic indicator see Fowler (1982), 75-87. 2. Cf. Jones (1996), 65 and 105. In narrative extended to any length, there tends to be a high incidence of pronominalisation, so that counting the frequency of names in different genres can be misleading. Higher numbers of characters referred to in a passage frequently entail a greater degree of repetition of the same individuals’ names. There is also a variety in the application of names. A mythological name can represent a mythological personage, a literary work, or a slave, or can stand ironically for a contemporary character. Gods’ names can represent that for which they stand, as Ceres for bread, Bacchus for wine. 3. Tragedy and a number of epic sub-genres, if so they might be called, epyllion, Homeric and Callimachean hymns, and didactic in its mythological insertions follow the same pattern. 4. It is part of the plan of the Aeneid to prefigure Rome from a Homeric starting point and so a good number of the human names anticipate Roman names. 5. See Jones (1996), 96-102 citing Hägg (1971), 25ff. on Xenophon Ephesius and Whitehead (1988) on the other Xenophon’s Hellenica. 6. Looking in another way, we can see similarities across generic boundaries among writers belonging to the republican period, among the Augustans, among Neronian, and among Flavian authors, and so on. 7. Bucolic has its own generically branded names, largely from Theocritus and Greek pastoral, but it also allows an admixture of contemporary Roman names, and this fits its ambiguous position: bucolic space is separate from the real world,

175

Notes to pages 50-51 but the real world impinges on it, and poetry penetrates the boundary in both directions. 8. For tables see Appendix. 9. One dealt with Scipio or perhaps the villain Asellus (see 424-5), the others concerned Scipio in Spain in 134-133 BC, L. Aurelius Cotta, the consul of 144 BC, addressed to Pacenius (440-2W) and mocking, C. Cassius – again mocking, Q. Granius the auctioneer, and Q. Opimius the consul of 154 BC, apparently rather or partially critical (see 450-2W). The Granius anecdote begins conicere in versus dictum praeconis volebam / Grani (448-9W; ‘I wanted to throw into verse a saying of the auctioneer Granius’) like a Catullan anecdote. There is a story about Granius’ wit in Cic. Brut. 46.172 as though a different story from this, perhaps even one of many. Nothing suggests a really critical tone. 10. Proportionally this is quite high, but reflects the epigrammatic stylism of making a point by figured repetitions of names (as later in Martial’s epigrams). 11. She is a precedent for the besotting beloveds of elegy in character and name (see Randall, 1979). Lyne (1978) argues that ‘Lesbia’ type poetry was not characteristic of the other poets often called neoterics. 12. There are some exaggeratedly sentimental poems to Juventius (24, 48, 81, 99). Besides this, in Cat. 10 Varus’ girl has clearly attracted Catullus’ attention. In 15 and 21 Catullus is concerned about the exposure of an unnamed boy to Aurelius’ lust. In 32 Catullus has extravagant sexual designs on Ipsitilla. In 42 Catullus expresses no erotic interest in the girl who has his wax tablets – but why has she got them? Has he been showing her his poems? – a pseudo-love poem to Licinius (Calvus) (50), a casual sexual assault of a boy in 56. Aufillena, abused in other poems, is abused for taking and not giving and for breaking a promise in 110. 13. In poems in which Lesbia is named there are, first of all, connections with Roman people and places; Lesbia is the subject of an address to Caelius (58), she is contrasted with the girlfriend of the Formianus decoctor (‘the Formian bankrupt’, 43; for whom cf. 57.4) who is elsewhere called Ameana (41), with Catullus (who appears by name) and places in the Roman world (7) and anonymous though Roman sounding old men (5). In 51 metre and the use of the word identidem (‘again and again’; outstandingly prosaic in a poem in a lyric metre) we are invited to draw a connection with 11 where the beloved – here unnamed – appears in connection with Furius (elsewhere at 16, 23 and 26) and Aurelius (elsewhere at 15, 16 and 21). In this poem Catullus also names himself. Catullus also names himself in connection with Lesbia in 7, 51, 58 and 79, and with his beloved (herself unnamed) in 8, 11, 13 (where Fabullus also appears, for whom see too 12, 28 and 47), 68.135 and 76. In 37 a girl loved as no other will be – a phrase which links the poem with 8 – appears in connection with the Egnatius also abused in 39. In 36 Catullus’ girl, herself whimsically called the worst of girls, has made a vow to burn the verses of the worst of poets – Catullus ironically calls himself this in 49, but here he whimsically takes it that the girl means not him, but Volusius. Connections with the outer world are much thinner in the elegiacs, but there is 117 where Caelius is addressed (as in 58) and there is an anonymous reference to Catullus’ passionate and crazy love. There is also a contrast with a woman with the Roman name Quintia (86) and a possible cryptic connection with Clodius Pulcher in 79. 14. Lesbia has a name which is not sociologically credible for a woman in the

176

Notes to pages 51-55 Rome of Catullus’ day, but is a pseudonym whose Sapphic explanation is provided by Cat. 51. 15. Hipponax’s Bupalus is referred to programmatically in Epod. 6, but Horace does not use the characteristically Hipponactean metre, the scazon, whereas he does fairly comprehensively utilise Archilochean metres; see Watson (2003), 43-5. 16. Mankin (1995), 9. See also Watson (2003), 7-11. 17. On Mevius see Mankin (1995), at Epod. 10.2, doubting a link with V. Ecl. 3.90. A Varus appears in Epod. 5 (69-82) in a rather incidental capacity. 18. See Watson (2003), 9-10 on the social character of Archilochus (and Tyrtaeus, Callinus, and Solon). 19. On realism see Jones (1991). 20. See Rudd (1966), 132-59. 21. Some human names are historical (as Decius in 1.6) or literary antecedents (as Terence, Lucilius, and Aristophanes); some divine names are in speech rather than in Horace’s own discourse (as Hecate and Tisiphone in 1.8); some names are repeated within a satire (as Cocceius in 1.5); one might also consider names from literature (such as Davus and Chremes at 1.10.40) as a special category and names from Lucilius as a special group within it. 22. The place which cannot be named in hexameters (Hor. Sat. 1.5.87) reminds us of the feast-day which also cannot be named in hexameters in Lucilius (2523W). Morgan (2000: 112-13) argues that both passages make a point about the poet’s subject being in conflict with not only the metre, but also the ethos of epic. 23. Observe here that in the 936 lines of Horace’s first book of epistles there are 103 human names (mainly male) as against 129 geographical or place names and 44 divine or mythological names. The distortion in the number of divine or mythological names is largely due to the Homeric lesson in Epp. 1.2. The fall in human names is to do with the semblance of letter-form the poems have. The very striking rise in geographical names is to do with the thematic concerns of the book (see Jones (1993b). 24. The bare figure gives a perhaps rather exaggerated picture, for Martial frequently makes a closural point in short epigrams by returning to, i.e. repeating, the target’s name, and sometimes decorates epigrams with multiple repetitions of a name (as with the sevenfold use of Issa’s name in 1.109) after the manner of Cat. 58 or some of the short elegiac poems. On Martial’s use of names, see briefly Watson and Watson (2003), 12-15; Giegengack (1969). Caesar (Titus) figures frequently in the openly panegyrical De spectaculis (‘On the Shows’). 25. The epigram tradition in this respect remains unchanged despite the Catullan strand’s diversion into elegy. 26. In Catullus’ short poems we find a range of metres, apparently separated into two bodies, the polymetrics and the elegiacs. Among the former we find hendecasyllables, iambics, scazons, and various lyric metres. Martial claims Catullus as a predecessor in epigram (see Watson and Watson (2003), 34-6) and in practice treats the polymetrics and the elegiacs as a single entity, intermixing as he does elegiacs, hendecasyllables, scazons, and a small number of other (all nonlyric) metres in all the numbered books. When we come to Statius’ Silvae (for chronology see Nauta (2002), 285-9, 444) the range of metres narrows, but the principle of polymetricity remains, and indeed in at least one respect becomes more striking. The bulk of the poems are in the hexameter – not used in Catullus’

177

Notes to pages 55-58 shorter poems and used only four times by Martial. Books 3 and the posthumous 5 of the Silvae are unmixed hexameter books, and books 1 and 2 are each entirely in hexameters except for the final poem (on the hendecasyllable as the ‘anti-heroic measure par excellence’, see Morgan (2000), 114-20; (2004), 18-20). In the fourth book we have an interweaving of hexameters (1, 2, 4, 6, and 8) with hendecasyllables (3, 9), and the lyric Alcaics (5) and Sapphics (7). With the mixture of hexameters, epigrammatic, and lyric metres in a single book, Statius carries the implications of the Catullan corpus and Martial’s collections further. 27. On Statius and Catullus see Bright (1980), 6-7. 28. See libelli at praef. 1.3 (= the poems of book 1; cf. praef. 3.2); leves libellos quasi epigrammatis loco scriptos (‘light little books written in the way of epigram’) at praef. 2.16 (= Silv. 2.3 and 2.4); primus libellus at praef. 1.16 (= Silv. 1.1); libellus at praef. 1.27 (= Silv. 1.4). By contrast, totus liber at praef. 2.4 means a whole book (book 2); huic libro at praef. 2.23 means book 2; see too tertius hic Silvarum liber at praef. 3.7; cf. liber at praef. 4.1, 4. Other modesty gambits are opuscula at praef. 2.3; cf. praef. 4.3; haec qualiacumque sunt at praef. 2.28. 29. This converts to figures per thousand lines as follows: 335 names in Juvenal’s first book of satires, whereas in Horace there are 257 in the first book, 295 in Epistles 1, and in Persius’ Satires there are 224. 30. The figures are: human names per book; Hor. Sat. 1, 181 names; Juvenal 15, 167 names; Juvenal 7-9, 135 names; Hor. Sat. 2, 133 names; Hor. Epp. 1, 103 names; Juvenal 6, 88 names; Juvenal 10-12, 82 names; Juvenal 13-16, 56 names. Human names per 1000 lines: Juvenal 7-9, 202 names; Hor. Sat. 1, 176 names; Juvenal 1-5, 169 names; Juvenal 6, 127 names; Hor. Sat. 2, 123 names; Juvenal 1012, 116 names; Hor. Epp. 1, 110 names; Juvenal 13-16, 69 names. 31. Turnus may have been a formative influence. Two lines are quoted by Juvenal’s scholiast (at 1.71) to explain Juvenal’s reference to Lucusta, the Neronian poisoner. Slight as this evidence is, it hints at the possibility that Turnus’ subject matter included the imperial scandals and crimes of the previous generation. It may mean nothing that Juvenal does not name Turnus in his programmatic first satire, since Lucilius was the pre-eminent name for that context. See Coffey (1979). 32. Cf. LaFleur (1973), 745A-746A; Pyne (1979), 1449A. 33. On this and the naming of Virro in the fifth satire see Jones (1987a), 14854. 34. The other names in the passage are all found in comparative ornaments: one place name, Thabraca (194), and six other names, Cossus (202), Oppia, Themison, Basilus, Maura, and Hamillus. 35. Another, and somewhat similar, case of contrastive frequency comes in the first satire (see LaFleur (1973), 745A-746A). In this programmatic satire references to exemplary satirists (Lucilius, Horace and the unknown and apparently worthless Cluvienus) frame and subdivide a single paragraph in which following the references to Lucilius and Horace respectively he imitates their respective naming habits. 36. Rudd (1966), 147-50 on pseudonyms. 37. See Ferguson’s list (1987), 9. 38. Lesbia and Cynthia at Juv. Sat. 6.7-8; Corydon from Virg. Ecl. 2 at 9.102; Cordus in Sat. 3 from Mart. 3.15; Chione from Mart. 3.30.

178

Notes to pages 59-65 39. Juvenal claims that he will try what is allowed against the dead at the end of the first satire, but we are not necessarily empowered to take that declaration as extending beyond the first book, and even there we may perhaps read no more into it than an ironic twist to the conventional escape-clause gambit at the end of satiric programmes (Hor. Sat. 2.1; Pers.1), a dramatic punch-line to match the dramatic opening. ‘The dead’, of course, is too crude, too all-inclusive a paraphrase. Juvenal’s own phrase, on the other hand (‘those buried along the Flaminian and Latin Ways’) is poetically specific and graphic rather than literal. Obviously he is not concerned solely with those buried alongside two particular roads. The scholiast may have a point in glossing the names as viae in quibus nobiles sepeliebantur (‘streets on which nobles were buried’), even if some quite humble people were buried there too (so Courtney ad loc.). 40. See Rudd (1976), 89 for more detail on the seventh satire. 41. Mart. 6.33, 7.10, 8.42, 10.46, 11.68, and, unless Maro be read, 4.80. 42. Massa at Mart. 12.29, Pliny Ep. 3.4.4, 6.29, 7.33 (offering information to Tacitus), Tac. Agr. 45; already a dangerous figure in AD 70 according to Tacitus (Hist. 4.50). Carus at Mart. 12.25; Pliny Ep. 1.5.3, 3.11.3, 7.19.5, 7.27.14, 7.33.4; Tac. Agr. 45, Hist. 4.52; see also Cassius Dio 67.13.2. 43. Mevia herself is unknown (Juv. 1.22-3), but female amphitheatrical hunting is attested under Nero (Tac. Ann. 15.32; Dio Cass. 61.17.3), Titus (Mart. Spect. 8; Dio Cass. 66.25.1) and Domitian (Suet. Dom. 4). The activities of Proculeius and Gillo are timeless; so far as we can tell they are not figures from literature, and their names could be fictional or real. If they are fictional their point must be that they are simply that: names. If they are real they would be pointless unless recent enough to be remembered. 44. Ferguson (1987), 8-9. 45. This is true also for didactic and lyric in varying degrees. Virgilian bucolic chiefly takes gods from the pool, although Theocritus is more wide-ranging in his use of mythological names. 46. Cf. Caelius’ use of quadrantaria Clytaemnestra (‘twopenny Clytemnestra’; Quint. 8.6.53). See Jones (1996), 77 citing also Cassandra caligaria (‘Cassandrain-boots’, Petr. 74.14) and Ulyssem stolatam (‘Ulysses-in-a-dress’, Suet. Gai. 23). 47. Horace translates (and very slightly changes) the same line at the end of Sat. 1.9. According to Porphyrio (at Hor. Sat. 1.9.78) Horace took the line from Homer, nevertheless it may still be the case that Horace has Lucilius in mind (it is possible that there is a similar relationship between this satire of Horace and one of Lucilius’, and Horace’s Brundisium satire (Sat. 1.5) and another of Lucilius’ (in book 3). 48. Servius auctus commenting on Virgil (Aen. 8.9) knows of a reference to a Diomedes story in Lucilius. 49. Cunnus is here a metonymy and not pars pro toto: it is ‘cunt’ that has always been the abominable cause of war rather the occasional particular woman, as the sequel expands. 50. Cf. Hor. Odes 4.9.25. 51. Horace is rescued from battle by an epic divine intervention in Odes 2.7, a poem in which he throws away his shield as Archilochus, Alcaeus, and Anacreon had done (in their poems at least), making the literary posing of the ode quite complex. See Barchiesi (2000).

179

Notes to pages 66-71 52. According to the scholiasts, at least. For Empedocles cf. Hor. AP 465-7. Davus’ lecture is third hand, coming from Crispinus’ porter (Sat. 2.7.45), and Crispinus is clearly a satirical figure (Sat. 1.1.120; 1.3.139; 1.4.14). 53. It is in this epistle that the greatest concentration of epic names is found, elsewhere sparse. 54. Human names are less frequent than in the first book, but in compensation, as it were, the interlocutors of the dialogues (and some other characters) are strongly foregrounded. 55. Various nymphs of the name are listed in OCD2. Note also Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe. 56. Cee Coleman (1990). 57. See Laguna (1998), 45; Pederzani (1993), 21-31; Newlands (2002), 26-7, 1479, 200-1, 203-4, 211-26, 253-4; Gibson (1996), 457-68. 58. Cf. Bright (1980), 11-12. 59. Cf. Markus (2000), 163-8. 60. Statius owes something to Janus’ speech in Ovid’s Fasti (1.101-44), but does not himself, as Ovid proceeds to do, enter into dialogue with Janus. 61. On the mythological spokesperson as a technique borrowed from Hellenistic panegyric see Coleman (1999). 62. Note also the trick with Tantalus in Hor. Sat. 1.1.68-9. Elsewhere see Automedo meus at Varro Men. 257; pluralised names are common in generalisation. 63. Note also the younger Helvidius’ farce (scenicum exodium) on Paris and Oenone, which was thought to reflect Domitian’s divorce (Suet. Dom. 10). 64. The higher floors of apartment blocks were inhabited by poorer occupants than the ground floor. The point, I believe, of frivola is that Ucalegon has already moved his valuables into safety and is now removing – at his leisure – the little things that remain. 65. Pegasus at Juv. 4.77 is the man’s name (Plotius Pegasus); nonetheless, in this particularly epicised satire the coincidence may be noted (as perhaps also in the case of the Picenian (Picens) at 65). 66. Note also the Meleager, of whom Virro’s boar is worthy (Juv. 5.115); Trebius’ hypothetical little Aeneas (son) at Juv. 5.139. 67. See too the Ajax at Juv. 7.115; Celaeno at 8.130; Ajax at 10.84; Endymion at 10.318; Iphigeneia at 12.119; Pylades at 16.26. These are not figures in extended narrative, so there is little scope for the variety of nomenclature found in actual epics, where names, patronymics, and other substitutes are to a large extent interchangeable. 68. For further detail see Jones (2007). 69. By contrast Ovid’s exile elegies raise the issue of the relation between the poetry and the world at large strongly. See Gibson (1999), 19-37. 70. In Propertius’ first book of Elegies Tullus stands for civic and military responsibilities, Bassus for the temptations of infidelity, Ponticus for epic. Perhaps Gallus is a Propertian alter ego. 71. For example, we see the prominent disposition of signpost Augustan figures about the corpus. The name Caesar is found 8 times in the first book. In the whole collection Maecenas is addressed in 1.1, 1.20, 2.12, 2.17, 3.8, and 3.29. Of the three books, the first begins with a poem addressed to Maecenas, and the second with

180

Notes to pages 71-77 one addressed to another significant figurehead Asinius Pollio (the third does not begin with an addressed poem, but instead begins with the set of six overtly Augustan poems, the ‘Roman odes’). 72. In Greek and Latin epigram, the erotic escapades of Lucilius, and the Epodes and Odes of Horace these names tend strongly to be Greek rather than Roman. This is to some extent a literary manner, and the names often have antecedents in Hellenistic poetry, but the names are also the kind of names that can be attested from inscriptions and reflect the sociology of available sex in Rome. See Lyne (1982), 199; Jones (1986), 379-82. 73. We find satirical tones elsewhere (as a local colour in Lucretius, Horace’s Odes, Virgil’s Georgics, Lucan, declamation and elsewhere), but not in significant connection with use of names. We find or know of criticism or abuse of identified individuals widely (senatorial and forensic speeches, political pamphlets and lampoons, Fescennine verse). The functions, including apotropy and release of tension, are manifold, but abuse is always socially difficult: it needs safeguards – some form of social sanction, authority, or justification. There is a clear difference between Lucilius and Catullus on the one hand and Horace, Persius, Juvenal, and Martial on the other. See generally Koster (1980). 74. See Chapter 4 n. 51 below. Cf. Rudd (1976), 117; Peter White (1972), (1975), (1978); Hardie (1983), 58-72. 75. Rosati (2005) ingeniously draws the Silvae into relationship with postOvidian elegy. 76. Ovid’s erotic ‘didactics’ (in arguably unauthoritative elegiacs), of course, are not mainstream didactic poetry, but offshoots of erotic elegy. 77. Twenty-five times in Catullus; twice in Tibullus; once in the elegies of Lygdamus; eight times in Propertius; four times in Ovid’s Amores, forty-three times in the exile poetry (the love elegy cases include a significant number of examples connected with the motif of the poets’ sepulchral inscriptions); once in Horace’s Epodes as Flaccus, once as Horatius, once in the Satires as Flaccus (2.1.18), once in the Odes as Horatius (4.6.44); seven times as Martialis, and seven as Marcus, in Martial. 78. Virgil figures as Menalcas in Eclogues 5 and 9 (although Gallus and other Romans retain their own names). 79. Lucilius at Lucil. 763, 791-2, 814, 930, Gaius at 1075, 1134; Flaccus at Hor. Sat. 2.1.18.

4. Major Roles in Horace and Juvenal 1. The last satire of the book is an account of a dinner hosted by Nasidienus Rufus and attended by Fundanius (who gives the account to Horace), Maecenas and two of his attendants (Vibidius and Servilius Balatro), Viscus Thurinus, Varius, Nomentanus, and Porcius. The leading role is Nasidienus, and Maecenas has a small star guest appearance. The rest are important in varying degrees. Of these characters Fundanius, Maecenas, and Varius are real and known to us, and Viscus Thurinus (?cf. Sat. 1.10.83) is presumably also real; of Nomentanus and Porcius, the parasites of the host, the one is from Lucilius and Porcius (Piggy) is a significant type name; probably Balatro (cf. Sat. 1.2.2) is a type name as well. That leaves Nasidienus: there seems no merit in arguing (after Lambinus) that this is a

181

Notes to pages 77-81 code name for Salvidienus Rufus: there is no evidence that the latter was a gourmet and his execution six or so years earlier (Vell. Pat. 2.74.6) would suggest that Horace would not need a cover name. I presume, as does Classen (1978), 335, that Nasidienus was familiar to Horace’s audience. 2. See Classen (1978). 3. See on this point Cic. ad Fam. 9.8; ad Att. 13.19.2-3; cf. also ad Att. 13.14; 15.1; 13.16.1. There are also the fictional dialogues of Virgil’s even-numbered eclogues (with their Theocritean background), and the literary mime. 4. Cf. Anderson (1963). Menippus (perhaps via Varro’s Menippean Satires) may be a contributory figure. 5. Freudenburg (2001) argues that Horace’s mild satire is a sort of meta-satire, condemning contemporary conditions for preventing him from writing satire. See also DuQuesnay (1984); Ruffell (2003). 6. Muecke (1995), 203-18. 7. See Muecke (1995), 208 citing Cic. ad Fam. 7.6.2, 7.16.3. 8. See p. 4 above. 9. See p. 4 above. 10. The hypocritical Alfius in Epodes 2 may resemble the moralising ‘Horace’ of Sat. 2.2. 11. See primum (‘Firstly’, Hor. Sat. 2.3.41) and audire atque togam iubeo componere (‘Settle down, please, and pay attention’, 2.3.77). 12. Cf. the treatment of the farm-steward in Hor. Epp. 1.14. 13. See Fraenkel (1957), 136-7; Rudd (1966), 208; Hudson (1989), 69-88. 14. See Rudd (1966), 161-5, 202-23; Gowers (1993b); Muecke (19972), 9-11. 15. In Greek Archestratus’ Hedypatheia (‘The Good Life’) is essentially a parodic food-didactic; Rudd (1966), 204, Classen (1978), 340; note also Matron’s Convivium Atticum (‘Attic Party’; Parod. Epic. Graec. p. 60 Brandt). Ennius’ Hedyphagetica (‘Fine Foods’) was a translation or imitation of Archestratus. Varro’s Menippean peri edesmatôn (‘Concerning Edibles’) definitely included – probably extensively – moralising. Cf. the experiments of the elegists in mixing erotic material and didactic form, especially Tib. 1.4; Ov. AA and RA. 16. See Rudd (1966), 209-13; Classen (1978, 337-9) finds some humorous touches. 17. Catius’ claim to novelty at 45-6 is false (K.-H. 273 quoting Archestratus F3 (p. 141 Brandt), and Horace makes fun of literary posturings at Epp. 2.2.91ff., but a false claim of originality does not have to put Catius in the wrong: see Hinds (1998), 52ff., on such claims in poetry. 18. Rudd (1966), 213 has Horace ‘making fun of Catius’ largely for his uncritical and absolute dependence on his rather pedantic source (and not ‘really attacking luxury’). 19. Classen (1978) argues that Catius, the Epicurean philosopher who died in 46/45 BC and is mentioned by Cicero, Cassius, Quintilian and the younger Pliny, is the specific target representing ‘those who follow Epicurus without understanding his philosophy’ (345), and that this satire therefore balances the parody of a Stoic philosopher in the preceding satire (cf. Odes 2.2-2.3 and Epp. 1.15-1.16 for StoicEpicurean juxtapositions. 20. It is important as a theme also in Hor. Epp. 1 – see especially 1.7, 1.10, 1.14, 1.18.

182

Notes to pages 81-86 21. See West (1974). 22. See Fraenkel (1957), 137 on Hor. Sat. 2.8 and the opening of Plato’s Timaeus. On this satire see Jones (1987a). 23. Contrast Horace’s disclaimer in the Ofellus satire (Hor. Sat. 2.2.2). 24. Aristius Fuscus, who provides another point of perspective in Sat. 1.9, is also supposed to have written comedies (Porph. on Hor. Epp. 1.10). 25. See Gowers (1993b), 25-6. For the Greek background of symposiastic literature see Rudd (1966), 214-15. 26. On the importance of the salutatio see Saller (1989), 57-8. 27. On the relation of architecture to social structure of the activities it houses cf. Wallace-Hadrill (1989), 63-4; Wallace-Hadrill (1994). 28. Rudd (1966), 220. 29. It is also hard to be convinced that Nasidienus’ choice of Porcius and Nomentanus as fellow guests for Maecenas is completely inept if we think that Maecenas might find the behaviour (or a poetic account of it) of Sarmentus and Messius Cicirrus amusing in Satires 1.5.51ff. 30. So Wickham, comparing the use of Tityre, te patulae at V. Georg. 4.566 as an echo of Tityre, tu patulae at V. Ecl. 1.1. 31. Cf. Baker (1988); Henderson raises similar questions in regard to Sat. 1.9; Henderson (1993). 32. On this see Jones (1993b). 33. The addressees and Cornutus in Persius’ Satires, too, were real contemporaries. 34. The prose dialogue of around Juvenal’s time follows the Platonic and Ciceronian traditions (with more or less contemporary participants) – Tacitus’ Dialogus in Latin, Plutarch’s dialogues in Greek – although there is also the more fanciful tradition of (e.g.) Lucian’s Dialogues of the Dead and Dialogues of the Courtesans. 35. See Lafleur (1979), 158-77; (1976), 383-431. 36. Juv. 1.74; 3.42; 3.86; 3.92; 3.106; 4.18; 4.71; 4.121; 5.42; 6.435; 7.31; 8.58; 10.28; 11.58; 12.121; 13.32; 14.154; 14.182. The irony is especially clear with (as here) the first person singular present indicative (4.18; 12.121). 37. See V. Aen. 12.665; Livy 1.7.6; 6.6.7; Sen. Contr. 7.1.1; Quint. 1.1.28. 38. See Howell on Mart. 1.59.1; 1.62.5; Varro Men. 44B; Cic. pro Cael. 35; Sen. Ep. 51.3. 39. Juv. 3.190ff., 223ff.; cf. 169ff., 319. This contrast is very striking even if the Greekness of Cumae is overstated – see Jensson (2004), 125 n. 278, 280-1. 40. See Adamietz (1972), 10. 41. Umbra: Sen. Contr. 3 praef. 13; Quint. 10.5.17; Juv. 7.105, 173; Tac. Ann. 14.53; umbraculum: Cic. Brut. 37; de Leg. 3.6.14; Umbratilius: Cic. de Or. 1.157; Or. 64; umbraticus: Petr. 2.4; Plin. Ep. 9.2.3; Quint. 1.2.18; umbrosus: Sen. Contr. 9 praef. 5. See Jones (1988), 257. See also Austin at Quint. 10.10.15. Lafleur (1976), 390 n. 28 suggested a connection with umbra = parasite which seems plausible, given the thematic prominence of amicitia in the book. The name does not seem to have other significance: seven Umbricii are listed in RE (nos 5-7 are in Suppl. Bd 9) of whom only Umbricius Melior (RE 4), the haruspex mentioned by Pliny (NH 10.19) who predicted a plot against Galba (Tac. Hist. 1.27; Plut. Galb. 24) has been thought relevant (see Braund (1990), 502-6). At most he seems only rather

183

Notes to pages 86-88 jokingly relevant at Juv. 3.44ff. (where Umbricius refers to his inability to tell fortunes – but by a different technique than haruspicy); cf. Lafleur (1976), 387. The name is used in Latin verse only here. 42. See Sen. Contr. 3 praef. 7-18; 9 praef.; Petr. 1.1-3; Quint. 2.10.4-5; Tac. Dial. 35. See Jones (1989), 456 on Juv. 7.155-61. 43. See Coleman (1988), xix-xx, xxii. Disgruntlement could be a motive: see D’Arms (1970), 158; cf. Vitellius at Tac. Hist. 3.63, 66; Cic. ad Fam. 7.1.4-5; see too the fraudulent bankrupts at Juv. 11.49. 44. See Syme (1980), 44; Tuplin (1977), 6ff.; Vessey (1973), 45ff.; d’Arms (1970), 145-6; Connors (2000), 215-20. 45. There is the declamatory framework, and the epic business of Rome playing the fall of Troy after both Virgil and Homer. Baines would add Thebes (after Statius) connecting the nocturnal ambush of Tydeus in Theb. 2 with the scene at Juv. 3.278-301; Baines (2003), 220-37, esp. 229-34. With 3.194-6 cf. also Luc. BC 1.494ff. There is the inversion of Aeneas’ arrival at Cumae on his way towards Rome in Umbricius’ journey to Cumae from Rome (in both cases Rome is a ‘Greek city’; Juv. 3.61; V. Aen. 6.98). There is, besides, the transformation of amicitia-literature at lines 69-125, on which see for example Cic. de Amicitia; Hor. Epp. 1.18. On the background to friendship treatises see Fraisse (1974); Powell (1995), 31-45; Fürst (1996); Fitzgerald (1996); Konstan (1997); and specifically on Horace: McGann (1969); Macleod (1979), 16-27; Hunter (1985), 480-90; Mayer (1985), 3346; della Corte (1991), 67-81. There is also Umbricius’ moralising of lines 61-6; on the rivers cf. Lucan BC 7.404-5; on the prostitutes cf. (though very differently) Prop. 2.23.21. The countryside theatre (172-9) may owe something to Ovid (AA 1.101-8) or Martial (10.51), the fire in the apartment block to Martial (3.52), the street scene (Juv. 3.249ff.) to Horace (Epp. 2.2.73-5), and the conclusion (315ff.) to V. Ecl. 1. 46. We can compare the scale model, as it were, of Laronia in the second satire (Juv. 2.36-65). Here the emphasis on the truth of what Laronia says is so strong (2.64-5) that we would be sceptical even if details of what she says were not belied by other (albeit later) passages in Juvenal. For 2.49 see 6.301ff.; for 2.51 see 6.242ff. (Val. Max. 8.3 finds three cases of women pleading). 47. See Jones (1990b). 48. For details see Highet (1954), 259-61; Vassileiou (1984); Morton Braund (1996), notes ad locc. 49. For expressions of guilt or complicity see Tac. Agr. 45.1; Pliny Ep. 8.14.9; 9.13.2. Tacitus is, doubtless as a result, highly critical of the opposition as selfindulgent reputation seekers: Agr. 42.4; cf. also Ann. 4.20. 50. See Tac. Agr. 6.3 with Ogilvie-Richmond; Ann. 3.30 on Sallustius Crispus; Hist. 1.10 on Mucianus; 1.48 on Titus Vinius; Pliny Ep. 8.14.7; Griffin (1977), 212. Cf. also Tac. Hist. 1.2; 3.58; Ann. 1.13.1 on Emperors suspecting ability, and for vice or pretence of vice as a means of escaping notice see Tac. Ann. 16.18 on Petronius; cf. Vell. Pat. 2.105 on Sentius Saturninus. For Brutus using pretence of madness see Juv. 4.102-3; Livy 1.56.7f.; Ov. Fasti 2.717f.; for Claudius pretending to be a fool see Suet. Claud. 38.3. 51. Lepidus at Tac. Ann. 4.20; Lucius Piso at Tac. Ann. 6.10 (cf. Vell. Pat. 2.98.23; Sen. Ep. 83.14); Memmius Regulus at Tac. Ann. 14.47; see also Pliny Ep. 1.14.5 with Sherwin-White ad loc. See also Tac. Ann. 2.52 on Camillus and Tac. Agr. 17.2

184

Notes to pages 88-91 on Julius Frontinus. Quies is a linked concept, virtually an expression of loyalty: see Woodman’s full note on Vell. Pat. 2.88.2; Stat. Silv. 2.3.64-71 and White (1975), 272-3; Tac. Agr. 6.3; see also Liebeschütz (1966); Courtney at Juv. 4.111-12; Sherwin-White on Pliny Ep. 1.14.5. 52. For the Odyssean model see Hyg. Fab. 95. 53. See Tac. Hist. 1.49.3; Suet. Claud. 38.3. The question of whether vice can be feigned appears in declamation: Sen. Contr. 2.6.4, cf. 2.6.5. 54. Primus (75) is an epic commonplace, but in conjunction with properabat (76, the word appears again at 94) suggests unseemly panic and haste. After Pegasus the councillors appear to arrive in ones and twos. 55. Invocations to the Muse frequently introduce catalogues: Hom. Il. 2.484-6; V. Aen. 7.641-5; 10.163-5; Sil. It. 3.222-7; Val. Flacc. 6.33-44. 56. See Williams (1978), 159-69. Vessey (1973), 31-4. 57. Cf. the parrot that taught itself to say Caesar, ave (‘Hail, Caesar’) at Mart. 14.73; cf. Anth. Pal. 9.562. 58. Jones (1990b), 58. 59. Cf. Tac. Ann. 14.11.3 on Nero’s enormity dwarfing complaint, so that it was Seneca who received criticism. 60. On the blend of Domitian and Nero that Crispinus seems to be, see Townend (1973), 155. 61. Cf. orbem at 37 and 132. For fish in Roman satire see Connors (2005), 1245. 62. See Morford (1977); Anderson (1957), 80-6; Lafleur (1979), 171-7; Jones (1987a). 63. See Jones (1987a) for details. 64. Perhaps Trebius’ name is chosen to suit his borderline status. It is not rare, but in Latin verse is only found here. No very significant historical holder can be found before Juvenal’s time, and the nomen ‘is indistinctive’ (Syme (1969), 220). It is found as a cognomen, but to no advantage. The only consuls of the name became consuls later than Juv. 5 must have appeared (RE Trebius 3, 4, and 7), respectively C. Trebius Maximus (cos. 122), L. Trebius Germanus (cos. c. 125) and the ordinarius of 132, C. Trebius Sergianus. 65. We can recall that in the third satire Umbricius uses the rhetoric of anger, but remains set up as a target; we can also recall that the value of the satiric anger expended on Crispinus in the fourth satire is questioned. See p. 89 above. 66. See Braund (1992), citing earlier disagreements. 67. On this see Henderson (1989), 118. Ovid’s irony at the uncouth past (see e.g. AA 1.101-34) and the terms on which he delights in contemporary civilisation (e.g. 53-100) are not dissimilar. 68. Juv. 6.15, cf. Prop. 2.32.52; Juv. 6.21, cf. Prop. 2.32.55; Juv. 6.33-7, cf. Prop. 2.4.17ff. 69. Commentators assume either that Ursidius Postumus is one person, or that Ursidius and Postumus are two people. There is very little evidence. Juvenal’s Postumus might allude ironically to the Postumus whose wife is so proverbially faithful in Prop. 3.12 (perhaps the same man as the Postumus with a placens uxor (‘pleasing wife’) in Hor. Odes 2.14; see N.-H. at line 22). There are Postumi in Martial (2.10, 2.12, 2.21, 2.22, 2.23, 2.67, 2.72, 4.26, 4.40, 5.52, 5.58, 6.19), but none of particular relevance, and the other Postumi in Roman verse (Plaut. Aul.

185

Notes to pages 91-93 161ff.; Ov. Fasti 4.41) are plainly irrelevant (the various historical characters known with the cognomen do not have any hold either): the name has no connection significant and relevant enough to obtrude against an allusion to Propertius’ celebration of fidelity. The fact that we find a C. Ursidius Postumus (more fully C. Ursidius C. f. Vol(tinia tribu) Postumus) at CIL 11.7860 is probably insignificant since Postumus is not a rare name. 70. Juv. 6.60ff., cf. Ov. AA 1.42ff., 89ff.; Juv. 6.62, cf. Ov. AA 1.91, 175. See Courtney at 60-1. 71. See Vell. Pat. 1.16-17; Sen. Contr. 1 praef. 6-10; 3 praef.; Sen. Ep. 114.1-2; Petr. 1-4; Pliny NH 14.2-7; Tac. Dial.; ‘Longinus’ de Subl. 44; Quintilian (see 6 praef. 3; 8.6.76; cf. 8.3.58) wrote a de causis corruptae eloquentiae (‘On the causes of the corruption of eloquence’). See further Jones (1989), 464 n. 68. 72. See Sen. Contr. 3 praef. 7-18; 9 praef.; Petr. 1-2; Tac. Dial. 35; cf. Quint. 2.10.4-5. Teachers are blamed at Petr. 2.2; Quint. 2.10.3; 12.11.14. The fictional rhetor Agamemnon transfers the blame onto the parents at Petr. 4.1ff.; cf. Pers. 3.47; Quint. 2.7.1; 10.5.21; Suet. De Gramm. 9.2; Tac. Dial. 29. 73. See Rudd (1976), 86, 88-9, 93-4; Townend (1973), 150. 74. Martial uses the name three times (3.40; 6.50; 12.25). In the third of these epigrams the reference to exile perhaps suggests the philosopher-consul of AD 66 may be at point. Otherwise 3.40 and 12.25 (but not the differently orientated 6.50) may suggest a rich miser type. The Telesinus at Sil. It. 10.148ff. is of no relevance. The name is not elsewhere in Roman verse. 75. According to Philostratus; Vit. Apoll 4.43; 8.7; 8.12. 76. See Philostratus Vit. Apoll. 7.11. The Caesar in Juv. 7.1 is ‘any Caesar’ (Syme (1979b), 250), hac tempestate notwithstanding. 77. Only two figures of note are found: Valerius Ponticus (Tac. Ann. 14.41; RE Valerius 295) who was banned from Italy for legal malpractice, and the Cn. Domitius Ponticus (RE Domitius 73) who will be mentioned below. 78. Martial 2.32, 82, 3.60, 4.85, 5.63, 9.19, 41, 12.29. 79. Syme (1978), 98 n. 2, citing the example of Cestius Macedonicus (Appian BC 5.49.204). 80. Syme (1958), 778. 81. Syme (1978), 98 n. 2. 82. There is a curious business with Rubellius Blandus, who appears as a surprise substitute addressee at Juv. 8.39 (cf. the gambit at Cic. ad Fam. 15.16.3) and is casually dismissed at 71-4. This figure seems almost to be a scapegoat for Ponticus and leaves us in doubt about how much of a contrast there is between the two. 83. The name occurs only here and in five epigrams of Martial, 1.97, 2.46, 3.71, 3.95, 4.83. The Naevolus in Mart. 3.71 and 3.95 is a passive homosexual (i.e. different from Juvenal’s Naevolus) and the figures in the other epigrams are not relevant. Perhaps both authors use the name for its derisive suggestion of ‘mole’ or ‘blemish’ (see Kajanto (1965), 246); perhaps Juvenal wanted to reinforce the suggestion that he is using an urbanely comic tone by using a name whose sole literary resonance is its presence in Martial. 84. Technically, the real requirement is the recoverer (or escaper – here Catullus). 85. ‘Persian’ connotes fabulous wealth (cf. Juv. 14.328); there is also P. Fabius

186

Notes to pages 93-97 Persicus, thoroughly vicious (Sen. De Ben. 4.30.2, cf. 2.21.5-6) and perhaps a friend of Apicius (see PIR2 F 51 citing Aelian fr. 111); persicum is a peach at Pliny NH 15.42 and Mart. 13.46; cf. Columella 5.10.20; 9.4.3; Pall. 1.3. Cf. also Juv. 3.221, the only other place in Roman verse where the name is found. 86. The cognomen was associated particularly with a well-established branch of the gens Domitia (Suet. Nero 1). Cf. the type name Calvina at Juv. 3.133. 87. Fuscinus is derived from fuscus (= dark), so the placement near nitidis (= 1shining) is a verbal decoration.

5. The Satirists and Epic 1. For another perspective see Connors (2005). 2. Passages of Lucan may resemble (in advance) Juvenal, but this is rather part of the general influence of declamatory moralising than Juvenal drawing on the satiric strand in Lucan’s epic, still less presenting that element as part of what any sort of epic is. 3. Cf. Hardie (1990). 4. Also in Varro’s Menippean Satires, Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis, Petronius’ Satyrica, and Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, all works which have the character of generic centos. They have all been considered candidates for Menippean satire, but Astbury (1977), 22ff. has shown that the Satyrica is not Menippean satire; see too Conte (1996), 140ff. and Jensson (2004). 5. In his list of Latin epic poets, Quintilian includes writers of mythological epic, historical epic, and didactic. In his Greek list he includes writers of mythological epic, didactic poets, the martial and Homeric-mannered elegist Tyrtaeus, and Theocritus. It remains clear, however, than mythological epic is the dominant strain. 6. We find also lists of typical poetic subject matter, as at Hor. Odes 1.7.1ff., which show some overlap with mythological epic. 7. See Pearce (1966). 8. Cf. haec ubi dicta dedit (‘When he had made this speech’) at Petr. 61.5; 121.1. One might suppose that the openness of opening and closing formulae were a feature of oral composition then preserved because of the status of the Homeric epics, but in extended narrative containing extended speeches, even though literary, there is still some value in this sort of clarity, especially where oral dissemination is still important. 9. The epic ecphrasis is a narrative device and perhaps for that reason its presence is not strong in satire or genres which tend to non-narrative forms. We see it in Propertius’ narrative elegies (for example near the beginning of 4.8) and, along with other forms of descriptive writing, in Senecan tragedy, where narrative is important and not only in messenger’s speeches. We see it used as an index of ‘epicality’ in Ovid’s miscegenated epic, the Metamorphoses. 10. On Lucilius’ use of the hexameter see Morgan (2004), 7-15; on Persius’ style see Bramble (1974); Petersmann (1999), 289-310; on Juvenal’s style see Powell (1999). 11. On the other hand elegy and Horatian lyric do import words from the colloquial language, words for which there are often epic substitutes; see Knox (1986), 31.

187

Notes to pages 97-98 12. Cf. the parody of epic battle, complete with invocation to the Muse and heroic lineages, as part of the fun of the poetic entertainment in Hor. Sat. 1.5; the momentary metamorphosis of the two mice in the story of the town and country mice into two heroes on an epic night raid (Sat. 2.6.99ff. – arguably this is a questionable aspect of epic activity), which involves a laughable disparity between human and animal levels (one comparable with the war of the bees in the fourth book of Virgil’s Georgics); the presentation of Rome in the third satire as like the fall of Troy, with allusions to both Homer and Virgil (3.198ff.; cf. V. Aen. 2.311f.; 3.261ff.; cf. Hom. Il. 22.437ff.), which uses the epic representation of war as a metaphor for the state of Rome. 13. Military experience has a real and direct part in Lucilius’ satires, but this is more a matter of his own experience than an epic import. In Persius we have no more than a mocking caricature of the military (Pers. 5.189ff.). Likewise again the manifestations of war in Juvenal tend not to be epic-related. The battle between two Egyptian villages in the fifteenth satire is not overly concerned with epic. The desire for military glory is satirised in the tenth satire, but declamatory or historical figures rather than epic are used (10.133-87). 14. See e.g. Lucil. 341-2; Hor. Sat. 1.1.4-6; Pers. 5.132-53; 6.75f.; Juv. 14.265302. 15. Ulixes is a character in Hor. Sat. 2.5, but the journey per se has little importance. Note, however, the Odyssean paraphrase at Hor. Epp. 1.2.18-31. The storm (as in Juvenal’s twelfth satire) has surely become a more or less autonomous epic or epic-tragic (since it appears in messenger speeches such as Sen. Ag. 460-578) feature by this stage, rather than a journey-motif. 16. The divine machinery is notoriously absent in Lucan’s epic, though references to the gods are plentifully present. 17. We can identify divine names easily enough, but not all gods are characteristically epical. On the other hand even a non-epic god may have something of an epic role. Horace casts Priapus (Sat. 1.8), for example, in a role typical of Priapic epigram (imposing a physically appropriate penalty on trespassers), but in Petronius’ Satyrica there is an element of Poseidon’s anger against Odysseus. Gods – even gods who have major roles in epic – may have roles outside epic, indeed outside literature, so that a reference to Vesta’s temple, a landmark in the Rome Horace is walking through in Sat. 1.9, is first and foremost a piece of real-life scenery, and Jupiter’s appearance near the beginning of the first satire is part of the ‘And what if you got your wish?’ motif that probably derives from diatribe (cf. Hor. Sat. 2.7.24). It is true that in satire the gods can be prayed to (bad prayers are recorded in all three satirists: Hor. Sat. 2.6.8ff.; Pers. 2; Juv. 10), and can indeed grant prayers, though to the detriment of the person praying, but these prayers are simply manifestations of the human folly that makes up a good deal of the matter of satire. 18. This goes back to Callimachus’ Aetia, and is transferred into Latin by way of Virgil’s Eclogues (V. Ecl. 6). 19. If what happens is any sort of rescue at all: see Jones (2000), 19-20. 20. Cf. the later rescue of Horace from battle by Mercury in Odes 2.7.13ff. By contrast, the hypothetical appearance of ‘some god’ who will offer to change one’s life like a fairy-godmother (Hor. Sat. 1.1.15; 2.7.24) does not strongly suggest epic machinery. 21. If so it can be called (see Jenkyns, 1989).

188

Notes to pages 98-102 22. See e.g. Apollo in Tib. 2.5; 3.4; 3.10; Priapus in Tib. 1.4; 3.6; Pierians at Tib. 3.1; Bacchus at Tib. 2.1. 23. See Morford (1967); Bate (2004). At Petr. 115 Eumolpus composes a poem which commentators tend to assume is the civil war ‘epic’ recited later. There seems no reason why it should be so: one might naturally assume it to be a storm description playing on epic and the Ovidian games with storms in the Metamorphoses and especially in the Tristia. 24. See too the council of gods burlesqued in Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis. 25. The competition motif admittedly goes back to Homer (see Iliad 18.497ff., itself a forerunner of Theocr. 1.33-4). 26. The hunt of the Calydonian boar in Ov. Met. 8 contains parodic material. Cf. Horsfall (1979). 27. Likewise the priamel; the form can be traced back to Homer (Race, 1982), but is so widespread that it carries no epic resonance on its own. 28. On such passages, where parallels proliferate, cf. Hinds (1998), 34-47. 29. Cf. also Plato Euthyd. 294b. 30. Size is the defining feature of historiography in Juvenal’s picture of the historians (7.98-104). Horace’s animadversions to length for its own sake (1.4.9-10; 1.9.23-4) are part of a Callimachean sensibility rather than aimed at epic. 31. Hinds (2000), 221-44. It is one of the faults attributed to women that they are the kind to transform the Aeneid into love-literature when they read it: see Prop. 2.1.50; Juv. 6.434ff. Contrariwise, there are also important exceptions to the absence of love in the portrayal of epic in lyric and elegy. See, for example, Hor. Odes 2.4.2-12 (cf. Ov. Am. 2.8); Prop. 2.8.29-40; 3.12.23-38; Ov. Her. 1, 3. In such cases the lyricist/elegist annexes the epic tradition and forcibly transmutes epic into, or reads it as, a kind of love poetry. See too Ov. Tr. 2.371-80 and Gibson (1999), 28-31; Hinds (1998), 104-22. 32. For satire, love is largely a source of human folly – as indeed it is in epic – whereas for the elegists love is the flagpole of an ideological identity. 33. We know also of Naevius’ Bellum Poenicum; Varro of Atax wrote a Bellum Sequanicum in the manner of Ennius and Naevius; Cornelius Severus wrote about kings (Ov. Ex Pont. 4.2.1), perhaps a Bellum Siculum (10.1.89; Sen. Suas. 7), and hexameters in honour of the dead Cicero (Sen. Suas. 6.26); Albinovanus Pedo wrote hexameters on Germanicus’ voyage in the North Sea (Sen. Suas. 1.14); we have a fragment of Statius’ de Bello Germanico. There is also the shadowy Furius Bibaculus on the Gallic Wars, and the Volusius mentioned by Catullus. Cicero wanted the poet Licinius Archias (ad Att. 1.16.15) to write about his consulship. There is also Petronius’ scale model of a historical epic. The historical epics of Ennius and Lucan are well known. 34. Although it should not be forgotten that a historical name could not point at epic (since it could just as well come from historical writing), the use of mythological names in satire, lyric, and elegy still reinforces the impression that historical epic is not epic’s prime form. Arguably also one might see Lucan – perhaps via the hindsight of Juvenal – as moving epic away from its natural home on to satiric ground. 35. See Volk (2002), 25-43 (didactic is separate); Toohey (1996), 5-6 (didactic is a form of epic); see further Gale (1994), 99-104; Gale (2004). 36. See e.g. Tib. 2.4.13-20 opposing both epic and didactic to elegy, and specifically characterising elegy as love poetry.

189

Notes to pages 103-106 37. This had long been an element in Greek elegy (cf. Callimachus’ Hecale). In the Roman context see e.g. Prop. 1.20, a number of poems in Prop. 4; Hor. Odes 3.27; cf. also Ovid’s Heroides. 38. Epic material is the substance of Ovid’s Heroides (‘Heroines’). The Ars Amatoria extends a motif from earlier elegy (the erotodidact) into a didactic poem, albeit in elegiacs, and takes over standard features of the didactic genre which itself has close affinities with epic. There are allusions at the beginning of Juvenal’s sixth satire which translate elegiac settings including Ovid’s urban lovedidactic into a satiric urban scene. 39. Cf. p. 19 above. 40. See Most, OCD3, s.v. ‘genre’; Altman (1999), 11-12. 41. So Volk argues also in regard to Didactic: Volk (2002), 60-8. 42. Quint. 10.1.89; Sen. NQ 3.27. See Morgan (2003). 43. See Coffey (1976), 27-32; Muecke (2005); Ennius wrote ‘four books’ of satires (Porphyrio on Hor. Sat. 1.10.46) and some 31 lines of verse are extant, and a prose paraphrase by Aulus Gellius of a satire in fable form (2.29.3ff.). Quintilian (9.2.36) cites a debate beteeen Mors and Vita. Other miscellaneous poems with individual titles like the Hedyphagetica were not part of the four books of saturae (Coffey, 31), but may have been miscellaneous individual satires. The fragments bear witness to a variety of metres (including hexameters). 44. See Petersmann (1999), 289-96. 45. Lucil. 727-34; 124; 235. Porphyrio on Hor. Sat. 1.10.53 says that Lucilius frequently alters (mutat) Accius especially in the third book. See Petersmann (1999), 296-310. 46. See also Servius at V. Aen. 11.602 on Lucilius mocking a phrase of Ennius which was later used by Virgil. 47. Tantalus at 136-7; Tisiphone and Tityos at 162-3; Deucalion at 284; Ulysses at 565-6; Amphitryon, Alcmena and Helen at 567-73 (on this passage see Ll. Morgan (2005), 176-7). Servius auctus commenting on V. Aen. 8.9 knows of a reference to a Diomedes story in Lucilius. Perhaps it was an illustration to a narrative of a bored wife in Lucilius’ thirtieth book. 48. Lucil. 1, 2, and 3-4W could all come from a programmatic context, rejecting grandeur or a didactic theme. We might envisage either a programme satire or a programmatic introduction. 49. Virgil drew on the Lucilian council elsewhere too: Aen. 9.227 is closely modelled on Lucil. 5W. 50. Lactantius (DI 4.3.12) references a fragment of Lucilius (24-7W) as in deorum concilio. 51. So Morgan (2004), 8-9. 52. Morgan (2004), 8-15; see further Morgan (2000), 112-13 on Lucil. 252-3W. According to Horace, Lucilius’ hexameters were the best that could be expected under the circumstances (Sat. 1.10.53-71). 53. In regard to these Homeric scenarios one might think ahead in time to the elegies (Prop. 4.7 and 8) in which Cynthia-narratives are given respectively Iliadic and Odyssean frames. An important distinction here is that in Horace the epic borrowings are part of a broader eclecticism. Gowers (1993a) reads Hor. Sat. 1.5 as an Odyssey, though this seems rather unconvincing to me. 54. On verbal hyperbaton Pearce (1966); Adams (1971).

190

Notes to pages 107-115 55. Morgan (2000), 112-13. 56. On the fashion for Iliadic verse see Freudenburg (2001), 155-7. 57. Cf. Bramble (1974), 75. 58. Romulidae (31), the Greek ending, and the adjective dius suggest the antique diction of Ennius; Powell (1992), 249 n. 9. 59. Powell (1992), 162 would read varium et plorabile siquid and see an allusion to Virgil’s varium et mutabile semper femina (V. Aen. 4.569-70). 60. See Bramble (1974), 104. 61. Crudi may suggest that poetry and food are both served at a ‘dinner-party cum composition-club’ (see Barr n. ad loc.); cf. Hor. Epp. 2.1.109ff. 62. Oddly enough, although the spondaic line ending Appennino is called ‘very effeminate’ – permolle – by Quintilian at 9.4.65 (for what it is worth, we may note also Petronius’ civil war hexameters use it too; Petr. 124 v. 279), it is used by Persius’ admired Horace in a hexameter at Epod. 16.29. 63. On Nero’s Attis see Freudenburg (2001), 169ff. 64. On this motif see Hinds (1998), 34-47. 65. Courtney (1993), 372. In the Florida (c. AD 160-170) Apuleius attributes to a Clemens a verse account of Alexander the Great’s ‘many sublime deeds’ (Flor. 7) and quotes (6) three lines of distinctly Virgilian hexameters (about the Ganges) which probably belonged to it. See Courtney (1993), 401. 66. See p. 70 above. 67. In terms of thematic consistency this connects with the irony expended on ‘the good old days’, which is a recurrent motif throughout the corpus, and with the secular sensibility visible prominently in the tenth (see especially 10.346-66) and thirteenth (see especially 13.78ff.). 68. Morton Braund (1996), 23. The Virgilian parallel is noted by others, e.g. Courtney and Ferguson. 69. See Coffey (1976), 142 for a brief review of Juvenalian similes. 70. Trebius’ apple by contrast, turns him into a cavalryman as represented by a performing monkey, a scene which may be a parody of the Lusus Troiae (games of Troy) instituted (or ‘re-instituted’) in epic fashion (and appearing in the Aeneid), though not fated to last (Suet. Aug. 43). Alcinous’ Phaeacian feasts are referred to by Statius in an epicising passage of the Silvae which itself refers to the Aeneid (Silv. 4.2.3; cf. also 1.3.81). 71. Scott (1927); Bramble (1974), 164-73; Courtney (1980), 36-55; Morton Braund (1996), 24-30; see now the different assessment by Powell (1999). 72. See de Dekker (1913); Kenney (1963), 704-20; Adamietz (1972); Courtney (1980), 36-48; Morton Braund (1996), 18-21. 73. See glossary for declamation. 74. On Juvenal’s sententiae see further pp. 152-3 below. 75. Braund (1992). 76. Cf. e.g. the rival speeches for the arms of Achilles at Ov. Met. 12.626-8, 13.1381, Pothinus advising Ptolemy not to have Pompey killed after Pharsalia (Luc. BC 8.482-535), or the suasoria where Pompey is advised not to go to Parthia (8.328ff.). 77. See Powell (1999). 78. See Jones (forthcoming).

191

Notes to pages 117-122 6. Other Genres in Satire 1. In this chapter the term ‘genre’ may sometimes need to be taken in a fluid sense in the spirit of the discussion in Chapter 2, where it was pointed out that there is an inevitably subjective element in the definition of a genre, that poets often created their own histories of more or less fictive genres, that there were different ways of cutting the literary cake, and where the term ‘kind’ was used pragmatically in place of an artificial definition of the term ‘genre’. 2. See Muecke (19972), 6-8. Horace’s treatment of philosophy develops again in the first book of epistles: see Mayer (1994), 39-47. 3. Horace’s reaction to Lucretian didactic in his satires is analogous to Virgil’s in his didactic, the Georgics. 4. Collegia stands out in this context, placed between the two foreign words and suggesting the existence of a ‘guild’ of Syrian flute-girls like workmen’s guilds. Collegia had been disbanded in 64 BC and all except the workmen’s guilds were disbanded again by Julius Caesar as dicatator (Suet. Iulius 42). Augustus made another ban, dissolving all except the oldest as a result of the disreputability of the newer (Suet. Aug. 32). The word is still paradoxical when applied to criminals, waifs, and strays (as also with the robbers’ collegium at Ap. Met. 7.7). 5. See Fraenkel (1957), 83. 6. I accept Brink’s emendation rem for non (1987, 18) in line 38. The absurd grandeur sends up the absurdity of the would-be adulterer. 7. Fraenkel (1957), 82 n. 4. 8. It is striking that one of the parodied epigrams (Callimachus 31, boiled down at Hor. Sat. 1.2.105ff.) is really a Callimachean programme statement, since Horace will show that he subscribes to the Callimachean aesthetic (especially in Sat. 2.1 and 2.6), and has already used Callimachean programme language in the preceding satire, in disguised application. 9. See Rudd (1966), 25 on the comic and Lucilian background. 10. Cicero ridicules the prosecution in his defence of Caelius by comparing their narrative of rendezvous, poison-procuring, double-crossing, unexpected discovery, and escape to the plots of mimes: mimi ergo iam exitus, non fabulae; in quo cum clausula non invenitur, fugit aliquis e manibus, dein scabilla concrepant, aulaeum tollitur (‘The end of a mime, then, not of a play; where when a proper ending cannot be found, someone wriggles away, the clogs clatter, the curtain comes down’, Cic. pro Cael. 65). 11. See Reynolds (1946), 77-84. 12. One should also be aware that mime-artists like Volumnia Cytheris, mistress of Anthony and the poet Gallus, moved among the literate class, that it was part of the political and social climate that members of the literate class put on mime shows, and their friends might well be expected to show support by attending (cf. Cic. ad Fam. 7.1). In this sense mime, however absurd its plots, becomes, so to speak, an aspect of real life, and in that sense particularly at home in the Horatian satiric programme. 13. On Persius and Stoicism cf. Cucchiarelli (2005), 75-9. 14. See Pers. 3.109-10 and Epict. 3.2.8; 2.8.15ff.; 1.18.22; also Pers. 5.119-20 and Epict. 2.11.17. 15. Cf. Highet (1951).

192

Notes to pages 122-131 16. Courtney 36-48; Morton Braund (1996), 18-21; De Dekker (1913); Kenney (1963). 17. See Wilson (1898); Colton (1966); Anderson (1970), 1-34; Adamietz (1972), 17-22, 85-96, 131-5, 155-6; Bramble (1982). 18. There is a probable allusion to Tacitus’ Histories at Juv. 2.102ff. For dating issues see Syme (1958), 118-19; Townend (1973), 153; Syme (1979a), 6. 19. The centrepiece of the sixth satire (6.286ff.) uses a historiographical framework; cf. especially Sall. Jug. 41-2. One might also compare Juvenal’s undermining of traditional accounts of inadequate patronage in Sat. 7. 20. Music and moralisms: Hor. Sat. 1.2.1; Livy 39.6.7; Quint. 1.10.31; Scipio Aem. fr. 30M. 21. Perhaps this lends credibility to seeing some resemblance between the passages on old age at the beginning of Umbricius’ speech (Juv. 3.26ff.) and near the beginning of the same eclogue of Calpurnius (5.12ff.). 22. See Hor. Epp. 1.13; cf. Ov. Tr. 1.1 where Ovid addresses his book and is more oblique towards Augustus (see 69-70). See also Clarke (1972), 158 and n. 1, citing Martial 5.6 and a number of poems for patrons other than the Emperor. 23. See Townend (1973), 150; Rudd (1976), 93-4; Jones (1989), 448. 24. Virgil’s a Corydon, Corydon (Ecl. 2.69) becomes in Juvenal o Corydon, Corydon (9.102). It is difficult to be sure this has any particular point. 25. Cf. the comic verses handed down as Varro Men. 8B and Cèbe (p. 54) for the Plautine feel. 26. For temples as places to find women (Juv. 9.22ff.) cf. Ov. AA 1.77-8. 27. See Hor. Odes 1.1 with N.-H. 28. Cf. Juv. 12.127, 14.281 and see Enn. Ann. 14W (and Pers. 6.9) and 471-2W (and Hor. Sat. 1.2 37). The beginning of Livy’s history of Rome incorporates an epic resonance at the same time as expressing diffidence: facturusne operae pretium sim si a primordio urbis res populi Romani perscripserim nec satis scio nec, si sciam, dicere ausim … (Livy praef. 1; ‘Whether I will do something worthwhile in writing the history of the Roman people from the city’s origin, I hardly know – nor if I did know would I dare to say so …’). 29. Cf. Mart. 4.19, 6.82.9-12, 7.92.7-8, 8.58.1. See Courtney at Juv. 9.28-31 and 31. 30. For fata regunt homines (‘Fate rules mankind’, Juv. 9. 32) cf. Manilius 4.14, fata regunt orbem ‘Fate rules the globe’). 31. See, however, also Hor. Epp. 2.2.91-101. 32. Rudd (1989), 33 points out that other forms of elegy are mentioned in the AP, but love elegy is excluded, presumably on grounds of ‘personal prejudice’. Tibullus’ and Propertius’ elegies emerge after Horace’s Satires, but Gallus was important – especially after figuring in Virgil’s Eclogues (especially the tenth) – and we do not know how many minor elegists filled the interim period. 33. Ovidian elegy is also in the air at Juv. 6.60ff. (cf. Ov. AA 1.42ff., 89ff., 175) and 9.22ff. (cf. Ov. AA 1.77-8). 34. Scipio ap. Macrob. Sat. 3.14.7 (ORF p. 133). On fish prices see Courtney (1980) n. at Juv. 4.15. 35. … nulloque frequentem / cive suo Romam sed mundi faece repletam (‘Rome crowded not with its own citizens, but stuffed with the dregs of the world’). 36. Cf. at n. 32 above.

193

Notes to pages 131-136 37. Hinds (2000). 38. Seneca uses the idea of a oneness coming from the singing of many voices (Ep. 84.9) in a sequence of analogies (including bees producing honey from their selection of flowers, and our own boiling down of variegated reading so that it becomes one with our mind), for the composite nature of the individual soul. Cf. Jensson (2004), 50-9. 39. Linguistic mimicry contained in the frame of first person discourse is or implies, of course, a kind of performance (see Jensson (2004), 28-9, 47-50, 73-83) on which see further in Chapter 7. On the harmony of many voices see Jensson (2004), 50-9. 40. Seneca makes a point of enrolling even Epicurus in support of his stoicism (Ep. 2.5; 4.10; 7.11; 8.8; 9.20; 11.9; 12.11 etc.).

7. Juvenal and Performance 1. For performance and related concepts (such as persona) in discussion of classical literature cf. Mason (1962, reprinted in Sullivan (1963); Dyson (1973); Allen (1950); Williams (1962); Clarke (1976); Rudd (1976), 145-81; Griffin (1976, 1977). Beck produced a sequence of articles dealing with the role of the persona in Petronius (1972, 1975, 1979, 1982), the last of which related Petronius back to the use of the first person in the elegists. More recently Lyne (1982) made a good deal of the dramatic presentation of the ‘self’ in Catullus, Horace and the elegists. 2. See Hor. Sat. 1.4.21-5, cf. Epp. 2.2.95ff. Contrast Pliny Ep. 7.17, 8.12. Juv. 7.40-7; Tac. Dial. 9. 3. There is also the influence of comedy on the persona and substance of (especially) love poetry from Catullus onwards: see Thomas (1984), Yardley (1987). 4. Performance has something of a role as a theme in the satirists. Cf. the hypocritically audible prayers in Horace (Sat. 2.6.8ff.) and Persius (Pers. 2.8ff.), and the pretence of friendship in Hor. Sat. 2.5. Persius is consistently interested in the difference between the public exterior and the different quality within. In Juvenal, cf. the hypocrisy in the second satire, the amphitheatrical doings in Satires 1, 7, and 8, the minor role of actors in the sixth and seventh satires, and the pretending of the councillors in the fourth satire. 5. Reckford (1996), vii-viii. See also Morton Braund (1996). 6. De Decker (1913). Of course, declamation received influence back; cf. Sen. Contr. 10.4.24. 7. Bonner (1949). 8. See for example Ajax’s and Ulysses’ debate for the arms of Achilles (Ov. Met. 12.626-8, 13.1-381; at 121ff. Ovid used one of Porcius Latro’s declamatory epigrams; see Sen. Contr. 2.2.8). 9. See Bartsch (1994), 193 on the pervasiveness of performance in Nero’s time. Champlin (2005) essentially reads Nero’s reign as a performance. 10. See Jones (1991), 113-14. 11. Cf. Sen. Contr. 3 praef. 12f.; Petr. 1.1-3; Quint. 2.10.1-15; 10.5.17ff.; Tac. Dial. 33.4-5; Juv. 7.166-70. 12. See Jones (1988), 257. 13. Jones (1987b). 14. George (1966).

194

Notes to pages 136-146 15. Jensson (2004), 29-83. 16. Rudd (1976), 106-7. 17. The passage is funnier if the standard high evaluation of Homer is accepted, and perhaps we are to think of Homer here as simply the archetypal great poet rather than as an epic poet as such. 18. Reckford (1996), vii. We could usefully think of Ulysses reperforming the tale of his exploits over and over in different ways to entertain Calypso (Ovid AA 2.123ff.). 19. See above (p. 42) on the allusions to the fall of Troy. 20. In Juv. 5 the whole discourse is moulded around the persona of the addressee, Trebius (see Jones 1987a). Likewise, Juv. 6, apparently on the failings of women in the context of marriage, is conspicuously addressed to a flagrant adulterer. See further pp. 85-93 above. 21. Alternatively, one could take the voice as that of Juvenal complaining angrily after a poetry recitation. 22. For Juv. 2.49 cf. 6.302; for 2.51 cf. 6.242ff. (and Val. Max. 8.3); for 2.52 cf. Mevia hunting boars (perhaps in the amphitheatre) at 1.22-3. 23. There is a similar unexpected transition used for a different purpose at Cic. ad Fam. 15.16.3. 24. The irony is complex, since Catullus is not a figure presented seriously by the poet. 25. As in Juv. 4 there is a marked tone contrast within Juv. 5; the bulk of the speech is Juvenal’s attempt to rouse Trebius to anger at Virro’s behaviour, but that is because Trebius is so abject (though he is actually angry); Juvenal’s own attitude is expressed in the apostrophe to Virro, which uses the language of politeness, showing independence and recognition of the state of things (Juv. 4.107-13; the lines follow the most gratuitously revolting item on the menu supplied for Trebius). 26. See Jones (1983), 107 n. 25. Cf. Hor. Odes 1.38.1. 27. Jones (1983), 104ff.; (1990), 160-8. 28. See Dowden (1982), 428. 29. Pryor (1969), 170. 30. Both are based on situations for which rhetorical precept laid down patterns (sôtêria, consolatio), both involve disasters which are said to be more ordinary than the victim appears to feel. 31. See Jones (1993a), 81-92. 32. Divine vengeance (Juv. 13.192-235) has already been undermined at 86-111; the idea that the criminal’s own constancy in crime will eventually trap him (23649) has already been undermined at 71-85.

8. Juvenal’s Satiric Identity 1. Morgan (2005), 177-8. 2. See pp. 87-8 above on Juv. 4. See especially Tac. Agr. 42. 3. For the debate on Calpurnius’ dating see Champlin (1978), 95-110; Townend (1980) 166-75; Mayer (1980) 175-6; Wiseman (1982) 57-67; Horsfall (1997). 4. Freudenburg, (2001) makes of this a case to the effect that the manifestation in Persius’ Satires of this difference is itself a veiled satiric critique of the temper

195

Notes to pages 146-154 of the times. There is another literary characteristic of Persius’ time: that under Nero there was something of a literary renascence in the form of an Augustan revival (see Mayer, 1983). Defunct or dormant genres are rescuscitated, as for example bucolic by Calpurnius Siculus and the anonymous author of the Einsiedeln eclogues, Horatian lyric by Caesius Bassus, and Horatian satire by Persius. 5. Datable events in the Satires suggest c. 110-130 as the period of their appearance (see Courtney (1982), 1-2, Jones (1999), 119; Townend (1963), 153). 6. Ahl (1984); cf. also Dewar (1994); Newlands (2002) for a range of perspectives. 7. We sometimes hear of more personal abuse; Nero expelled Fabricius Veiento from Italy for a mock-will in which he had insulted senators and priests (Tac. Ann. 14.50). Cf. Petronius’ death-bed list of Nero’s sexual partners and details of what they did (Tac. Ann. 16.18). Helvidius’ Oenone farce (see Chapter 3 n. 63 above) was taken as criticising Domitian. Seneca’s critique of the dead Claudius in the Apocolocyntosis implies a positive programme for imperial-senatorial relations. 8. See Saller (2000) on social changes; Reekmans (1971) on Juvenal. 9. See pp. 87-9 above. 10. The idea that Juvenal attacked specific living individuals under the names of dead people (see Ferguson (1987), 7-8, (1979), xix-xx) is not convincing; it starts from the assumption that Juvenal’s satire has such criticism high on its agenda, lacks evidence, and does not explain the totality of Juvenal’s package. 11. Bowie (2000, 1990); Gibson (2005). 12. See Courtney (1993), 372-90. The fragments and witnesses, very few though they are, attest largely small-scale occasional or epigrammatic verse, and a ‘strong tendency to affected simplicity, to a mingling of colloquialism, even vulgarism, with archaism’ (p. 372). Death, wine, country scenes and ‘Fescennine’ eroticism are attested topics. 13. See p. 111 above. 14. A contrast with earlier periods may be helpful. The changing patterns of inter-relationships between authors can be plotted reasonably well from the late Republic through to the time of Pliny, Martial, and Statius. Crudely, in the late Republic literary (and political) circles overlap (see pp. 31-2 above). In the Augustan period, too, the writers knew each other. The patterns of patronage in the later period suggest a greater degree of isolation (see White 1975). While Tacitus and Pliny may have been widely known (see Pliny Ep. 9.23.2-3), the contemporary literary scene may have been generally fragmented. 15. Perhaps here we can begin to see a reason for the exceptional interest in self-definition shared by satire and elegy. Horatian satire and its contemporary, elegy, each walk a political tightrope and their programmatic utterances have ideological significance. Subsequently, while there is no elegy, the satirists must make a show of still being satirists. For a different view of post-Ovidian elegy see Rosati (2005). 16. Cf. Braund (1988), 1-23. 17. I have not seen this term used elsewhere.

196

Bibliography Adamietz, J. (1972), Untersuchungen zu Juvenal (Steiner). Adams, J.N. (1971), ‘A type of hyperbaton in Latin prose’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 17: 1-16. Ahl, F. (1984), ‘The art of safe criticism in Greece and Rome’, American Journal of Philology 105: 174-208. Allen, A.W. (1950), ‘Sincerity in the Roman elegists’, Classical Philology 45: 14560. Altman, R. (1999), Film / Genre (British Film Institute). Anderson, W.S. (1957), ‘Studies in Book 1 of Juvenal’, Yale Classical Studies 15: 33-90. ——— (1963), ‘The Roman Socrates: Horace and his satire’, in J.P. Sullivan (ed.), Critical Essays on Roman Literature: Satire (Routledge and Kegan Paul), 1-37. ——— (1970), ‘Lascivia vs. ira: Martial and Juvenal’, California Studies in Classical Antiquity 3: 1-34. ——— (1982), Essays on Roman Satire (Princeton University Press). Astbury, R. (1977), ‘Petronius, P.Oxy. 3010, and Menippean satire’, Classical Philology 72: 22-31. Baines, V. (2003), ‘Umbricius’ Bellum Civile: Juvenal, Satire 3’, Greece and Rome 50: 220-37. Baker, R.J. (1988), ‘Maecenas and Horace Satires II 8’, Classical Journal 83: 21232. Bakhtin, M.M. (1981), The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays (trans. C. Emerson and M. Holquist) (University of Texas Press). ——— (2000), ‘The problem of speech-genres’, in D. Duff (ed.), Modern Genre Theory (Longman), 82-97. Barchiesi, A. (2000), ‘Rituals in ink: Horace on the Greek lyric tradition’, in M. Depew and D. Obbink (eds), Matrices of Genre: Authors, Canons, and Society (Harvard University Press), 167-82. Bartsch, S. (1994), Actors in the Audience: Theatricality and Doublespeak from Nero to Hadrian (Harvard University Press). Bate, M.S. (2004), ‘Tempestuous poetry’, Mnemosyne 57: 295-310. Beck, R. (1972), ‘Narrative technique in Petronius’, Phoenix 27: 42-61. ——— (1975), ‘Encolpius at the Cena’, Phoenix 29: 271-83. ——— (1979), ‘Eumolpus poeta, Eumolpus fabulator: a study of characterization in the Satyricon’, Phoenix 33: 239-53. ——— (1982), ‘The Satyrica: satire, narrator, and antecedents’, Museum Helveticum 39: 206-14. Beebee, T.O. (1994), The Ideology of Genre (Pennsylvania State University Press). Berkenkotter, C., and Huckin, T.N. (1993), ‘Rethinking genre from a sociocognitive perspective’, Written Communication 10: 475-509.

197

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre ——— and ——— (1995), Genre Knowledge in Disciplinary Communication (L. Erlbaum Associates). Bonner, S.F. (1949), Roman Declamation in the Late Republic and Early Empire (Liverpool University Press). Bowie, E.L. (1990), ‘Greek poetry in the Antonine Age’, in D.A. Russell (ed.), Antonine Literature (Clarendon Press), 53-90. ——— (2000), ‘Literature and sophistic’, in A.K. Bowman, P. Garnsey, and D. Rathbone (eds), The Cambridge Ancient History XI. The High Empire (Cambridge University Press), 898-921. Bramble, J. (1974), Persius and the Programmatic Satire (Cambridge University Press). ——— (1982), ‘Martial and Juvenal’, in E.J. Kenney and P.E. Easterling (eds), Cambridge History of Classical Literature II. Latin Literature (Cambridge University Press), 597-623. Braund, S.H., Beyond Anger: A Study of Juvenal’s Third Book of Satires (Cambridge University Press, 1988). ——— (1990), ‘Umbricius and the frogs’, Classical Quarterly 40: 502-6. ——— (1992), ‘Juvenal – misogynist or misogamist?’, Journal of Roman Studies 82: 71-86. Bright, D.F. (1980), Elaborate Disarray: The Nature of Statius’ Silvae (Hain). Brink, C.O. (1987), ‘Horatian notes IV: despised readings in the manuscripts of Satires Book 1’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 33: 16-37. Brown, G., and Yule, G. (1983), Discourse Analysis (Cambridge University Press). Cairns, F. (1972), Generic Composition in Greek and Roman Poetry (Edinburgh University Press). Champlin, E. (1978), ‘The life and times of Calpurnius Siculus’, Journal of Roman Studies 68: 95-110. ——— (2005), Nero (Belknap Press). Clarke, M.L. (1972), ‘Horace Epistles 1.13’, Classical Review 22: 157-9. ——— (1976), ‘Latin love poets and the biographical approach’, Greece and Rome 23: 132-9. Classen, C.J. (1978), ‘Horace – a cook?’, Classical Quarterly 28: 333-48. Coffey, M. (1976), Roman Satire (Methuen). ——— (1979), ‘Turnus and Juvenal’, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 26: 88-94. Cohen, R. (1986), ‘History and genre’, New Literary History 17: 203-18. Coleman, K.M. (1988), Statius Silvae IV edited with an introduction and English translation (Clarendon Press). ——— (1990), ‘Fatal charades: Roman executions staged as mythological enactments’, Journal of Roman Studies 80: 44-73. ——— (1999) ‘Mythological figures as spokespersons in Statius’ Silvae’, in F. de Angelis and S. Muth (eds), Im Spiegel des Mythos. Bilderwelt und Lebenswelt (Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Rom), 67-80. Colton, R.E. (1966), ‘Echoes of Martial in Juvenal’s third satire’, Traditio 22: 40318. Connors, C. (2000), ‘Imperial space and time: the literature of leisure’, in O. Taplin (ed.), Literature in the Roman World (Oxford University Press), 208-34. ——— (2005), ‘Epic allusion in Roman satire’, in K. Freudenburg (ed.), The

198

Bibliography Cambridge Companion to Roman Satire (Cambridge University Press), 123-45. Conte, G.B. (1994), Genres and Readers: Lucretius, Love Elegy, Pliny’s Encyclopedia, trans. G.W. Most (Johns Hopkins University Press). ——— (1996), The Hidden Author: An Interpretation of Petronius’s Satyricon, trans. E. Fantham (University of California Press). Courtney, E. (1980), A Commentary on the Satires of Juvenal (Athlone Press). ——— (1993), The Fragmentary Latin Poets. Edited with Commentary (Clarendon Press). Cucchiarelli, A. (2005), ‘Speaking from silence: the Stoic paradoxes of Persius’, in K. Freudenburg (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Roman Satire (Cambridge University Press), 62-80. D’Arms, J.H. (1970), Romans on the Bay of Naples (Edipuglia). de Decker, J. (1913), Juvenalis Declamans (Van Goethem). della Corte, F. (1991), ‘Areio Didimo, Orazio e la dossografia d’età Augustea’, Maia 43: 67-81. Depew, M. and Obbink, D. (eds) (2000), Matrices of Genre: Authors, Canons, and Society (Harvard University Press). Dessen, C.S. (1996), The Satires of Persius: iunctura callidus acri (University of Illinois Press). Devitt, A.J. (2000), ‘Integrating rhetorical and literary theories of genre’, College English 62: 696-718. Dewar, M. (1994), ‘Laying it on with a trowel: the proem to Lucan and related texts’, Classical Quarterly 44: 199-211. Dowden, K. (1982), ‘Apuleius and the art of narration’, Classical Quarterly 32: 419-35. DuQuesnay, I. (1984), ‘Horace and Maecenas: the propaganda value of Sermones I’, in T. Woodman and D. West (eds), Poetry and Politics in the Age of Augustus (Cambridge University Press), 19-58. Dyson, M. (1973), ‘Catullus 8 and 76’, Classical Quarterly 23: 127-43. ——— (1980), ‘Avarice and discontent in Horace’s first satire’, Classical Quarterly 30: 133-9. Ferguson, J. (1979), Juvenal: The Satires. Edited with Introduction and Commentary (Macmillan Education Ltd). ——— (1987), A Prosopography to the Poems of Juvenal (Collection Latomus). Fiske, G.C. (1913), ‘Lucilius: the Ars Poetica of Horace, and Persius’, Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 24: 1-36. Fitzgerald, J.T. (ed.) (1996), Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech (Brill). Fowler, A. (1982), Kinds of Literature: An Introduction to the Theory of Genres and Odes (Harvard University Press). Fraenkel, E. (1957), Horace (Clarendon Press). Fraisse, J.-C. (1974), Philia. La notion d’amitié dans la philosophie antique. Essai sur un problème perdu et retrouvé (J. Vrin). Freudenburg, K. (1993), The Walking Muse. Horace on the Theory of Satire (Princeton University Press). ——— (2001), Satires of Rome: Threatening Poses from Lucilius to Juvenal (Cambridge University Press). Fürst, A. (1996), Streit unter Freunden. Ideal und Realität in der Freundschaftslehre der Antike (B.G. Teubner).

199

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Gale, M. (1994), Myth and Poetry in Lucretius (Cambridge University Press). ——— (ed.) (2004), Latin Epic and Didactic Poetry: Genre, Tradition and Originality (Classical Press of Wales). George, P.A. (1966), ‘Style and character in the Satyricon’, Arion 5: 336-58. Gibson, B.J. (1999), ‘Ovid on Reading’, Journal of Roman Studies 89: 19-37. Gibson, B.J. (1996), ‘Statius and Insomnia: allusion and meaning in Silvae 5.4’, Classical Quarterly 46: 457-68. ——— (2005), ‘The High Empire: AD 69-200)’, in S.J. Harrison (ed.), A Companion to Latin Literature (Blackwell), 69-80. Giegengack, J.M. (1969), Significant Names in Martial (diss. Yale; Dissertation Abstracts International 31.1246A). Gottschalk, H. (1982), ‘Diatribe again’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 7.6: 91-9. ——— (1983), ‘More on DIATRIBAI’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 8.6: 91-2. Gowers, E. (1993a), ‘Horace, Satires 1.5: an inconsequential journey’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 39: 48-66. ——— (1993b), The Loaded Table: Representations of Food in Roman Literature (Clarendon Press). Griffin, J. (1976), ‘Augustan poetry and the life of luxury’, Journal of Roman Studies 66: 87-105. ——— (1977), ‘Propertius and Antony’, Journal of Roman Studies 67: 17-26. Griffith, J.G. (1970), ‘The ending of Juvenal’s first satire and Lucilius book XXX’, Hermes 98: 56-72. Hägg, T. (1971), Narrative Technique in Ancient Greek Romances: Studies of Chariton, Xenophon Ephesius, and Achilles Tatius (Svenska Institutet). Halperin, D. (1983), Before Pastoral: Theocritus and the Ancient Tradition of Bucolic Poetry (Yale University Press). Hardie, A. (1983), Statius and the Silvae: Poets, Patrons and Epideixis in the Graeco-Roman World (Francis Cairns). Hardie, P. (1990), ‘Ovid’s Theban history: the first “anti-Aeneid”?’, Classical Quarterly 40: 224-35. ——— (1993), The Epic Successors of Virgil: A Study in the Dynamics of a Tradition (Cambridge University Press). Harrison, E. (1965), ‘Horace’s tribute to his father’, Classical Philology 60: 11114. Harrison, S.J. (2002), ‘Ovid and genre: evolutions of an elegist’, in P.R. Hardie (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Ovid (Cambridge University Press), 79-94. ——— (ed.) (2005), A Companion to Latin Literature (Blackwell). Henderson, J. (1989), ‘Not “women in Roman Satire” but […]’, in S.H. Braund (ed.), Satire and Society in Ancient Rome (University of Exeter Press), 89-125. ——— (1993), ‘Be alert (your country needs lerts): Horace, Satires 1.9’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 39: 67-93. ——— (1995), ‘Pump up the volume: Juvenal, Satires 1.1-21’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 41: 101-37. Hendrickson, G.L. (1928), ‘The first satire of Persius’, Classical Philology 23: 97112. Highet, G.A. (1951), ‘Juvenal’s bookcase’, American Journal of Philology 72: 36994. ——— (1954), Juvenal the Satirist (Clarendon Press), 259-61.

200

Bibliography Hinds, S. (1998), Allusion and Intertext: Dynamics of Appropriation in Roman Poetry (Cambridge University Press). ——— (2000), ‘Essential epic: genre and gender from Macer to Statius’, in M. Depew and D. Obbink (eds), Matrices of Genre: Authors, Canons, and Society (Harvard University Press), 221-44. Hooley, D.M. (1984), ‘Mutatis mutandis: imitations of Horace in Persius’ First Satire’, Arethusa 17: 81-94. Hooley, D.M. (1997), The Knotted Thong (University of Michigan Press). Horsfall, N. (1979), ‘Epic and burlesque in Ovid Met. viii. 260ff.’, Classical Journal 74: 319-32. ——— (1997), ‘Criteria for the dating of Calpurnius Siculus’, Rivista di Filologia e di Istruzione Classica 125: 166-96. Hudson, N.A. (1989), ‘Food in Roman satire’, in S.H. Braund (ed.) Satire and Society in Ancient Rome (University of Exeter Press), 69-88. Hunter, R.L. (1985), ‘Horace on friendship and free speech’, Hermes 113 480-90. Hunter, R.L. (1999), Theocritus: A Selection (Cambridge University Press). Ingersoll, J.W.D. (1912), ‘Roman satire: its early name’, Classical Philology 7: 5965. Jenkyns, R. (1989), ‘Virgil and Arcadia’, Journal of Roman Studies 79: 26-39. ——— (2005), ‘Epic and other genres in the Roman world’, in J.M. Foley (ed.), A Companion to Ancient Epic (Blackwell), 562-73. Jensson, G. (2004), The Recollections of Encolpius: The Satyrica of Petronius as Milesian Fiction (Barkhuis Publishing and Groningen University Library). Jocelyn, H.D. (1982), ‘Diatribes and sermons’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 7.1: 37. ——— (1983), ‘ “Diatribes” and the Greek book-title diatribai’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 8.6: 89-91. ——— (1999), ‘The arrangement and the language of Catullus’ so-called polymetra with special reference to the sequence 10-11-12’, in J.N. Adams and R.G. Mayer (eds), Aspects of the Language of Latin Poetry (British Academy), 335-76. Jones, F. (1983), ‘An interpretation of Juvenal 11’, Acta C1assica 26: 104-7. ——— (1986), ‘Horace Odes 1.33; 1.22; 2.9’, in C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History IV (Collection Latomus), 379-82. ——— (1987a), ‘Trebius and Virro in Juvenal 5’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 12.10: 148-54. ——— (1987b), ‘The narrator and the narrative of the Satyrica’, Latomus 46: 81019. ——— (1988), ‘Review: A Prosopography to the Poems of Juvenal by John Ferguson’, Classical Review 38: 255-7. ——— (1989), ‘Juvenal 7’, in C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History V (Collection Latomus), 444-63. ——— (1990a), ‘Juvenal 11’, Ramus 19: 160-8. ——— (1990b), ‘The persona and dramatis personae in Juvenal Satire Four’, Eranos 88: 47-59. ——— (1991), ‘Realism in Petronius’, in H. Hofmann (ed.), Groningen Colloquia on the Novel (Egbert Forsten), 105-20. ——— (1993a), ‘Juvenal, Satire 13’, Eranos 91: 81-92.

201

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre ——— (1993b), ‘The role of the addressees in Horace, Epistles 1’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 18: 7-11. ——— (1996), Nominum Ratio (Liverpool Classical Papers). ——— (1999), ‘Juvenal’, in W.W. Briggs (ed.), Ancient Roman Writers, Dicitionary of Literary Biography, vol. 211 (Bruccoli Clark Layman), 118-26. ——— (2000), ‘Reference in Latin’, Mnemosyne 53: 12-29. ——— (2006), ‘Names and naming in “soft” poetry’, in C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History XIII (Collection Latomus), 5-31. ——— (forthcoming), ‘Juvenal and the hexameter’, in C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History XIV (Collection Latomus). Kajanto, I. (1965), The Latin Cognomina (Societas Scientiarum Fennica). Kenney, E.J. (1963), ‘Juvenal: satirist or rhetorician?’, Latomus 22: 704-20. Kernan, A.B. (1959), The Cankered Muse: Satire of the English Renaissance (Yale University Press). Kindstrand, J.F. (1976), Bion of Borysthenes: A Collection of the Fragments with Introduction and Commentary (Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis). Knox, P.E. (1986), Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the Traditions of Augustan Poetry (Cambridge Philological Society). Konstan, D. (1997), Friendship in the Classical World (Cambridge University Press). Koster, S. (1980), Die Invektive in der griechischen und römischen Literatur (Hain). LaFleur, R.A. (1973), A Prosopographical Commentary on Juvenal Book 1 (diss. Duke Univ. Durham N.C. Dissertation Abstracts International 34: 745A-746A). ——— (1976), ‘Umbricius and Juvenal 3’, Ziva Antika 26: 383-431. ——— (1979), ‘Amicitia and the unity of Juvenal’s first book’, Illinois Classical Studies 4: 158-77. Laguna, G. (1998), Estacio, Silvas III. Introducción, Edición Crítica, Traducción y Commentario (Fundación Pastor de Estudios Clásicos). Lawall, G. (1967), Theocritus’ Coan Pastorals (Center for Hellenic Studies). Lieberg, G. (1962), Puella Divina (Schippers). Liebeschütz. W. (1966), ‘The theme of liberty in the Agricola of Tacitus’, Classical Quarterly 16: 126-39. Lightfoot, J.L. (1999), Parthenius of Nicaea: The Poetical Fragments and the Erotika pathemata, Edited with Introduction and Commentaries (Clarendon Press). Loomis, J.W. (1972), Studies in Catullan Verse (Brill). Lyne, R.O.A.M. (1978), ‘The neoteric poets’, Classical Quarterly 28: 167-87. ——— (1982), The Latin Love Poets: From Catullus to Horace (Clarendon Press). Mankin, D. (1995), Horace: Epodes (Cambridge University Press). Markus, D. (2000), ‘Performing the book: the recital of epic in first century C.E. Rome’, Classical Antiquity 19: 163-8. Martin, R.H. and Woodman, A.J. (1989), Tacitus Annals Book IV (Cambridge University Press). Mason, H.A. (1962), ‘Is Juvenal a Classic?’, Arion 1: 8-44, reprinted in J.P. Sullivan (ed.), Critical Essays on Roman Literature: Satire (Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1963), 93-167. Mayer, R. (1980), ‘Calpurnius Siculus: technique and date’, Journal of Roman Studies 70: 175-6.

202

Bibliography ——— (1983), ‘Neronian Classicism’, American Journal of Philology 103: 305-18. ——— (1985), ‘Horace on good manners’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 31: 33-46. ——— (1994), Horace Epistles Book I (Cambridge University Press). McGann, M.J. (1969), Studies in Horace’s First Book of Epistles (Collection Latomus 100). Macleod, C. (1979), ‘The poetry of ethics: Horace, Epistles 1’, Journal of Roman Studies 69: 16-27. Minyard, J.D. (1985), Lucretius and the Late Republic (Brill). Morford, M.P.O. (1977), ‘Juvenal’s fifth satire’, American Journal of Philology 98: 219-45. ——— (1967), The Poet Lucan: Studies in Rhetorical Epic (Blackwell). Morgan, Ll. (2000), ‘Metre matters: some higher-level metrical play in Latin poetry’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 46: 99-120. ——— (2003), ‘Child’s play: Ovid and his critics’, Journal of Roman Studies 93: 66-91. ——— (2004), ‘Getting the measure of heroes: the dactylic hexameter and its detractors’, in M. Gale (ed.), Latin Epic and Didactic Poetry (Classical Press of Wales), 1-26. ——— (2005), ‘Satire’, in S.J. Harrison (ed.), A Companion to Latin Literature (Blackwell), 174-88. Morton Braund, S. (1996a), Juvenal Satires Book I (Cambridge University Press). ——— (1996b), The Roman Satirists and their Masks (Bristol Classical Press). Muecke, F. (1995), ‘Law, rhetoric, and genre in Horace Satires 2.1’, in S.J. Harrison (ed.), Homage to Horace: A Bimillenary Celebration (Clarendon Press), 203-18. ——— (19972), Horace Satires II (Aris and Phillips). ——— (2005), ‘Rome’s first “satirists”: themes and genre in Ennius and Lucilius’, in K. Freudenburg (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Roman Satire (Cambridge University Press), 33-47. Nauta, R. (2002), Poetry for Patrons: Literary Communication in the Age of Domitian (Brill). Newlands, C. (2002), Statius’ Silvae and the Poetics of Empire (Cambridge University Press). Newmyer, S.T. (1979), The Silvae of Statius: Structure and Theme (Brill). Opacki, I. (2000), ‘Royal genres’, in D. Duff (ed.), Modern Genre Theory (Longman), 118-26. Pearce, T.E.V. (1966), ‘The enclosing word order in the Latin hexameter’, Classical Quarterly 16: 140-71, 298-320. Pederzani, O. (1993), ‘L’epos privato e quotidiano di Stazio (note per un commento a silv. 1.2)’, Maia 43: 21-31. Perini, G.B. (1966-7), ‘Suspendere naso’, Mem. Accad. Patavina 79: 233-64. Petersmann. H. (1999), ‘The language of Early Roman Satire: its function and characteristics’, in J.N. Adams and R.G. Mayer (eds), Aspects of the Language of Latin Poetry (British Academy), 289-310. Powell, J.G.F. (1992), ‘Persius’ First Satire’, in A.J. Woodman and J.G.F. Powell (eds), Author and Audience in Latin Literature (Cambridge University Press), 150-72, 248-51. ——— (1995), ‘Friendship and its problems in Greek and Roman thought’, in D.

203

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Innes, H. Hine, and C. Pelling (eds), Ethics and Rhetoric. Classical Essays for Donald Russell on his Seventy-Fifth Birthday (Clarendon Press), 31-45. ——— (1999), ‘Stylistic registers in Juvenal’, in J.N. Adams and R.G. Mayer (eds), Aspects of the Language of Latin Poetry (British Academy), 311-34. Pryor, A.D. (1969), ‘Juvenal’s ridiculum acri fortius: problems of Satire 12’, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 16: 170. Puelma Piwonka, M. (1949), Lucilius und Kallimachos (Klostermann). Pyne, J.J. (1979), A Study of Juvenal’s Use of Personal Names (Tufts Univ. diss. 100ff.; Dissertation Abstracts International 40: 1449A). Race, W.H. (1982), The Classical Priamel from Homer to Boethius (Brill). Randall, J.G. (1979), ‘Mistresses’ pseudonyms in Latin elegy’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 4: 27-35. Reckford, K.J. (1962), ‘Studies in Persius’, Hermes 90: 476-504. ——— (1996), in C.S. Dessen, The Satires of Persius: iunctura callidus acri (University of Illinois Press), i-ix. Reekmans, T. (1971), ‘Juvenal’s views on social change’, Ancient Society 2: 11761. Reynolds, R.W. (1946), ‘The Adultery Mime’, Classical Quarterly 40: 77-84. Rosati, G. (2005), ‘Elegy after the elegists: from opposition to assent’, in F. Cairns (ed.), Papers of the Langford Latin Seminar, Twelfth Volume, 2005 (Francis Cairns), 133-50. Ross, D.O. (1969), Style and Tradition in Catullus (Harvard University Press). Rudd, N. (1966), The Satires of Horace (Cambridge University Press). ——— (1976), Lines of Enquiry (Cambridge University Press). ——— (1989), Horace Epistles Book II and Epistle to the Pisones (‘Ars Poetica’) (Cambridge University Press). Ruffell, I.A. (2003), ‘Horace, popular invective and the segregation of literature’, Journal of Roman Studies 93: 35-65. Russell, D.A. (1979), ‘De imitatione’, in D.A. West and A.J. Woodman (eds), Creative Imitation and Latin Literature (Cambridge University Press), 1-16. Saller, R. (1989), ‘Patronage and friendship’, in A. Wallace-Hadrill (ed.), Patronage in Roman Society (Routledge) 49-62. ——— (2000), ‘Status and patronage’, in A.K. Bowman, P. Garnsey, and D. Rathbone (eds), The Cambridge Ancient History XI. The High Empire (Cambridge University Press), 817-54. Scott, I.G. (1927), The Grand Style in the Satires of Juvenal (Northampton, Mass.). Selden, D.L. (1994), ‘Genre of genre’, in J. Tatum (ed.), The Search for the Ancient Novel (Johns Hopkins University Press), 39-64. Shackleton Bailey, D.R. (1982), Profile of Horace (Duckworth). Skoviera, D. (1973), ‘Persius’ world of thought’, Graecolatina et Orientalia 5: 3974. Sosin, D. (1999), ‘Lucretius, Seneca and Persius 1.1-2’, Transactions of the American Philological Association 129: 281-99. Syme, R. (1958), Tacitus (Clarendon Press). ——— (1969), ‘Pliny the procurator’, Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 73: 201-36. ——— (1978), History in Ovid (Clarendon Press). ——— (1979a), ‘The Patria of Juvenal’, Classical Philology 74: 1-15.

204

Bibliography ——— (1979b), ‘Juvenal, Pliny, Tacitus’, American Journal of Philology 100: 25078. ——— (1980), Some Arval Brethren (Clarendon Press). Thomas, R.F. (1984), ‘Menander and Catullus 8’, Rheinisches Museum 127: 30816. Todorov, T. (2000), in D. Duff (ed.), Modern Genre Theory (Longman), 193-209. Toohey, P., (1996), Epic Lessons: An Introduction to Ancient Didactic Poetry (Routledge). Townend, G.B. (1973), ‘The literary substrata to Juvenal’s Satires’, Journal of Roman Studies 63: 148-60. ——— (1980), ‘Calpurnius Siculus and the Munus Neronis’, Journal of Roman Studies 70: 166-74. Tuplin, C. (1977), ‘Cantores Euphorionis’, in F. Cairns (ed.), Papers of the Liverpool Latin Seminar 1976 (ARCA), 1-23. Vassileiou, A. (1984), ‘Crispinus et les conseillers du prince (Juvénal, Satires IV)’, Latomus 43: 27-68. Vessey, D. (1973), Statius and the Thebaid (Cambridge University Press). Volk, K. (2002), The Poetics of Latin Didactic (Oxford University Press). Wallace-Hadrill, A. (1989), ‘ Patronage in Roman society: from republic to empire’, in A. Wallace-Hadrill (ed.), Patronage in Roman Society (Routledge), 63-88. ——— (1994), Houses and Society in Pompeii and Herculaneum (Princeton University Press). Watson, L. and Watson, P. (2003), Martial: Select Epigrams (Cambridge University Press). Watson, L.C. (2003), A Commentary on Horace’s Epodes (Clarendon Press). West, D.A. (1974), ‘Of Mice and Men: Horace, Satires 2.6.77-117’, in D.A. West and A.J. Woodman (eds), Quality and Pleasure in Latin Poetry (Cambridge University Press), 67-80. ——— (1995), Horace Odes 1: Carpe diem (Clarendon Press). ——— (1998), Horace Odes II: Vatis amici (Clarendon Press). White, P. (1972), Aspects of Non-Imperial Patronage in the Works of Martial and Statius (diss., Harvard). ——— (1975), ‘The friends of Martial, Statius and Pliny and the dispersal of patronage’, Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 79: 265-300. ——— (1978), ‘Amicitia and the profession of poetry in early imperial Rome’, Journal of Roman Studies 68: 74-92. Whitehead, D. (1988), ‘Athenians in Xenophon’s Hellenica’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 13: 145-7. Williams, G. (1962), ‘Poetry in the moral climate of Augustan Rome’, Journal of Roman Studies 52: 28-46. ——— (1978), Change and Decline (University of California Press). Wilson, H. (1898), ‘The literary influence of Martial upon Juvenal’, American Journal of Philology 19: 193-209. Winterbottom, M. (1980), Roman Declamation: Extracts Edited with Commentary (Bristol Classical Press). Wiseman, T.P. (1982), ‘Calpurnius Siculus and the Claudian civil war’, Journal of Roman Studies 72: 57-67. Woodman, A.J. (1988), Rhetoric in Classical Historiography (Croom Helm).

205

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre Yardley, J.C. (1987), ‘Propertius 4.5, Ovid Amores 1.6 and Roman comedy’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 33: 179-89. Zetzel, J.E.G. (1977), ‘Lucilius, Lucretius, and Persius 1.1’, Classical Philology 72: 40-2. Zucker, F. (1929), ‘Plinius epist. viii 24 – ein Denkmal antiker Humanität’, Philologus 84: 209-32.

206

Index References to ancient works appear in bold to distinguish them from references to the page numbers of this book.

abuse, 5, 6, 9, 13, 14, 33, 44, 72 Ad Herennium, 136 addressees, 15, 71, 76, 77, 84, 89, 90, 91, 93, 94, 144; substitute addressees, 93 advice to potentates, 175 Alcibiades, 76, 84 amicitia, 82, 85, 87, 89-90, 92, 128, 138, 149, 151-2, 184, 184; literature of, 184 amphitheatre, 59, 67, 100, 152, 161, 179, 194, 195 anecdote, 8, 15, 33, 44, 50, 80, 119, 176 Apollo, 5, 62, 68, 97, 98, 103, 110, 137, 189 apples, 81, 101, 112, 191 Apuleius, 143, 147 Archilochus, 2, 7, 51, 160, 177, 179 architecture, 82, 183 Aristophanes, 13-14 audience, 2, 6, 6-7, 8, 9, 13, 21, 25, 301, 35, 39-40, 45-7, 93, 129, 130 133, 140-1, 142, 172; audience’s dilemma, 130 Automedon, 22, 61, 69, 97, 111 battle scenes, 99, 188; night raid, 188 bees, 159, 188, 194 Bibaculus, 51, 66, 160 Bion, 8, 121, 157 bucolic, 30, 38-9, 98, 124-7, 157; Messalla and, 157 Caesar, Julius, 31, 32, 34, 36, 37, 52, 157

Callimachus, 1, 5, 29, 78, 119, 157, 167, 173; water imagery, 2, 5 Aetia praef. 21ff., 5 Epigrams 31, 119 Hecale, 190 Hymn 5, 172 Calpurnius Siculus, 68, 124-5, 146, 157, 196 captatio, 93, 143, 149 catalogues, 45, 88, 98, 100-1, 126 Catullus 3, 8, 29, 30-4, 36, 37, 45, 48, 49, 55, 72, 76, 91, 97, 110, 129, 157-8, 176, 177-8; and satire, 3, 8, 32-3; naming in, 50-2, 62-3, 176-7 Carmina 1, 30; 2, 30, 31; 4, 63; 5, 31, 45; 6, 33; 7, 45; 8, 30, 51; 10, 8; 11, 30; 46, 30, 63; 50, 30, 31-2 celebration, 34, 50, 72, 174, 186 censor, 3, 5, 9, 169 chariot, 17, 22, 69, 70, 97, 112, 170 Cicero, 26, 29, 31, 32, 33, 46, 59, 61, 69, 77, 78, 79, 103, 120, 136, 143, 158, 167; on comedy, 167; on mime, 192; on Lucilius, 169; on impersonation, 136 ad Fam. 7.1, 192; 7.6-22, 78, 167 de Orat. 1.72, 169 Inv. 1.27, 136 Phil. 2.65, 120 pro Cael. 18, 61; 65, 192 Cluvienus, 18, 20 Clytemnestra (twopenny), 179 collegia, 192 comedy 1, 6, 9, 11, 13-14, 15, 19, 23,

207

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre 82, 83, 104, 110, 117-8, 119, 121, 126, 128, 167 competition, 34-6, 148, 152 conflation, 12, 13, 101, 117, 127 consolatio, 93, 144, 148, 172 Cornutus, 14, 15, 19, 58, 76, 95, 110, 123 council, 50, 57, 62, 87-9, 99, 104 counting, 31, 45 criticism, 3, 4, 6, 10, 12, 13, 14, 19, 23, 24, 32, 48, 49, 72, 80, 83, 152, 170, 181, 196 cultural identity and inheritance, 46-7, 87, 132, 147, 153, 154 cunnus, 64, 119, 179 dances, 106, 137-8, 142, 152 declamation, 19, 26, 85, 86, 113-14, 117, 121, 122-3, 133, 134-5, 135, 141, 149, 154, 158 defecation, 11 Democritus and Heraclitus, 19, 124 dialogue form 2, 7, 16, 27, 76, 77-84, 85, 92, 113; fictionality, 182 diatribe; 8, 15-16, 117, 119, 121, 133; see also moralising-philosophical tradition didactic, 6, 27, 28, 29, 80-1, 93, 100, 102, 105, 111, 117-18, 126, 131, 146, 158 dinner party, 82, 90, 109, 113, 142-3, 149 divine machinery, 98, 112; in Lucan, 188 dramatisation, 12, 36, 87, 108, 129, 132,133, 139-40, 194; see also performance, impersonation elegy, 19, 27, 28-9, 34, 35, 37, 70-2, 76, 91, 93, 95, 97, 98, 102, 103, 12731, 132, 148, 158-9, 166, 168; see also under war Ennius, 96, 104, 108, 110, 119, 120, 126, 159 epic, 34, 72, 92, 95-6, 131, 152, 159, 171-2; as dominant genre, 28, 68, 71-3, 95, 131-2, 153; historical, 102, 189; in satire 4, 11, 14, 15,

17, 20, 22-3, 24, 33, 62, 64-5, 6870, 73, 81, 87, 89, 95-116, 120, 128; other genres in relation to, 28, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 54, 61, 71-3, 95, 131-2; typical, 96-103, 132; see also war Epictetus, 16, 54, 66, 121, 142 Epicureanism 6, 42, 88, 124, 194; see also quies epigram, 27, 31, 55, 89, 97, 119, 159 epiphany, 5, 64, 65, 98 epistle, 76, 77, 84, 123 fleeing oneself, 167 food, 80-1, 82, 83, 89-90, 142-3, 149, 152 formalism (Russian), 28 function (literary), 3, 4, 26, 46, 72, 181 Gallus (elegist), 29, 30, 38, 159-60, 180, 181, 192, 193; as Propertian alter ego, 180 genre, 25-47, 74, 81, 87, 115; ancient views on, 1, 102; and anthologising, 30, 38, 43, 173; and failure, 8, 73; annexation, 23, 28, 29-30, 34, 132; antagonism, 11, 23, 28, 34-6, 38, 61, 68-9, 71-2, 73, 97, 103, 132; as abstraction/idea, 34, 103, 131, 132; as invention, 28-9, 31, 125; as permission, 24, 33, 3940, 152; boundaries, 21, 26, 29, 35, 39, 105, 121, 131-2, 175; classification, listing, 4, 28-9, 38, 46, 103, 131-2, 172-3, 173; cross-generic lists, 29; difference, 35, 43-5, 49, 53, 74, 96-7, 103, 114; dominant, see under epic; fixity, 27-8; grid, field, 1, 9, 11, 27, 39, 46, 153-4; identifying features, 29, 38, 43-5, 46, 49, 52-3, 96-102, 131-2; gradience, 132; hierarchy, 29, 54, 109, 173; kind, kinds, 26, 27, 29, 43, 46, 96; mixing, 30-1, 34, 38, 43, 49, 55, 67, 80-1, 87, 90, 93, 95; name profiles, 48-9; new, 27, 29-31, 38-9; non-reciprocal pairs, 131-2; originating claims, 27, 46, 51, 81;

208

Index 4, 6, 8, 9, 11, 18; satires as defence, 10; satires as confession, 4, 10 Epistles 1, 5, 8, 56, 77, 84, 155, 156, 168, 178, 182; 1.1.10-19, 6; 1.2.18-31, 188; 1.11, 167; 1.12.20, 66; 1.13, 93; 1.14.13, 182; 1.18, 184; 1.19.23ff., 7, 51, 173; 2, 77; 2.1.166, 172; 2.2.43-5, 6; 2.2.51-2, 14; 2.2.54ff., 168, 173; 2.2.60, 8; 2.2.90-105, 168 Odes 1.1, 175; 1.7, 63, 187; 1.16.22, 173; 1.27, 61; 1.33.13, 61; 2.1, 170; 2.4, 144, 189; 2.7, 179, 188; 2.14.22, 185; 3.6.21ff., 59, 170; 3.8, 143; 3.30, 172 Satires 1.1-1.3, 117-18; 1.1.14-15, 119; 1.1.25-6, 118; 1.1.68-70, 6-7, 105; 1.2, 118-20; 1.2.1-4, 118-19; 1.2.105ff., 192; 1.2.125-6, 64; 1.2.127-33, 120; 1.3.19-20, 119; 1.3.44-8, 118; 1.3.107ff., 64; 1.4.1ff., 3, 14; 1.4, 3-4, 5-6, 9, 11; 1.4.22-5, 9; 1.4.62, 11; 1.4.10531, 6; 1.4.115-19, 6; 1.4.141-2, 9; 1.5, 65, 97, 105-7; 1.5.1-4, 105; 1.5.9-10, 105; 1.5.51ff., 99; 1.5.82ff., 64-5; 1.7.11-18, 105; 1.8, 119; 1.9, 8, 97; 1.10, 3-4, 9; 1.10.4-5, 12; 1.10.7-15, 3-4; 1.10.18-19, 8; 1.10.40-8: 1, 9-10, 27, 39; 2.1, 4-5, 10, 78; 2.1.16-17, 4, 10; 2.1.30-4, 4-5; 2.1.34ff., 97; 2.1.57-60, 10; 2.1.60-2, 11, 2.1.62-76, 5; 2.1.77-8, 12; 2.2, 79; 2.3, 79-80; 2.3.12, 2; 2.3.132-41, 105; 2.3.187-213, 105; 2.4, 80-1, 117; 2.5, 66, 81; 2.6, 81-2; 2.6.1415, 5; 2.7.21-2, 119; 2.7, 79-80; 2.8, 82-3, 117

rhetorical, 93, 148; self-definition, 1, 132, 146, 196; speech, speechact, proto-genres, 25, 26-7, 44, 166; sub-genre, 123, 148; supergenre, 153-4; system, 27-8; transgression, 28, 35, 95-6, 102; see also under love, Juvenal, satiric programme Gil-Martin, 154 Golden Age, 69, 112, 115, 129 Graia urbs, 129 Hammershøi, 74 Helvidius, Paris and Oenone, 180 hendecasyllabi, 173-4; see also iambi, ineptiae, ludus, nugae, schedium, sermo, versiculi hendecasyllables, 30, 55, 63, 159, 160, 162, 173-4, 177, 178 Heraclitus, see Democritus and Heraclitus hero, 34, 98, 103, 171 hero, warrior (satiric), 5, 10, 16-17, 22, 95, 97, 112, 170; mice, 188 Herodotus, 45, 100 heroicus, 171-2 Hesiod, 45, 74, 112, 158, 171 Hipponax, 160, 164, 177 historiography, 2, 20, 21, 123 Homer, 37, 42, 45, 50, 62, 77, 99, 100, 101, 104, 105, 107, 112, 127, 129, 137 Horace, 1, 5, 12-13, 22, 27, 74, 76, 94, 114-15, 128, 146, 160; and Catullus, 8, 33, 51-2; and epic, 1047; and Lucilius, 3-5, 33; and Lucretius, 6-7, 102, 107, 117-18, 119, 127, 167; Ars Poetica, 11, 77, 128, 168; as model, 11-13, 15-16, 17-19; Epistles, 16, 49, 53, 58, 105, 124, 128, 150, 160, 168; Epodes, 7, 51-2, 63, 74, 83, 155, 160, 181, 182; naming in, 51-4, 58, 61, 63-6, 70-2, 74, 180-1; Odes, 27, 45, 48, 52, 59, 61, 63, 68, 71, 72-4, 76, 94, 128, 155-6, 161, 168, 181, 182; father, 1, 6, 9, 18, 19, 118; satiric programme 3-11; satires as poetry,

iambi, 51, 157, 173; see also hendecasyllabi, ineptiae, ludus, nugae, schedium, sermo, versiculi iambics, 30, 44, 49, 51-2, 63, 160, 164, 174 ideology, 32, 34, 36-7, 68, 71, 72-3, 878, 103, 107, 147 imitation, 25, 35, 109, 125, 173, 178, 182

209

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre impersonation, 136-7, 154 inclusiveness, 11, 34-6, 132, 152, 174 indignation, 19, 21, 22, 89, 90, 93, 114, 149, 171 ineptiae, 174; see also hendecasyllabi, iambi, ludus, nugae, schedium, sermo, versiculi interlocution, 2, 7, 11, 15, 20, 76, 77, 80, 85, 94, 114, 119, 126 invitation, 93, 148, 172 journey, 33, 50, 62, 97-8, 99, 107, 120, 129, 184, 188 Juvenal, 160; and contemporaries, 25-6, 111, 147-8; and epic, 22-3, 41-2, 68-70, 87, 89, 111-16; and innovation, 21, 144, 148-9; and Lucilius, 16-19, 22; and non-epic genres, 122-31; and oppressoroppressed pairs, 151; and Martial, 123-4, 184; and paradox, 151; and structure, 20, 138-9, 141-2, 142, 144, 148-9, 151-2; and style, 113-16; as moralist, 127-31, 150-3; as transgressive, 21, 22; cinematic effect, 20, 57, 149-50; naming in; 56-60, 68-70, 74, 11112; satiric programme, 16-23; see also tablets Satires 1, 16-19, 1.1ff., 22, 115-16, 128, 139-40; 1.3-4, 19, 128; 1.1517, 19, 115, 122; 1.19-21, 16-17; 1.22-80, 59-60; 1.20, 23; 1.22-146, 20; 1.30-1, 23; 1.42-4, 112; 1.51, 18; 1.52-4, 22, 98; 1.59-62, 69; 1.63-4, 23; 1.79-80, 18, 20, 23; 1.81-4, 112; 1.85-6, 20; 1.149-50, 112; 1.150-72, 147; 1.153-4, 16; 1.162-4, 22, 111; 1.165-70, 17, 179; 2.64-5, 140-1; 2.83, 153; 2.102ff., 193; 2.149ff., 112, 130; 3, 85-7, 112, 138-9; 3.62-6, 124, 12930; 3.131-3, 40-1, 124, 138-9; 3.198-200, 69; 3.221-2, 123; 3.257-67, 41-2; 3.262, 150; 3.2656, 112; 3.278-80, 70, 112; 3.315-22, 124-5; 4, 87-8, 111; 4.107, 150; 5, 89-90, 112; 5.150-2,

112; 5.173, 114; 6, 40-1, 90-1; 6.120, 112; 6.7-8, 28-9, 129, 138; 6.60-2, 171; 6.85-7, 70; 6.98-113, 98; 6.115ff., 135; 6.279ff., 153; 6.320ff., 152; 6.635-8, 21-2; 7, 22, 91-2; 7.1-3, 124; 7.1-35, 22; 7.23, 124-5; 7.36-9, 137; 7.62-71, 22; 7.62-149, 20; 7.150-75, 122; 7.186ff., 114; 8, 92; 8.39-40, 1401; 8.87-139, 40, 42-3; 9, 92-3, 125-7; 9.64-5, 98, 111; 9.102, 1247, 193; 9.149-50, 98, 111; 10, 122-3, 149; 10.28-53, 19, 58; 10.140ff., 152-3; 10.188-288, 57; 10.218-26, 100-1; 10.238, 150; 10.258-61, 57, 114; 10.278, 114; 11-13, 93; 11, 142-3; 12, 143-4; 12.93-5, 140-1; 13, 144; 13.11-17, 114; 13.19-23, 19, 23; 13.28, 115; 13.38-52, 112; 13.120-5, 115; 14.47-8, 114, 153; 14.205, 153; 15.103-6, 150 lex generis, 1, 21 libellus, 20, 30, 33, 63, 174, 178 libertas, 32, 33, 34, 146, 150, 167; see also simplicitas lineage, 56, 92, 98, 99, 106, 188 love, 34, 35, 36, 51, 52, 71, 102, 103, 119, 128-9, 176, 189 Lucan, 25, 59, 95, 102, 111, 130, 146, 158, 160, 170, 181, 184 Lucilius, 4, 32-4, 76, 121, 145-6, 150, 161; according to Horace, 3-5, 78; according to Persius, 11-13, 120; according to Juvenal, 16-19, 22; and Catullus, 32-3; and epic, 103; as Roman, 34, 145, 150, 166-7; as satiric figurehead, 1, 4; naming in, 50, 62; order of books, 166; satiric programme, 2-3 Lucretius, 6-7, 9, 31, 32, 42, 71, 102, 105, 107, 117-18, 119, 128, 158, 161, 167, 181 De Rerum Natura 1.936ff., 6, 118; 3.978-83, 7; 3.1053ff., 167; 3.1066-75, 167; 4.1160ff., 11, 167; 5.83, 107; 5.925ff., 167; 6.56, 107

210

Index ludo, 13, 31, 168, 174 ludus, 15, 174; see also hendecasyllabi, iambi, ineptiae, nugae, schedium, sermo, versiculi Lupus, 12, 62 Lusus Troiae, 191 lyric, 8, 22, 27, 29, 30, 35, 39, 44, 49, 51, 53, 63, 67, 70-2, 73, 74, 81, 97, 98, 102, 103, 122, 131, 157, 160, 161, 162, 168, 172, 173, 176, 177, 179, 187, 189, 196 Maecenas, 52, 53, 58, 82-3, 107, 161 major roles in Horace, 77-84, 94; Catius, 77, 80-1; Cervius, 77, 81-2; Dama, 58, 66; Damasippus, 7, 65, 66, 77, 79-80, 84, 100, 105, 121, 150; Davus, 58, 66, 77, 79, 80, 84, 100, 121, 150; Fundanius, 77, 823, 84; Nasidienus, 77, 82-3; Ofellus, 77, 77-8, 79, 80; Tiresias, 65, 66, 77, 81-2, 96; Trebatius, 4, 5, 10, 77, 78 major roles in Juvenal, 84-94, 148-9; Calvinus, 85, 93, 94, 114, 144; Catullus, 85, 93, 140-1, 143; Corvinus, 85, 93, 94, 140-1, 143; Crispinus, 84, 87-9, 141, 148, 149, 151; Domitian, 22, 44, 88-9, 92, 99, 149, 151; Naevolus, 57, 84, 92-3, 94, 98, 111, 114, 125-6, 127-8, 149, 151, 186; Persicus, 85, 93, 137, 142, 143; Ponticus, 42, 84, 92, 141, 148; Postumus, 84, 90-1, 141, 185-6; Telesinus, 91-2, 125, 148; Trebius, 84, 8990, 92, 94, 112, 141, 148, 151, 185; Umbricius, 40-1, 42, 56, 69, 84, 85-7, 92, 94, 112, 124-5, 126, 130, 138-9, 141, 148, 183-4; Ursidius, see Postumus; Virro, 57, 84, 85, 89-90, 92, 112, 126, 128, 149, 151 major roles in Persius, 84; see also Cornutus major roles in satires, 76-94 Martial, 16, 26, 31, 36, 41, 54, 55, 58, 67, 72, 74, 88-9, 92, 123, 126, 127,

147, 161-2, 163, 172-3, 177, 186; longest epigram, 67; naming in, 54, 67; programme, 54 Epigrams 3.30, 41, 59, 123; 3.52, 42, 123; 4.30, 88-9; 10.4, 54, 67; 12.94, 54 Menander, 7, 29 Menippean satire, 187; see also under Varro merit, 92, 99, 141 metre, 11, 27, 28, 30, 33, 44, 54-5, 67, 104, 106-7, 113, 114-15, 118, 1589, 160, 162, 164, 177-8 Mevia, 59, 179, 195 Midas, 12, 34, 110 mice, 78, 97, 188 mime, 90, 120, 126, 192 mockery, 13, 33, 62, 72, 83, 104, 109, 111, 166, 167 model, 1-24, 26, 27, 28, 30, 33, 35, 36, 39, 44, 45, 51, 65, 73, 74, 78, 80, 93, 99, 117, 118, 119, 121, 135, 138, 147, 148, 154, 166, 190; scale model, 113, 184, 189 moralising-philosophical tradition, 5, 26, 123-4, 142; see also diatribe Mucius, 12, 60 names, naming, 3, 13, 15, 24, 26, 45, 48-75, 77-8, 83, 86, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 104, 111-12, 122, 142, 155-6, 175, 175, 180-1; cover names, 58, 181-2; counting names, 56, 175; divine and mythological, 60-70, 188; historical names, 58-60, 123, 189; naming the dead, 58, 77, 179; Roman, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 58, 72-3; self-naming, 74-5; sources, 48, 50, 51, 53, 58-60, 61, 72-3, 778, 94, 181-2 Nero, 135, 146, 160, 173 Iliou Persis, 42, 135, 152 nettles, 30 Ninth Age, 115 Nomentanus, 62, 167, 181, 183 nugae, 8, 33, 174; see also hendecasyllabi, iambi, ineptiae, ludus, schedium, sermo, versiculi

211

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre old comedy, 3, 7, 13-14, 24 Ovid, 27, 28, 29, 35, 70, 74, 95, 98, 101, 110, 120, 125, 126, 127, 132, 134-5, 162, 171, 189; Ars Amatoria 29, 91; Fasti, 27, 125; lists of poets, 29 Metamorphoses 3.172, 70; 3.20625, 100; 11, 34, 110; 13.623-14.582, 29 Tristia 1.7.33-40, 28; 2.427ff., 29; 4.10.41ff., 29 Pacuvius, 104 Papirius Fabianus, 85-6 Paris, 57, 70 Paris and Oenone, see Helvidius pedestrian, 9, 40, 114, 115, 149, 168, 169 performance, 133-44, 194; see also dramatisation, impersonation Persius, 162; and epic, 108-11; and Horace, 110, 121, 141; and Lucilius, 11-13; naming in, 54, 667, 74; satiric programme, 11-16; and Stoicism, 146, 169 Satires 1, 108-10; 1.2-3, 15; 1.4, 108; 1.17, 108-9; 1.51, 19, 128; 1.114-15, 11-12; 1.116-18, 12-13; 1.126-34, 13, 15; 1.134, 67; 3, 150-1; 5, 110-11, 151; 5.14, 15; 5.16, 15; 5.161ff., 121 Petronius, 120, 132, 133, 135, 136, 143, 158, 162-3, 187, 188 Satyrica 115, 189; 116, 143 Philodemus, 119-20, 127 philosophy, 6-7, 8-9, 19, 20, 23, 166 Plato, 7, 80, 82, 117 Plautus, 30, 51, 127, 140, 143, 193 Pliny, 59, 60, 87, 133, 135, 147, 163 Epistles 1.14.5, 185; 1.20.12, 25; 4.14, 174; 5.3, 29; 6.15, 163; 8.14.9, 184, 196; 9.13.2, 184, 196; 9.22, 163; 9.23.2-3, 184, 196 political engagement, 49, 52, 53-4, 146 praise, 44, 54, 71, 72, 73, 78, 147; see also celebration prayers, 5, 66, 67, 98, 122, 129, 149, 188, 194

pretence, 88, 135, 184, 194 priapea, 93, 119, 126, 127, 128 programmes, 1-24, 25, 27, 30, 45, 48, 49, 53, 60, 64, 65, 66, 69, 71, 78, 94, 97, 104-5, 108, 110, 112, 11314, 115, 118, 121, 128, 131, 140, 146, 149, 164, 166, 167, 168, 170, 171, 177, 178, 179, 190, 192, 196 progymnasma, 90 Propertius, 27, 28, 29, 32, 36-8, 72, 75, 76, 91, 94, 120, 129, 132, 163, 174, 187; dating, 193; naming in, 70-2, 74 Elegies 1.6, 174; 1.20, 190; 2.7, 163; 2.23, 120; 2.23.21-2, 130; 2.34.81-94, 29, 38; 3.12, 91, 129; 4.7.1, 130-1; 4.8, 120, 187 prostitution, 40, 41, 67, 124, 130, 138, 152 Psecas, 70 public vs. private, 31, 32, 34, 36, 37, 52, 71, 73, 76, 88, 97, 132, 161, 165, 174, 194 quies, quietism, 73, 86, 88, 185 real vs. false, 14, 15, 54 realism, real life, 6, 8-10, 11, 14, 18, 19, 22, 23, 24, 31, 35, 36, 37-8, 49, 51, 53, 54, 60, 71, 72, 74, 86, 95, 98, 103, 122, 149, 150, 153, 167 recusatio, 3, 5, 39, 71, 78, 97, 102, 103, 157 rex, 90 Rhinthon, 8, 166 safety, 4, 10, 11-12, 17, 19, 20, 22, 23, 91-2, 147, 171 salutatio, 82, 183 satire, 163-4; and non-epic genres, 59, 13-16, 19, 117-32; and public role, 3, 4, 5, 18; as outside literature, 1, 8, 95, 107, 108, 168; ethical purpose, 2-3, 6, 8-9, 15, 80, 82, 117, 121, 146, 150-1; satiric programme, 1-24, 112, 113; satiric tone in other genres, 181, 187

212

Index schedium, 2, 174; see also hendecasyllabi, iambi, ineptiae, ludus, nugae, sermo, versiculi Scipio, 130, 176, 193 self-deprecation, 2-3, 8, 33, 55, 109, 174, 178 Seneca, 16, 29, 54, 74, 121, 124, 132, 133, 135, 142, 146, 153, 160, 162, 164, 196; enrolling Epicurus, 194 Epistles 80, 135; 57.6-7, 175; 84.9, 194; 90.9, 42; 114.4-8, 60; 120.22, 135 sententiae, 15, 114, 122, 152-3 sermo, 6, 8, 79, 135, 140, 168, 174; see also hendecasyllabi, iambi, ineptiae, ludus, nugae, schedium, versiculi sermon, 65-6, 85, 121, 148 Silius Italicus, 86, 102, 163, 164 simplicitas, 147; see also libertas size, 21, 44, 102, 104, 148 social change, 31-2, 33, 34, 37, 72-4, 145-6, 146-7, 148, 196 Socrates, 1, 2, 7-8, 58, 78, 79, 80, 81, 84, 94, 117, 124 sôtêria, 93, 148, 172 speech, speech act, see under genre speeches, 36, 42-3, 98, 99-100, 114, 123, 137, 175; see also dialogue form sphragis, 171 sportula, 171 Statius, 95, 109, 125, 147, 164; de Bello Germanico, 57, 59, 87, 111, 123; Silvae, 31, 49, 94, 97, 125, 131; naming in the Silvae, 54-5; 67-8, 72-4 Stoics, 79, 121, 135, 146, 194 storms, 93, 98, 99, 141, 143, 188, 189; in Petronius, 115, 189 streets, 18, 22, 56, 60, 61, 70, 97, 98, 124, 135, 179; Via Sacra, 8; Via Flaminia, 69, 111, 179 style, 3, 6, 14-15, 16, 44, 46, 63, 71, 96-7, 103, 104, 106, 107, 109-10, 113-16, 118, 120, 134, 149-50, 153-4 subjectivity, 30, 31, 36-8, 133-4, 138-9 Suetonius, 60, 135, 147, 164, 179, 185, 196

Augustus 43, 191 Claudius 38, 184, 185 Gaius 23, 179 Nero 1, 187; 20ff., 135; 27, 118; 33, 60; 38, 175 Domitian 10, 180 sword, 10, 17, 97, 170 tablets (writing), 18, 23, 30, 172, 176 Tacitus, 20, 25, 26, 36, 59, 60, 87-88, 123, 133, 135, 143, 146, 147, 158, 163, 164-5, 170, 184-5; dating, 193 Agricola 6.3, 184, 185; 15, 175; 303, 175; 42, 184; 45, 179, 184 Annals 1.13, 184; 4.20, 184; 4.32-3, 170, 171; 4.34.8, 174; 6.10, 184; 12.66, 60; 13.15, 60; 14.11, 185; 14.47, 184; 14.50, 196; 14.53-6, 135; 16.17, 163; 16.18, 196 Dialogus 183; 29, 186; 35, 186 Histories 1.2, 184; 1.10, 184; 1.48, 184; 3.58, 184; 3.63, 184; 4.14, 175; 4.52, 179; 4.68.4, 175 Tantalus, 6-7, 62, 64, 105 teachers, 6; blamed, 91, 186 Terence, 6, 119, 121 Adelphi 60-4, 136 Thucycides, 45, 100 Tibullus, 29, 32, 72, 73, 75, 76, 155, 156, 159, 165, 173, 189, 193 Elegies 1.4, 182, 189; 2.4.13-20, 189 toga, 15, 169, 182 togata, 19, 139 Turnus, 60, 149, 165, 166, 170, 178 Valerius Flaccus, 102, 109, 111, 165 Varius, 77, 96, 106, 165 Vermeer, 74 Varro, Menippean Satires, 27, 100, 162, 173 versiculi, 174; see also hendecasyllabi, iambi, ineptiae, ludus, nugae, schedium, sermo Virgil, 5, 22, 25, 27, 29, 30, 32, 34, 35, 36, 38-9, 48, 72, 74, 87, 96, 97, 102, 106, 110, 132, 137, 148, 159, 160, 161, 165; Aeneid, 29, 35, 37, 45, 110, 112, 137, 142; Eclogues, 30,

213

Juvenal and the Satiric Genre 39, 43, 58, 72, 87, 157, 182; Georgics, 32, 45, 112, 158, 159, 181, 188, 192; ‘Virgilian poetry’ 173 Eclogues 1, 124; 2.69, 125, 127; 5, 181; 6, 160; 6.1-5, 5; 9, 181; 10, 160 Georgics 2.103-8, 101; 4.563, 74 Aeneid 2.311-12, 42, 69, 188; 9.227, 190; 10.104ff., 104

voice, 136-7, 137-8 war, 44, 64, 87, 96, 97, 99, 107, 111, 123, 130, 146, 159, 160, 164, 170, 188; in elegy, 71, 103, 132, 163, 170, 174, 189 wardrobe, 38 will-hunting, see captatio

214