Greek to Latin: Frameworks and Contexts for Intertextuality 9780199670703, 0199670706

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GREEK TO LATIN

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Greek to Latin Frameworks and Contexts for Intertextuality

G. O. HUTCHINSON

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Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries # G. O. Hutchinson 2013 The moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2013 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available ISBN 978–0–19–967070–3 Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Corydon, CR0 4YY

Preface This book deals with a subject that is central, but has rarely been treated in its own right. Writing it has been both instructive and enjoyable, and I hope that reading it may be so too, in some measure.1 I am grateful to Professor T. Whitmarsh for the discussion of some pages; to Professor R. L. Hunter for the gift of his important book The Shadow of Callimachus; and to Professor B. Slapšak and Ms K. Tomc for kindly sending me archaeological reports on the work done by Ljubljana University at Thespiae. Dr R. E. Parkes looked after my pupils effectively during the essential sabbatical year in which half the present book was written and all revised. Dr H. O’Shea has been swift and helpful, writing to me even on Easter Day. I am deeply indebted to the Press’s two readers for their generous encouragement, and their suggestions. Warm thanks are also due to Ms C. Steele and Ms T. Das Neves; and to Ms H. Watson, for her alert and good-humoured copy-editing. My wife and daughter have been long-suffering as always; and at the end of it all, another book burdens our creaking shelves. Gregory Hutchinson Exeter College, Oxford

The title was fixed before the appearance of J. Glucker and C. Burnett’s rewarding collection, Greek into Latin from Antiquity until the Nineteenth Century (London and Turin, 2012). 1

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Contents Abbreviations

xi

Introduction

1 P A RT I : TI ME

1. Making Histories Literature escaping time Structures of time (i) Chronological series (ii) Two histories Consequences and complications Transgression and asymmetry Home, sweet—and sour

5 5 7 7 12 17 18 22

2. Strife and Change Old and new Beginnings of the histories Coming first Imitari not just ‘imitate’ Literary war Ethnic character and the shape of the histories Changing stock

25 25 27 28 28 31 32 35

PART II: SPACE 3. Rome, Villas, South Italy Links before Latin literature Rome: public benefits Rome: initiatives of Greek and others Rome: patronage by élite and princeps Villas South Italian Cities

45 46 47 52 59 65 70

4. Sicily, Athens, Rest of Greek Mainland, Rhodes

77

Sicily Athens: visitors Constructing Athens Literary experience in Athens Rest of mainland Greece Rhodes

77 81 86 90 97 101

viii

Contents

5. Asia, Massilia, Alexandria Asia: Greek talent Asia: Roman views and visits Massilia Alexandria Some implications

109 109 113 120 123 130

P A R T I I I : W OR D S 6. Two Languages Passive and active literary use Roman authors of Greek (i) Prose (ii) Poetry Distance between the languages Borrowing Scattering Performance and impact Richness Rightness Attic and sound Love and strife

135 135 137 137 143 147 149 153 156 158 159 160 163

7. Transposition and Triads Crossing the Alps Leaving Lemnos Placing pastoral

165 166 170 176

8. Styles and Settings The birth of point Moving Medea Recreating the Timaeus

183 183 188 194

9. Trunk and Branches The horse’s teeth Translation from the stars Transferring plague

201 201 205 210

P A R T I V : G E NR E 10. The Landscape of Prose Super-genre Texts and times Multi-tasking (i) Philosophy and history (ii) Oratory and philosophy, oratory and history Prose-rhythm (i) Latin beginnings

223 223 224 226 226 229 233 233

Contents (ii) Greek development and spread across Latin genres (iii) Isolation of history Matter Greek and Roman (i) History (ii) Oratory (iii) Philosophy

ix 235 238 240 240 242 245

11. The Grounds of Prose Philosophy (i) Addressed treatise (ii) Letter (iii) Dialogue History (i) Non-Address and identity (ii) Spatial organization (iii) Speeches Oratory (i) Reality (ii) Other audiences (iii) Rhetoric (iv) Space

249 249 249 252 253 257 257 260 262 265 265 267 269 270

12. The Grounds of Hexameter Poetry The super-genre Grounds (i) Narrative (ii) Didactic (iii) Pastoral (iv) Satire (v) Occasional poetry (vi) Inscriptions

275 275 279 279 281 284 287 290 292

13. Space and Intertextuality in Hexameters Narrative Didactic Pastoral Satire Occasional poetry Inscriptions

295 295 301 307 312 317 319

14. Hexameters: History and Internal Mixture Historical shapes and patterns Hexameter after Tiberius (i) Silius (ii) Lucan Growing intricacy of Homeric phrases Mixing with hexameter epigram and oracle Distorting pastoral

323 323 326 326 329 333 337 340

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Contents Mixes match: narrative and didactic Range and erudition External genres illuminating the super-genre

Bibliography Index of Passages Discussed General Index

344 347 350 355 407 425

Abbreviations Periodicals are cited roughly as in L’Année philologique. Ancient authors, inscriptions, papyri, etc., are cited roughly as in, or more fully than in, Liddell and Scott9 and its Revised Supplement (1996), the Oxford Latin Dictionary, Thesaurus linguae Latinae: Index2 (1990), Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum 57 (2007), and L’Année épigraphique 2008. In addition, the following abbreviations should be noted: AÉ ANRW CA

CAG CCSL CPF CSEL DNP FD FRP GLK Gr. Gr. IK LGGA LGPN LIMC LTUR ML MRR OLD

L’Année épigraphique : revue des publications épigraphiques relatives à l’antiquité romaine (Paris, 1889– ) W. Haase and H. Temporini (edd.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt (Berlin and New York, 1972– ) J. U. Powell (1925), Collectanea Alexandrina : Reliquiae Minores Aetatis Ptolemaicae, 323–146 A.C., Epicorum, Elegiacorum, Lyricorum, Ethicorum (Oxford, 1925) Carte archéologique de la Gaule (Paris, 1931– ) Corpus Christianorum : Series Latina (Turnhout, 1954– ) F. Adorno et al. (edd.), Corpus dei papiri filosofici greci e latini. Testi e lessico nei papiri di cultura greca e latina (Florence, 1989– ) Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum (Vienna, 1866– ) Der neue Pauly. Enzyklopädie der Antike (Stuttgart and Weimar, 1996–2003) Fouilles de Delphes (Paris, 1909– ) A. S. Hollis, Fragments of Roman Poetry c.60 bc–ad 20: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Oxford, 2007) Grammatici Latini ex recensione Henrici Keilii (8 vols., Leipzig, 1855–80) Grammatici Graeci recogniti et apparatu critici instructi (5 vols., Leipzig, 1878–1901) Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien (Bonn, 1972– ) Lessico dei Grammatici Graeci http://www.aristarchus.unige.it/lgga/ (in progress) P. M. Fraser and E. Matthews (edd.), A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names (Oxford, 1987– ) Lexicon iconographicum mythologiae classicae (10 vols., Zurich and Munich, 1981–99) E. M. Steinby (ed.), Lexicon topographicum urbis Romae (6 vols., Rome, 1993–2000) E. Courtney, Musa Lapidaria: A Selection of Latin Verse Inscriptions (American Classical Studies 36, Atlanta, 1995) T. R. S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic (New York, 1951–2, suppl. 1960) Oxford Latin Dictionary, ed. P. G. W. Glare (Oxford, 1968–82)

xii ORF4 PAA PIR1 PIR2 RAC RDGE RE RPC RVAp SEG SGO SH SSH Tab. Vind. TLL

Abbreviations E. Malcovati, Oratorum Romanorum fragmenta liberae rei publicae4 (Turin, 1976–9) J. S. Traill, Persons of Ancient Athens (Toronto, 1994– ) Prosopographia Imperii Romani (Berlin, 1897–8) Prosopographia Imperii Romani2 (Berlin, 1933– ) Th. Clauser et al. (edd.), Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum (Stuttgart, 1950– ) R. K. Sherk, Roman Documents from the Greek East : Senatus Consulta and Epistulae to the Age of Augustus (Baltimore, 1969) A. Pauly, G. Wissowa, and W. Kroll (edd.), Real-Enzyklopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft (Stuttgart and Munich, 1893–1980) A. Burnett and M. Amandry (edd.), Roman Provincial Coinage (London and Paris, 1992– ) A. D. Trendall and A. Cambitoglou, The Red-Figured Vases of Apulia (3 vols., Oxford, 1978–82) Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum (Leiden, Boston, Amsterdam 1923– ) R. Merkelbach and J. Stauber, Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten (5 vols., Stuttgart, Munich, Leipzig, 1998–2004) H. Lloyd-Jones and P. J. Parsons (1983), Supplementum Hellenisticum (indexes H.-G. Nesselrath) (Berlin and New York, 1983) H. Lloyd-Jones, Supplementum Supplementi Hellenistici (Berlin and New York, 2005) A. K. Bowman, J. D. Thomas, and J. N. Adams (edd.), The Vindolanda Writing-tablets (Tabulae Vindolandenses), ii–iii (London, 1994–2003) Thesaurus Linguae Latinae (Munich, 1900– )

Introduction The study of classical literature is cut into two halves; scholars usually concentrate their research primarily on Latin literature or on Greek. There has been surprisingly little extended work on the relationship between Latin literature and Greek literature. Usually scholars consider one Greek and Roman pair at a time, like Homer and Virgil, or at most the effect of one group, like Callimachus and his contemporaries, on a series of Latin authors. Anyone concerned with the topic more generally will find little of any length in print that attempts to think about wider phenomena, to ponder what is distinctive in this intertextuality across languages, or to reflect on the differences among the types of interaction involved (so Virgil’s use of Greek texts is very different from Horace’s). Thought about Latin intertextuality in broader terms has concerned itself most with Latin poetry exploiting Latin poetry. Diachronically, stock views have until lately been accepted, like the substitution of Latin models for Greek after the Augustan period. The object of this book is to promote ampler thought about intertextuality between the two literatures and at the same time to enrich the consideration of specific instances. It aims to do these things by exploring and exhibiting some of the mental frameworks and concrete contexts within which intertextuality happened.1 The book avoids a chronological structure: that would turn it into one more history of Latin literature. Chronology, both real and imagined, is important throughout the book; but even more so is space. The book gives relatively little attention to the beginnings of interaction between Greek and Latin literature: they have excited more interest already. The primary focus of the book is on the first century bc and the first two centuries ad, where the evidence is abundant, and where we can best observe systems and alterations. I have collected the material for myself from Latin and Greek texts and inscriptions, and other primary sources. Although scholarly discussion is engaged with throughout, the foremost aim is to work out what the evidence indicates and to set much of that evidence before the reader. The style of presentation lies somewhere between that of a more normal critical book and that of a commentary; lots of Latin and Greek is laid before the reader, but for shorter passages only the Greek is translated (at the suggestion of a reader). The book is chiefly concerned with Roman perspectives, and the effect of Greek literature on Latin: the effect of Latin literature on Greek is

1 The fundamental book on Latin intertextuality, Hinds (1998), keeps itself largely within the confines of Latin poetry.

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Introduction

a more problematic subject, and Greek perspectives on Roman culture have received much more treatment in recent scholarship. Hellenization in material and artistic fields has also been far more extensively investigated. My present topics are, alas, quite enough for one book.2 This book is designed in four growing parts; a prospective on those parts may be helpful. Part I will look at Roman conceptions of Greek and Latin literature in time. It will show the notional separation in time of the two sequences of authors, and the quasi-military conflict imagined between them. Part II will set out the different places in which Romans would actually encounter, or have experience related to, Greek literature both classic and contemporary. Many kinds of performance and interaction will show the intensity and liveliness of such experience. The panorama will bring out how Greek literature is both integrated with Roman existence and conceived of as located elsewhere. Part III will show Roman conceptions of the Greek language as contrasting with Latin, aesthetically and morally. Groups of related passages will be analysed closely, to see how Latin exploitation of Latin differs from Latin exploitation of Greek, and to see how Latin exploitation of Greek operates within the framework of the pre-existing stylistic parameters which are set by Latin author and period. Part IV will look at interaction with Greek within large generic frameworks. Three prose supergenres, philosophy, history, and oratory, are seen to exhibit basic differences in their relation to Greek. The hexameter super-genre will be explored in closer textual detail; diverging relations to Greek will appear. These differences will be seen to connect with material, period, author, text.

2

Professor Denis Feeney is currently working at a book on the early period. My restriction means that theatre bulks less large than it would in a treatment that aimed at any sort of completeness; but even so theatre has a considerable part in other ways. Subjects and aspects that I have treated elsewhere, such as elegy or lyric, or books, physical and poetic, tend not to be treated here.

Part I Time

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1 Making Histories Part I, Chapters 1–2, will look at the structures of time in which Roman authors consider the interaction of Greek and Latin literature. These provide a big framework within which individual interactions are presented, and were probably to some degree actually conceived. Understanding of the literary history changes with the evolution of the literature and the fluctuation of approaches; each author modifies the framework to suit his own needs and vision. None the less, common approaches pervade the material. The conceptions considered in this chapter are relatively abstracted; the next part, on space, will involve us in the concrete specifics within which literary appropriation took place, and will underline the artificial element in the constructions discussed now. Of course the components of what is now called space-time cannot easily be separated, and of course space involves construction too; but the historical past clearly takes the mind into areas beyond the scope of immediate perception.1

LITERATURE ESCAPING TIME Yet here we meet at once an arresting complication. Literature, unlike its writers, does not vanish into the past; unless works are forgotten with their authors, they endure outside the temporal process. So Book 3 of Lucretius finally sets the utterances of Epicurus in his books (cf. chartis, 10), utterances which are perpetua semper dignissima uita (13), against the actual deaths of the humans Epicurus, Homer, and Democritus (1036–44). The faint wraith of Homer which comes to Ennius (cf. 1.122–3) is set against the eternity of Homer and Ennius as poetry: semper florentis (1.124), perenni fronde coronam (118), aeternis uersibus (121). There is little scholarly work directly on the overall subject of these first two chapters, except as regards individual authors. So far as I can see, the attempt to build up a general picture of this sort is novel. Particularly valuable for us, however, is Schwindt (2000; cf. 2001), a work arranged by author, as were earlier versions of these first two chapters. E. A. Schmidt (2001b) contains numerous significant contributions. For wider reflection on Roman chronological structures, with some inclusion of literature, see the important work of Feeney (2007). A great deal more bibliography could be given on specific matters; but much is saved for later chapters, and reference is often made to recent items, from which the reader can find earlier bibliography. By ‘literary history’ in what follows is meant, not the modern enterprise explored and questioned e.g. by de Man (1983), 162–5, Perkins (1992), Nünning (2006), but, usually, the chronological sequence of authors in Greek or Latin (occasionally both), conceived as an entity by Romans. It is the implications of this basic format that will here be pursued. 1

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Future ages, says Vitruvius, will talk with Lucretius as if he were there; the thoughts of wise writers are corporibus absentibus uetustate florentes (9 pr. 17, cf. 16). Seneca speaks of having Zeno, Aristotle, and others as the closest possible friends, quam familiarissimos (Brev. 14.5). His list starts from dialogue with Socrates (14.2), but that too is implictly made possible by reading (cf. Ep. 64.10 Socraten cum Platone; note also 104.21–2). Ovid, Amores 1.15 presents its string of poets as living for ever (uiuet, 9); so Aratus like the sun and moon semper erit (16).2 This effacing of history through textual eternity can be expressed through encounters in the Elysian Fields: there too authors separated by time can be timelessly brought together. So Horace almost died and saw his models Sappho and Alcaeus (Carm. 2.13.21–40); Tibullus will be the companion of his predecessors as love-poets (Ov. Am. 3.9.59–66). But even here history and time obtrude: Scipio wishes vainly that Homer in the Elysian Fields could now sing of Roman deeds throughout the world as he sang of Achilles (Sil. 13.792–7).3 The perpetual existence of some literature enables competition in a way that goes beyond ordinary history: thus atemporality can intensify a temporal narrative. The kindred area of warfare can be contrasted. Admittedly, Roman generals could see themselves as the rivals of past Greek generals: so Pompey of Alexander (Sall. Hist. 3 fr. 88 Maurenbrecher). Nepos’ books of foreign and of Roman generals aimed at facilitating comparison and a judgement of which group should be preferred (Hann. 13.4). Hannibal and Scipio supposedly discussed who had been the best general ever (Acilius fr. 7 Chassignet). But an actual battle between Alexander and the Romans had to remain a counterfactual fantasy for Livy 2 Schwindt (2000), 215–16, seems to separate modern ahistoricity from Roman approaches. A brisk note on the inescapable word ‘literature’. Problems in identifying ‘literature’ and the ‘literary’ for the time up to ad 200 involve three categories: (a) artistic utterance that was not written; (b) artistic utterance that was written but not circulated on papyri in literary hands for a general readership; (c) written utterance that was not artistic but was so circulated. Utterance can belong to (a) or (b) originally, but then be written down or circulated. Problems with (a) do not much concern us in these two chapters: the chapters deal with works written, or thought by Romans to be written, for circulation. But we may note in passing the advantage of say the Modern Greek term ºªåÆ (‘literature’), which has no connection with writing. Likewise (b) does not concern us at present; it is not separated by stark and simple boundaries either from utterance that was both artistic and circulated or from utterance that was neither (cf. Hutchinson (1998), ch. 1, (2007a), White (2010), ch. 4). The existence of (c) should for our purposes be denied: no extant circulated works up to the end of our period in fact eschew craft and point in the use of language. When ancient writers do brand other writers as inartistic, it is not usually because all works in that genre or type are inartistic: there is no convenient separation, for example, of ‘literature’ from ‘technical writing’ (cf. Hutchinson (2009), with further scholarship; Hine (2011)). Hence it will be apt to allow all types of circulated work into these two chapters. On ‘canons’ of ancient writers within a genre or type, see p. 9 n. 8 below; it would make little sense in ancient terms to talk of e.g. Agathon’s tragedies as not part of ‘literature’. To say, not which works were literature, but what literature was in our period, culturally, socially, and privately, requires discussion of concrete contexts: cf. Part II. For modern debates on literature and the literary, starting from Sartre (1948) (cf. Lecarme (2005)), see e.g. Guillory (1993), Eagleton (1996), esp. 1–26 for general and historical dimensions, Compagnon (1998), Widdowson (1999), Camarero Arribas (2001), esp. 10–11, Lindberg-Wada (2006), Rancière (2007). It should be observed that a conceptual map of artistic utterance can exist without the word ‘literature’ being used to denote all that utterance; this can be seen, for example, from ch. 32 of Voltaire’s Le Siècle de Louis XIV (note that his catalogue of French writers is given ‘pour servir à l’histoire littéraire de ce temps’). 3 On this scene, cf. Manuwald (2007b), 73, 82–7.

Making Histories

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(9.16.19–19.17; generals 16.19, 17.3–11, etc.). By contrast, metaphor and the perpetual existence of (some) literature permit the battle of books to go on throughout time. So Cicero had prevented the defeat of Romans by Greeks, primarily of the past: effecit ne quorum arma uiceramus, eorum ingenio uinceremur (Vell. 2.34.3). The image of war is pervasive, as we shall see.4 Thus the relation of literature and time is complex, and many of the passages mentioned show an interest in the paradoxes. All the same, temporal structures are fundamental to the perception and evaluation of how Greek and Latin literature connect.

STRUCTURES OF TIME

(i) Chronological series The first fundamental element is the idea of literature as the works of a chronological sequence of authors. This is not a self-evident approach simply because we inherit it; it is not implanted by nature, as conversation with sixth-formers sometimes reveals. The lack of precise dates for classical Sanskrit authors, including the greatest, results partly from a lack of interest at their time and for a good while after. In Greece such an approach probably began only in or shortly before the fifth century.5 The idea is often expressed in the form of a list in chronological order, although it can inform lists which are not so arranged, and other discourse. Both idea and form have much resonance in Rome: so the lists of consuls and triumphs erected by Augustus (I.It. xiii.1 no. 1 (g) and (h)), or the series of Albans and Romans in Aeneid 6.756–853, take up structures important for Romans’ apprehension of the world. But Greek thoughts are essential, here as elsewhere. So Ar. Frogs 1030–6 gives early poets in the pairs Orpheus and Musaeus, Hesiod and Homer, as does Hippias B6 Diels–Kranz (Clem. Strom. 6.2.15); the former pair is evidently thought earlier (cf. Frogs 1030). The play envisages the sequence of tragedians Phrynichus, Aeschylus, Euripides (908–10, 939–44). Timotheus, stressing the order, presents the musical series Orpheus, Terpander, himself, to mark and legitimize his own innovations (fr. 791.221–36 Hordern). Aristotle’s account of

4 For Livy’s digression on Alexander cf. Morello (2002), Oakley (2005), 184–206. The underworld provides a medium for literal competition between poets, as notably in the Frogs. 5 For Vedic and Sanskrit literature, cf. e.g. Lienhard (1984), 52, Mylius (2003), 4–6, 128; scholars in modern times have argued for dating Kālidāsa in i bc and in iv or v ad (cf. Kāle (1969), 18–38). One may contrast with the earlier unconcern the chronological structure, based on the history of Buddhism, which the thirteenth-century Tibetan scholar Bcom ldan ral gri devises for his survey of some Buddhist works (Schaeffer and van der Kuijp (2009), 60–70). For later Sanskrit scholarship cf. Minkowski (2010), 122–4 (17th cent.). With the modern disputes on Kālidāsa cf. Tatian, Ad Graecos 31.2–4 pp. 56 and 58 Whitaker on attempts to date Homer, which range over four hundred years; but this debate starts in the v or even vi bc.

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earlier thought in Metaphysics `, though only very broadly arranged by time, shows a keen concern with the chronological order of thinkers and with priority.6 Hermippus’ —æd H  #Œæ ı# ÆŁÅH (On the Pupils of Isocrates) implies a sequential conception; Dionysius calls him IŒæØ # (‘exact’, FGrHist 1026 F 45 b), and probably implies information on absolute chronology (cf. F 89). The Parian Marble (IG xii.5.444 = FGrHist 239; text composed c.264/3), which is arranged by year, gives dates for Homer, Hesiod, and some lyric poets and Athenian dramatists. For the dramatists, the date of first victory at Athens is particularly signalled; years of death are also a notable concern. Philodemus gives large extracts from the poem Chronica of Apollodorus (b. c.180 bc; d. 110 or later); these extracts are on Academic philosophers (F 47, 52–60; Acad. Hist. col. xxvi 33–16 Dorandi). Apollodorus’ account presents lives of individuals in a chronological sequence shaped by the succession of scholarchs, but includes archon years and months, and the length of lives. Philodemus’ own account is concerned with sequence but not with absolute chronology. Apollodorus also discusses Empedocles’ chronology (FGrHist 244 F 32), using Aristotle. Apollodorus’ work included famous men generally (Menander: F 43), and political events (T 2 = Ps. Scymn. 24–32). Chronology plays an important role in the order that the speaker Velleius offers in Cic. ND 1.25–41 when presenting previous opinions on theology. The Greek origins of this presentation are made very clear by the close correspondence to fragments of Philodemus’ exposition in De Pietate part 2. Dionysius of Halicarnassus groups the ‘older’ orators he will deal with into three of the earlier orators and three of those whose acme followed (H æ#ıæø . . . H K ÆŒ Æ# ø Ø#, Orat. Vet. Praef. 4 i.15–19 Usener–Radermacher = 4.5 Hidber). His temporal approach to oratory, and to literature in general, is apparent; so at Comp. 19 ii.85.12–18 Alcaeus and Sappho are the ‘old’ lyricists, followed by Stesichorus and Pindar. He sets out an elaborate chronological argument against Demosthenes’ using Aristotle’s Rhetoric at Amm. (1) 10–12 i.268–79; he deploys biographers (FGrHist 1026 F 89).7 It would not serve the purpose of this chapter to trace any longer the development of Hellenistic scholarship, of catalogues and biographies. Nor are we directly concerned with the selection of authors as especially worth reading and study: they form a set within the totality of works produced, but a set organized on the same principles. We should, however, note in passing that the existence of ‘canons’ does not abolish more universal conceptions: so for example P. Oxy. LXXI 4808 (late i–ii ad), written in a relatively informal hand, gives various noncanonical historians later than the fourth century; it is concerned with their teachers and patrons, and thus perhaps with their place in time. The main point for us to observe is how deeply the underlying temporal conception is embedded

6 See 983b19–20, 27–30, 983b34–984a3, 984b18–20, 23–32, 985a7–10, 29–30, 985b23–6, 986a27–9, 986b21–2, 987a9–11, 987a29–987b13, 988a15–17. On the Capitoline Fasti, see recently Feeney (2007), 167–89. 7 For the relation of Philodemus to the passage of Cicero see Diels (1879), 529–50, Schober (1988), esp. 111–25, Obbink (2002), Dyck (2003), 8, 83–115. On the fragment of Hermippus see Bollansée (1999), 378–80. On the Parian Marble and on Apollodorus, see Jacoby (1902) and (1904), and (1926– 30), D 665–702, 716–52, Bravo (2009), esp. ch. 3. For Philodemus’ Academicorum Historia see the edition of Dorandi (1991a), with (1991b), and also Giannattasio Andria (1989), Runia (1999), 42–3.

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in Roman approaches to literature. Various whole works exemplify this. Cicero’s Brutus, significantly mentioned as a predecessor by Jerome (Vir. Ill. pr. 162.21– 164.23 Siamakis), offers a history of Roman oratory, save for the living (251, 269– 71). In doing so, it arranges its orators in chronological groups, very much like Dionysius, or Cic. De Orat. 2.92–5. The chronology of Atticus’ Liber Annalis, published later than the De Oratore, has sharpened and allegedly inspired Cicero’s treatment in the Brutus (13–15); the general approach had probably been standard, and did not spring from Nepos’ Chronica or from Santra (cf. B15 Fun.; note the language and presuppositions of Quinct. 80, Verr. 2.191). Nepos’ arrangement of historians and others in his De Viris Illustribus was no doubt broadly chronological, like that of his generals. Suetonius will have been more or less chronological in the sequences of his De Viris Illustribus: that is apparent from the extant De Grammaticis et Rhetoribus. Suetonius’ approach is based on sequence, contextual development, and priority (2.1, 16.3, 26.1, etc.). Like Callimachus’ Pinakes, the work formally limited the aim of completeness by the criterion of fame (all famous in a given branch of whom something could be known, 4.7, 25.6, Call. T 1.15 Pfeiffer —ÆŒ# H K #ÅØ ÆØÆØ ØÆºÆ ł ø, ‘Catalogues of the famous in the whole of culture’). It none the less offered a comprehensive vision.8 Prose writers often present their particular area of writing as one established by the series of earlier authors; their own works use this basis, and receive a context from it. The string of authors is the essential literary form. There are various patterns of ordering; but chronological ordering and observation make enough of an appearance to confirm that the chronological idea is essential to these writers’ conceptions of literature. Thus Celsus’ opening sketch on medicine, one of his Artes, presents a historical and chronological sequence: so post quem, deinde, tum (pr. 8), post quos, quem Apollonius et Glaucias et aliquanto post Heraclides . . . secuti (pr. 9). Vitruvius starts his list of predecessors with chronological 8 For the Greek tradition, see the classic works of R. Pfeiffer (1968) and Momigliano (1993), esp. ch. 4, and e.g. Schorn (2004), 15–21. For the tradition behind Suetonius and Jerome, see Siamakis (1992), 65–84 for Greek tradition, 85–97 for Latin; Kaster (1995), xxi–xxix. On Nepos, see Anselm (2004). His title De Viris Illustribus, attested in grammarians (frr. 41–4 Marshall), is clearly based on Greek titles and phrases like —æd Kø IæH (On Famous Men, Neanthes of Cyzicus FGrHist 84 F 13, Amphicrates FHG iv.300, in elegiacs, not in SH or SSH (for Athenaeus, cf. e.g. 4.164b, 10.457d–e); cf. Iason (RE 11) Suda Ø 52, Theseus FGrHist 453 T 1 BØ Kø (Lives of the Famous, Theseus’ in 5 books); Pseudo-Scymnus 30 on Apollodorus’ K ØçÆH IæH ı# (‘lives of famous men’)). For Santra see A 6 and B 13–15 Funaioli (chronology of Terence and patrons; mentioned scholarship on Lucilius; explanation for rise of Asianism). On Cicero’s Brutus see Sumner (1973), esp. ch. 3, Feeney (2007), 25–8. On P. Oxy. LXXI 4808 see further n. 17 below; it may make a chronological muddle at one point. It is more elaborate than, say, the pre-Aristarchan P. Tebt. III.1 695 (iii bc), which lists tragedians obscure to us. R. Pfeiffer’s careful discussion of ‘canons’ ((1968), 203–9) helps to make clear that selection was much more drastic in some departments than in others: it is not a uniform process. There are in any case at least six conceptions to be separated: the idea of belonging (i) to the group of famous authors, and (ii) to that of authors especially studied by scholars and in schools; (iii) the idea of one Latin author forming an equivalent to all the Greek groups in (i) or (ii); (iv) that of beginning a generic group in time; (v) the ideas of being first in merit, or second, in that group (claims open to change and contestation); (vi) the building up of a body of literature containing many groups as in (i) or (ii). Several of these appear in what follows; (ii) is what one would most obviously mean by the term ‘canonical’ (not exactly an ancient term). In explicit form, (vi) is relatively inconspicuous in the evidence, but cf. e.g. Nep. fr. 58 Marshall. For more on canons, cf. e.g. Nicolai (1992), 250–339, Barbantani (1993), Barchiesi (2000), 169, 173.

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structuring (7 pr. 11–12 primum, ex eo moniti, postea). Columella’s series of Roman writers on agriculture is ordered by time (primus, post hunc, deinde, mox, 1.1.12, etc.). His series of Greek writers (which follows mention of Carthaginians), begins with Hesiod as princeps (‘first’), then gives philosophers in order of time; after that it arranges writers by place of origin, and then less famous writers without known ethnics ordered by initial letter (1.1.7–11). The Greek series is close in content to Varro, RR 1.8–9, which offers ‘more than fifty’ Greeks (fifty-one at a stretch, as text transmitted). Varro arranges most of them by initial letter, in two groups, those with a known place of origin and those without; none the less, all we know of Varro indicates, and his roughly chronological list of philosophers here confirms, that the chronological principle is actually essential to his thought. (So B 68 Funaioli: relative chronology of Homer and Hesiod; 56 (first book of De Poetis) and 61: dates of Naevius and Ennius, on the basis of their own statements.) The form of the list, and the presence of chronological conceptions, are plain from an abundance of prose.9 They are no less apparent in verse; verse and prose must be connected here. Aesthetic reasons for ordering are more prominent in verse; but the continuity with prose is clear. The prose preface to Martial 1 gives his significant predecessors in chronological order: Catullus, Domitius Marsus (active 19 bc), Albinovanus Pedo (active as poet ad 14, Ov. Pont. 4.10, 4.16.6, probably praefectus equitum ad 15, Tac. Ann. 1.60.2), Cornelius Lentulus Gaetulicus (probably cos. ad 26, cf. Plin. Ep. 5.3.5; minimum age for consulship now 33, so about 20 in ad 14). The poems, by contrast, mention selections from this set in a variety of orders (2.71.3 M(arsus) C(atullus), 77.5 MP(edo) 5.5.6 PMC, 7.99.7 MC). Apuleius arranges Latin lovepoets in two chronological pairs: Catullus and Ticidas, Propertius and Tibullus (Apol. 10.3). Propertius, with succession in mind, groups Varro of Atax, Catullus, and Calvus together (2.34.85–90); then comes Gallus (modo ‘recently’, of death, 91); then himself (93–4; cf. Pers. 1.114–19 Lucilius; Horace; himself). So too Ovid, when thinking of the succession, orders with chronology in view: (a) Catullus and Calvus; Gallus; Tibullus (Am. 3.9.59–66); (b) Gallus; Tibullus; Propertius; himself (Trist. 4.10.51–4: this is the explicit order (successor, quartus ab his serie temporis) rather than the order of occurrence in the text); (c) a large group of late Republican poets; Gallus; Tibullus and Propertius; himself (Trist. 2.427–68, with his ego successi at 466). Compare the still larger and looser group of late-Republican poets at Plin. Ep. 5.3.5, followed by three imperial poets in order, finishing proxime (‘most recently’). Ovid does not trouble with chronology in the brief mentions of elegists at AA 3.332–4 (P(ropertius)G(allus)T(ibullus)), 535–8 (TPGO(vid)), Rem. 763–6 (TPG), Trist. 5.1.17–18 (GPT). In Amores 1.15 chronology is abandoned with Greek poets after Homer and Hesiod, but very broad grouping

9 For Celsus’ history and its conceptions see von Staden (1999), esp. 251–78. Assimilating his sequence to ‘“succession” literature’ (269) may introduce ideas which are not actually part of his text. Whether Celsus had read all, some, or none of the works he mentions does not affect the conceptual framework that he uses. Van der Eijk (2000–1), ii.x, 4 offers two somewhat different views on whether Celsus had seen Diocles’ work; perhaps the agnostic view is safer than the negative. Columella tells us among the Latin writers that Carthaginiensis Mago should be revered as the father of rusticatio (1.1.13): the situation complicates a division between Greek and Roman. Cf. on Mago Plin. Nat. 18.22. On Vitruvius’ list cf. Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 145 (suggests compiled in Hellenistic libraries).

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appears with the Latin poets: Ennius; Accius; Varro and Lucretius; Virgil, Tibullus, and Gallus. One may compare Columella for this difference between Latin and Greek.10 Manilius begins his sequence of hexameter poets chronologically with Homer and Hesiod. Perhaps they themselves are ordered rather than just paired: omnis posteritas (2.9, with relation to Homer) suggests that a chronological sense is included in proximus illi (11, of Hesiod), and in any case emphasizes chronology. The remaining poets, mostly unnamed, are arranged by subject, but also form a broad chronological group, including Aratus, Theocritus, Nicander. Vitruvius could be compared for the chronological opening.11 These instances are mostly of chronological sequences within the particular area of the work that includes them (agriculture, hexameters, etc.). It may well be thought that the specialized sequence is the most important conception; and we can certainly point to Suetonius or Nepos for the thought of literature as organized into distinct specialized sequences: a set of parallel mini-histories. Compare e.g. Vell. 1.16.2–5, on the close limits of time for the height of each genre, with names (not all instances of ‘succession’—itself a concept with a temporal dimension). But there is no doubt that Romans could think across these narrower categories to a larger idea of literature in time; the chronology is not just a matter of individual genres defining themselves or enlarging their territory. If the point seems, conversely, too obvious to mention, our aim is to build up a picture of conceptions and their projection. We have just noticed Ovid, Amores 1.15, on poetry in general; the series of writers in Pont. 4.16 shows the whole range of poetry flourishing at a particular period. Cicero can lay emphasis on generic divisions within poetry (Opt. Gen. 1–6, cf. Orat. 4); but he can also survey literary history more broadly: quam breui tempore quot et quanti poetae, qui autem oratores extiterunt! [i.e. in Rome] (Tusc. 4.5; cf. Rep. 2.18: Greece was then full of poets and musicians). Vell. 2.9.3–6 conjoins in a period tragedy, satire, history, Atellan farce (with careful subdivision of the chronology); so with still greater range Fronto pp. 56.18–57.4 Van den Hout under the ample heading of ‘old’ (i.e. pre-imperial) writers. A total vision across time is conveyed, for example, in Quintilian’s catalogue, which is a statement about literary histories, and not only a reading-list. More simply, the Monnus mosaic in Trier (Rheinisches Landesmuseum Inv. 10703–24; CIL xiii.3710; iii ad) shows together Ennius, Hesiod, Livy, Virgil, Euripides? (I suggest), Cicero, Menander, Aratus, Homer, Epicharmus. And even as a reading-list Quintilian’s catalogue indicates a relationship between other types of literature and oratory, just as Petr. 5 recommends for the would-be poet education in poetry (Homer), philosophy, and oratory

10 For the dating of Domitius Marsus and Albinovanus Pedo cf. Helzle (1989), 183–4, Hollis (2007), 304–1, 374–5; for Albinovanus and Gaetulicus, PIR2 A 479, C 1390. Ovid clearly deploys a chronological framework in presenting the elegists, whatever the actual chronology of Propertius’ and Tibullus’ first books. For recent discussion cf. Knox (2005), countered by Ingleheart (2010), 346, 356–8; Heslin (2010). 11 Hesiod is commonly thought to be 100 years later than Homer or more, see Kõiv (2011), 361–4, and add Vell. 1.7.1, where he is 120 years later.

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(Demosthenes and Cicero). Each individual’s education combined poetry and prose, and made interdisciplinary perspectives natural.12

(ii) Two histories Roman conceptions of literary history show a structural feature which differentiates them fundamentally from Greek conceptions: the division of literary history into two firmly separated histories, Greek and Latin. (The Greeks long remain interested principally in Greek.) This division seems obvious to us, because it is reinforced by our own academic structures. But Romans employed considerable artificiality to maintain it, as Part II will confirm; and once we allow that the two literatures coexist in time, it is not obvious intellectually that we should view Latin literature across five centuries as the prime entity rather than, say, Greek and Latin literature in the first century ad. Again our own structures invite us to consider as the prime entity French or Italian or German literature across several centuries, rather than, say, European literature in the eighteenth century; but the example of music, though not so directly involving language, should at least pose a challenge. At all events, doubleness is stamped on Roman ideas of literary history. The two histories, or series, are certainly in competition with each other, generally and in particular genres; but each is like a separate league, with its own self-contained competition.13 The separation can be seen conceptually, and was probably seen spatially, in many private and public libraries: Greek and Latin bybliothecae in the same building are talked of as distinct. Quintilian’s account of Greek and Latin reading separates the two: each half explicitly follows a parallel sequence, and explicitly has a significant opening, from Homer or Virgil (cf. Inst. 10.1.85). It would not have been difficult for Quintilian to take the two literatures together at least in each genre (cf. 10.1.27–36), interweaving his Greek source or sources and his new Latin material.14

12 Cf. e.g. Sen. Contr. 3.7, Suas. 3.4–5. The ideal of broad culture and skill even for the specialist is not just found in the wide-ranging Cicero’s conceptions of oratory: cf. Vitr. 1.1.3. The basis of the thought is Hellenistic, cf. Polyb. 9.14.5 (generals). For the Monnus mosaic see Parlasca (1959), 41–3, pls. 42–7, Daniel (1996), P. Hoffmann (1999), 39–46. For Petr. 5 and oratorical prescriptions cf. Schmeling (2011), 18, 20. 13 Contrast with national separation e.g. Bessière (2011), where contemporary literatures are considered together. Sadami (2006) discusses conceptions of ‘literature’ in nineteenth-century Japan; a term which was originally confined to Chinese works and Japanese translations of them comes to be deployed, under Western influence, of Japanese works. Elosova (2011) considers in the case of Modern Greek and Russian the idea of a given literature as confined to one language and people; cf. Ch. 6 below, where the relation of language and identity is discussed. For the music of a given century across the world as an entity cf. e.g. Riethmüller (2006), Keefe (2009). 14 P. Oxy. LXXI 4808 col. i 9–12 illustrates that Dionysius is not his only Greek source. Recent statements on the relation between Dionysius and Quintilian: I. Rutherford (1998), 13–14, Hunter (2009), 108. Nicholls (2010) with great expertise argues for doubt about spatial division between Greek and Latin in libraries (cf. also Nicholls (2005), 137–42). While his contentions against separate rooms are attractive, the conceptual but not physical bybliotheca Graeca etc. seems unappealing and needs clear examples, especially in view of the history of the word. P. Oxy. XXV 2435.30–2 KŒ ŁØ# › "|[Æ#e#] K HØ F  ººø# ƒæH | [K B   ]ø ÆœŒB ıºØŁ ŒÅØ Œº. (‘Augustus sat in

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More instances of separation may be given. Velleius divides into one Greek and one Latin section his consideration of peak periods in different genres: neque hoc in Graecis quam in Romanis euenit magis (1.17.1). Pliny the Elder lists distinctly honours done to Greek and to Roman authors in the course of their history: sed et nostrorum gloriam percenseamus (7.114). Honours done by Romans to exteri (112) remain on the Greek side of the division. Ovid signals his movement from Greek literature to Latin in Tristia 2: neue peregrinis tantum defendar ab armis, | et Romanus habet multa iocosa liber (421–2; the generalizing singular solidifies the entity). Horace assumes two separate operations for weighing different stages in Greek, and in Roman, literary history; the question is merely whether the same scales should be used (Epist. 2.1.28–31, cf. e.g. 90–2, Ars 263–9, 323–6). Cicero’s Brutus marks off the account of Greek oratory from that of Roman: sed de Graecis hactenus . . . sed ueniamus ad nostros (52). So too Aper in Tacitus’ Dialogus: sed transeo ad Latinos oratores (17.1). Messalla sees the decline to present Greek oratory as a parallel to the Latin decline rather than part of the same phenomenon (etiam Graecis 15.3; the parallel comforts some Romans). Pliny the Younger reports a dispute with an individual on brevity in oratory: that individual displays ex Graecis Lysias, ex nostris the Gracchi and Cato; Pliny responds with a longer list in each category, again divided (Ep. 1.20.4). Even Seneca the Elder, who quotes contemporary and interacting Latin and Greek declamations, usually groups his Greek quotations together, and treats Greek and Latin rhetors as separate and rival groups: so the transitions Contr. 9.2.29 et [‘even’] ad hanc controuersiam [concerning Flaminius] Graeci porrexerunt manum, 10.4.22 sed nostri quoque bene insanierunt. The difference appears from the Middle Republic on: so in Terence to adapt Greek plays and parts of plays is standard practice; knowingly to reuse plays and parts of plays already adapted by Latin authors is stealing, from the Latin authors (Eun. 19–34, Ad. 1–14). Greek comedies and Latin comedies form two series, which stand entirely apart. Martial’s praise neatly exemplifies the two leagues, something of which we will see much more: Bruttianus with his Greek epigrams has won first place from Callimachus, usually seen as the supreme Greek in the

the temple of Apollo, in the Latin library’) sounds physical (‘Roman’ rather than ‘Latin’ is unlikely). One expects physicality from Trimalchio, Petr. 48.4 tres bybliothecas habeo, unam Graecam, alteram Latinam (Hutchinson, cf. e.g. 60.8; tres (MS) with no lacuna Schmeling (2011), 205; II with no humour Bücheler). Schol. Juv. 1.128 does not, as claimed, provide crucial evidence for division by subject: the scholion is explaining Juvenal’s iurisque peritus Apollo with . . . quia ibi bibliothecam iuris ciuilis et liberalium studiorum in templo Apollinis Palatini dedicauit Augustus. In the new Gal. —æd Iºı Å#Æ# (On Avoiding Distress)13 there is no particular reason to think that the books of a famous owner are kept together, still less that this would take precedence over a division by language. ØÆ#øØÇ ø Œº. (‘there being kept, etc.’) is not to do with libraries (contrast Boudon-Millot and Jouanna (2010), 6); read say K E# <  Ø#> ‘in the margins’ (or K E# . . . ÆPH <  Ø#> L (‘in their margins those things which’); Ke# (‘inside [sc. the libraries]’) Jouanna; K ÆÆØ# (‘in these [sc. libraries]’) Boudon-Millot). Cf. xviii(2).863.12–864.3 Kühn and CMG v.10.2.2 p. 233.12–16. ŒÆŁ’ = ‘in’, cf. e.g. CMG v.3.3 p. 104.9–12; ØÆ#øØÇ ø agrees not with ªæÆ

ø (‘works’) but with the antecedent of – (‘which’). Despite the argument from officials (Nicholls (2010), 14–15), we still find separate denotation of Greek and Latin (Latin.,   ø ÆœŒÆ) bybliothecae in Rome under Hadrian (IGUR i.62.4–5, SB i.3998.6–7 (in both, plural for each language), IK xiii.666.4–5).

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genre; if he wrote Latin epigram, he would win first place there, and Martial could pray only to come second (4.23).15 This double structure is promoted by the chronological fence erected between Greek and Latin literary histories. Latin authors tend to give a picture in which Latin literature begins at a point when—in this picture—Greek literature more or less stops; this prevents a significant overlap, and ensures that the Greek literary history is in the past. It also means that the Romans were never competing with contemporary Greeks. The artificiality of this conception will emerge in Part II, as was mentioned; the conception itself is partly supported by the Greeks’ own demarcation of classic texts and periods.16 Quintilian’s account of Greek literature is confessedly selective (Inst. 10.1.57). It brings in Euphorion and Nicander among hexameter poets whom others might wish to include (56). Euphorion takes us to 223 bc or later; Nicander’s date was controversial, and Quintilian may well have supposed him a contemporary of Callimachus rather than late third-century or second-century. He may well have supposed the historian Clitarchus to belong in the late fourth or early third century, as did Pliny (Nat. 3.57) and probably others. He then leaves a remarkable and explicit gap until Timagenes (i bc), who renews the writing of history: longo post interuallo natus . . . intermissam historias scribendi industriam noua laude reparauit (Inst. 10.1.75). Among philosophers, Quintilian last mentions the ‘old’ Stoics, with some misgivings on their style; Chrysippus, the main author here, lived from c.280 (or 288) to c.206. Quintilian’s picture in fact somewhat extends the limits seen in Dionysius: the epitome, at least, does not go beyond Menander; Quintilian includes Callimachus and his contemporaries. Teachers of rhetoric (3.1.8–22), and scholars like Aristarchus within this section, are not subjected to these limits; Dionysius himself is not mentioned here, but cf. 9.4.88. Yet the general tendency of Quintilian’s account is plain: Greek literature worth studying has more or less ceased by 240 or 200, as Latin literature is beginning, with ancient Ennius (10.1.88; 239–169 bc) and Plautus (99; plays c.205–184).17

15 Cf. on the passages of Terence Manuwald (2011), 290–2. Perhaps ueterem fabulam (Eun. 25) is slipped into the oratio obliqua to make Terence’s oversight understandable (cf. also 43). There could also be an adroit move from one revised play to original and revision as two plays (25, 33). 16 See e.g. Wiater (2011). 17 For the early dating of Clitarchus suggested in the sources, see Prandi (1996), 69–71, 77–9 (in Plin. Nat. 3.57 ab eo proximus means ‘next to mention Rome’, but Pliny does place him before Theophrastus; cf. FGrHist 690 F 30?). Cf. also Schachermeyer (1970), 211–24. P. Oxy. LXXI 4808 col. i 15–17 seems to make Clitarchus tutor to Ptolemy IV (b. c.244), but the dating looks strange even internally, and I suggest that the author has, Suda-like, conflated two Clitarchi. He was perhaps encouraged by the Alexandrian origin of the historian (FGrHist 137 T 12?; cf. col. i 13–15 and T 3). The second Clitarchus could be the erudite glossographer (RE Kleitarchos 4), if we discount a weak argument of Kroll’s dependent on the order of names (1922, 655). (I have looked at the papyrus under a microscope, and have some doubts about the ç and spacing of [|ºØ ] [# 14–15; cf. ¼  |[ ]# _ (‘impeccable’), 11–12.) As for Timagenes, historias scribendi industriam is the effort involved in writing_ any historical work, rather than doing it with care: cf. Cic. Orat. 197 quadrandae orationis industria. Timagenes’ activities in Rome and his subject-matter may have helped to make him conspicious (cf. pp. 60–1 below); he is mentioned at Quint. Inst. 1.10.10 (a possible papyrus of him P. Oxy. LXXIII 4940, i ad). For Chrysippus’ dates cf. Dufour (2004), xx, 21. Compare and contrast with Quintilian on the Stoics Fronto on Chrysippus as against Plato, and on Diodorus and Alexinus (earlier than Chrysippus) as against Plato and Xenophon, pp. 141.15–142.7 Van den Hout.

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Porcius Licinus fr. 1 Courtney (late? ii bc) portrays the winged Muse’s decisive arrival in fierce Rome, during the Second Punic War (218–201 bc). Whether she is leaving Greece is not apparent. Cicero too depicts a decisive moment for poetry, Livius’ first play in 240 bc (Tusc. 1.3; cf. Brut. 72–4). Though following an earlier chronology for Livius than Accius’, he presents the acceptance of poetry in Rome as ‘late’ or ‘somewhat late’ (sero, serius, cf. Tusc. 4.1). This means that, though once the Greeks were beating Rome omni litterarum genere, the Romans at that time were not trying to fight back: facile erat uincere non repugnantes (Tusc. 1.3). The Romans’ delay was caused by a lack of regard for poets, not a lack of ability (Tusc. 1.2–5); they produced an abundance of literary artists once they wanted to (4.5). Gellius takes up the magical moment of 240 (17.21.42). His chapter forcefully conveys the impression that in poetry at least Greek literature faded as Latin literature began to bloom. It goes on beyond the Second Punic War, despite section 1; but no Greek poets are mentioned after Callimachus, who in the sentence before section 42 is made to flourish soon after 264. Livius’ début in 240 is registered as 160 years after the deaths of Sophocles and Euripides, 52 after Menander’s. Philosophy is certainly a different matter (cf. the Athenian philosophical envoys of 155 bc in 48). Velleius mentions no poets after Menander and his contemporaries (1.16.3). He conveys a similar view of philosophy (16.4, with reference to part of the text now missing, probably after chapter 8); he has, however, praised Panaetius and the historian Polybius at 13.3. Gellius’ picture is confirmed in practice by his references to Greek poetry, oratory, and history, and those of Apuleius and of Fronto’s correspondence. Although Gellius does realize Parthenius’ significance for Virgil (9.9.3, 13.27), he rarely mentions poetry later than Menander and Callimachus.18 More generally, Latin authors tend not to mention often Greek authors later than the third century bc. Actual intertextuality is a different matter; but the patterns of mention create a significant surface impression for readers. This tendency is much less apparent in ‘technical’ writing, or in philosophy, where the situation is complicated. In poetry, Martial makes a good example. He freely refers to contemporary Latin poets, and mentions, as we saw, a Roman who writes Greek poetry (4.23). He actually draws much on contemporary or recent Greek epigram, notably such as Lucillius’; he refers to third-century poets like Callimachus or Sotades. But of Greek authors of Greek poetry after the third century he names only the presumably fictitious Diodorus in 9.40. This improper poem is based around a real contemporary event which would surprise someone who had read only Martial’s work: the contest of Greek poets in the Capitoline Games. Virgil’s Eclogues refer to third-century poets, Theocritus and Euphorion, with place-names (4.1, 6.1, 10.1, 4–5, 50); he names the contemporary or recent Gallus,

18 He does cite Polybius (6.14.10). Callimachus was on Marcus Aurelius’ syllabus when he was a boy (Fronto 7.18–19 Van den Hout); Fronto quotes Apollonius (155.16–22). Holford-Strevens (2003), 254 suggests that Gell. 17.21.48 on the philosophical embassy is a self-interpolation; the chapter at any rate starts from Carneades. On that chapter cf. Feeney (2007), 32–42. How much of it goes back to Varro, De Poetis is uncertain; cf. 43 (and 24; 1 and 3 for other sources). On the divergence of date for Livius’ first play between Accius and Cicero and others see Oakley (1997–2005) ii.61–3, Welsh (2011) (note also p. 70 below). Both dates produce much the same picture; on the conception of such a startingpoint see Suerbaum (2002), 83–7.

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Pollio (3.84–9), Varius and Cinna (9.35–6), and others. He does not name any poet after the third century, for example, no post-Theocritean Greek bucolic poet. Parthenius, whom he uses and knows personally, appears only in a humorous sub-text, as if the limits are being played with. Gallus fantasizes about hunting in the Parthenios . . . saltus (10.57), the woods of Mt. Parthenius in Arcadia, when he has actually deployed the resources of the author Parthenius in the real life which he would be abandoning. Horace does name Philodemus, but in a satire, to contrast with the classic Callimachus: Callimachus is the supreme epigrammatist, but less down-to-earth (2.1.119–22, cf. 105–10). No later poets directly name Parthenius or Philodemus (more play on Parthenius is conceivable at Prop. 1.1.11). It would be hard to find a non-Roman Greek poet after the third century whom they do name. In Suetonius even Euphorion and Rhianus, probably born at least a generation later than Callimachus, appear with Parthenius as the abstruse favourites of Tiberius (Tib. 70.2). Tiberius places their works and statues in public libraries inter ueteres et praecipuos auctores.19 The position in oratory is intricate, and we will return to it elsewhere. None the less, it is striking to contrast Rutilius Lupus (Augustan) with Cicero. Rutilius’ utilitarian handbook is adapted and perhaps abridged from Cicero’s Greek contemporary the later Gorgias (2.12, Quint. Inst. 9.2.102, 106). Gorgias instructed Cicero’s son in Athens (Cic. Fam. 16.21.6 (written by the son), Plut. Cic. 24.8–9) and probably taught in Rome (Sen. Contr. 1.4.7); Rutilius’ book was written directly for Romans, and is extensively used by Quintilian in Book 9. Rutilius quotes numerous early Hellenistic orators, though as we have the work Attic orators tend to receive more quotes each. Cicero, despite the actual importance of Hellenistic oratory for him, rarely mentions individual Hellenistic orators in his works on oratory, and mentions Attic orators often.20 19 Euphorion was born 276–2 bc, according to Suda  3801 =  1 Lightfoot; the dating of Rhianus is less definite (#ªåæ# ’¯ æÆ#Łı# (‘a contemporary of Eratosthenes’), Suda æ 158, cf. Æ 3419), but cf. Castelli (1994). For the complications of philosophy, one may note Lucretius’ avoidance of naming post-Socratic philosophers other than Epicurus (cf. e.g. Piazzi (2005), 28–30), Plato included. Contrast Philodemus and even Colotes; on the latter, and for caution over introducing the Stoics into Hermarchus’ work on Empedocles, cf. Kechagia (2010), (2011), esp. 91–108. On Martial and Lucillius see Burnikel (1980), G. Nisbet (2003), 34, 66, 80 n. 81, 106. Martial names Philistion (i bc; 2.41.15): mime, probably not poetry, certainly not elevated; he also mentions Elephantis, to whom an obscene work, evidently in prose and pictures, was attributed (12.43.4, cf. Ingleheart (2010), 327–8, and Ov. Trist. 2.413–18). The actual importance of post-Theocritean bucolic to the Eclogues is illustrated by the appearance of Silenus in P. Vindob. Rainer 29801 (cf. Bernsdorff (1999)). The point of Parthenios at Ecl. 10.57 is sufficiently oblique to escape mention at Clausen (1994), 289, 308; Cucchiarelli (2001/2) perhaps claims (51) suggestion of that poet even at Aen. 10.748. (Some readers, particularly from other linguistic traditions, may be offended by Parthenios . . . saltus as above; I tend to alter cases to the nominative only with single words). 20 Barabino (1967) gives much useful information on Rutilius; Brooks (1970) is more limited in scope. Rutilius’ work may (a) have abridged Gorgias and (b) itself been subject to abridgement or accidental losses. (a) Cf. 2.12; Quint. Inst. 9.2.106 cuius quattuor libros in unum suum transtulit. Ahrens’s usum, motivated by the two books apparently in our MSS, gives a pointless thing to say, though with the MSS’ neat unum we might expect a verb of reduction not translation (but cf. Varro, RR 1.1.10). (b) 1. Of the figures listed from Rutilius in Quint. Inst. 9.2.106, only one appears in our MSS (all at 9.3.99 appear; this may favour accidental losses). 2. Even the two books together would make a very short book. (Ad Herennium 1 is only a little longer; but there would be less reason to divide a very short book, cf. the next point.) 3. The MSS at the start of ‘Book II’ give schemata lexeos de libro secundo/II (see

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Cicero explicitly supposes (see below) that Greek oratory declined for good after the fourth century; there is no indication, as in Dion. Hal. Orat. Vet. Praef. i.6.1–8 Usener–Radermacher = 3.7 Hidber, that Greek oratory is now reviving and that fine works in all genres of prose are being written by Romans and Greeks alike (ŒÆd   ø ÆØ# ŒÆd  ‚ººÅ#Ø). In an autobiographical passage, Cicero does speak of practising when young with the ‘best orators’ in Asia, particularly Menippus, who in a way was Attic (Brut. 315). He thinks that the speeches of the rhetoricians Hierocles and Menecles were praiseworthy, for Asiatic oratory (325 in primis, ut Asiatico in genere, laudabiles, cf. De Orat. 2.95, Orat. 231; Hegesias falsely thinks himself super-Attic, Brut. 286, Orat. 226, 230). As a rule, however, the emphasis is on Attic oratory, even in the earlier and less defensive De Oratore, and especially on Demosthenes, whom Cicero is seeking to emulate even in 60 bc (Att. 2.1.3). Later, at least Cicero’s nuances are, and his general stance may be, affected by the need to defend himself against the Roman Atticists. But his depiction of Greek oratorical history is far from his own invention. His theoretical works then constitute a major, and hugely influential, part of Latin writing on oratory. Later writers mention teachers of rhetoric and contemporary declaimers and sophists (so Nicetes Sacerdos, Isaeus; see pp. 54, 55 below). But the great period of oratory is Attic, with Demosthenes usually supreme, and Hellenistic orators are seldom named.21

CONSEQUENCES AND COMPLICATIONS The basic structure seems simple enough: two chronological sequences of authors, in many spheres commonly seen as without significant overlap. But the structure generates numerous intricacies and subtleties, and can be twisted in various ways. One of its most notable features is the complexity of self-presentation which it involves. Authors can write with pride or modesty, or both, on themselves as individuals or on the groups to which they belong: people, genre, period. These various kinds of pride or modesty have different qualities: so pride in one’s city is treated very differently from pride in oneself. The interlacing competitions, including the competition between the two peoples and the two sequences as wholes, give rise to a remarkable richness in handling and conceiving what we

Halm’s apparatus; Barabino’s omits V; nothing in Brooks); this is unlikely to refer to Gorgias’ second book, though Gorgias is mentioned in the heading of ‘Book I’. The two books with schemata dianoeas and lexeos present a structure which covers the two halves of the subject; Gorgias is unlikely to have begun schemata lexeos in the second book of four. A large single book of Rutilius’ could easily have been divided into two rolls or parts in some versions (as with Philodemus, On Rhetoric 4 or On Poems 5) and so been mistaken for two authorial books; in Greek cf. P. Oxy. XXIV 2396, where the Æ of Æ H N#  was originally omitted (cf. Hutchinson (2008), 3 n. 3). _ 21 With Brut. 325 cf. Thuc. 4.84.2 q b Pb IÆ#, ‰# ¸ÆŒÆØ Ø#, N E (‘and he was not without ability at speaking, either, for a Spartan’). For the supremacy of Demosthenes in his period and absolutely cf. e.g. Diod. Sic. 16.54.2, 26.1.1, and by implication 34/5 fr. 33.3 Dindorf (see below). Agatharchides contrasts the speakers of Demosthenes’ period with Hegesias, GGM i.119–22 (esp. 121–2; these include Stratocles).

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could loosely call the first person, plural as well as singular. This is a thread to observe as we proceed through some aspects of the structure.

TRANSGRESSION AND ASYMMETRY The first aspect to consider is the idea of the structure as consisting of two matching and distinct sequences. Sometimes Latin authors explicitly move themselves or others into the wrong series, the Greek, to express a merit which separates the writer in question from the Latin history. Such an idea contrasts with the most obvious wish: to become part of the right select group, to be read ‘among’ the other Latin poets of one’s genre or age (so Prop. 2.34.94, Ov. Pont. 4.16.46, Mart. 10.78.14–16). But Velleius depicts Accius as magnumque inter hos ipsos [the Greek tragedians] facientis operi suo locum (2.9.3): they have more polish, he ‘almost’ more vigour (sanguinis). ipsos and facientis . . . locum show the surprise. Propertius, after modestly wishing for a place ‘among’ his Latin predecessors in love-poetry at the end of Book 2 (or 2b), in Book 3 expunges his Latin predecessors (1.1–4), and desires a place ‘among’ the works of the supreme Greek elegist (9.43). Modesty about the genre itself balances an ambition for Greek-style posthumous cult (43–6). Much less explicitly, Manilius sets his work in a sequence of hexameter writers who seem entirely Greek (2.1–66; Theocritus, 40; evidently Nicander, 43–4). He is laying claim to an originality which authors in the Latin sequence cannot possess: they merely take up the subjects of the Greek sequence, whereas he is the first poet to present astrology. nec furtum sed opus ueniet, he says of his own creation (58, cf. 57–9). This presentation distinguishes him a fortiori from those Latin poets who have translated Aratus (to which poet some of his first book might have been thought similar). His plural Greek poets of mere astronomy (25–38), themselves derivative (cf. 18), display a field already crowded in this part of the Greek hexameter super-genre.22 Philosophical writers are particularly liable to efface or render faint the Latin history in their area. Cicero wishes to see the Latin history as not existing until himself: he will open the springs (Tusc. 1.6), philosophy has had no lumen litterarum Latinarum (5). The latter phrase suggests that Cicero will begin a

22 inter in the usage mentioned probably suggests the idea of the library. Cf. Suet. Tib. 70.2 (p. 16 above), Tac. Ann. 2.83.3 (inter of place in library, then si ueteres inter scriptores haberetur). See also Roueché (1993), no. 88 (= MAMA viii.418; ad 127), esp. ii.14–18: a contemporary poet’s works are to be put in libraries at Halicarnassus, and his works taught like E# H ƺÆØH #ı[]|ªæ

Æ#Ø (‘works of the ancients’). But the element of surprise in passages like the Velleius means that they would be dubious evidence for real libraries putting Greeks and Romans in the same genre together (cf. Nicholls (2010), 18 on Hor. Carm. 1.1.33–6; Mart. 5.5 is on arrangement by genre in a single language). On Manilius cf. Volk (2009), 197–215; the separation of Manilius from tradition and from other poets’ originality in 203–4 does not perhaps do the proem full justice. For the Greek verse ÆØ Æ (Observed Phenomena) besides Aratus’ in the third to first centuries bc (cf. Arat. Vita I pp. 9–10 Martin, II pp. 12–13, SH 20–2, 213, 460–75, etc.), for the Latin versions and adaptations of Aratus in (or around) the first century bc (Cicero, Varro of Atax, Ovid), and for Manilius’ stance, cf. further pp. 205– 10 below, and esp. pp. 208–10.

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selective sequence: others have written on Latin philosophy, but badly (7–8, cf. e.g. Fin. 1.8). At one point he imagines his own corpus, when completed, dispensing the Romans from any need for Greek writing on philosophy (Div. 2.5–6): he would thus have produced alone an equivalent to the Greek history. At another point, such a dispensation will be brought about if others follow him (Tusc. 2.6). Cicero does not mention in his philosophical works the philosophical poetry of Lucretius and Sallustius. Brutus is placed at Ac. Post. 12 as a splendid supplement to his own efforts; since Brutus is a third person, he can be directly said to equal the Greeks (cf. also Fin. 1.8).23 Quintilian holds that Cicero’s philosophical work rivals Plato in language (Inst. 10.1.123); Nep. fr. 58 Marshall sees him as stylistically transforming Latin philosophy, ante eum incomptam (cf. Vell. 2.66.5 rerum naturae corpus, quod ille paene solus Romanorum animo uidit). His De Re Publica was studied in schools (Sen. Ep. 108.30). But in Seneca we get little sense of a Latin history for philosophy: his philosophical writing rarely cites Cicero’s (Ep. 17.2, more slightly 49.5, 58.6). He also cites the prolific Fabianus (Marc. 25.3, Nat. 3.27.3), and discusses his written style (Ep. 100; 58.6); but he is at least equally interested in Fabianus the person and performer. He is not overtly hostile to Cicero: Cicero once appears as the greatest figure in Latin philosophy, at Ep. 100.9. He praises Cicero benignly but faintly (100.7, cf. 40.11): a familiar strategy for dealing with Cicero. One may contrast the emphasis with which he makes Cicero’s letters the Latin model, Epicurus’ the Greek, for his own Epistulae Morales (21.3–5). Seneca is pioneering a different approach to Latin philosophical writing from Cicero and probably Fabianus; but his own continuation of the Greek history in philosophy is not made explicitly into a structure for self-praise. That would be too shallow. Later Gellius cites Cicero’s philosophical work frequently, but not Seneca’s; he cites much Greek philosophy, including recent authors like Plutarch. He has strong literary reasons for not citing Seneca. Apuleius confines his philosophy to Greek, though he shows little interest in contemporary Greek philosophers. He has literary reasons for not explicitly quoting Cicero’s philosophical writing (though he uses it considerably). In the Elder Pliny’s natural philosophy, we see more plainly the recurring combination of the Latin history being deliberately hidden and its just being asymmetrically small in comparison with the Greek. Pliny’s vast range of sources is not confined to philosophers; but in his list for each book the Greeks predominate except in books 9 and 16 (more Romans) and 32 (externi equal). There is no Latin figure who could correspond to Aristotle (8.44, etc.); Cicero, vehemently praised, does not appear primarily as a philosopher. On his own work Pliny says nemo apud nos qui idem temptauerit, nemo apud Graecos qui unus omnia ea tractauerit (pr. 14). He is becomingly modest in pr. 12–15 on his talents and the stylistic potential of his subject-matter; but his presentation here obliterates the treatment of natural philosophy by Lucretius, Fabianus, and Seneca (rarely quoted, never from the Naturales Quaestiones; praised at 14.51 as 23 In Tusc. 4.6–7 and Ac. Post. 4–5 Cicero specifies some of the bad writers: Rabirius, and the popular Amafinius and his numerous followers. On Amafinius’ chronology see p. 226 below. Cf. also Cass. Fam. 15.19.1–2, in particular on Catius, not named in Cicero’s published works; cf. Cic. Fam. 15.16.1 (Catius recently dead), Quint. Inst. 10.1.123 (Catius has evidently lasted), Porph. Hor. Sat. 2.4.1 (cf. pp. 246–7 below).

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principe tum eruditorum). At the end, he claims to be the only Roman to have celebrated Nature (37.205). In the Latin history, there is no sequence but only himself; even against the Greek history, he proudly asserts that he is uniquely comprehensive.24 Including everything in one work or corpus is a way of claiming a unique place in the Latin history, and often of responding to its small size in a given area; that area could now be considered appropriated for Rome, and the author’s work or uvre does something that no one Greek work does. Vitruvius, after humbly stressing the importance of acknowledging his predecessors (7 pr. 10), positions his account of his purpose between a long list of Greeks who wrote on smaller aspects of his subject and a short list of Romans who wrote smaller accounts of his subject in general, in one or two books. quorum ex commentariis, he writes, quae utilia esse his rebus animaduerti collecta in unum coegi corpus, et ideo maxime quod animaduerti in ea re ab Graecis uolumina plura edita, ab nostris oppido quam pauca (7 pr. 14). His comprehensive work thus has contrasting claims to value against the Greek history on the one side and the Roman on the other. His place in the Roman history is seen as the more important (cf. also 18); but the idea of the complete ‘body’ is also presented with fanfare. His execution of his design has meant uti totum corpus omnia architecturae membra in decem uoluminibus haberet explicata (10.16.12, cf. 2.1.8 cum corpus architecturae scriberem, 7 pr. 10 id . . . corpus, 9.8.15 ut corpus emendatum architecturae perficiatur). The image and conception are Greek.25 Cornelius Nepos and Valerius Maximus both draw together Greek and Roman non-literary history from Greek and Roman writers. Nepos stresses the limits imposed by his compactness, but with a hint of pride: quoniam uno hoc uolumine uitam excellentium uirorum complurium concludere constituimus, quorum separatim multis milibus uersuum complures scriptores ante nos explicarunt (Epam. 4.6; for the present book the writers will have been principally Greek). Catullus’ second-person treatment of Nepos’ Chronica more openly praises Nepos’ allembracing synthesis (1.5–7). Valerius meekly aspires to save others the effort of long research, and disclaims aspiration to completeness or stylistic supremacy (1 pr.); but the uniqueness, ambition, and hard work of his project are none the less to shine through. domesticae peregrinaeque historiae seriem felici superiorum stilo conditam lightly suggests the dual sequence of literary as well as of non-literary history (cf. illustribus . . . auctoribus).26

24 Cf. also pr. 17, with Morello (2011), 154. Beagon (2005), 14, 20 makes it the more striking that he does not in 14 mention Varro or Celsus either. 6.60 refers to Seneca’s work De situ Indiae (frr. 9–11 Haase, with Norden (1923), 39 n. 1; cf. frr. 6–8). On Apuleius’ use of Cicero’s philosophical works cf. Harrison (2000), 184–6, 205–7. 25 So Cic. Att. 2.1.3 the #H Æ (‘body, collection’) of his consular speeches; cf. Polyb. 1.4.7: the parts of the complete body of history which he presents. In Vitr. 7 pr. 14 collecta . . . animaduerti is omitted in Æ MSS (as often), by saute du même au même. On Vitruvius’ handling of his Greek and Roman predecessors in the preface to Book 7, see Fögen (2009), 130–6. 26 Valerius rarely cites sources by name; 8.13 ext. 3–7 is unusual (some of the sources there may not be known first-hand). For his actual sources, see Bloomer (1992), 59–146 (sceptical on use of Greek sources), Wardle (1998), 15–18; Briscoe (1998) has a helpful apparatus of other sources for Valerius’ events. Dio Cass. 62.29.2–4 (iii. 67–8 Boissevain, Xiph. p. 602 Boiss., p. 172 Steph.) shows how inclusiveness without compactness could exhibit overweening pride: Nero is urged to write 400

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Poets are often less explicit. Horace only claims explicitly to write Aeolic lyric (and Archilochean epodes) and only claims that no earlier Latin Aeolic lyric (or Archilochean epode) existed (Carm. 3.13–14, Epist. 1.19.19–34); he effaces Catullus. But he implies a larger claim to encompass all Greek canonical lyric, and probably to be the first Latin lyricist, or canonical Latin lyricist (he would thus efface Laevius, Catullus, and others). In his first book, he imitates a wide range of Greek lyric, including Pindar. In Odes 4.9 he, somewhat like Seneca at Ep. 21.3–5, exploits the relatively selfless notion of immortalizing an addressee; through it he signals the Greek sequence which he encompasses: Pindar, Simonides, Alcaeus, Stesichorus, Anacreon, Sappho (6–12; six out of nine). This is despite his alternative claim not to imitate Pindar in the Pindarizing 4.2. He is modest on his genre in comparison to Homer (4.9.5–6; priores chronological and aesthetic). The place he hopes for is in the sequence of lyricis uatibus (1.1.35), an implicitly Greek series with a Greek title (lyrici). He deserves transposition into that history through his uniqueness in Latin and his unique range in comparison to Greek.27 Still less explicitly, the incomplete corpus of Seneca’s tragedies may be seen as aiming to embody, like Horace’s lyric, the entire canonical Greek tradition, as well as equalling the highest achievements, not of the Latin tradition in general, but of its more refined parts. The corpus includes two titles which are shared by and must recall famous plays of Aeschylus (Agamemnon) and Sophocles (Oedipus), and one which is shared by and must recall another play of Sophocles (Phaedra). We know of few other Agamemnons, Greek or Latin (Ion; TrGF Adesp. 1?), and no other Phaedra. All the remaining titles evoke the most popular Greek tragedian Euripides; they include the particularly famous Medea and Phoenissae (the Troades also uses the famous Hecuba, the Phaedra the famous Hippolytus or Hippolyti). There is no other known Greek or Latin Phoenissae, save Aristophanes’ send-up, Phrynichus’ play on a different subject, and a papyrus on the same subject with no title (TrGF Adesp. 665). (There is no Latin Hercules and only Caesar’s Oedipus.) Varius’ Thyestes and Ovid’s Medea are singled out as the summits of post-archaic Latin tragedy (Quint. Inst. 10.1.98 Vari Thyestes cuilibet Graecarum comparari potest . . . , Tac. Dial. 12.6); it is thus likely that the corpus aims to include and match these too. Unlike some genres and areas considered above, tragedy was well-represented in Latin; but Seneca is likely to be interested

hexameter books on the whole of Roman history, and does not take kindly to Cornutus’ fearless objections. Livy is winningly modest on his own project, pr. 1–5. 27 For Carm. 1.1.35 see Leigh (2010). For lyrici and ºıæØŒ see also Petr. 118.5, where the lyrici without further denotation are the Greek poets, separated from Horace, and Gal. Us. Part. ii.451.22–3 Helmreich E# ºØŒE# ØÅÆE#, R# ØØ ºıæØŒf# O Çı#Ø (‘the melic poets, whom some call “lyric”’), where the denotation is known, but still not standard in Greek. Leigh adds the idea of the garland to inseres; but cf. too Tac. Dial. 10.3 nomen inserere possunt famae. The verb is often used with a suggestion of adding an outside member to a group, cf. e.g. Carm. 2.5.21 (mentioned by Leigh), Ov. Met. 3.117, 13.33 (insero ‘graft’ may sometimes colour this different verb). The visible reworking of Catullus 34 in Odes 1.21 could belong to a stage in Horace’s self-presentation earlier than Book 3 (chronologically or sequentially); at this stage exclusion of any Latin predecessor, even non-canonical, could be less emphatic than in 3.30.13–14 (cf. Virgil’s exclusion of Catullus 62 in Ecl. 6.1). Note that Statius can ask the regnator lyricae cohortis Pindar to give him briefly an official place, noui . . . iura plectri (Silv. 4.7.5–8), and that both Horace and Statius can speak of contemporaries as if they could Latinize Pindar or vie with him (Hor. Epist. 1.3.9–13, Carm. 4.2.33–44?, Stat. Silv. 1.3.101).

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only in a subset. His corpus is staking an ambitious, but still a different, claim in relation to either history.28

HOME, SWEET—AND SOUR One last point on the two sequences, as they appear from the surface of explicit reference. In the main body of their work, many writers, when both Greek and Latin predecessors are available and used, have a preference for citing the Latin. This is not a question of the writers’ laziness, as some instances will show, but of their asserting the sequence in which they belong, and sometimes of asserting their national identity. But there are other ways too in which they are exploiting the Latin and Greek histories for their own work. Varro’s list of Greek authors on agriculture (p. 10 above) will no doubt have been read at least in part by that dauntless scholar (cf. 2.1.28 on cheese-making). But he cites most Cato and Tremelius, rarely any of his fifty-odd Greeks, apart from Theophrastus (and twice Aristotle, once for farming) and apart from some mentions of the Greek Dionysius and the Carthaginian Mago, who overlap. This suits his patriotic and practical approach to farming. Yet Greek is often brought in to show the wider cultural and intellectual framework within which the author is setting the work. Archelaus, as a poet, is several times cited on creatures, though he is not in Varro’s list (2.3.5, 3.11.4, 16.4, the last with verse quotations; cf. the poet Menecrates 3.16.18). Theophrastus, as a philosopher, is often cited from his extant works on plants, after preliminary banter: Agrius reads libri non tam idonei iis qui agrum colere uolunt quam qui scholas philosophorum (1.5.2). Early in Book 2, Varro as speaker begins with a display of philosophical learning (2.1.3, cf. 2.5.13).29 This use of Greek intellectualism is seen on a larger scale in the De Lingua Latina, where the whole subject implies a specifically Latin tradition (so especially Aelius Stilo, cf. 7.2 and Antiq. Div. 89 Cardauns, and Aurelius Opillus, frequent in Book 7). The treatment of the subject implies the author’s Roman identity. Yet he wishes to emphasize larger intellectual settings for the subject, in Greek grammatical debate and in philosophy: non solum ad Aristophanis lucernam, sed etiam ad Cleanthis lucubraui (5.9; cf. e.g. 6.2). In books 8–10 he presents the great debate on

28 Tarrant (1978) emphasizes Augustan tragedy; his view that Seneca is not using fifth-century Greek tragedy would not exclude evocation, but rests on too limited a conception of Seneca’s transformations, and of his range of sources. See further p. 193 below; even Tarrant’s view on the Agamemnon is open to doubt, as in the scene with Cassandra and the chorus (659–778). Seneca’s unfinished Phoenissae uses Sophocles’ other Oedipus too; cf. Hirschberg (1989), 9, 12. The authors of the most celebrated Augustan tragedies clearly did not create dramas in the same numbers as the canonical Attic tragedians. Varius may well have written some tragedies besides the Thyestes, but as regards their fame he seems a ‘one-play author’. Cf. Macr. Sat. 2.4.2 Varius (grauis, graius, or the like in MSS) tragoediarum scriptor, Hollis (2007), 260–2, 279; see also Cova (1989). In any case, Seneca’s position in time does not preclude him from attempting to match, in constricted form, the whole Greek canon. 29 On Varro’s use of sources, with particular reference to Theophrastus, see Skydsgaard (1968), ch. 5.

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Analogy and Anomaly through Greek thinkers (so 8.63–5, Aristarchus, Aristarchei, Crates, 9.1, 43, 91, 10.16, 42); he offers his own response.30 We see a similar pattern to Varro’s De Rebus Rusticis in Columella. He gives his specific quotes from Greek authors only when the sources sound prestigious: Democritus 6.28.1, 8.8.7, 11.3.2, 64; Epicharmus 7.3.6 (really Pseudo-Epicharmus, fr. 292 Kassel–Austin); Aristotle 7.3.12, 9.3.1; Bolus as Pseudo-Democritus 7.5.17, 11.3.53. He uses, though, many Greek terms, doubtless from technical writers. For explicit reference he favours Cato, Tremelius, Varro, Virgil, Hyginus, Celsus, and his own uncle’s practice, and also the Carthaginian Mago, probably in Latin. His reference to astronomers at 9.14.12 takes up his emphasis on wide intellectual horizons at 1 pr. 32, but also involves play on the crudity of country study, pinguioribus, ut aiunt, rusticorum litteris.31 Livy at 29.27.13 indicates that he is here using permultis Graecis Latinisque auctoribus (cf. 32.6.8 ceteri Graeci Latinique auctores, quorum quidem ego legi annales, 39.50.9 scriptoribus rerum Graecis Latinisque). Against them he sets the isolated and doubtful account of Coelius Antipater (fr. 47 Chassignet). It is characteristic of Livy in naming writers to lay prime emphasis on those in the Roman tradition, but to distance himself from them, credulous or incredible as they are (so too Licinius Macer at 7.9.3–5, 10.9.10–12 (with Tubero), Claudius Quadrigarius at 9.5.1–5, Antipater at 29.25.2–4 (cf. 21.46.10), and Cincius at 21.38.1–9 (a Roman writing in Greek, Dion. Hal. Ant. 1.6.2, FGrHist 810 T 7)). This role is particularly played by Valerius Antias, from some point in the first century. Some phrases convey Livy’s intellectual mastery by assailing Antias’ lack of restraint in lying or in exaggerating numbers, others more coolly suggest an amused scepticism or caution: so 26.49.1 adeo nullus mentiendi modus est, 33.10.8 immodice, 38.23.6 immodicus (though less so here); 39.43.1; 40.29.8 mendacio probabili (in the last two examples Antias’ motivation does not appear as patriotic); e.g. 32.6.5–8, 34.15.9. Livy’s critical spirit is not overwhelmed by his patriotism (note the auctorem Graecum at 26.49.1). References to the Roman sequence within which he is writing usually serve to mark him out in the reader’s eyes—for all the humility of his early reference to the great names who could overshadow him (pr. 3).32

30

For the Greek horizons of De Lingua Latina cf. Dahlmann (1932), Amacker (2005). On Columella’s treatment of his sources, cf. Fögen (2009), 171–82. In the case of Xenophon’s Oeconomicus he likes to cite Cicero’s translation (11.1.5, 12 pr. 1, 7, 2.6); it is common to see the translator as expressing his own views through the translation, but 12 pr. 1 and 7 seem designed to give the impression that Columella has looked at the Greek too (as he easily could). At 6.37.3 he cites Dionysius’ adapted Greek translation of Mago and Mago himself; here the names may well just be taken from Varro, RR 2.1.27. 32 Note the emphasis on Livy’s reader (though not in this respect) of Pausch (2011). On Valerius Antias’ date and scope see Chassignet (1996–2004), iii.lxiii–lxxv; see also Oakley (1997–2005), i.89–91 (ibid. 13–108 for Livy and his sources). At 40.29.8, Plin. Nat. 13.85–7 would suggest that Antias, unlike two earlier annalists, did not make the allegation assailed by Livy; but the assault attracts the recurring figure of Antias. Cf. Chassignet (1996–2004), ii.110–11 (but humanarum antiquitatum VII is surely Book 7 of Varro’s Antiquitates Rerum Humanarum), iii.225–6. Plut. Num. 22.2–5 is in any case more charitable to the opinion on Pythagoras, cf. 1.2–4. At the end of Book 39, Antias is brought in for a detached mention despite Livy’s own earlier account and dating (39.56.7, cf. Briscoe (2008), 392; note 52.1–6). 31

24

Making Histories

None the less, it is principally in the Roman tradition that Livy places himself, with the great preponderance of Roman reference. Around thirteen Roman historians, whether writing in Latin or in Greek, are cited by name, around 80 times (Antias 30, Quadrigarius around 12, Coelius 10 (from his books 1–6), Macer 7 (only from his books 1 and 2)); only one Greek historian is cited by name, Polybius, 6 times. The 6 is a low number: Livy speaks of Polybius with approval and respect, and makes him his main source for eastern affairs in the fourth and fifth decades. Livy both stresses his own tradition and criticizes it: he uses Polybius against Roman historians at 33.10.8–10 (cf. Nep. Con. 5.4 (FGrHist 690 F 18)) and 36.19.10; at 39.52.1 he further shows his critical detachment by disagreeing both with Polybius and with Roman historians (one of them probably writing in Greek). Some argued patriotism appears when Livy takes on unnamed Greek critics of Rome, leuissimi ex Graecis, in the digression on Alexander (9.18.6, cf. 17.6). At 25.39.11 Claudius is cited, rather than the work he translated, Greek written by the Roman Acilius; the same may be true at 35.14.5. The patriotic preference for a Latin translation is seen with Columella and the Greek and Latin versions of Mago, but Livy is also engaging with a more recent competitor.33

33

Attempts to unmask the leuissimi include Timagenes (Jacoby (1926–30), C 223–4) and Amphicrates (Schwartz (1894)). 7.3.7 may refer to the later scholar Cincius, not the annalist, cf. Oakley (1997– 2005), ii.81; otherwise Chassignet (1996–2004), i.lxxv–lxxix. Briscoe (1981), 165, thinks that neither 25.39.12 nor 35.14.5 shows the existence of a translation, whether or not by Quadrigarius; for auctor and secutus, as if the translator were himself making a statement, cf. n. 31 above and p. 208 below. A contrast with Livy’s restraint in citing Greek scholarship can be seen at Fest. pp. 326–9 Lindsay on the name of Rome; Livy 1.7.3 (cf. 16.7) like Cic. Rep. 2.12 (cf. Enn. Ann. 77 Skutsch), Varro, LL 8.18, Dion. Hal. Ant. 1.45.3, but unlike Plut. Rom. 1–2.3, 3.1, simply gives the derivation from Romulus. (Note 27.27.11 multos circa unam rem ambitus fecerim.) So too on the Salii 1.20.4, contrast Fest. p. 439 Lindsay. Hyginus’ De Astronomia is immediately striking by its use of local historians like Aglaosthenes (FGrHist 499) or Ariaethus (316), but the work is directly adapted from Eratosthenes, who certainly included Aglaosthenes (F 1–2, C. Robert (1878), 56, 156).

2 Strife and Change OLD AND NEW In the previous chapter we looked at the conception of two literary histories, and some things that authors did with it. Now the idea of time and chronological sequence must be brought in again. First let us look at the categories ‘old’ and ‘new’. In the many areas where the Greek series more or less ends before the Latin begins, from a Roman perspective all the Greek series and some of the Latin series is old or ancient. It is primarily Latin authors that can be new or recent, and gain or suffer by being sharply divided from the ueteres or antiqui. There is little intrinsic concern to see past Greek authors as ‘new’ from the perspective of their own time; this is a different matter from internal divisions within an all-Greek category, like those between Old, Middle, and New Comedy or Old and New Academy. Only a couple of scraps could be adduced to suggest such perspectives on newness. Hor. Epist. 2.1.90–1 considers nouitas as it must have looked to the Greeks of the past, but does so to make a Roman argument. Possibly at Prop. 2.34.29–32 there is an opposition in time between an unknown old author (senex) and Callimachus and Philitas (contrast Stat. Silv. 1.2.252–5, where Callimachus is old in age and period by contrast with Roman poets). Suet. Tib. 70.2 has been mentioned already: Euphorion and Rhianus, who extend a little beyond the standard limit in time, appear not to be among the ueteres et praecipuos auctores (contrast uetus of Euphorion’s teacher Archebulus, Ter. Maur. 1919 GLK vi.382). The ideas of being old and being central (praecipuus) seem to go together here; Suetonius presents a viewpoint from the Roman, not the Hellenistic, period. His view of the limits differs from that of Virgil, who treats Euphorion as part of the standard Greek history (Ecl. 10.50, cf. Quint. Inst. 10.1.56). For writers of the fourth and third centuries as old, one may note, for example, how Celsus sets third-century doctors as antiqui against the first-century bc Asclepiades (3.14.1, cf. 2.17.3; 5 pr. 1–2). At 2.600 Lucretius’ ueteres Graium docti . . . poetae probably at least includes Hellenistic poets (note the murali . . . corona in 606). At Tac. Dial. 16.5–6, Demosthenes and Hyperides are old, by contrast with Greeks of the present day.1 1 At Quint. Inst. 12.10.16 the antiqua division between Attici and Asiani could be seen as Greek or Roman; the great Macedonian kings are antiqui for Livy (31.1.7). There need be no chronological implications about Euphorion, as there are about Roman poetry, in Cic. Tusc. 3.45, where the outstanding Ennius is despised by his cantoribus Euphorionis. (The phrase seems to mean ‘these present chanters of Euphorion’, i.e. in their poetry which imitates him; it plays with poetic colour,

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Unlike any possible division of old Greek from new Greek literature within the usual Greek sequence, division of old literature from new Latin literature is of major importance, both generally and within categories. Thus Quintilian, in talking of oratory, sets ‘us’ against the ueteres, who include both Cicero and ‘the Greeks’ (i.e. classic Greek orators, 12.10.48; same grouping, therefore, likely at 9.3.74); the noui go back to the time of the Elder Seneca (9.2.42). priscorum . . . uatum at Stat. Silv. 5.3.234–5 probably points particularly to Homer and Virgil. The boundary of ‘old’ Latin authors in general is variously placed, even by authors of a similar time, or the same author: after about the second century bc, or after the Republic, or after Augustus (Terence calls ueteres Latin comedians before his own time, Eun. 42–3). So at Mart. 11.90 Pacuvius, Accius, Lucilius are ueteres (perhaps the viewpoint of the archaicist he is attacking); at 5.16.11–12, the time of the ueteres includes Virgil. In Tacitus Horace, Virgil, Lucan are set against Accius, Pacuvius, Lucilius, Lucretius (Dial. 20.5, 23.2); at Plin. Ep. 9.22.1–2, Propertius (and Horace) are among the ueteres. As we shall see, the division of old and new carries various positive and negative aesthetic connotations. It is itself based on Greek divisions within their literature; one can see this from, for example, on oratory, the preface to Dionysius’ De Veteribus Oratoribus, as at i.4.20–21.11 Usener–Radermacher = 2.1–3 Hidber, an interestingly complex passage. The Latin divisions generate intense debates. In debate, such division itself can be queried, on various grounds: the division between new and old is inherently imprecise (Hor. Epist. 2.1.34–49); from different viewpoints in time, the same things can be old or new (90–1); a larger context in time makes such differences look trivial (Tac. Dial. 16.4–7).2

and even hexameter rhythm, in a burst of conversational exuberance.) The earliest instance of Cybele’s mural crown is the votive relief Venice, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. 118 (LIMC Attis 389, Kybele 24; Asia Minor?), variously dated to mid-iii bc, 240–30, ii (Vermaseren and De Boer 40 (1986), Simon (1997), 750, 765, Favoretto (2002)); note that there have been restorations to the crown. In any case, the Hellenistic poem Call. fr. incert. 761 Pfeiffer (probably Callimachus, cf. Dale (2007)) would have been more substantial than e.g. Soph. Phil. 391–402 (ºø çæ, 401, of disputed meaning). On the divisions of Greek comedy see Nesselrath (1990), with 341–5 for related divisions; for Prop. 2.34.27–8, see Heyworth (2007), 268–9. 2 Cf. Varro, RR 3.1.2–6, esp. 4, LL 5.9, 7.3. With Hor. Epist. 2.90–1, cf. Tac. Dial. 22.1. On some of the Roman debates and conceptions, see Hinds (1998), 63–83, Feeney (2002), Schwindt (2002), ch. 8, Moscadi (2003), Delpeyroux (2003), Levene (2004). On the passage of Dionysius, see Hidber (1996), 112–16, Wiater (2011), 93, 188. IæåÆØ- (‘old’) can be used in Dionysius of ‘classic’ authors in general, of authors in a genre within the set of classic authors, of ways of writing that have an archaic flavour (so at Comp. 23 ii.114.1–3 Usener–Radermacher Hesiod and Sappho, who was one of the IæåÆEØ º Ø, ‘old lyric poets’, at 19 ii.85.12–13, best exemplify the style which likes to avoid #å Æ#Ø . . . E# IæåÆØ æ #æØ#, ‘the more ancient-seeming figures’, 23 ii.113.13–16). On this last category cf. Porter (2006), 326–8. For the ‘general’ usage, cf. e.g. Imit. Epit. 1 ii.202.18–19 and Comp. 4 ii.20.13– 21.15, where the IæåÆEØ (‘old writers’) are followed by the ƪ#æØ (‘later writers’, most of whom did not care about the arrangement of words); they are followed by historians from Duris on (Duris c.360 to c.240). Demetr. 15 separates Gorgias from a IæåÆEÆ (‘archaic writing’, cf. Arist. Rhet. 3.1409a27–9). Terms like ƪ#æØ and æØ (‘more recent’) are used in grammarians for later Attic (cf. Probert (2004), 286 for a dividing-line of c.400 bc for the ‘new Attic’). Cicero uses the Greek term H øæø at Att. 7.2.1 of the present Latin hexameter poets; perhaps he is playfully casting himself as the Latin Homer. Greek, like Latin, can use different words for ‘old’; note Demetrius’ judgement (175) that the term IæåÆEØ (‘ancient men’) is KØ æ (‘more prestigious’) than ƺÆØ (‘men of old’).

Strife and Change

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BEGINNINGS OF THE HISTORIES The shapes of the Greek and Latin sequences differ. They differ at one end, when seen from the Roman present: the Greek sequence has in most spheres finished, or declined into worthlessness, while the Latin necessarily continues. But the Greek sequence also begins with the poet who is most often acknowledged as the greatest to be found in either sequence. He is not greatest simply because he begins the earlier of the two sequences; even in this respect, though, the concept of ‘first’ (see below) is gloriously expanded, with images of water or of fatherhood. He is the parens eloquentiae deus, with uastissimis fluminibus facundiae (Colum. RR 1 pr. 30), the fons ingeniorum, the primus doctrinarum et antiquitatis parens (Plin. Nat. 17.37, 25.11; for fons cf. Ov. Am. 3.9.25–6, Man. 2.8–11, Quint. Inst. 10.1.46 (Ocean)). If he does not attain actual deity, as in Columella’s phrase and Greek apotheosis, he comes closer to meriting it than any other poet (cf. Sil. 13.781–9; note Val. Max. 3.7 ext. 3 diuino ingenio, cf. preceding caelesti partu, Quint. Inst. 10.1.86 naturae caelesti atque immortali, Apul. Met. 9.13.4 priscae poeticae diuinus auctor). He alone wields the sceptre among poets, though he has died like the rest (Lucr. 3.1037–8). He is not only stated but automatically assumed to be the greatest of poets (Vell. 1.5.1–2 solus appellari poeta meruit (cf. Athen. Mech. 4 p. 44.13–14 Whitehead–Blyth › . . . # ŒºÅŁd# ØŒÆø# ØÅ #, ‘the only one rightly called “poet”’), Man. 2.1 maximus . . . uates, Saturn. Dig. 48.19.16.8 praecipuum poetarum; assumed e.g. [Tib.] Pan. Mess. 180 aeterno propior non alter Homero, Ov. Am. 1.8.61, 3.8.28, AA 2.279–80, Trist. 1.1.47, 4.10.21–2, Pont. 4.2.21–2, cf. Juv. 7.38–9). Greek ideas and language are of course used in all this.3 Even if Latin matches to Homer are found, no Latin author wins such overwhelming glory throughout Latin literature. The resulting pattern for the Greek sequence was found intrinsically striking; Velleius makes Homer and the early Archilochus unique in being perfectissimi in the genres they began (1.5.2). This strangeness makes Brutus in Cicero argue for lost poets before Homer (Brut. 71); but the difference between the extant beginnings of Greek and Latin literature is here palpable (cf. also 75–6: Ennius perfectior than Naevius). Evaluations of Latin before the first century bc change and vary, as we shall see; but conceptions of humble beginnings for Latin literature recur (e.g. Hor. Epist. 2.1.156–60, cf. Bass. GLK vi.265–6, Ter. Maur. 2497–510 GLK vi.399–400: the latter two writers allege a Greek origin for the saturnian, but still think the Roman beginnings crude). Hence dynamic ideas of progress are more deeply embedded in the early history of Latin than in that of Greek. Greek tragedy can be seen as beginning humbly too (Hor. Ars 275–80; Val. Max. 9.12 ext. 2: Aeschylus the beginning fortioris tragoediae); but tragedy comes at a relatively late point in the development of Greek as compared to Latin literature (cf. e.g. Liv. 7.2.8, 11). Thus the difference in the overall sequences remains.4 3 On the Hellenistic and imperial Greek treatment of Homer, cf. e.g. Skiadas (1965), Brink (1972), Zeitlin (2001), Newby (2007), Kim (2010), Squire (2011). 4 Note e.g. Suet. GR 1.1 on Rome before Livius and Ennius as rudi . . . ac bellicosa etiam tum ciuitate, necdum magnopere liberalibus disciplinis uacante (cf. Kaster (1995), 47–51); contrast Homer’s intellectual range in the passages above. On the saturnian metre and later conceptions of it see Kruschwitz (2002), esp. 18–23, 200; Ll. Morgan (2010), 286–310; note also Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 220–2. For the

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Strife and Change COMING FIRST

We have seen already separations, oppositions, and connections between being the first and being the best; both conceptions relate to a series, but only the former relates to temporal order. Both could be applied within the Greek or the Latin series, or across them; across them, the Greek series has an intrinsic advantage when it comes to being first, but being best lies more open. Both terms could be thought to evoke competition (‘first’ can suggest a race), and the vocabulary for each can overlap. So in the opinion of the learned, Sallust is primus Romana . . . in historia (Mart. 14.191), Demosthenes is oratorum . . . princeps (Cic. Brut. 141): greatest in their genres. By contrast, Cicero according to Caesar according to Cicero is paene principem copiae atque inuentorem [in oratory] (fr. 1 Funaioli, cf. Cic. Brut. 251–2). More notably, Propertius advances a claim to temporal primacy as a way of claiming artistic primacy: he is the first to enter the grove of the best Greek elegists (3.1.1–6, cf. 3.51–2). His actual position in time poses no obstacle. Cicero on the orators Antonius and Crassus mingles time and merit: they were the greatest, like Demosthenes and Hyperides, and after many poorer predecessors first (primum) matched the glory of the Greeks in oratory (Brut. 138).5 The two types of claim (first, best) are often explicitly or implicitly opposed or distinguished. Phaedrus, replying to Envy, says inuenit ille [Aesop], nostra perfecit manus (4.22.6, cf. 5 prol.); the idea of progressive improvement is suggested. Within Latin, Horace, while stressing that his writing is more refined than Lucilius’, modestly styles himself inuentore minor (Sat. 1.10.48) and declines competition—with him (48–9, cf. 46–7). Quintilian thinks Virgil may approach Homer’s rank through his superior curae et diligentiae (Inst. 10.1.86), though here the difference is not straightforwardly a matter of general progress (cf. 10.1.106). He depicts Cicero and Demosthenes as more or less equal in merit, but gives Demosthenes the advantage in hoc, quod et prior fuit et ex magna parte Ciceronem quantus est fecit (10.1.107; note the present est). Within the Roman series, Velleius speaks scornfully of Roman tragedy before Accius: nisi aspera ac rudia repetas et inuenti laudanda nomine . . . (1.17.1). He thereby suggests, as often happens, the availability of a contrary view on the significance of being first; he himself comes a little closer to such a view at 2.9.6 (Pomponius) nouitate inuenti a se operis commendabilem.

IMITARI NOT JUST ‘IMITATE’ Along with the relation of ‘first’ and ‘best’, and questions of progress, goes the question of how imitation is to be regarded. This too relates priority and merit, creation of parallels between the primitive beginnings of Greek and of Roman drama, cf. e.g. Meuli (1975), on Varro and Eratosthenes. On the idea of being first, particularly in poets, see Hinds (1998), 52–63, E. A. Schmidt (2001a), Citroni (2001), Volk (2002), 114. The quotation from Caesar at Brut. 253, despite his uerbis, is presumably altered from the original for rhythm (if so, read elaborarunt); note also the pairing of princeps and inuentor, found often, and only, in Cicero, Inv. 1.43, 2.6 principe illo atque inuentore Tisia, Verr. 3.41, Tusc. 1.48, al. 5

Strife and Change

29

and is of special interest when it takes place between the two series. Sometimes Latin authors are content to assert generic priority within their own series, while marking simultaneously the Greek author whom they are imitating—and to whose priority within the Greek series their own in the Latin corresponds. So the word for ‘first’ is placed next or close to a Greek place-name at Virg. Ecl. 6.1 prima Syracosio (Theocritus), Hor. Carm. 3.30.13 princeps Aeolium (Sappho and Alcaeus), Epist. 1.19.23 Parios ego primus (Archilochus).6 Here pride and due modesty mingle, especially in the Virgil. But the second Horatian passage is preceded by scorn for imitators (imitatores) within the Latin series, a seruum pecus (Epist. 1.19.19, cf. 21–3). Propertius, after aspiring to imitate Callimachus and Philetas, says that Latin writers who follow his wheels have no chance of matching him (3.1.8–14); Callimachean notions of exclusiveness and originality are involved (cf. 15–20, Call. fr. 1.25–8 Massimilla = Pfeiffer, Harder). The Elder Seneca counsels against imitating any one contemporary (Latin) orator, on Platonic grounds: numquam par fit imitator auctori. haec rei natura est: semper citra ueritatem est similitudo (Contr. 1 pr. 6; cf. (with an extra twist) Plat. Rep. 10.597e6–8, 598b6–8). We might infer from such passages that (a) imitation implies inferiority, (b) imitation of Greeks can be offset by primacy within the Latin series, and (c) the Greeks are beyond the scope of competition. (b) seems reasonable, but (a) should not be taken as a universal conception, and still less (c). We should not, then, take as general such a humble view of imitation itself. A linguistic point is significant here: the verb imitari often denotes, not passively imitating, but actively capturing and matching: a success, not an attempt. So at Vell. 1.5.2 neque post illum [Homer] qui eum imitari posset inuentus est (‘no one . . . has been found capable of matching him’), cf. 16.3 of Greek New Comedy et inuenere . . . neque imitandam reliquere (‘ . . . left it such that it could not be matched’). The verb posset is typical cf. e.g. Plin. Ep. 1.2.2 temptaui . . . imitari (Demosthenes and Calvus; note adsequi possunt and aemulationi), 5.13 ad imitandum . . . optima . . . proponere (Cicero; note aemulatio in 11–12), 5.15.2 hortor ut quam plurima proferas quae imitari omnes concupiscant, nemo aut paucissimi possint, Fronto p. 50.1–2 Van den Hout imitari posse (grand epideictic speeches). Likewise with aemulari, where the word can more obviously connote rivalry: (of Virgil) cum Pindari ueteris poetae carmen . . . aemulari uellet (Gell. 17.10.8), he went beyond him in extremity (cf. e.g. 17.10.12). Awareness that imitari can have these connotations gives a different force to many passages, such as Cic. Ac. Post. 10: . . . if Latin philosophers imitentur (note the modest subjunctive) Plato, Aristotle, and Theophrastus as Latin tragedians have captured Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides and as Latin orators sint . . . imitati Hyperides and Demosthenes (again modest, with si qui). Later writers grasp the intensity and 6 Cf. Colum. RR 10.435–6 | qui primus . . . | Ascraeum, where primus itself is significantly set next to ueteres (primus ueteres ausus recludere fontis); cf. also (if a first) Plin. Ep. 6.21.2: Vergilius Romanus’ comoediam ad exemplar Veteris Comoediae scriptam, tam bene ut esse quandoque possit exemplar. Alcaeus himself is presented at Hor. Carm. 1.32.3–5 age dic Latinum, | barbite, carmen, | Lesbio primum modulate ciui as the first to compose at least a type of lyric (perhaps there is some play on the Lesbian Terpander until ciui—unexpected as Lesbos is not a city). The type was continued after Sappho particularly by Theocritus; possibly the poem P. Köln XI 430, which follows Sappho on P. Köln Inv. 21351 + 21376, aims at following Sappho and Alcaeus more loosely (cf. Rawles (2006), but still note Sapph. fr. 1.1 Voigt, Alc. 308, 359, Hor. Carm. 1.10.1–12, 3.11.1–24).

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ambition of Cicero’s project: in his De Officiis Cicero magno cum studio maximoque opere aemulatus est Panaetius’ renowned work (Gell. 13.28.1). In his uvre as a whole, Cicero seems, cum se totum ad imitationem Graecorum contulisset, effinxisse uim Demosthenis, copiam Platonis, iucunditatem Isocratis (Quint. Inst. 10.1.108).7 Quintilian in discussing imitation (Inst. 10.2) urges that one should seek to excel, not merely reproduce. The Elder Seneca’s argument on the inferiority of imitation to original (p. 29 above) is now actually employed to strengthen the case for aspiring to surpass (10.2.11). Quintilian also uses Latin literature as an example: mere reproduction would have left us at the level of Livius Andronicus and the priestly annals (7). This implies that constant progress should be thought possible. There are parallels with the Younger Seneca’s assertion that we will never discover anything in philosophy if we remain content with what has been discovered (Ep. 33.10), and with his strong implication that on the subject of Etna Lucilius could excel rather than merely match his predecessors Virgil, Ovid, and Cornelius Severus; the latter two themselves were undeterred by predecessors (79.5–7). Quintilian here finds sequence and the dependency of imitation compatible with not only equalling but outdoing. In more aggressive vein, the Elder Seneca states, in opposition to Livy’s view that Sallust had translated and spoiled a supposedly Thucydidean generalization (fr. rhet. 2 Jal; quote actually from [Dem.] 11.13), that Sallust has beaten Thucydides in his own special excellence of brevity, et in suis illum castris cecidit (Contr. 9.1.13). The violent and military language is led into (probably) by language which likewise suggests fighting, not an organized athletic context: multa oratores, historici, poetae Romani a Graecis dicta non subripuerunt sed prouocauerunt. On the small scale of detail we start to see a crucial approach to the two sequences: the war of the Greeks and the Romans.8

7 For this point to imit- cf. further e.g. Cic. Orat. 76, where nihil est experienti minus shows that imitabilis means ‘capable of being successfully imitated’. The OLD, for instance, is unaware that imitor can have this force. Russell (1979) well queries the distinction between ‘imitation’ and ‘emulation’, without discussing the semantic field of imitari; Thill (1976), i.563–84 does so, and cautiously approaches the position taken here (cf. 579). For ‘can’ cf. also Dion. Hal. Lys. 2 i.9.18–20 Usener– Radermacher PŁd# . . . ÆPe  æ º, Iºº Pb Ø #Æ#ŁÆØ ººd Æ Ø #å ‹Ø c #  #Œæ Å# (‘none . . . excelled him, but not many had the ability even to match him, save Isocrates alone’); for ‘wish to’, cf. also Sen. Contr. 1.4.12 dum imitari uult, 7 pr. 4, 7.1.27 (cum se ad imitationem magni alicuius ingeni derexerat), Suas. 1.11, 3.4 (perhaps this sense of matching is the point at the corrupt Contr. 10.4.20). For the gerundive at Vell. 1.16.3 cf. Hutchinson (2006), 124. Others too feel that Roman comedy cannot match New Comedy: cf. e.g. Quint. Inst. 10.1.99, Gell. 2.23.1–3 (Graecarum, quas aemulari nequiuerunt). 8 This sentence (multa etc.) comes only in the excerpta; the location in the complete text was defined by Castiglioni (1927), 112–13. One of the superfluities pounced on by Seneca in ‘Thucydides’ appears in some witnesses to the original of [Dem.] 11.13, Dem. 2.20 (in Dilts (2002–9), i.145 the Elder Seneca should be added to the testimonia; ‘(cod. S)’ is puzzling). Columella extends across the series the point seen in the Younger Seneca on not being deterred by predecessors: Cicero did not deter younger orators and was not himself frightened off by Demosthenes and Plato (RR 1 pr. 30). But his wider point is the less assertive one (following Cic. Orat. 3–6) that even second and lower places are worth having.

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LITERARY WAR We have already seen that the sequences of Greek and Latin literature are more than a catalogue from which authors can select to explore their own place in a genre. In particular, individual authors’ activities are often drawn into a wider literary conflict between the two nations. The dominating image is that of national war. This is more drastic than the notions which lurk behind much presentation of individual rankings, those of the dramatists’ or poets’ competition and of the foot-race or other athletic contest. Whereas the Greeks have already been decisively defeated in real wars (at any rate by 62 bc), the literary wars are usually ongoing, and Romans are not usually assured of overall victory. The image contrasts with the eirenic and reverential approach to textual exchange which we frequently posit; but this is not literal war either, and self-consciousness on its metaphorical status lightens the intensity. The conceit often has an air of game; the Latin writers are in general not dismayed by the uncertainty but cheered by their successes and pleased to contend so well with such opponents. Patriotism is de rigueur, and is presupposed even when Greek superiority is recognized.9 The literal warfare is often brought in explicitly. So Brutus dwells on Caesar’s compliment to Cicero (Brut. 254). Cicero has done a good service to the populi Romani nomine et dignitate: quo enim uno uincebamur a uicta Graecia, id aut ereptum illis aut certe nobis cum illis communicatum. The structure of the sentence defuses the triumphalism of ereptum. Even Vell. 2.34.3 (quoted p. 7 above) claims only that Cicero has saved ‘us’ from being defeated by the artistic genius of those we had defeated in arms. The Ad Herennium uses for rhetorical analysis the sentence armis Italia non potest uinci nec Graecia disciplinis (4.43). Such use of literal wars can be more obliquely extended in poetry, as with the war between Greeks and the proto-Romans of Troy. In praise of Nero’s Troica, Thamyras tells Troy: sacros cineres ad sidera tolle | atque Agamemnoniis opus hos ostende Mycenis (Buc. Eins. 1.38–9). Nero is immortalizing Troy; his work also counters Homer’s pro-Greek version and surpasses it (cf. 48–9 for surpassing). The poetic reversal of the Trojan defeat, which evokes the military reversal at Virg. Aen. 6.838–40, remains significant conceptually even if the poet is being ironic—which may perhaps be doubted. Statius contemplates Domitian’s martial deeds, greater than great Achilles’ at Troy (Silv. 4.4.94–6); he is launching his own attack on Troy and Achilles together, and vying implicitly with Homer’s rendering of them: Troia . . . magnusque mihi temptatur Achilles.10

9

The air of enthusiasm and nationalism contrasts too with the idea of individual anxiety, made prominent for us by Bloom (1997). That idea remains relevant, however, particularly within the Latin series. The final defeat of mainland Greece, as opposed to Greeks anywhere, could be put in 86 bc, if not 146. 10 Cf. for the poetic contest with Homer Ach. 1.3–5 plura uacant, omnem (a word underplayed in the discussion of Delarue (2000), 48–9; but he rightly sees a certamen). Note Luc. 9.985–6, where Pharsalia includes ‘poem on Pharsalia’, and Stat. Silv. 4.7.23–4 and 5.2.162–3, where Achilles includes ‘poem on Achilles’; Longin. 13.4 ØÆæÆØÇ # ‘fighting with the spear’ against Homer (compare e.g. Liban. Ep. 187.3 x.173.1–4 Foerster). The author of the Ad Herennium has earlier saluted the Greeks’ invention of his own art, rhetoric, while stressing his independence in exposition (4.10). On the discussion of irony in the Einsiedeln Eclogues see R. G. Mayer (2006), 464.

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The military language can be obvious, as when the Elder Seneca playfully exhibits a Roman declaimer still madder than the Greeks: sed nolo Romanos in ulla re uinci: restituet aciem Murredius (Contr. 10.5.28). It can be less obvious, as when Phaedrus says that if Latium favours his effort, plures habebit quos opponat Graeciae (2 epil. (9) 8–9); here the conflict is ongoing and undecided. The Elder Seneca uses the same word: quidquid Romana facundia habet quod insolenti Graeciae aut opponat aut praeferat circa Ciceronem effloruit (Contr. 1 pr. 6); the battle continues although the orators have gone. The image receives more support at Quint. Inst. 10.1.105: orators in particular could make our eloquence (general literary power) equal to that of Greece; Ciceronem cuicumque eorum fortiter opposuerim. nec ignoro quantam mihi concitem pugnam. At 101 nec opponere Thucydidi Sallustium uerear, the military at non historia cesserit Graecis precedes. On the other hand at 10.1.86 (Virgil etc.) the military and national first-person plural cesserimus is mingled with the athletic ‘second, but closer to first than third’, as in a photo-finish, and ceteri omnes longe sequentur. Quintilian’s Latin series is run through, in varied language, with the encounter between Greeks and Romans: the pair of sequences becomes dynamic and aggressive.11

ETHNIC CHARACTER AND THE SHAPE OF THE HISTORIES Literal war and its ethos enter into the varied moral and political shaping which the twin histories receive. It is commonly thought that art is characteristic of Greece, courage of Rome. Greece can be seen as handing over its art to Rome: the bridge between the two histories. Or the difference between the two peoples can be thought to affect the characteristics of both literatures. Or Greece can be seen to undergo a military and moral decline, which is connected with the supposed fading out of Greek literature. Or moral decline, sometimes linked with Greek culture, can generate decline within the Latin history. A sense of characterized but alterable ethnic nature animates conceptions of the historical structure. So Ovid talks of early Rome, when Greece, facundum sed male forte genus, had not yet passed on its defeated arts to the victors; the Roman ‘art’ was fighting, eloquence was throwing spears (Fast. 3.101–4). Ovid here disdains in opposite ways both the primitive Romans and the Greeks in all times. The expression uictas artes makes the military victory include the arts of the defeated people; Horace’s expression produces an artistic capture which reverses the military, and alters the nature of the Romans: Graecia capta ferum uictorem cepit et artis | intulit agresti Latio (Epist. 2.1.156–7). Without warlike language, Gellius, despite his liking for earlier Latin literature, speaks of illis . . . temporibus nimis rudibus necdum Graeca

11 For oppono see TLL ix.2.769.24–36, 769.49–770.11, OLD 5c. Cf. Plut. Thes. 1.4–5 (Theseus put into the field against Romulus). Russell (2001), iv.307 does not take cesserit at Quint. Inst. 10.1.101 as military (‘yield the prize’).

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disciplina expolitis (15.11.3) when philosophers, and rhetors, were expelled from Rome.12 Qualities of the literatures are generalized by the Elder Seneca on Agroitas of Massilia: dicebat autem Agroitas [a notable name?] arte inculta, ut scires illum inter Graecos non fuisse, sententiis fortibus, ut scires illum inter Romanos fuisse (Contr. 2.6.12). Seneca’s sentence itself ostentatiously combines art and moral strength. (Cf. 1.8.15: Latro’s version (thinks Plancus) fortius, a Greek’s tenerius; 10.4.21: Latro’s uirilius than a Greek’s; 1.8.7: only Greeks consider whether a man brave in war can be disinherited, Roman ears cannot bear it—misguidedly.) The Younger Seneca talks of the Roman Sextius, who wrote in Greek: uirum acrem, Graecis uerbis, Romanis moribus philosophantem (Ep. 59.7). Seneca is leading up to imagery that Sextius draws from the organization of an army on the march.13 Discussion of the Greek decline can include the loss of Athenian power, and the pursuit of pleasure; changes in the Greek world are accompanied by the permanent weakness of the Greeks in action as against words. Cicero urges Romans ut huius quoque generis laudem iam languenti Graeciae eripiant et transferant in hanc urbem, sicut reliquas omnis . . . studio atque industria sua maiores nostri transtulerunt (Tusc. 2.5). It sounds as if Greece will now be deprived, in an act of forceful appropriation. iam languenti emphasizes the decline that has already occurred; Cael. 40 mutatis Graeciae temporibus locates an alteration around the time of Epicurus, with his philosophy of pleasure (cf. 41). Previously the Greeks, though they could not act honeste et magnifice, could speak and write in such a vein; the old Romans were rather the reverse. At Brut. 36–8, the decline of Greek oratory starts with the unmilitary Demetrius of Phaleron, who primus . . . orationem . . . mollem teneramque reddidit (38). The context suggests that he made it less manly, more feminine.14 Sallust portrays the apparent military greatness of Athens at its peak as due in part to the greatness of Attic literature and its exaggeration of Athenian uirtus (Cat. 8.2–4); the Romans before the fall of Carthage preferred doing to saying. Here the approximate coincidence of Greek martial and literary supremacy gains an ironic twist. In another twist, Valerius bids Athens boast of its doctrina (in philosophy), when the outlook of the renowned Epicurus caused its double downfall: nam quae urbs uoluptati plurimum tribuit imperium maximum amisit, quae labore delectata est occupauit, et illa libertatem tueri non ualuit, haec etiam

12 The dates are 161 and 92 bc; refinement had come by the time of Domitian, when philosophers were none the less expelled from Italy. But such action was shared with the Hellenistic world; cf. Muccioli (2011), who attributes Antiochus’ expulsion of all philosophers in Athen. 12.547a–b to Antiochus VI (‘reigns’ 144–142 bc). The document as transmitted is strongly expressed, even if Muccioli plays down (189) ‹ ø# Åd# qØ çغ#ç# (‘that no one should be a philosopher’) and ƒ çغ#çØ . . . # (‘all philosophers’). On the idea of conquest, less widespread than that of victory, cf. Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 23–5, compare 62. Ov. Fast. 3.101–4 offers an acerbic distortion of Virg. Aen. 6.847–93, where Roman ‘arts’ and Greek culture are both treated in more sympathetic language. 13 See pp. 84, 137, 246 for the entanglements of the Sextii (PIR2 655, 657, 674). 14 The context for mollis et tenera at Orat. 52 is quite different. On Brut. 37–8 (= Demetr. fr. 175 Wehrli) cf. Heldmann (1982), 104–22. He minimizes the moralizing and negative movement of Brut. 36–8, which show the beginnings of a fall more drastically continued outside Athens (51).

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donare potuit (4.3.6, with allusion to Philip II, Flaminius, and perhaps Sulla). The Athenian history is a little impressionistic.15 Moral decline is not only one explanation for that Greek literary decline which is part of the basic structure. It is also an important explanation for decline within Latin literature; political change is relevant there too, though it is a more delicate subject. So the Elder Seneca considers luxus temporum (Contr. 1 pr. 6) as a possible reason that Roman oratory has declined since those who were active or were born in Cicero’s day (cf. Vell. 1.17.3): nothing is so fatal to talent as luxury (cf. Sen. Ep. 114.2). The constitutional change from the Republic is not explicitly considered as a cause. The significance of morality is underlined when the idleness and effeminacy of today’s youth are described (8–10). The Elder Cato admonishes from the Roman past (9); but the moral decline is not here connected with Greek influence. The large social explanation for a relatively limited literary effect can be contrasted with Encolpius’ speech at Petr. 1–2, which attributes the decline in all Greek (and perhaps Latin) literature to the effect of declamation on youth and talent.16 Persius 1, not unlike the Elder Seneca, associates a lack of manliness with the decline in Latin poetry. The extinction of testiculi uena ulla paterni (103) brings in suggestions of ethnicity, and the decadent poetry is full of Greek words and names (92–102, cf. 34). But generalized prejudice against Greeks is deplored (127); the decadent poetry connects particularly with Greek poetry from the third century onwards on the cult of Dionysus. By contrast, the uninhibited free speech of Old Comedy is a model for Persius (124–5), like that of Lucilius (114–15); sene (124) stresses Aristophanes’ period. The Latin literary decline is implicitly connected with the Greek literary decline as well as with morality; and a political point is insinuated. National identities and politics are elaborately and indirectly interwoven with literary change.17

15 Sallust probably means by the copia of magna ingenia (8.3, cf. 8.5) Athenian writers in general (cf. e.g. Vell. 1.18.1), not Athenian historiography, particularly after Isocrates (cf. Vretska (1976), i.183). See further p. 232 n. 21. 16 Even here 2.7 ut ita dicam pudica oratio has some moralizing colour, but not nearly as bright as at e.g. Dion. Hal. Orat. Vet. Praef. 1 i.7–19 Usener–Radermacher = 1.5–7 Hidber. Petr. 1–2 enlarge the idea that the decline of oratory begins with declamation; cf. e.g. Quint. Inst. 2.4.41 and 10.1.80 on Demetrius. 17 The passage looks back to Hor. Sat. 1.4.1–8, where Lucilius takes from Old Comedy his freedom of attack. The pastiche in Pers. 1.99–102 (on which cf. Tzounakas (2008)) could draw entirely on the isolated passages of Catullus and Ovid which it uses (cf. Kißel (1990), 243, 244–8). But that would have less point; and a reader with knowledge of Greek poetry would also have been made to look behind those passages, and no doubt lost Latin Bacchic poems, to Hellenistic and imperial Greek poems on Dionysus (cf. the Hellenistic Cybele poetry behind the Latin Cybele poems of Catullus, Caecilius, Maecenas). These include Euphorion’s Dionysus (frr. 14–19 Lightfoot); Lightfoot (2009), 233 n. 18 resumes the ascription to that poem of her fr. 19 = SH 418, with its Dionysiac narrative. Fr. 19.37 offers Ø Æºº[, first found in the iii bc (Lyc. 1464, Call. fr. incertae sedis 503 Pfeiffer, (?) Callix. FGrHist 627 F 2.28 = _Rice (1983) 10.58–9 ƃ ŒÆº ÆØ Ø Æºº# ŒÆd BÆ## æÆØ (‘those called Mimallones and Bassarai’)), and once in Latin before Persius (Ov. AA 1.541), cf. Mimalloneis, Pers. 1.99. Pers. 1.99–102 have much in common with Nonnus, including Mimall- (Dion. 1.34 et al.), bombis | (22.134  øØ |;  - common), | Bassaris (| BÆ##Ææ# 14.395 and often; singular not otherwise extant in Latin poetry before Sid. 5.497; unlikely supplement at CIL viii.27764.17), corymbis | (Œæ Ø# | 5.24 and often), | euhion (| hØ 12.356 et al.), echo | (Må | nom. 2.251 and often). Nonnus’ poem is greatly indebted to

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CHANGING STOCK A final source of complication in the structure and in the relation between its two parts springs from the different position of the parts in time. Despite the parallelism of Greek and Latin in the basic structure of their literary histories, the Greek history is largely fixed in content, the Latin history is continually evolving: new writers appear, new periods develop. The shape and specifics of the Latin history are perceived to change; with the changes go individual differences in the relation to Greek literature. Some debate is visible, as we have just seen, on the evaluation of Greek periods and authors; but it is much more conspicuous for Latin. It is notable that Latin writers are on the whole more intensely interested in literary periods with regard to Latin literature than to Greek. We do see much interest in the periods of Greek oratory: these bear on the debates of Latin oratory. So Cicero’s account at Brut. 26–51 observes changes even within Attic oratory; it would be enlightening for us to have an account from one of the Attici or Thucydidei (Orat. 30–1, cf. De Orat. 2.92–5, with aetates bringing forth genera dicendi). Messalla in Tacitus’ Dialogus considers the relation of Greek oratory and its political context. This relation he sees (or professes to see) in a different way from Cicero: great oratory is produced by turbulence, rather than peace (37.6–7, 40.2–3, contrast Cic. Brut. 45–6). There is a Roman political point in the Dialogus (37.6, 40.4), and perhaps in the Brutus. But Latin writers are particularly absorbed by the Latin literary history, and are particularly probing or colourful on their own and recent times. It is on Latin that Seneca draws to present his sophisticated picture of altering tastes in oratory and other literature (Ep. 114). He is aware of the diversity of fashions at any one point (cf. 13–14 against 1); he is intrigued by the workings of influence (11–12), and the impact of individual writers (12, 17). Quintilian vividly depicts Seneca’s own influence at a time overlapping with Quintilian’s career; that time has now receded (10.1.125–7). Horace and Ovid copiously convey an idea of the rich literary life at their own times of writing (e.g. Hor. Sat. 1.10.36–45, 78–91, Epist. 1.3.1–25, Ov. Pont. 4.16). Velleius likewise portrays the remarkable range of talent across genres in particular periods of Roman history (2.9.1–6, 36.2–3), a point that does not so much strike him with regard to Athens (1.18.1; for particular genres cf. 1.16.3–5). All these writers have their partisan and patriotic purposes; nearness and fluidity animate their treatments of the Latin side.18 Changes and controversies in conception are especially apparent with regard to Latin writers who are sometimes ranked as supreme within Latin; this often relates

the tradition embodied in the Bassarica of Dionysius, one papyrus of whom is ii ad (cf. Livrea (1973), 9–20; a new edition of the Bassarica is being prepared by Dr. A. Benaissa). 18 The term ‘literary period’ is of course a convenient approximation. Latin authors usually talk in these contexts of an externally existing time within which literary events occur, not of periods essentially defined by artistic production (like ‘the Baroque period’; Cic. Brut. 36 hanc aetatem oratorum has the lifetime of orators in mind, cf. e.g. 226–30). In so talking, they can range from concentration on literary output within particular genres (so Vell. 1.16.3 una . . . aetas per diuini spiritus uiros . . . illustrauit tragoediam) to a broad idea of an age which incorporates political aspects, or social and moral, as in Sen. Contr. 1 pr. 6–7 (saeculi, temporum). On related issues cf. Schwindt (2000), 213–15 and e.g. 142–51.

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to their ‘twinning’ with supreme authors in Greek. In Greek Homer, as we have seen, has multiple claims: he is the first poet, the best poet of narrative hexameters, the best poet; even if a Latin poet were twinned with him through being best Latin poet, that would not necessarily make him as good a poet as Homer.19 Ennius himself began the idea of his association with Homer, possibly in opposition to Livius translator of Homer and Naevius poet of war. Homer not only appeared to him in a dream, but explained that the soul which was in him had migrated into Ennius: so scholiasts to Horace, Persius, and Statius (Skutsch (1985), 151–3). Scipio in Cicero explains the dream by Ennius’ thinking and speaking about Homer saepissime (Rep. 6.10.3). Lucilius (342–3 Marx = IX 2–3 Charpin) and Varro (Men. fr. 396 Cèbe, cf. RR 1.1.4) implicitly present the Iliad and the Annales as parallel. Horace ascribes to critici, Jerome to Lucilius, the opinion that Ennius is alter Homerus (Epist. 2.1.51; Lucil. 1189 Marx = H 18 Charpin). Cicero presents it as a possible view that Ennius is, in Latin, summum epicum poetam (Opt. Gen. 2), and probably calls him ‘our greatest poet’ (Balb. 51, ille summus poeta noster). Lucretius deftly insinuates the impression that Ennius is the first Latin poet (1.117–19, cf. Sil. 12.410–12)—because the first successful Latin poet.20 But Ennius’ stock declines, thanks to the Aeneid, and to Neoteric and Augustan criticism. Virgil comes to be the poet paired with Homer: a pairing which his own work had set up, at least within the genre of narrative hexameters (note the contemporary criticism mentioned at Ascon. T 3 (a) Clark). The extravagant Propertius anticipates that the Aeneid will excel the Iliad and (therefore) all Greek and Roman writers (2.34.65–6; but Ennius may seem to represent narrative

19 So Jerome, Mich. 2.7.5/7 CCSL lxxvi(1).511.250–2 (see next note): Virgil poeta sublimis, non Homerus alter, ut Lucilius [Vallarsi for Lucillus] de Ennio suspicatur, sed primus Homerus apud Latinos. Epist. 121.10.5 CSEL lvi 42.18 alter Homerus apud nos, cited by Brink (1982), 96, need not be inconsistent. 20 Cf. Sil. 12.410–12, also deft. Deftness would be needed, even on an Accian chronology. Ennius’ means of connecting himself with his model are thoroughly Greek (dream: cf. esp. Herodas 8 (Hutchinson (1988), 237, 278–9); metempsychosis: cf. esp. Hermipp. FGrHist 1026 F 17, with Bollansée (1999), 215–18; note also Livrea (1998), and Empedocles on his own incarnations, frr. 111, 124.5–7 (P. Strasb. gr. Inv. 1665–6 d 5–7) Inwood2); probably the very application to Homer was taken from Greek (cf. an Antipater, AP 7.75 = Antip. Thess. LXXIV Gow–Page). It would be of interest if the idea of Ennius as another Homer were assaulted as early as Lucilius (note Volcacius on Ennius’ comedies, fr. 1.12 Courtney). Jerome (see previous note) does not regard Lucilius’ Homerus alter as ironic: so his context shows. suspicatur means simply ‘thinks’, cf. Ephes. 2.4.5/6 PL xxvi p. 497 (611). We might see irony ourselves if we had Lucilius’ context; but respect would not be incompatible with some mockery: cf. 345–6 Marx = IX 3.5–6 Charpin, Hor. Sat. 1.10.54–5 (Brink (1982), 96 mistakenly applies uersus (54) to all Ennius’ lines and ignores 55). Whenever controversy begins, the case of Nicanor (PAA 536080), different as it is, brings out that such claims could generate comment and contention, and indicates that there could be a Greek background even for the phrase Homerus alter. Nicanor’s description on monuments as #  O Åæ# (‘the new Homer’) was later largely expunged (IG ii2.3786–9, Schmalz (2009) nos. 198–202 (thinks late Augustan; but probably later, perhaps Trajanic: cf. Clinton (2005–8), ii.326–9)); the criticism in Dio Prus. 31.116 is evidently related (the title appears also at Steph. Byz. Ø 33 ii.270 Billerbeck–Zubler, and for another poet in IK xliv.70.11, ii ad). Cf. esp. L. Robert (1990), 581–4; Follet (2004); Spawforth (2012), 113–15. On Ennius’ reputations generally see Prinzen (1998). At Cic. Balb. 51, summus in itself could mean ‘great’ rather than ‘greatest’, cf. Arch. 3, and noster could be called for by the context. Cf. (with more passages, and not allowing this possibility) Prinzen (1998), 73.

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hexameter poetry in 3.3, cf. 3.1.15, 33–4). Ovid appears to make Virgil the supreme Roman hexameter poet (Rem. 395–6). Horace, however, pairs Virgil with Varius (Epist. 2.1.247–8; Ars 53–5, set against Caecilius and Plautus) in a way that does not suggest his clear supremacy; even in Columella Virgil shares supremacy with Accius (RR 1 pr. 30). But for Velleius he is princeps carminum (2.36.3). His pairing with Homer becomes standard.21 Virgil’s relation with Homer is usually one of competition rather than superiority. So Laus Pis. 232 Maeoniumque senem Romano prouocat ore (Romano stresses the contest between nations). When Quintilian asked Domitius Afer who came closest to Homer (it is interesting this should be a real question), he replied that Virgil came second, but closer to first than third (Quint. Inst. 10.1.86). In Silius, Mantua is Aonio et Smyrnaeis aemula plectris (i.e. Hesiod’s and Homer’s, 8.593– 4). At Juv. 6.434–7 the bluestocking committit uates, sets Homer and Virgil to fight like gladiators; at 11.180–1 Virgil’s poems make it doubtful whether the palm should go to him or Homer. Buc. Eins. 1.48–9 Iliaco quondam non segnior ore | . . . Mantua also suggests competition and equality, though both Homer and Virgil are now surpassed by Nero.22 Meanwhile Ennius’ claim to be an alter Homerus is decried by Horace (Epist. 2.1.50–2; but perhaps note the pairing with Homer at 1.19.5–7, and cf. earlier Sat. 1.4.56–62). Valerius Maximus thinks Ennius’ patron Scipio Africanus worthier of Homer’s praise than of a rudi atque impolito praeconio (8.14.1, with a nasty glance at Enn. Var. I Vahlen). After the abuse of Seneca (Ep. Book 22 Exc.), and the partial praise of Ovid (Trist. 2.424 ingenio maximus, arte rudis, cf. Am. 1.15.7 arte carens), Ennius achieves the place of second hexameter poet in Silius, by being equated with the second-ranking Greek hexameter poet Hesiod: nec cedet honore | Ascraeo famaue seni (12.412–13, cf. 8.594 (see previous paragraph)).23 By Silius’ time Ennius has at least one rival for that second place in its turn: the controversial figure of Lucan (cf. Mart. 14.194, Quint. Inst. 10.1.90). Poems of praise make Lucan the Latiae plectra secunda lyrae (Mart. 7.23.2; note Tac. Dial. 10.5), or even the superior not only of Ennius’ Musa rudis (Stat. Silv. 2.7.75) but of the Aeneid (79–80). Lucan himself suggests the possibility that he is the Roman equivalent of Homer (9.983–5). The seemingly modest close of Statius’ Thebaid implies that the Thebaid comes second to the Aeneid (12.816–17). In the Silvae Statius hints, now using the verb temptare negated in the Thebaid (12.816), that

21

Mart. 5.10.7 Ennius est lectus saluo tibi, Roma, Marone (i.e. read rather than Virgil) has little value as evidence. On Propertius 2.34 see most recently O’Rourke (2011), esp. 457–8, 464–73. Virgil’s relation to Homer in practice is discussed at pp. 174–5 and 333–6 below; for now, reference to Knauer (1964) and Barchiesi (1984) must suffice. 22 non segnior similarly at Stat. Silv. 5.3.26, where Statius’ father equals and perhaps literally competes with Homer and Hesiod in the underworld, cf. B. Gibson (2006), 277–8. It is doubtful whether we can press Plin. Ep. 3.7.8 ante omnes to prove that Silius really ranked Virgil above Homer (Sil. 13.781–9 suggests otherwise). Pliny may in any case be arguing from Silius’ cultic actions; but Homer did not present the same opportunities as did Virgil, with his known birthday and his tomb at Naples. 23 For thoughtful discussion of Hesiod’s rank see Koning (2010); his arguments, perhaps overstated e.g. on the Certamen, would not undermine the pre-eminence of Homer in the Roman world (one should add papyri for the Greek imperial period and before). Cf. Rosati (2009). On Silius’ scene with Ennius see Casali (2006), Manuwald (2007b), 73–82, Risi (2008).

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his first narrative poem is contending with the Aeneid (4.7.25–9), his second, moving higher, with the Iliad (4.4.94, p. 31 above). Ennius’ stock resurges with archaistic tendencies, though Gellius and Apuleius make it evident that Virgil actually retains his pre-eminence. Poets later than Virgil, on the other hand, they essentially do not quote: so radically can overt conceptions of the Latin history alter (contrast Juv. 7.79–87). Fronto quotes Lucan to attack him (pp. 155–7 Van den Hout); in Gellius we may treat separately contemporary translation and the like (young friend, 19.11.3). Yet on a different level from that of overt statement, Apuleius’ Metamorphoses—whatever its title— has many connections with Ovid. Despite Gellius’ indignant reply to Seneca on Ennius (12.2.2–11), it is quite apparent in Gellius that Virgil is the poet to be compared with Homer (cf. in detail e.g. 12.1.20). It is unclear how much credit we should give to the statement in Hist. Aug. Hadr. 16.6 that Hadrian preferred Ennius to Virgil (and Cato to Cicero); it is at any rate an extreme position, as is confirmed by the preference of Coelius Antipater to Sallust. The Latin writers of this time do not limit their quotation of Greek authors so austerely as that of Latin, even though their approach to Republican literature may well be influenced by the Greek Atticists’ approach to ‘classical’ Attic.24 Cicero is no less central a figure than Virgil in Roman depictions of Latin literature. So when the Elder Pliny presents the geniuses of Greek and Latin literature, Homer receives his most ardent tribute on the Greek side, Cicero on the Latin (7.107–8, 116–17): Cicero is facundiae Latinarumque litterarum parens (117). At 17.37–8 Homer the fons ingeniorum is followed by Cicero, lux doctrinarum altera. We have already seen the prime role in Latin literature which Cicero is assigned by Velleius (2.34.3). Cicero is at least as conspicuous as Virgil at Colum. RR 1 pr. 30. It is autograph or near-autograph manuscripts of Cicero and Virgil that scholars are proud to have seen (Plin. Nat. 13.83 (with Augustus), Gell. 13.21.4, 16).25 One important aspect of Cicero’s glory is his combination of super-genres: he has rivalled two of the greatest Greek writers, Demosthenes and Plato. So Colum. RR 1 pr. 30: he did not yield to the thunder of Demosthenes and Plato; Quint. Inst. 10.1.123: in his philosophical work and generally he was Platonis aemulus (10.1.123), and achieved qualities of both (108, p. 30 above). Velleius gives Cicero’s philosophy as well his oratory a prominent place in his lament on his

24

Cf. Holford-Strevens (2003), 354–63. On the close of the Thebaid, cf. Coleman (2003), 21–2. The relation between Statius and Homer has received varying assessements: Juhnke (1972), Delarue (2000), ch. 2, Klodt (2009). Delarue’s separation of learned reading from a living and passionate relationship with a poet (45) perhaps misunderstands the reading of Greek poetry in the Roman world, and especially the ancient reading of Homer (cf. e.g. Squire (2011), 10). See further pp. 347–50 below. At Silv. 3.2.40–1 si . . . nec cano degeneri Phoebeum Amphiona plectro, the Thebaid is perhaps matched with Amphion. In claiming second place to Virgil, Statius may, Th. Gärtner (2008), 148–9 suggests, be toying with the role of Antimachus in relation to Homer. For Apuleius’ use of Ovid’s Metamorphoses see Krabbe (1989), ch. 2, Müller-Reineke (2002); beyond Ovid’s Metamorphoses: Hindermann (2009). In general, the centrality of Ovid for post-Ovidian poetry is not reflected in explicit comment by prose authors. 25 Busts of few Latin writers survive, but there are several of Cicero; cf. Neudecker (1988), 71–2. T. J. Morgan (1998), 97 speaks of Virgil as ‘by far the most cited author’, but this view is at any rate not supported by her Table 18.

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39

death (2.66.5); Pliny lauds his metaphorical imperialism in advancing the limits of the Roman ingenium (7.117). More important still is his excellence within oratory. He is very commonly regarded as the best of Latin orators (e.g. Sil. 8.410–11: he will never be equalled); hence he is very commonly linked with the usual ‘best’ of Greek orators Demosthenes (e.g. Messalla in Tac. Dial. 25.3; Livy fr. 1 Jal, Juv. 10.114–19). But this pairing leads us to diverging and shifting perceptions of Cicero and of Roman literary history.26 Even Virgil had his critics (Donat. Vit. Verg. 43–6); they were answered in Asconius’ treatise and probably in Florus’ dialogue on whether Virgil was an orator or a poet (cf. Flor. Verg. 3.8, and Quint. Inst. 10.1.90). But criticism of Cicero was much more significant (cf. Tac. Dial. 12.6), and reflected antagonistic views of Latin oratory.27 Cicero had himself contemplated and evoked the comparison with Demosthenes (cf. already Att. 2.1.3), but with seemly modesty. He indicates that he could never reach Demosthenes (Brut. 289; cf. Plin. Ep. 7.30.5). He likens Crassus and Antonius to Demosthenes and Hyperides (138); he calls some of his speeches against Antony Philippics ‘in jest’—though Brutus accepts the valuation seriously (Ad Brut. 2.3.3, cf. 4.2). Which of Cicero and Demosthenes was superior itself became contentious (Quint. Inst. 10.1.105). The Greek Caecilius’ work on the comparison between them (Plut. Dem. 3.1–2) probably involved his views on the relation between Atticism and Asianism, not to Cicero’s advantage (VI p. 89 Ofenloch; fr. 150 Ofenloch (VIII): admires Lysias supremely, more than Plato; fr. 153 Ofenloch (IX)). Even Cicero’s admiration for Demosthenes was doubted by Ø# H æ# Øı ø Å #ŁÇØ (‘some of those claiming to follow Demosthenes’, Plut. Cic. 24.6). Cicero’s younger contemporary Calvus strove with him over the first place in Roman oratory, and himself followed Demosthenes’ example: so the Elder Seneca (Contr. 7.4.6, 8; Cicero creates a different impression, Brut. 283–5, 288–9). Occasionally Calvus was judged the best of Roman orators (Quint. Inst. 10.1.115). Calvus attacked Cicero as languid and hardly Attic (Aper in Tac. Dial. 18.4–5; cf. Quint. Inst. 12.10.12). Demosthenes is used by Cicero to defend his own higher flights from charges of Asianism (e.g. Orat. 26–8, Opt. Gen. 10, 13); Cicero may also be confronting claims that within Greek literature Lysias or Thucydides were superior models (Brut. 64, Orat. 30, Opt. Gen. 15–16: followers of Lysias and Thucydides; see Caecil. fr. 150 Ofenloch, above). At an earlier stage, Cato had been called ‘Demosthenes’ (Diod. Sic. 34/5 fr. 33.3 Dindorf › K ØŒºÅŁd# ˜Å #ŁÅ#; not in ORF4) or ‘the Roman Demosthenes’ (Plut. Cat. Mai. 4.1 = ORF4 8 T 9).28 Plutarch notes Cicero’s interest in philosophy as a difference from Demosthenes’ fierce concentration on oratory: Comp. Dem. Cic. 2–3. 27 More on the controversies in Chs. 4, 6, and 10; for now Leeman (1963), Heldmann (1982), Stroh (2009) may be mentioned. 28 Diod. Sic. 34/5 fr. 33 = Posidon. FGrHist 87 F 112; but Posidonius is not named. Cato’s use of Demosthenes: Astin (1978), 149 (ORF4 8 F 20 is pointed if actually delivered to the Athenians), Gruen (1992), 57. On Cicero’s Philippics and Demosthenes’ Philippics (a larger category than for us: cf. Dion. Hal. Amm. (1) 10 i.268–71 Usener–Radermacher) see Plut. Cic. 24.6, App. BC 4.77 (with political emphasis) f# ŒÆ øı ºªı# xÆ ıæ ı #ıªªæ çø K#  Å Æ H ˜Å #Łı# غØ

ØŒf# K ªæÆç (‘when composing the speeches against Antony as tyrant, he wrote the title “Philippics” on them, in imitation of Demosthenes’ Philippics’), and Stroh (1982), Wooten (1983), 26

40

Strife and Change

A view of Cicero as supreme encourages a view that after him oratory declines; the parallel with Demosthenes would suggest a decisive fall. Political change can be connected with the decline, in both cases (cf. e.g. Tac. Dial. 36–7). Claims about periods of oratory are often involved in later discussions about Cicero. He himself at one point thinks that Latin oratory after its recent rise to the heights will shortly come to nothingness, as Latin philosophy is being born (Tusc. 2.5). Contestants of such a picture, and of Cicero’s supremacy, are readily found. Pollio walked out affronted when Sextilius Ena (fr. 1 Courtney) lamented the silence of the Latin tongue after Cicero (Sen. Suas. 6.27); the Elder Seneca detected in Pollio’s obituary of Cicero, despite its overt praise, reluctance and competition (24, 25). Cestius, seen as a Greek in origin, claimed that Cicero did not know his ABC (Sen. Suas. 7.12–13), and wrote replies to some of his speeches, not in homage (Contr. 3 pr. 15–16). The youth of today really prefer him to Cicero, alleges Cassius Severus, who makes clear the violence of feeling involved on both sides (15–17). It is notable, however, that the new oratorical fashion seen in the Elder Seneca, with its clipped sentences and its epigrams, does not generally appear there as an explicit reaction against Cicero. Indeed, his rhythmic practices could be thought to have established themselves, if Seneca can here be trusted; but the practice of Greek rhetors in Rome may have been more significant (cf. pp. 235–8 below). Latin declamation has already made Cicero a figure for suasoriae (Seneca, Suasoriae 6–7)—the Roman equivalent of Demosthenes in the Greek tradition; Antony corresponds to Philip in the dilemmas which here face Cicero.29 The Younger Seneca advanced the new fashion in oratory, and was thought supreme by the young (so Quint. Inst. 10.1.125–6); he is said to have kept attacking his betters, clearly including Cicero (126). In his late writings, he speaks of Cicero’s oratory with respect but not adoration; we have seen how seldom he mentions Cicero’s philosophy. By contrast with the idea of oratory as entering its decline immediately or not long after Cicero, he sees Cicero as only the start of high-quality Roman oratory; Cicero is steady and slow, mollis but not indecently so (Ep. 40.11, 100.7, 114.16, Book 22 Exc. 8–9). After Seneca’s death, Quintilian would seek in turn to cut Seneca down to size and to restore Cicero; Cicero is the standard author to whom Quintilian refers, like Demosthenes in Greek rhetorical treatises (c.523 references to Cicero; Virgil takes the place of Homer (c.153; no

Manuwald (2007a), 129–38. The relative brevity of sentence cultivated by Cicero in all the Philippics raises more problems for the relation to Demosthenes than is always realized. On Cicero and Thucydides see Binot (2010). 29 For declamations on Demosthenes and Philip see Russell (1983), 119–20. They are of course attested later; but BKT vii.4–13 (P. Berol. inv. 9781 (iii bc); Russell (1983), 3–4, 107) already presents a reply to Demosthenes’ speech against Leptines (cf. e.g. 106 t ˜Å #Ł#, ‘O Demosthenes’; even _ _ _ gives a speech against Philip, Cestius’ replies imply Cicero’s prestige). P. Oxy. II 216 (early_ i_ ad) presumably in Demosthenes’ voice, at a time close to the Elder Seneca (cf. also VI 858 (ii–iii ad; against Demosthenes), XLV 3235–6 (iii ad; Demosthenes against Philip and Aeschines)). These declamations would add a dimension to the argument of Roller (1997) on the declamations about Cicero; Van MalMaeder (2007), 6–9 mentions Greek historical declamation in general. On the new style and its Greek origins, see pp. 183–8 below. On Cestius, see the original discussion of Spawforth (2012), 75–7; he perhaps underrates Seneca’s indication (Contr. 7.1.27) that Cestius’ first language was Greek, and does not ask whether Cestius’ Greek upbringing might give cultural grounds for his approach to Cicero (cf. Caecilius).

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other author more than 30)). The chronological dimensions of Seneca’s view are more plainly apparent when Aper in Tacitus’ Dialogus defends modern against ‘old’ oratory, principally Cicero and his younger contemporaries. Again Cicero is said to have begun art in oratory (22.2) and excelled his time (22.1, cf. Sen. Ep. Exc. 8); but he lacks vigour and in his earlier speeches is slow and unexciting (18.5–6, 20.1, 22.1–23.1). A controversy is again in full swing. The Younger Pliny, as we have seen, reports a dispute with a learned man on length and elevation in oratory (see p. 13 above); that man cites Lysias and the Gracchi and Cato, Pliny cites Demosthenes and contemporaries and Cicero and contemporaries (Ep. 1.20.4 in primis Cicero). The basic debate reprises that of Cicero’s day; again differing views of Greek oratory are involved, but the Roman side is now more important than before, thanks to a high valuation of early oratory and to the classic status of Cicero’s age. Elsewhere, strikingly, Pliny conjoins Demosthenes and Calvus (1.2.2); but Cicero and Demosthenes are his chief idols, and Cicero is linked to Demosthenes in the Cicero-like defence of elevation and daring (9.26.8). The correspondence of Fronto shows us more clearly than Pliny’s learned man how Cicero’s pre-eminence is affected by a quite different historical conception from Aper’s. Enthusiasm for earlier Republican writers, especially the Elder Cato, makes Fronto treat Cicero, despite the standard view of him as the origin of Roman eloquence (p. 57.5–6 Van den Hout), as inferior to some other writers, mostly earlier, in his choice of striking words (56.18–57.22). The youthful M. Aurelius less circumspectly reveals that he thinks Cato the summit of Roman oratory and the equivalent of Demosthenes: facilius [sc. quis] denique ipsum Demosthenem imitatus fuerit aut ipsum Catonem than your speech (27.6–8, cf. 1–3; on Cato, Fronto p. 204.3–4). This archaizing taste, glimpsed earlier (Sen. Ep. 114.13, Mart. 11.90, Quint. Inst. 2.5.21), is now highly fashionable, as can be seen in Gellius and Apuleius. Apuleius gives Cicero no special pre-eminence in a list of oratory which ends chronologically with him and Sallust (Apol. 95.5). Gellius mentions that some prefer C. Gracchus to Cicero (10.3.1). But for Gellius it is Cicero who should be paired with Demosthenes (15.28.6–7). The case of Ennius and Virgil illustrates a decisive shift in Latin literature as it develops. The case of Cicero illustrates the unresting waves and cross-currents of fashion that assail even one of the most central figures in the Latin history; that history is continually being redrawn by writers and performers. We have seen that Greek literature is much involved in the presentation of the Latin history and famous authors, sometimes implicitly; there is no point in the evolution of Latin literature when the Greek history ceases to matter. Even on the explicit surface, we see post-Virgilian narrative hexameter poetry much involved with Homer: continuing him, preceding him, translating him, condensing him. So Macer (Ov. Am. 2.18.1–2, 35–40, Pont. 2.10.13–14, 4.16.6), Camerinus (Pont. 4.16.9), Tuticanus (12.25–8, 16.27), Lucan’s Iliaca (Stat. Silv. 2.7.55 ludes indicates precosity rather than unseriousness), Labeo (Pers. 1.4–5, 50–1?; scholia on 4 and 50 dubious in value), Nero’s Troica, the Ilias Latina, Statius’ Achilleid. Homer is referred to openly by Lucan (9.984 Smyrnaei . . . uatis) and Statius (Ach. 1.3–4 cantu | Maeonio); Silius lavishly glorifies him (13.778–97). No other poet receives this treatment from Lucan or from Silius; we have seen that Homer as well as Virgil is viewed in the Silvae as Statius’ aspiration (so 4.2.8–10, 5.3.61–3; cf. Sil. 4.525).

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While the Latin history changes, and stands closer in time and space to Latin writers, the double structure of Greek and Latin literary history is the constant context for the individual intertextualities and self-presentations of Latin authors and Latin genres. By contemplating this structure and the many complexities to which it gives rise, we have started to acquire a larger perspective on the Latin exploitation of Greek literature: how it is displayed, what meanings it is made to bear. The trees begin to take their place in an imposing wood.30

30 For the actual importance of Homer in narrative hexameter of the i ad, see pp. 326–33, 347–9 below. On the poets mentioned by Ovid, see Hollis (2007), 422, 424–5, 428, though Am. 2.18.1–2 must refer to a poem (or part of a poem) that is preliminary to the Iliad. Amores 2.18 itself is late in composition (it refers to Ovid’s Medea and probably Ars Amatoria).

Part II Space

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3 Rome, Villas, South Italy The previous part considered the basic framework of time in which specific intertextualities were placed by Roman authors. The present part, without abandoning time, turns to space. It also turns to more concrete realities, without abandoning mental conceptions. The aim is to build up a picture of the different spaces in which writers and readers of Latin works had had—or were having or were to have—experience related to Greek literature. Such experience will be called ‘literary experience’ for short. We will see interaction with both past and present Greek artistry, of a kind which greatly complicates the stark simplicities of the temporal constructions we have been looking at. We will also see a range of experience which greatly enlarges our own narrow image of literary interaction: we tend to think primarily of a Roman poet reading a Greek poet to himself. Difference in space, and in mental ideas about particular spaces, helps to differentiate experience; in viewing the entire expanse, we can perceive the spatial conception which Romans had of the relationship between their literature and Greek literature. That spatial element is fundamental.1 Since the emphasis is on Roman experience and thoughts, relatively little is said on economic and other changes in the general fortunes of cities outside Rome (the difficulties of measuring those changes are considerable). Patterns of Roman behaviour, and Roman ideas of Greek cities, often stretch across time. Even so, important changes in behaviour will be seen. The emphasis on writers and readers means that the cultural programmes of emperors (whether real or supposed) do not dominate the account. The crucial mental element in experience is often more elusive than the physical events; inscriptions, buildings, and circulated texts often leave us to speculate even on physicalities, or they shape and simplify with various sorts of rhetoric. But an encounter with an abundance of evidence is unlikely to prove altogether fruitless.

1 A division between ‘space’ and ‘place’ is avoided here and elsewhere (cf. Tuan (1977)); to identify some parts of space as appropriated and familiar places for Romans would beg significant questions. (Tuan is aware that space is always constructed by the mind.) It is not implied in the structure of the book that there existed an ancient notion of ‘space’ parallel to that of ‘time’: Aristotle and Epicurus apart, one could not imagine a divine personification to correspond to æ# (‘Time’: Solon fr. 36.3 West?, Pind. Ol. 2.15–17, etc.).

46

Rome, Villas, South Italy LINKS BEFORE LATIN LITERATURE

Before we begin our Mediterranean cruise, we should gain a sense of the spatial dimension to cultural interaction. We can do this by looking at some imagined connections between the space of Rome and Italy and the space of the Greek world; these are the connections that precede the literary connection, in the standard chronological schema. Two different tendencies may be noticed here, though they can mingle in the same authors. One is to show how the seemingly segregated spaces of Italy and Greece had always been linked; the other is to depict slow and gradual movements towards Roman knowledge of Greece. One could contrast the tendency of Justin’s version of Trogus, which says that Greek peoples non partem sed uniuersam ferme Italiam ea tempestate [iv bc] occupauerant (20.1.5), and of Livy 1.18.3–4, who dismisses the story that Numa learned from Pythagoras. Chronology apart, how (Livy asks) would someone from around Metapontum or such places get heard of by a Sabine, or interest someone with no shared language, or reach him per tot gentes dissonas sermone moribusque? The two foundation stories of Rome, already combined in Naevius, Fabius Pictor, and Ennius, link Rome both with Aeneas of Troy and with Romulus born in Italy and suckled by a wolf. (Naev. fr. 27 Strzelecki Naeuius et Ennius Aeneae ex filia nepotem Romulum conditorem urbis tradunt, Fabius fr. 1 Chassignet (but text as in Battistoni (2006), 175) . . . ¸Æı #ı |[ . . . . ]  e `NÆ ŒÆd | [ . . . . ] . . . . ºd _ o#|[æ K]ª   ıº# | [ŒÆd   ] # . . . ‘Lanuvium [or -us; unless error for “Lavinium”] . . . by Aeneas . . . much later were born Romulus and Remus’, etc.) These same contrasting tendencies persist for modern scholars with the literary history.2 Connections of great antiquity were traced by historians and many other writers. Not only had Heracles passed through Rome, Odysseus through Sicily and Italy: the Romans were Greek in origin, according to Cato and ‘many others’ (Dion. Hal. Ant. 1.11.1 = Cato, Orig. I fr. 4 Chassignet, cf. fr. 6). Evander, on the site of Rome, was Arcadian and brought ‘us’ the alphabet (Mar. Vict. GLK i.23 (Cinc. fr. 1 Chassignet); Tac. Ann. 11.14.3); Romulus knew Greek (Cato, Orig. I fr. 19 Chassignet; so too Varro, cf. pp. 147–8 below). Dionysius expands this picture and maintains the Greek character of Roman religion, on the basis of Fabius Pictor’s description of a festival (Ant. 7.71.1).3 Aeneas’ foundation of Rome was only one of numerous foundations of Italian cities by Trojans or Greeks (so Cato, Origines books 2–3, e.g. II fr. 12 Chassignet; cf. also II fr. 15: previous owners of region Greek-speaking; III fr. 3: Philoctetes built wall; Ov. Am. 3.13.31–6, Fast. 4.63–81). Thus the Sabines came from Sabus the Spartan (Cato, Orig. II fr. 22 Chassignet, Gellius fr. 10 Chassignet). Cities had 2 Yardley (2003) has no comments on the language of Just. 20.1.5 to throw light on its closeness to Trogus. Lydians and Trojans are included among Greeks by Justin; cf. the argument of Ov. Fast. 4.63–80 (64 Itala nam tellus Graecia maior erat). For Aeneas and Romulus see Gruen (1992), 6–51, esp. 19–20, 35–6; Erskine (2001), 15–43 (plays down the significance of Aeneas in Republican literature; a valuable argument, if perhaps overstated); Feeney (2007), 95–100. On the story of Numa and Pythagoras, cf. e.g. Gruen (1990), 158–70. 3 7.71–73.5 (cf. fr. 20 Chassignet) certainly expands on Fabius; it is commonly supposed that the Greek connection came in Fabius too (so Beck and Walter (2001–4), i.116–17), but this is not selfevident.

Rome, Villas, South Italy

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also been founded by the Greek island of Sicily, once joined to Italy (Acilius fr. 4 Chassignet, Mela 2.115; cf. Varro fr. 10 Peter for date of flood). Crustumerium, c.12 km. from Rome, was named after Clytaemestra, the wife of its Sicilian founder (Hem. fr. 3 Chassignet).4 In the course of time, more gradual contact is supposed to occur, but often in significant moments. The Roman legal system was allegedly modelled on that of Athens in particular: legates were sent to Athens to write down the famous laws of Solon (Livy 3.31.8, cf. Gaius, Dig. 10.1.13 pr.; not indicated in Tac. Ann. 3.26.3–4). The Roman Saturnalia was transmitted from Greece and especially Athens, says Accius (Ann. fr. 3 Dangel est . . . traditus illinc). We do not know by what mechanism early Romans were supposed to have derived from Laconians and Cretans the custom of sitting to dine (Varro fr. 21 Peter). The early presence of Greek literature and culture in South Italy and Sicily mattered to Roman authors, even apart from influence. The geographical distance between Greek literature and Italy was all but annulled by Sicily, so rich in home-grown and patronized talent; and it was actually annulled by philosophers who lived in South Italy or visited it: so Pythagoras, Parmenides, Zeno of Elea, and Plato himself (Cic. Rep. 1.16.3, Fin. 5.87, Sen. 78 (Pythagoreans called Italici philosophi), Nep. Di. 2.2, Val. Max. 8. 7 ext. 3; Cic. Sen. 41 shows a chain of transmission to Rome).5 Varro’s De Gente Populi Romani revealed what the Romans had imitated from each people (Serv. Aen. 7.176); other influences compete with the Greek and complicate it. The Etruscans, often thought to have originated from Lydia, caused an abundantissimus amnis of artes to flow from Greece into Rome, thanks to the Corinthian Demaratus (Cic. Rep. 2.34, continuing omnibus eos [sons] artibus ad Graecorum disciplinam eru[), cf. 37.5; Tac. Ann. 11.14.3 (letters)). The Etruscans themselves were of course seen as a major influence, not only on say Roman religion and political culture (cf. e.g. Livy 1.8.3), but even on the origins of Roman theatre: so Livy 7.2.4–7 (Val. Max. 2.4.4), Tac. Ann. 14.21.1 (but horse games from Thurii). Livy’s narrative in general shows the decline of Etruscan influence and power and the increase of Rome’s connections with Greece, until finally Roman forces are engaged in Greece itself.6

R O M E: P U B L I C B E N EF I T S We see, then, that the apparent separation of Greece and Italy in space is in various ways bridged; cultural interrelation is seen in the distant past and more of 4 For the importance of other Italian cities cf. Leigh (1998), 98–9; Erskine (2001), 135–56, (2005), 121–6; Hutchinson (2008), 193–4. 5 With Italici philosophi cf. Arist. Metaph. ` 987a9–10; Sext. Emp. Math. 9.127, including Empedocles. Ogilvie (1965), 448–9 takes the story in Livy 3.31.8 to be early i bc. At Pompon. Dig. 1.2.2.4 the decemuiri are helped by Hermodorus of Ephesus, exiled in Italy, cf. Plin. Nat. 34.21 (more limited Strabo 14.1.25 642 C. iv.26.2–7 [i.e. Radt’s lines 2–7 of Casaubon’s page 642] Radt). 6 Polybius presents the crucial moment of entanglement predominantly from the Greek viewpoint, 5.105.4–10. Varro’s peoples in De Gente include the Egyptians (fr. 13 Peter). It is striking that at Livy 1.56.9 the Tarquins take Brutus to Delphi; we later have the Romans sending legates there, 5.15.12, 16.1, 21.2.

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it is prepared for the time to come. We shall now look at the actual modes of contact between Romans and the Greek world that are relevant to literature in the period that concerns us, with some mention too of the period 240–100 bc. The presentation follows predominantly the higher classes, about whom we have more information, and who are the most promising source of writers and readers. Their spatial starting-point, as writers and readers, is Rome, the centre of Latin literature; it will necessarily be ours too. The material generally does not allow us to pursue in detail the earlier educational experience in Greek of Latin writers who come to Rome from north or west (most do), or of readers who remain in the Latin-speaking provinces. Suetonius, talking of Latin grammatici, says in prouincias quoque grammatica penetrauerat, ac nonnulli de notissimis doctoribus peregre docuerunt, maxime in Gallia Togata (GR 3.6). We can at least see what kinds of experience would or could have been available elsewhere.7 The places in Rome where Greek literary culture made an impact are connected with the nature of the contact. We may make some division between contact arranged or supervised officially, contact created non-publicly by members of the Roman élite, and contact produced by the initiative of those not originally Roman. (The second and third are particularly hard to separate.) Official contact is at first represented primarily by dramatic performances. Performances are at this point of Latin plays only, though it is stressed in the prologues that ‘this’ play had suchand-such a name and author in Greek, or that the Latin plays are made from Greek ones (so too in the didascaliae, perhaps from the first century bc). One could thus argue that part of what the audience is being offered is a mediated Greek play. Cf. Naev. Pall. I.1 Marmorale Acontizomenos fabula est prime proba, perhaps referring to the Greek original (for the title cf. Dionysius fr. 1 Kassel– Austin); Plaut. Asin. 10–12 huic . . . fabulae; Cas. 31–4, Merc. 9–10, Poen. 53–4 (Vid. 6–7) (cf. Rud. 32–3); Ter. Eun. 9 idem Menandri Phasma . . . dedit, Phorm. 25–7; Ter. Heaut. 4–10 ex integra Graeca, Eun. 7–11, Ad. 6–7. But at some games marking victories åEÆØ (‘theatrical artists’) from Greece performed, doubtless using Greek (Livy 39.22.1–2 (186 bc), Polyb. 30.22.1–12 (167 bc; a fiasco, according to Polybius)). The plays performed at the Megalesia and other religious ludi are paid for publicly, by or through the aediles (Ter. Eun. 20, cf. also Suet. Vit. Ter. 40–3 Rostagni; Ter. Hec. 56–7 puzzling). The aediles also give prizes to actors (Plaut. Amph. 64–85, Poen. 36–9; later Cic. Att. 4.15.6). The state allowed poets and actors to use the temple of Minerva on the Aventine in the time of Livius Andronicus (publice attributa est ei . . . aedis Mineruae . . . Fest. pp. 446, 448 Lindsay); by the time of Accius we see a collegium of poets with a location (Val. Max. 3.7.11). The Artists of Dionysus should probably be compared. Plays at the Megalesia were performed, probably from 191 bc on, in front of the temple of the Magna Mater on the Palatine. The connection of temple and theatre, and the absence of a stone theatre in Rome until 154 bc, fit in well enough with Italian practice. But an element of suspicion towards the theatre is apparent in the élite 7 For Suet. GR 3.6 cf. 24.2 (with particular reference to Syria); one may wonder whether the gloomy views of Rome in 24.2 really are just focalized by Probus, and how old the antiqui are (cf. Kaster (1995), 256–8). The remark is cognate with Cic. De Orat. 3.43 (Crassus) nostri minus student litteris quam Latini.

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when the censors’ attempt to build a stone theatre in 154 bc is squashed, and seats at the ludi are temporarily abolished; concern for public morals is supposedly the cause (Livy, Perioch. 48, Val. Max. 2.4.2, Vell. 1.15.3, App. BC 1.125 (including dangers of  EººÅØŒÆE# ı ÆŁÆØ#, ‘Greek luxuries’)). The oscillations are notable; the long interval before Rome acquires a lasting stone theatre could derive from indifference as well as disapproval (even temple-building in 100–60 bc is limited).8 In the last years of the Republic and in Augustus’ principate, there was finally an ambitious rush of planning and building theatres: the lavish temporary structure of Scaurus in 58 bc; Pompey’s permanent stone theatre in 55, showing ‘Roman’ design and an incorporated temple, but influenced by Mytilene; the more central theatre, next to the Capitol, planned by Julius Caesar (Suet. Jul. 44.1); Augustus’ theatre eventually named after Marcellus (probably in use 17 bc); Balbus’ theatre of 13 bc, supposedly built at Augustus’ instigation. The Roman structure of the theatres was clearly found compatible with Greek performance. At Pompey’s games in 55, Greek drama seems to have been performed (Graecos . . . ludos Cic. Fam. 7.3.2, but note Plut. Pomp. 52.5 IªHÆ# . . . ı#ØŒ#); so too at Brutus’ games in July 44, without a large audience (Att. 16.5.1). There was a societas cantor(um) Graeco[r]um on which they could have drawn (CIL i2.2519; hac sunhodo 2). At the Ludi Saeculares of 17 bc, a celebration of Rome, there were on two days ludi Graeci thymelici, lasting an hour, in Pompey’s theatre, and ludi Graeci astici, possibly lasting an hour, in what was to be Marcellus’ (CIL vi.32323.156, 161). The former ludi will have included Greek singing; the latter sound like performance of, or related to, Greek drama. Augustus, following Caesar, put on humbler stage performances in the uici, per omnium linguarum histriones (Suet. Jul. 39.1, Aug. 43.1). In the second century ad, the Artists of Dionysus are named after Hadrian, and then Antoninus, and have a branch in Rome (IG xiv.978a = IGUR i.143; Clerc (1885), A 73–7 (Nysa)); they have been given a sanctuary there, apparently with library (Clerc (1885), A 16–18). At the Ludi Saeculares of ad 204, there were ludi Graeci in the Odeum (AÉ 1932 no. 70 p. 25).9

8 One of the few new temples, Marius’ of Honos and Virtus, used cheap materials (Vitr. 7 pr. 17). On places for performance of early drama cf. Goldberg (1998), who argues that not even seating was required at the Megalesia (the steps of the temple sufficed); Marshall (2006), 31–48. The replacement of wooden theatres with stone seems a trend in ii bc Italic cities: so Gabii (c.150 bc), Pietrabbondante (late ii bc); both also illustrate the connection of temple and theatre, cf. Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 116. Cf. Lauter (1976), with emphasis on Sicily and wood there, Winter (2006), 189–91, with a positive approach to wood, Csapo (2007), on Greece. Gruen (1992), 205–6 presents the lack of a stone theatre as from the first a deliberate abstention—implausibly. Gruen (1990), 178 connects the intervention in 154 with the embassy of 155 and the expulsion of two Epicurean philosophers (Athen. 12.547a; 173 or 154 bc); cf. also Gruen (1992), 206–10. On a possible earlier attempt at a theatre, see Briscoe (2008), 542. On prizes for actors, cf. Brown (2002), 234; on the Hellenistic Artists of Dionysus, Lightfoot (2002). 9 On the relation of Pompey’s theatre to the temple of Venus Victrix cf. Thein (2002), 244, and also (more generally too), Packer, Gagliardo, and Hopkins (2010). For its relation to the theatre at Mytilene see Plut. Pomp. 42.8–9, Labarre (1996), 207 and plates 9–11; Meinel (1980), 189–90 argues Pompey’s theatre was based rather on the bouleuterion (Plutarch’s text does not encourage this). On Brutus’ games (outshone by Octavian’s?) cf. Griffin (1997), 94; see Shackleton Bailey (1965–70), vi.283, (1977), i. 326 for the passages of Cicero. The division of thymelici from astici makes it likely that the latter are connected with drama, cf. e.g. FD iii 2.69.17 (117 bc?) Ł]ı ºØŒ[f# ŒÆd #Œ]ÅØŒ[f]# IªHÆ# (‘musical

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This increase in publicly organized contact with Greek literature finds a parallel in another sphere, as will be seen in a moment. But in general, we should note that Rome’s official encouragement of literature is slight compared to Greek cities’. In them, giving Archias citizenship because of his poetry would have been perfectly normal, not a strange novelty (cf. e.g. IG ix.2.63 (iii–ii bc): citizenship and more for a hexameter poet who had given performances). Even in the Empire, Roman citizenship is not a state reward for poetic success (cf. e.g. FD iii.1.542 (i–ii ad): the poet Avidienus has five Greek citizenships). The statue of Claudian erected by emperors at the request of the Senate (CIL vi.1710) is the first known of its kind. Indeed poets leave remarkably little trace in the Latin epigraphic record, except by composing epitaphs (they do occasionally call themselves uates, as at CIL iii.47.1, 4, and perhaps vi.13528.1, 13). Contrast SEG 27 (1977) nos. 677–8 (Ostia), 682 (Rome): oracles to and statues of the Greek poet Nestor, c.ad 200. Horace’s commission to write a choral hymn, or the recording of the fact (CIL vi.32323.149), seems exceptional after the third century bc (Livy 27.37.7 (Livius Andronicus), 12–13, 31.12.9).10 Before Horace’s commission, however, came public libraries. They had been a frequent feature of Greek cities since the second century bc. Pollio restored the official building the Atrium Libertatis (Suet. Aug. 29.5), and there gave Rome its first public Greek and Latin collections (Ov. Trist. 3.1.71–2; Plin. Nat. 7.115 (read in urbe [so Sabellus] . . . [Romae] est?), 35.110, Isid. Etym. 6.5.1). Busts of authors added atmosphere and pomp. Pollio was using his spoils as proconsul (proconsulship 39 bc); his library realized an idea started by Caesar (statue of Varro, cf. Suet. Jul. 44.2), and taken up by Augustus. Augustus’ library on the Palatine (porticūs, Suet. Aug. 29.3) formed part of the complex which included his god Apollo’s temple, and his own house; the library in the porticus Octauiae was dedicated to Marcellus’ memory, and next to Marcellus’ theatre (Livy, Perioch. 140, Plut. Marc. 30.11). Dynastic and public elements combine. All these libraries had Greek and Latin collections, probably distinct; the Palatine library, and seemingly the others, had a large room for reading. Galen’s newly discovered —æd Iºı Å#Æ# (On Avoiding Distress) makes clear other aspects and amenities: the catalogues, not always adequate (16), copies owned by the famous (Aristarchus, Panaetius), with annotations (12–13; cf. Lucian, Indoct. 2). Galen mentions too the later library of

and dramatic contests’; but ludi of an hour will hardly be a competition), I.Eleusis 271.5 (c.76 bc), Vitr. 5.7.2. asticus may well evoke the City Dionysia of Athens, cf. Thuc. 5.20.1, Suet. Tib. 6.4, Cal. 20.1 (Polacco, Anti, et al. (1981–90), i.204). Note the ludi Latini et Graeci over six days in CIL xi.3613 (Caere), organized with the help of the [uiator con]sulum praet(orum). For the Artists of Dionysus at Rome in ii ad cf. also IG xiv.2499.6 = IGF 106 (Nîmes). Macr. Sat. 2.7.16–17 suggest that a pantomime version of part of Euripides’ Heracles was put on for the Roman people in the time of Augustus. 10 It is hard to imagine the i bc Senate commissioning Catullus 34 (cf. Thomson (1997), 290–1). Fictive cultic performance is found in Catullus, Hellenistic poetry, and Horace, Odes 1.21 (which builds on Catullus 34). In the Pro Archia, Cicero has nothing closer to argue from than Pompey’s grant of citizenship to the prose-writer Theophanes (24), and the enfranchisement of Ennius long ago (22; circumstances obscure to us). Later Cicero arranges for Cratippus, now a Peripatetic philosopher, to get Roman citizenship from Caesar (Plut. Cic. 24.7, cf. Cic. Fam. 13.36; Cratippus will stay in Athens; he takes Cicero’s name, if it is his son in CIL iii.399, cf. Habicht (1969), 164–5). The name of the poet at the Secular Games of ad 204 was evidently recorded, and the poem itself transcribed (AÉ 1932 no. 70 pp. 22–3), as more often in Greek inscriptions (so CA pp. 132–73).

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the Domus Tiberiana (18); this was close to the Palatine Library, and the library in the Templum Pacis was not far: emperors in the first century ad continued Augustus’ lead.11 At the very time when Latin literature is sometimes supposed to achieve independence from Greek, Greek literary activity is acknowledged publicly in the capital with more emphasis than before. The cultures are firmly twinned. Nero, who exceeded even Claudius in his public respect for Greek culture, instituted at Rome a Greek-style competition, the four- or five-yearly Neronia (Suet. Ner. 12.3 more Graeco; Tac. Ann. 14.20.1 ad morem Graeci certaminis). Such a competition had long been running in Greek-speaking Naples: Augustus’ Sebasta. Suetonius’ mention of orationis . . . carminisque Latini coronam, won by Nero, suggests parallel competition in Greek, such as we certainly see under Domitian. Vespasian set up Greek and Latin teachers of rhetoric given pay e fisco (Suet. Vesp. 18, GR fr. 7 Kaster; Zonar. 11.17, Dio Cass. 66.12 p. 146 Boissevain; cf. p. 186 below). Suet. GR fr. 7 Kaster (Jerome) publicam scholam . . . accepit could indicate a building, if reliable. When Domitian restored Roman libraries after a fire, he sent scribes to Alexandria to produce accurate copies of Greek works (Suet. Dom. 20.1).12 Domitian instituted (ad 86), and later emperors continued, four-yearly games for Jupiter Capitolinus (Stat. Silv. 3.5.31–3, 94, 4.2.62, 5.3.231–3, Mart. 5.63.6, Suet. Dom. 4.4). The literary and musical events will have taken place in the Odeion he built in the Campus Martius (Suet. Dom. 5, Euseb. (i.e. Jerome) GCS vii.191). He also instituted yearly Alban games; these were more linked with himself, and took place at his villa, but remained an official event. They included scaenici ludi and oratorum ac poetarum certamina (Suet. Dom. 4.4), which will have taken place in the theatre of his Alban villa. At the Capitoline Games at least there were competitions in Greek and Latin prose and poetry (Mart. 9.40.1–2, CIL vi.33976 = IGUR iii.1336, Suet. Dom. 4.4). The major poet Statius competed and lost; fifty-two Greek poets contested in ad 94 (CIL vi.33976). Martial imagines a poet travelling from Egypt, and inscriptions confirm the geographical range of competitors. The structure of the competition implies that contemporary Greek poetry and prose are as worthwhile as contemporary Latin. There were also competitions for reciting Greek tragedy and comedy: Artemid. 4.33 266.24–267.5 Pack; L. Moretti (1953) no. 74.6 (ii ad), probably IG ii2.3161.3–4 (ii ad). There 11 On the location of the Atrium Libertatis see Purcell (1993). Plin. Nat. 35.10 indicates (contrast Purcell (1993), 145 n. 82) that Pollio was the first to produce a public library in Rome: ingenia hominum rem publicam fecit would not suit the portraits. For discussion of where portraits were placed in libraries see Brent (1995), 104–8. On libraries at Rome, see Strocka (1981), Casson (2001), 80–108, Nicholls (2005), Dix and Houston (2006). See Tucci (2008) on the topography of the libraries, and on the ‘self-storage’ units handy for the keeping of books (and other valuables) by Galen and the scholar ‘Philides’ (MS). For the library on the Palatine and the stages of Octavian’s (Augustus’) plans, see Iacopi and Tedone (2005/6), Strocka (2008), esp. 53–64. On the division of Greek and Latin, see p. 12 n. 14. On the Domus Tiberiana in general cf. Krause (1994). 12 On publicam scholam: there would not be pupils for these new teachers to take over; Cf. e.g. Suda

2165. Cf. Coarelli (1993) for a proposed identification of the building on the Greek side. Kaster (1995), 335–6, sees anachronism in publicam scholam; but accepit does not suggest the funding of a perpetual educational establishment as such. (Could publicus at Sen. Contr. 3 pr. 16 be relevant?) For Nero’s games, see Caldelli (1993), 37–43, Polverini (2002), esp. 406–14. Note that Nero’s reference to present-day Greece as not IŒ ÆÇ#Å# (Oliver (1989) no. 296.17) is economic (and note lines 21–2).

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is no attempt to make the Capitoline Games a purely Latin competition which would match the Greek Sebasta.13 Mention of the senate may be appended, since the senate is a significant part of the res publica. Although speeches in Greek were not given primarily for the benefit of senators interested in Greek oratory, the official institution of senatorial meetings enabled senators to hear top orators from Greek-speaking cities in actual and significant cases. The principate of Tiberius provides a focal point. Valerius tells us, nunc Graecis actionibus aures curiae exurdantur (2.2.3). The practice of allowing Greek without an interpreter (2) began, he thinks, with Molon (2.2.2; Molon himself was a particularly renowned orator). Tiberius heard many cases in Greek in the senate, says Dio (57.15.3: ŒÆd KŒE). The trial of C. Iunius Silanus in the senate (ad 22) involved facundissimis totius Asiae (Tac. Ann. 3.67.2). The contest between eleven cities for the temple to Tiberius, Livia, and the Senate (4.15.3; 55–6; ad 26) must have been a spectactular occasion for fans of oratory. Even speeches with interpreters were rhetorical enterprises (Cic. Fin. 5.89 says, with humour, that there is ‘always’ someone who asks for an interpreter). Astymedes of Rhodes later published for Greeks a written version of his defence of Rhodes to the senate (Polyb. 30.4.10–11; he thought he had spoken well (10)).14

R O M E : I N I T I A T I V E S OF G R E E K A N D O TH E R S At the other end of the scale from organization by the state, we have the many Greeks who are drawn to Rome. The frequent expulsions from Rome and Italy suggest influence and numbers that are found alarming, even if antagonism among the élite should sometimes be involved. Particularly notable are the expulsions of philosophers, which may be set alongside expulsions of astrologers, foreign cults, Greek and Latin rhetors, and actors (so mathematici (Tac. Hist. 2.62.2; Auf. Bass. fr. 3 Peter (ad 16)); actors (Tac. Ann. 4.14.3), foreign cults (Tert. Apol. 6.7–8 CCSL i.97.35–98.44 (including 58 bc), Sen. Ep. 108.22 (Tiberius)). We have seen that the very idea of expelling philosophers may itself be Greek (pp. 32–3). Philosophers are expelled from Rome by the Senate along with (Greek) rhetors in 161 bc (Suet. GR 25.1, whence Gell. 15.11.3), and from Rome and Italy by the Senate under Domitian (Suet. Dom. 10.3, cf. Gell. 15.11.3–5), and by Vespasian

13 For Domitian’s games cf. Caldelli (1993), A. Hardie (2003). Caldelli (1993), 71 says that Greek poets are attested only in i ad, ‘per motivi forse casuali’, but cf. FD iii.1 no. 89.2, 4 (ii ad; a clearly Greek poet in the Capitolia). If Sulpicius’ verses on CIL vi.33976 were delivered at the games, as tends to be assumed, it is not clear whether extempore performance formed a separate competition or an obligatory or optional part of a broad competition between poets. The child prodigy wins the votes in 106 (CIL ix.2860; inter poetas Latinos), but not in 94. For Sulpicius’ poem see Bernsdorff (1997), Nocita (2000; includes republication, with images). Hardie argues shrewdly against overrating the stature of poets at games (127–8), but in this instance the participation of Statius remains significant. Possible bust of a victorious poet with Bacchic attributes: Hallett (2005), 202–3. Note that in SIG3 821 (ad 90) Domitian approves maintaining the traditional timetable for the Pythian games; he had restored the temple at Delphi in 84. 14 See Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 60–3 for Valerius’ context. It is not clear how far this concentration of evidence is accidental. In general, see Kaimio (1979), 103–10.

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(Dio Cass. 66.13.1 (Xiph.) p. 146 (some), 13.2–3 (Xiph.) p. 148 Boissevain (all except Musonius)). Cato’s less ignominious suggestion for removing the philosophers of the embassy in 155 is a response to the remarkable impact of their lectures (Plut. Cat. Mai. 22.1–23.3).15 The philosophers were mostly Greek by birth; it appears that they normally taught in Greek (even if non-Greek by birth), usually in buildings marked out for the purpose (‘schools’; i.e. not patrons’ homes). Their animated lectures will have resembled written philosophy in verbal ambition. These lectures educated and inspired youths, and inspired older listeners; the education must have been arranged or tolerated by fathers. Some passages from Latin authors may be mentioned here: Cic. Fam. 13.1.2 (Phaedrus admired as philosopher by Cicero as a boy, evidently at Rome, since before Philon); Brut. 306 (dedicated himself to Philon in Rome), cf. Tusc. 2.9 (audiuimus); Off. 2.87 (philosophers lecture in schola, evidently including Rome); Nep. fr. 39 Marshall (moral lectures in schola, seemingly in Rome); Varro, Antiq. Div. fr. 8 Cardauns (always indoors in schola, contrast with forum); Sen. Contr. 2 pr. 4 (Fabianus taught by Sextius, who at any rate wrote in Greek), Suas. 2.12 (Attalus’ eloquence; MSS’ omission of remark suggests Greek); Sen. Prov. 1.3.3 (rendering of Demetrius; impact of utterance), Ben. 7.1.3–2.1 (rendering of what Demetrius was accustomed to say, cf. Ep. 91.19; Demetrius great even if compared to greatest, i.e. in the past), 7.8.2–3 (Demetrius’ eloquence); Nat. 7.32.1 (philosophers indoors, presumably in Rome), 2 (Sextii very popular, presumably in Rome); Ep. 63.5, 72.8 (renderings of what Attalus ‘used to say’), 108.3–4 (Attalus lecturing in school; Seneca’s youthful ardour), 13–14 (Attalus perorantem on morality, in schola, seemingly at Rome; impact on Seneca), 17–22 (Sotion heard eagerly by young Seneca), 110.14–20 (rendering of Attalus); Plin. Ep. 1.10.1, 5–7 (Euphrates discourses in Rome, often with Platonic sublimity); Gell. 9.8.3 (Favorinus in Greek, applauded by all), 12.1.24 (Favorinus in Greek, presumably at or near Rome; domestic setting), 14.1.1 = Favorin. fr. 27 Amato (Favorinus gives speech against astrology in Greek at Rome; setting perhaps not public), 16.1.1–2 (as youths hearing Musonius in Greek, presumably in Rome not Syria), 16.3.1–2 (Favorinus in Greek at Rome; domestic settting).16 Equally and probably more prominent was rhetoric. Unlike philosophy, this was not largely confined to Greek. Originally, however, only Greek rhetoric was taught in Rome, in buildings used particularly for that purpose (‘schools’). Greek rhetors were prominent enough to expel in 161 bc (Suet. GR 25.2). The first rhetor in Latin was greeted with enthusiasm by Roman youths; but some of their elders preferred the Greek rhetors, and the censors of 92 bc, one of whom was the orator Crassus, regarded the schools of Latin rhetors as a deplorable novelty (Cic. De Orat. 3.93–5 (cf. Quint. Inst. 2.4.42), Epist. fr. I Shackleton Bailey, Tac. Dial. 35.1,

15 On the context cf. Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 161–2. The visit was reported on already by Polybius and Rutilius (Gell. 6.14.8–9 = Polyb. 33.2, cf. Walbank (1957–79), iii.543–4, Rutil. fr. 3 Chassignet), with stylistic comment. Expulsion of a Pythagorean, and alleged magician, by Augustus in 28 bc: Euseb. GSC vii.163–4; under Tiberius alienigena . . . sacra mouebantur (Sen. Ep. 108.22), and Attalus was banished (Sen. Suas. 2.12). For Nero cf. Griffin (1976), 363. 16 Cf. Philostr. VS 1.8 491–2 (Favorinus speaking in Greek at Rome; even listeners without Greek enjoyed). For places of performance see also p. 54 below. There is of course much Greek material relevant to philosophical teaching in Rome.

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Suet. GR 25.2, 26.1). There seems to be an explosion between Cicero and the Elder Seneca: the triumviral period sees a great influx of Greek rhetors and the rise of declamation in Rome (it was of long standing in the Hellenistic world).17 The Elder Seneca quotes Greek rhetors whom he heard in Rome; he quotes fewer than in Latin, but Latin is his main concern. The rhetors spoke and performed to pupils, but also declaimed to wider audiences, including Greeks, distinguished Romans, and adult rhetors (cf. e.g. Suas. 3.6–7; Latro was evidently unusual in his ignorance of the Greeks, Contr. 10.4.21—and note 1.2.14). A few Latin rhetors would have a go at Greek themselves, some more successfully than others (Contr. 7.6.22, 9.3.13–14 (Maecenas present), Suas. 4.5: Arellius Fuscus dicebat . . . suasorias . . . frequentius Graecas quam Latinas; Suet. GR 29.1 presents Sex. Clodius as a teacher of both). Vespasian’s funding of a Greek rhetor or rhetors from the treasury suggests that Romans would attend; Pliny, for example, as an adulescentulus would go to hear Nicetes and Quintilian (Ep. 6.6.3). By the second century ‘the chair at Rome’ seems the supreme object of Greek ambition, and is not matched by the chairs at Athens when they come into being (cf. Philostr. VS 2.10 589 (Herodes) e ¼ø Łæ, ‘the top chair’).18 The words used of the buildings where the rhetors spoke are schola and auditorium. Probably both words derive from Greek, one, first found in Lucilius, by direct borrowing, one, first found in the Younger Seneca, by equivalence. Cf. IŒæÆ æØ (lit. ‘room for listeners’) in I.Chios 15.14 (i bc) (McCabe and Brownson (1986), 8–9, 85), Epict. 3.23.8 e IŒæÆ æØ #ı (‘your lecture-room’, to a philosopher), Dio Prus. 32.9 K E# ŒÆºı Ø# IŒæÆÅæØ# (‘in the places they call “lecture-rooms”’, of philosophers). (IŒı# æØ (lit. ‘room for listeners’) in Galen could show a borrowing in either direction.) Conception and practice are Greek for rhetors, and philosophers. Once auditorium appears, the words can be distinguished; cf. Plin. Ep. 2.3.6 schola et auditorium, Suet. Tib. 11.3 scholas et auditoria professorum (Rhodes). But auditorium can be used where the listeners are mainly pupils (Plin. Ep. 2.18.2, Tac. Dial. 29.3 (adults can enter), Serv. Aen. 1.185), and a schola, even when it is the rhetor’s home, can accommodate a substantial audience (Sen. Contr. 7 pr. 8 cum plures me domi audiant quam quemquam in foro, cf. 3 pr. 16: compared to balneum publicum). Applause and an air of mass entertainment seem characteristic even of performance before pupils, and common even with philosophers (Sen. Ep. 52.11–12 (Fabianus avoids the dangers) disserebat populo . . . , sed audiebatur modeste; erumpebat interdum magnus clamor laudantium . . . intersit aliquid inter clamorem theatri et scholae; Dio Prus. 32.9 some philosophers çøÆ#ŒF#Ø (‘declaim’) to the many in IŒæÆ æØÆ). On admission of the general public to rhetorical performances, cf. Sen. Contr. 4 pr. 2 numquam admissa multitudine declamauit, 7 admisso populo, 10 pr. 4 non admittebat populum (Seneca implies that that later becomes

17 See Gruen (1990), 179–91 and Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 254–6 on the expulsion in 92. In Cic. Flac. 46–7 Heraclides of Temnus (Hermagoras’ city) is clearly independent financially, and seems to be teaching in Rome. 18 Cf. e.g. Noy (2000), 94. For the Elder Seneca hearing Greeks cf. e.g. Contr. 2.6.13 (Hermagoras); a Hermagoras is attested by the Suda as teaching at Rome in the time of Augustus ( 3024). At Contr. 10.1.16, on the other hand, Seneca has not heard the speaker. On the introduction of public performance see Spawforth (2012), 73.

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common). The performer can own or hire the building permanently; at any rate for the course of the performance it belongs to him (cf. Epictetus above; Apul. Flor. 9.4 auditorio philosophi).19 The Athenaeum (named after Athens or Athena) was a large and it seems centrally located school, perhaps used particularly for studying Greek (cf. Dio Cass. 74.17.4 iii.322 Boissevain). Aur. Vict. Caes. 14.3 ascribes its creation to Hadrian. It formed a locale for performance, according to the Historia Augusta of Latin as well as Greek and of poetry as well as rhetoric (Pert. 11.3, Alex. 35.2); cf. Sidon. Epist. 9.14.2 for its subsellia cuneata. Philostratus describes, and no doubt exaggerates, the rush of senators and equites, philhellenes and students of Latin, to hear there the Greek oratory of Hadrian of Tyre (ii ad; VS 2.10 589; cf. Suda Æ 528: post under Commodus). More reliable in content, though less specific in place, is Pliny’s account of a tour to Rome by the aged rhetor Isaeus (Ep. 2.3). Pliny and others are much impressed, and he urges his addressee to go to a performance too. The letter conveys the excitement of live oratory (cf. 9–11; Val. Max. 8.10 ext. 1).20 In this context too, then, Romans could listen closely to Greek prose; they could learn of its arts from practitioners. The Elder Seneca brings out how much use the Latin rhetors themselves would make of their Greek contemporaries: so Contr. 7.1.25 (alleged), 9.1.12–13 (defended as competition), 9.6.16 (transtulit: Arellius Asianus himself), 10.4.18–20 (non mutuatos . . . sed imitatos), 10.5.20–2 (Greeks also steal from each other), cf. also probably 1.4.12 fin. At least some of this exchange will take place in Rome: thus Craton clearly performs in Rome (10.5.21 Augustus only listens to him in December, cf. 22 saepe solebat apud Caesarem cum Timagene confligere). It is commonly thought that Hybreas (9.1.12, 6.16) did not come to Rome; but the mention in Euseb. GCS vii.162 (i.e. Jerome from Suetonius, cf. Schol. Juv. 3.74) probably presupposes activity in Rome: Nicetes et Hybreas et Theodorus [cf. Suda Ł 151] et Plutio [cf. Sen. Suas. 1.11] nobilissimi artis rhetoricae Graeci praeceptores habentur. At all events, Scaurus at Contr. 1.2.23 is reporting on Hybreas from his own experience. Seneca’s account of contemporary interaction, uniquely extensive in its detail, provides a radically different picture from the Romans’ official conception of literary history. Some of the Latin rhetors had a Greek background themselves (notably Cestius Pius, Volcacius Moschus). Cestius uses Greek quotations and phrases in teaching (7.7.19, 9.3.12). Seneca’s discussion of borrowing from Greek continues the animated discussion of the time (e.g. 9.1.12 (specific), 10.5.25 (general)): intertextuality is talked about.21

19 For the hiring of rooms for one-off performances, cf. Gal. Libr. Propr. 3.13 p. 144 Boudon-Millot xix.21 Kühn: Galen in Rome urged to show truth of his anatomical ideas Å #ÆØ . . . ŒÆ Ø H

ª ºø IŒı#Åæø (‘in public, in one of the big lecture-halls’). In Tac. Dial. 9.3 a house is used for a poetry recital, but evidently not for free; it is adapted into an auditorium (cf. Plin. Ep. 8.12, where the house used for recitals is included in auditoria). In general cf. Tamm (1963), 7–15, Kaster (1995), 319. 20 For the Athenaeum cf. Coarelli (1993), who, following Piganiol (1945), 25–6, sees the building as begun by the Flavians, and identifies it; Spawforth (2012), 265. Juv. 3.74 Isaeo torrentior suggests memory or knowledge of Isaeus’ performance (cf. IG ii2.3632.4–6 for his educating Hadrian). M. Aurelius characteristically gives a cooler assessment of Polemon, though not without praise (Fronto 29.19–30.9 Van den Hout); he consciously differs from the standard view de tantae gloriae uiro. 21 Hybreas never in Rome: so Radermacher (1914), 30. On Cestius see p. 40 n. 29 above; see p. 78 below for Sex. Clodius, who was a Greek and a Latin rhetor.

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The earlier stages of education included painstaking study of Greek poets. Ideally, Greek was taught by distinct experts, grammatici Graeci as opposed to grammatici Latini. This is the conception in Suetonius, after the early times, when only Greek poets were expounded (GR 1.2, 2.1–2). For the designation cf. e.g. CIL vi.9453 (Flavian or later; Q. Gargilio | Lysandro | grammatico | Graeco), 9454 (Antonine; statue holding volume; M. Mettius | Epaphroditus | grammaticus Graecus); Hist. Aug. Ant. Phil. 2.3 (Alexander, grammaticus Graecus, confirmed by M. Aur. Med. 1.10.1), Ver. 2.5 (Telephus, Hephaestion, Harpocration, grammatici Graeci). The profession of grammatici in Rome linked them to famous scholars of the past (cf. e.g. Vitr. 1.1.13, Vell. 1.17.4); typically, they were significant scholars themselves (so e.g. Tyrannion the Elder (LGGA 1, RE 2), who taught the Greek Strabo, probably in Rome, 12.3.16 548 C. iii.442.14 (i.e. Radt’s line 14 of Casaubon’s page 548) Radt). As slaves they were prized, and expensive, commodities (Plut. Luc. 19.8; Suet. GR 3.5); as freedmen they evidently charged high fees (Suet. ibid., cf. 17.2 (salary)). The schools were their own enterprise. Suetonius regards twenty as a large number of schools in Rome at a given time (3.4); but e.g. Livy 9.36.3 suggests that an education in Greek literature was usual, within a certain social range (habeo auctores uolgo tum Romanos pueros sicut nunc Graecis ita Etruscis litteris erudiri solitos).22 Our main source, the Suda, connects numerous scholars with Rome: Æ 97 Habron (RE 4; pupil of Tryphon; i bc; lectured in Rome; Hermippus (RE 8) mentioned as source); 2634 Anteros (taught in Rome; from Alexandria; time of Claudius; writer); 3215 Apion (RE 3; taught in Rome under Tiberius and Claudius; wrote history); 3924, cf. 3036, Aristonicus (lectured in Rome; worked on Homer, lyric poetry, etc.; i bc–i ad); 4106 Archibius (LGGA 2, RE 7; one of those teaching in Rome up to the time of Trajan); 4173 Asclepiades of Myrlea (3 in LGGA 3, RE 28; commentator on Homer, Pindar, Theocritus; taught in Rome and Alexandria; time of Pompey);  873 Didymus the Younger (LGGA 4, RE 9; from Alexandria; lectured in Rome; writer); ( 1172 on Dionysius Thrax (LGGA 14; RE 13) probably confused);  2004 Epaphroditus (RE 5; Łæ #, i.e. uerna, of Alexandrian grammarian; taught in Rome; time there from Nero to Nerva; wrote books, and had vast library); Å 455 Heracleon (LGGA 1, RE 5; date uncertain; taught in Rome; writer, on Homer (by book) and lyric poets); 463 Heraclides Ponticus the Younger (LGGA 6, RE 49; taught by a Didymus in Alexandria; in charge of school in Rome; poet; time of Claudius and Nero); 3036 Ptolemaeus (LGGA 3, RE 79b, father of Aristonicus; both lectured in Rome; writer, on Homer and on myth; i bc or ad); 3038 Ptolemaeus of Ascalon (LGGA 1, RE 79; taught in Rome; writer, on Homer and language; i bc or ad?); # 200 Seleucus (LGGA 3 = 1?, RE 44 = 28? from Alexandria; lectured in Rome; wrote exegesis on almost all poets; called Home-

22 For Crates’ lectures in c.168 bc cf. R. Pfeiffer (1968), 246, Broggiato (2001), xviii, 131–2. On CIL vi.9453 see Christes (1979), 171. This Epaphroditus is probably distinct from the Epaphroditus in the Suda (below); see Cairns (1999). For the statue see Fox (1996), 177–8; for inscriptions more generally see Agusta-Boularot (1994). On Tyrannion and Strabo see Honigmann and Aly (1931), 80, Dueck (2000), 9–10, Pothecary (2011), 40.

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ricus); for Tyrannions see below; ç 394 Philoxenus (RE 27; i bc; from Alexandria; lectured in Rome; writer, on Homer, words, language).23 Those taught by Greek grammatici would among other things look at texts of Greek poets (cf. e.g. Sen. Ep. 88.3, Quint. Inst. 1.4.4), such as Homer, Menander (Quint. Inst. 1.8.5, 8), and Callimachus (Aetia: Fronto p. 7.18–19 Van den Hout). One can probably make a fortiori inferences to Rome from Pisaurum, where the slave son of Petronius Hilarus (Antigenes) had by the age of 10 read Homer and lyrici (and philosophy in outline?): CIL xi.6435. (Inference from Statius’ father in Naples is less assured.) Study included minute consideration of words and ‘problems’; cf. e.g. Cic. De Orat. 1.187 (of grammatici) poetarum pertractatio . . . uerborum interpretatio (pronuntiandi quidam sonus suggests teaching), Juv. 7.229–32 (clearly implies what the teacher must do). Grammatici were often accused of dryness and pedantry in their approach to literature (Sen. Suas. 2.12–13, Sen. Ep. 108.24, 32, 33–4 (intertextuality; explicuit suggests teaching or at least performance)). But work included training in effective delivery of the poetry and drama (Quint. Inst. 1.8, 1.11.1; cf. Stat. Silv. 2.1.113–19, with Mart. 6.28.2: education in Italy): poetry is taken in through performance. Learning by heart leads to inspiration from the heroic grandeur of Homer and Virgil (Quint. Inst. 1.8.5); literary understanding will form part of later reading (1.8.5, note huic rei superest tempus for teacher’s contribution, cf. 6). Later in their youth various Romans would feel the impulsion to write a Greek tragedy or comedy (so Suet. Cal. 3.2, Plin. Ep. 7.4.2, Suda  691; note Pers. 1.70 nugari solitos Graece). Whatever the quality, it is significant that they should try. On a smaller scale, we have seen Q. Sulpicius Maximus Q. f., aged 11, improvising Greek hexameters, and performing at the Capitoline Games (CIL vi.33976). The ‘schools’ were buildings regularly employed for the purpose of education; in some cases at least they would be the teacher’s house (cf. Suet. GR 7.2, where priuata suggests this was a noteworthy practice rather than the norm). Close experience of classic Greek poetry was available to the élite in Rome.24 Contemporary poets and poetry could also be experienced, through the initiative of poets as well as that of Romans. Thus Isaeus’ visit (p. 55 above) is matched by the celebrity tour of Nestor of Laranda (principate of Severus). He wrote an Iliad omitting letters (p. 298 below), a Metamorphoses (Suda  261), and an Alexandrias (FGrHist 153 F 13). There are inscriptions to him from Cyprus, Ephesus (IK xvii.3067), Cyzicus (SGO 08/01/07). He visited the oracle at Ostia; he was given an honorific oracle by the Dioscuri (whose ª he had sung) and told that a statue should be dedicated there (SEG 27 (1977) nos. 677–8). A bust in Rome had a Greek inscription on the base, which mentioned his books (SEG 27 (1977) no. 682). Performances in Rome seem likely.25 23 For treatments of these figures see LGGA (in progress). Earlier works include Hillscher (1891). Note also Jolivet (2010) (çغºªø at Strabo 14.5.15 675 C. iv.114.17 Radt does not just mean ‘scholars’, cf. e.g. 2.3.7 103 C. i.250.4–6). 24 For teaching by grammatici: see T. J. Morgan (1998), esp. 90–119 (109 differences of provincial Egypt from Rome, etc.), 198–217 for paraphrases of Homer, etc.; Cribiore (2001), esp. 185–219, see also (1996), McNelis (2002), Parsons (2007), 139–41, 147–8; Díaz Lavado (2007) for Homer; Bloomer (2011). On buildings cf. Tamm (1963), 20–1, Cribiore, Davoli, Ratzan (2008), Bloomer (2011), 9–17. 25 Cf. Meiggs (1973), 343–6 (a little cynical), Guarducci (1977). A different kind of enterprise is shown later (iii ad) by the Roman citizen of Greek background M. Sempronius Nicocrates; his

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Considerable activity is seen from booksellers, who were also book-producers; their private economic enterprise stands at the other end of the structural scale from emperors providing public libraries. Some booksellers were of Greek origin, some not. The grandest were not obscure tradesmen: Horace expects his readers to know of the Sosii (Epist. 1.20.1–2, Ars 345; celeberrimi and notissimi, Porph. ad locc.). Quintilian actually addresses a prefatory letter to Trypho, who wishes to ‘publish’ his treatise (emittere, pr. 1; bibliopola Tryphon selling Martial, 4.72.2, 13.3.4). Strabo mentions the corner-cutting procedures of booksellers having works copied for sale, ‘both here [Rome] and in Alexandria’ (13.1.54 609 C. iii.604.21–2 Radt); the two places are mentioned in the same breath, and he has Greek books especially in mind. Many bookshops were centrally located: the one in Cic. Phil. 2.21 (cf. Mil. 40) sounds as if it is in, or at least very near, the Forum; the shop of the Sosii in the Vicus Tuscus is close to Vertumnus’ statue on the edge of the Forum (Hor. Epist. 1.20.1). The Argiletum is close to the Forum Iulium (Mart. 1.117.9–12, cf. 1.3.1–2). The Vicus Sandaliarius, where most booksellers were in Galen’s time (Libr. Propr. pr. 1 p. 134 Boudon-Millot xix.8 Kühn), was fairly central, somewhere in Regio IV; perhaps less so the Sigillaria (Gell. 5.4.1).26 The book trade was a more important route to books than is often thought. The (predominantly philosophical) books from Aristotle’s and Theophrastus’ libraries were quickly copied by booksellers at Rome in the time of Sulla (Strabo 13.1.54 609 C. iii.602.16–604.22 Radt): there was a market (cf. Diod. Sic. 40 fr. 8 Dindorf). In Galen’s time at least, well-educated and scholarly Greeks as well as Romans hang around the bookshops. There one could sit, and pass judgement on the Greek works for sale (Lib. Propr. pr. 1, cf. Praecogn. 4.1–3 (CMG v.8.1) xiv.619–20 Kühn: Galen’s antagonist is presumably led to begin his abrupt inquiry on the Hippocratic book because they are both in the Vicus Sandaliarius). Galen, wanting a work by Archigenes, a Greek who worked in Rome, searches all the libraries and booksellers (i.e. shops; Loc. Aff. 5 viii.148 Kühn). In second-century Oxyrhynchus, the third hand in P. Oxy. XVIII 2192 proclaims åØ b ÆPa ˜Å æØ# › ıºØ ºÅ# (‘Demetrius the bookseller has got them’, 37, cf. 33–4). Contact of booksellers in Rome with traders in the Greek world will have been facilitated by the Greek origins of some booksellers (note CIL vi.9218 Sex. Peducaeus | Dionysius). It is intriguing that the Greek term bi(y)bliopola is adopted for the trade by authors from Martial on, and in CIL vi.9218 by the bookseller himself.27 sarcophagus in Rome shows him as a Greek tragic poet and ŒØŁÆæØ# # (‘performer to the lyre’), who has also sold slaves (IG xiv.2000 = IGUR iii.1326). 26

White (2009) underplays the cultural status within the reach of booksellers themselves, in an excellent article (cf. 275–6). Lucian, Indoct. 4 is satirically rude about booksellers, but suggests the scale of their activity (not necessarily in Rome). With the Sosii Bickermann (1944), 340 n. 8 connects "ø#ı in P. Mil. Vogl. I 19 (Vogliano (1937), 174–5: subscription of scholarly work on Homer)—plausibly, according to Turner (1980), 51. But the quantity of ø raises difficulties, the papyrus is ii ad, and Bickermann misunderstands Vogliano’s ‘lo stesso nome’. Purcell (1995), 334 thinks shops had been cleared out of the Forum by the time of Cicero; but Varro Vit. Pop. R. 393 Salvadore on butchers’ shops is not talking about the Late Republic: cf. Salvadore (2004), 107. The passage comes in Book 2, for which cf. Riposati (1939), 164–93. 27 The word is not a common type of loan in Latin: myropola, pharmacopola, propola all start much earlier. For the book trade see also, besides White (2009), e.g. Iddeng (2006), Hutchinson (2008), 34–5.

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A word should be added on the general availability of Greek texts in Rome, whether from booksellers, libraries, or friends. It seems overwhelmingly probable that the central classics of Greek literature, of which there are numerous papyri, will have been easily obtained in Rome throughout our period. Galen’s point that all the best drugs could be found more easily in Rome than anywhere else has relevance for other desired commodities (Antid. 1.4 xiv.25 Kühn). With more specialized works, the element of chance may have been greater. Without the collection he had acquired for himself, Galen seems not to have had access in Rome to earlier commentaries on Hippocrates, at least for his methods of working (Libr. Propr. 9.4–5 p. 160 Boudon-Millot xix.35 Kühn, contrast Hippocrates’ own works). But the general scope of the Palatine library is clear from his —æd Iºı Å#Æ# (12b–13, 16–18); telling too is his airy comment a ¨çæ #ı . . .

# åı#Ø (‘everyone has got Theophrastus’ works’, 16–17; one work of Theophrastus’ Cicero does not have but Quintus does, Att. 2.3.4). Horace talks of Iccius’ philosophical books as bought undique (Carm. 1.29.13–14); but he need not be taken literally as to Panaetius himself (the Palatine even had Panaetius’ own copy of Plato, Gal. —æd Iºı Å#Æ# 13). At any rate, the distinction between classic literature and more specialized productions is visible in the Greek world itself: so the hunting in P. Oxy. XVIII 2192, by contrast with the many copies of the classics at Oxyrhynchus. There seems no reason to assume that one could always get hold of everything, even in Rome.

ROME: PATRONAGE BY ÉLITE AND PRINCEPS We turn finally to members of the Roman élite, to their activities and the space they owned. For many of their sons, the site of education is Rome, and often, especially before schools are fully established, the father’s house in Rome. The relationships formed with distinguished Greeks often continue after the time of education. The cultivated Cornelia Gracchi arranged for her sons to be educated (possibly at Misenum) by the exiled rhetor Diophanes of Mytilene, Graeciae temporibus illis disertissimum (Cic. Brut. 104, cf. Plut. Gracch. 8.6). Diophanes remained a friend and adviser of Ti. Gracchus (Plut. Gracch. 8.6, 20.4). Pompey was taught by the grammaticus and rhetor Aristodemus of Nysa; he got another member of the same scholarly family to teach his own children, in Rome (Strabo 14.1.48 650 C. iv.50.24–32 Radt). The young Cicero had seized opportunities in Rome and received teaching from Philon the philosopher, and briefly from Molon the Rhodian orator, who was present on an embassy (Brut. 307, 312, 316); Cicero subsequently followed this up with a trip to Rhodes. Diodotus the Stoic taught Cicero and lived in Cicero’s house until his death (Brut. 309, Ac. Pri. 115, Tusc. 5.113 (blind), ND 1.6). In Fam. 13.16.4 we hear of P. Crassus, son of the triumvir, spending much time with Diodotus at Cicero’s house from his boyhood; Crassus

Note the aorist ŒÆÆ # (‘having gone down’) in Gal. Praecogn. 4.2: Martianus is in the Vicus rather than ‘on his way down’ (Nutton). On P. Oxy. XVIII 2192 see Parsons (2007), 157–8, Johnson (2010), 180–92.

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wishes to write of Caesar’s deeds in Greek. Later (i–ii ad) the patron of the freedman Taxiarches presents a neat Greek poem to commemorate Taxiarches’ teaching, which happened K . . . Æø | Pªø (‘in the house of well-born children’, CIL vi.16843.7).28 Children had less hectic lives than senators and equites in Rome. The grownups were constrained by time, but had the chance to meet and hear many leading figures, and to follow the gossip and turbulence of literary life. Houses are again much involved. Panaetius lived in Scipio’s house (Cic. Mur. 66). Antipater of Sidon, still alive in 105 bc, was at least well known to Q. Lutatius Catulus cos. 102 (RE 7); his extempore performances were admired (Cic. De Orat. 3.194). Probably the locale was Rome, and at this period an élite house or houses (cf. Arch. 6 for Catulus and Archias in Rome; Catulus’ military service was not in the East). Antip. Sid. LXI Gow–Page (Ø æı) interestingly describes a female artiste who went to Rome, there to sing and dance at parties: a different mode of performing poetry in houses. The young poet Archias was ‘received’ into the house of the Luculli (i.e. lived in their house) from 102 (Cic. Arch. 5). He accompanied M. Lucullus (cos. 73, RE Licinius no. 109) to Sicily, and, from 83, L. Lucullus (cos. 74, RE Licinius 104) to Asia (11). He lived in Rome, though not continuously, for many years (Arch. 7) before being prosecuted over his citizenship, probably in 62. He had taken the name of his benefactors. He had given performances (recitations, improvisations?), presumably in the homes of his numerous devotees (5, 6; note domum 6); he wrote poems on the deeds of at least Marius and L. Lucullus (of the latter in more than one book, 21). Roman glory and Greek literature were variously involved in the trial. Plutarch will have had some basis for his account of learned Greeks talking in the porticoes around the library of L. Lucullus’ house in Rome, often joined by Lucullus himself (Luc. 42.1–2).29 More sensational than the story of Archias was the tale of Timagenes. Timagenes, captured by Gabinius and freed by Faustus, opened a school in Rome (FGrHist 88 T 1 = Suda  588). He appeared in Augustus’ house as a friend until banned for his mordant witticisms against the whole domus. Thereafter many others had him in their houses, relishing the scandal, and he remained omnipresent, or lived, in the house of Pollio (cf. ŁÅæØæçE# Sen. Ira 3.23.8, T 3). His readings of his histories, and burning of the books with Augustus in, probably 28 Cf. Christes (1979), 154. The last line was mistranscribed. Cornelia: D’Arms (2003), 22. For Aristodemus see Rawson (1985), 68, Dueck (2000), 8–9, Pothecary (2011), 40–2, 48. On Philon in Rome, see Dorandi (1991b), 17–20, Brittain (2001), 38–72, esp. 64–8. No complete treatment of Roman patronage can of course be offered here. Cf. e.g. Bowersock (1965), ch. 10, Saller (1982), Gold (1987), and, largely with Romans as recipients, White (1975, 1993, 2007), Bowditch (2001), Nauta (2002). 29 Plut. Luc. 42.2 suggests, and Isid. Etym. 6.5.1 formally indicates, a house in Rome (cf. Cic. Arch. above); ºº ŒØ# b ŒÆd #ı#åºÆÇ ÆPe# K  ººø [-ı#Ø? cf. e.g. Alex. 8.1 for order] N# f#

æØ ı# E# çغºªØ# (‘often he himself would bustle into the porticoes and study with the men of learning’), and other details of the phrasing, are less suited to the villa in Tusculum (cf. Rawson (1985), 40; but Gracch. 40.2 could possibly be compared for the crowding). As Galen confirms (—æd Iºı Å#Æ# 20–2), it would be plausible enough that Lucullus should have copies made of some or all the books he had acquired. On Codrus’ (or Cordus’) mini-collection of Greek poetry in Rome (Juv. 3.203–7), see Deroux (2010). Bellemore (2002) throws interesting doubt on the date of 62 for the Pro Archia; but a date around 56 would have left much clearer signs in the speech. Performance of Latin works in houses: White (1993), 292–3 (rather bleak on theatra), Johnson (2010), 47.

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took place in an élite house, no doubt Pollio’s, rather than in his school. (He was evidently deprived of his school by Augustus, and evidently replaced with another protégé by Pollio (Suda 2165 = T 4; i.e. Asinius Pollio Trallianus?); the retirement from Rome in T 1 would be temporary if true.) The famous Pollio seems to have recited his own works in his house too (Sen. Contr. 4 pr. 2 numquam admissa multitudine but aduocatis hominibus). Timagenes and probably other Greeks provided vigorously anti-Roman polemic at Rome (Sen. Ep. 91.13 = T 8; note Livy 9.18.6 dictitare solent). The potential for malevolent or insubordinate remarks from Greeks in Rome can be seen, for example, at Cic. Fam. 13.24.1–2 (nasty comments against Servius at Rome by Lyso, a probably cultivated friend of Cicero’s, cf. 16.9.3); Dio Cass. 62.29.1–4 (Cornutus), Philostr. VS 2.1 557 (Lucius). Cf. p. 117 below on Hybreas and Aeschines of Miletus. As we shall see later, Greeks probably contributed to a lively and controversial discussion of Greek and Roman culture, and did not merely offer servile flattery.30 Athenaeus’ Larensius has a house in Rome (1.3c) always open to entertain distinguished Greek writers and intellectuals; he also has a huge collection of old Greek books (1.3a). Whatever the element of fiction in Athenaeus’ work, Larensius is probably real. As a satirical appendage, we may note how at Lucian, Merc. Cond. 36 Roman women hire and take around with them philosophers, rhetors, and scholars. We are shown the women listening to them (sort of) in their houses, evidently at Rome. The hosts (35) perform to Greeks in sometimes incorrect Greek. Initial contact between Romans and literary Greeks happens in many different ways. Some factors vary with time, though as part of larger situations. Important in the Republic is diplomatic and military engagement with the Greek world; important in the Empire is the cultural predominance of the emperor. Polybius was compelled to stay in Italy by the Romans, along with other suspect politicians. Intensive discussion of books (31.23.4, 10) led to friendship with the young brothers Q. Fabius Maximus Aemilianus (cos. 105, RE Fabius 109) and Scipio Aemilianus. A conversation shyly initiated by Scipio led to Polybius ‘living with’, i.e. spending all his time with, Scipio (31.24.9, etc.). In their conversation, we may note, first, that Scipio wishes to be worthy of his ‘house’ and his ancestors (31.24.10): Roman family and prestige, and Scipio’s personal situation (23.10– 11), motivate his friendship with the Greek. Second, a ‘numerous tribe’ of potential teachers from mainland Greece is ‘pouring’ into Rome (31.24.7 ºf . . . Ø çFº . . . K Øææ).31 The ferocious wars of the first century bc had a drastic effect on Greek literary figures. Alexander Polyhistor from Miletus (LGGA 7, RE 88, FGrHist 273) was captured in the First Mithridatic War, brought to Rome as ÆØƪøª# (usually ‘child-watcher’) in a Cornelius Lentulus’ household, then freed. He wrote works on the history of places and peoples across the world, including On Rome in five 30 On Timagenes: Bowersock (1965), 109–10, 125–6, Griffin (1985), 181–2, Raaflaub and Samons (1990), 442–3, Dueck (2000), 135–6, T. Fear (2010), esp. 429–30. For anti-Roman writing, cf. also Metrod. FGrHist 184 T 6; Dion. Hal. Ant. 1.4.2–3, 5.2. The building on the Esquiline is a nymphaeum rather than a recitation hall, and may not be relevant to Maecenas; cf. Tamm (1963), 150, 159, and fig. 58; de Vos (1996), Johnson (2010), 140–1. 31 On changing modes of contact and acquisition cf. Noy (2000), 223–5.

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books (Suda Æ 1129; his F 95–6 are on Alcman’s place names). The Elder Tyrannion from Amisus (LGGA 1, RE 2) was captured by Lucullus, and freed by Murena (Plut. Luc. 19.8–9). He lived in Rome, became rich, and bought many books (Suda  1184). He involved himself, on his own initiative, with in some way sorting out and getting copied the library deriving from Aristotle which Sulla had brought to Rome (Strabo 13.1.54 609 C. iii.602.16–19 Radt, Plut. Sull. 26.1–2).32 Parthenius too was captured and enslaved during the Mithridatic Wars and brought to Rome (so a member of a household); he was then freed and remained. He mixes with a range of Roman poets, probably Cinna, probably Virgil (as pupil: Macr. Sat. 5.17.18), certainly Gallus (as friend: ¯— pr.). The direct literary bearing of this acquaintance is indicated in Parthenius’ Love Stories, some of which Gallus is supposedly to turn into Latin hexameters and elegiacs (this could be a stylization of the men’s literary interaction). Cato the Younger sailed to Asia on his own initiative from an expedition in Macedonia; he persuaded Athenodorus Cordylion the Stoic, living in Pergamum (and still in charge of the library?), to come with him to Rome, and stay in his house (Cic. Mur. 66, Strabo 14.5.14 674 C. iv.110.7– 112.9 Radt, Plut. Cat. Min. 10, cf. 16.1, Princ. Phil. 777a). Plutarch presents it as, for Cato, a more than military conquest (Cat. Min. 10.3). Ateius was probably captured by Sulla in Athens. He was a hugely industrious researcher (Suet. GR 10.4–5). He combined scholarship and rhetoric, Latin and Greek; he was a friend of both Sallust and Pollio, and provided at least research to the former, stylistic advice to the latter—and hence was a significant figure for Latin historiography. The summary of Roman history for Sallust to choose from is reminiscent of Parthenius.33 Wars in the Greek world lead us to Caesar and Octavian. The Younger Tyrannion (LGGA 2, RE 3), pupil of the Elder, was enslaved in Octavian’s war against Antony (or possibly Caesar’s against Pompey) by one of Octavian’s (or Caesar’s) household. But he was not kept: he was given to Terentia, once wife of Cicero (or possibly Terentia wife of Maecenas); she freed him. He lectured in Rome (Suda  1185). Which Tyrannion wrote what is uncertain; one of them wrote on the relation of Latin to Greek.34 The degree to which the emperors seem to dominate among patrons may be partly caused by the prestige their patronage confers on Greeks for Greek sources. Their dominance will none the less have been real; but other patrons were 32 Alexander: Christes (1979), 38–42, Rawson (1985), 69–70, Kaster (1995), 210. Rawson ignores the Suda’s ÆNå ƺøØ#Ł# (‘taken captive’); Servius Danielis’ ascription of enfranchisement to Sulla (Aen. 10.388) is probably a guess. Elder Tyrannion: Haas (1977), Christes (1979), 27–38; Rawson (1985), 69. In general on freedman see Treggiari (1969), esp. 110–28. 33 Athenodorus: Rawson (1985), 15, 82; Parthenius: Rawson (1985), 70, Lightfoot (1999, 2009); Ateius: Christes (1979), 43–8, Rawson (1985), 8–9, Kaster (1995), 138–48. P’s omission of quo grammatico in Graecis Vergilius usus est at Macr. Sat. 5.17.18 is of no stemmatic significance (cf. Lightfoot (1999), 14–15): see Kaster (2011), ix–x, xii, xxvi. 34 Tyrannion the Younger: Haas (1977), esp. 96–8, Christes (1979), 30–2, 64–7, Rawson (1985), 17; on the works see also Pagani (2009). Terentia’s life after Cicero: Treggiari (2007), 143–54. It is more doubtful whether Hyginus the pupil of Alexander Polyhistor was obtained in war, or was Greek: on some accounts he was captured by Caesar in Alexandria (Suet. GR 20.1). He was passed to Octavian, who at some point freed him; he presided over the Palatine Library, and his friends included Ovid. His writing seems to be in and on Latin. Cf. Christes (1979), 72–82, Rawson (1985), 17, 230, Kaster (1995), 205–14.

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important too (despite Juvenal 7). This is relevant to the range of the Greeks’ impact on Roman readers and writers. In Augustus’ principate there are plenty of others interested in literary Greeks. So Dionysius comes to Rome in 30 or 29 bc (Ant. 1.7.2), remains for twenty-two years, and knows a range of upper-class Romans (cf. e.g. 1.7.3 H ºªØø ø IæH, x # N# › غÆ qºŁ, ‘the most learned men, whom I got to know’); the princeps is not among them, despite the Antiquitates Romanae. Conspicuously named and praised there is the historian Q. Aelius Tubero (RE Aelius 156; Ant. 1.80.1); at Aelius’ request Dionysius writes a separate work on Thucydides, though with ostentatious independence from Aelius’ opinions (1 i.325.3–326.12, 55 418.19–21 Usener–Radermacher).35 Strabo presents a pair of Peripatetics from Seleucia in Cilicia, Athenaeus and Xenarchus (14.5.4 670 C. iv.102.14–104.30 Radt; PIR2 A 1284, PIR1 X 1). Athenaeus becomes a friend of Licinius Murena in Rome, close enough to be imperilled by his conspiracy; he may also be the Athenaeus who addressed a work on siegeengines to Marcellus (quite likely Augustus’ Marcellus). Xenarchus eventually arrives in Rome, after Alexandria and Athens, and then eventually becomes Augustus’ friend, through Augustus’ Alexandrian teacher Areius (PIR2 A 1035). Augustus’ patronage here follows on someone else’s patronage or friendship, as with Horace, where Maecenas precedes; Maecenas’ own patronage of Virgil and Propertius follows that of others.36 Crinagoras of Mytilene (PIR2 C 1580) became known to Caesar and Augustus through diplomacy, and evidently spent some time in Rome (note Gemella the girlfriend in I Gow–Page and Italian !ÆEæØ, ‘friends’, in XXXII; if Italy, presumably Rome). His poems celebrate Augustus and Augustus’ family, but other Roman friends too (‘Lucius’ IV, Arrius XXI, Crispus (XXXVI; Caesar even above Sallustius’ friends); Marcellus X, XI, Antonia XII, ‘Germanicus’ XXVI, ‘Nero’ XXVIII, Augustus XXIII, XXIV, XXVII, XXIX). Interrelation with older Greek literature is seen when he gives Marcellus the finely crafted Hecale, as a model for heroic action (XI). Augustus had no monopoly: Antipater of Thessalonica (PIR2 A 749) writes numerous poems for Piso the Pontifex (cos. 15 bc; PIR2 C 289), and is likely to have spent years in Rome. But one poem for Piso also mentions Augustus (XL.5–6), and two poems (XLVI–XLVII) later than the datable poems on Piso concern C. Caesar, Augustus’ adopted son; one describes his house (XLVI) rather than Piso’s (XXX). We cannot know if Antipater has been appropriated.37

35 Another likely instance is Cn. Pompeius Geminus PIR2 P 611, the addressee of the Letter to Pompeius. Stemma, content, and the likely direction of error make the variant ˆÆE ‘Gnaeus’ (voc.) at Pomp. 2.14 ii.231.5 Usener–Radermacher improbable (cf. also 1.17 ii.226.21; contrast addresses to Tubero; MSS Aujac (1992), 75–6; Richards (1938), 133 for this view, cf. Bowersock (1965), 130–1). Pompeius’ letter, if in Greek (cf. 2.14 ii.231.7–8), need not prove Pompeius Greek in origin. If he is Roman in origin, as seems more likely, the Greek mutual friend who shows Pompeius Dionysius’ works (1.1 ii.221.3–9) gives an interesting example of how a Roman encounters contemporary Greek writing. 36 Athenaeus and Xenarchus: Cichorius (1922), 271–9, Bowersock (1965), 33–5, Dueck (2000), 9, Whitehead and Blyth (2004), 15–31. Athenodorus son of Sandon (PIR2 A 1288) had contacts with Romans before Octavian; cf. Cichorius (1922), 279–80. 37 Crinagoras: Cichorius (1922), 306–23, Gow and Page (1968), ii.210–13; Syme (1986), 346–7; Cogitore (2010). Antipater and dates for Piso: see esp. Syme (1986), 332–7, 346, 379. XLVIII would be later than XLVI and XLVII if it addresses Cotys PIR2C 1554. Potamon the rhetor (PIR2P 914, FGrHist

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Leonidas of Alexandria (PIR2 L 147) sends a globe to Poppaea on her birthday (XXXII Page) and an epigram to Agrippina on hers (VIII), and a playful birthdaypoem to ‘Caesar’ (I); he sounds familiar with the imperial family (cf. e.g. Didymus the grammaticus who ØæØł Ææa ˝æøØ, ‘lived with Nero’, Suda  875). He dedicates three books of poems to Caesar (VII, note ºØ, ‘once again’; cf. the 174-line medical poem dedicated to Nero by his physician Andromachus, GDRK 62 (1–3), and Lucillius’ proclamation of Nero’s financial assistance at the start of his second book, AP 9.572). He appears to write a birthday poem for Vespasian too (XXVI). But he is beloved of ‘all’, where ‘all’ are ‘well-born Italians’, presumably Romans (XXI): he has a range of friends in the élite.38 Galen, especially favoured as a doctor by the imperial family, was first mentioned to Marcus Aurelius (Praecogn. 8.21 (CMG v.8.1), xiv.647 Kühn) by Cn. Claudius Severus (cos. II 173; PIR2 C 1024) and by Flavius Boethus (PIR2 F 229), consul at some point, from Egypt (cf. Anat. Admin. 1.1 i.79 Garofalo ii.215–16 Kühn). The spread of his fame among the eminent in Rome was helped by Boethus, who organized well-attended lectures-cum-demonstrations (Praecogn. 5.7–21, xiv.627–8), and especially by Eudemus (Praecogn. 2.24–5, xiv.612), a Peripatetic philosopher from Galen’s own city of Pergamum (4.17, xiv.624). Galen represents himself as known E#  ¼ººØ# H K   ÅØ æø IæH ŒÆd A#Ø KçB# E# ÆPŒæ æ#Ø (‘to all the first in rank at Rome and especially all the Emperors in turn’, Aff. Loc. 3.3 viii.144, cf. Praecogn. 5.4 xiv.625: helps H

æøıø K BØ    ÅØ, ‘the first in rank at Rome’; Lucian, Merc. Cond. 3 çºı# åØ f# Iæ#ı#   ø Æø, ‘to have the best of the Romans as friends’). Likewise, Appian, who had acted in a legal capacity at Rome, gained his procuratorship from Antoninus through the request of Appian’s old friend Fronto (p. 168 Van den Hout; cf. p. 142 below for their letters). But he attributes his success rather to imperial admiration for his performance as an orator (pr. 62).39 Rome offered rich opportunities for literary experience in Greek, including experience of contemporary literature and writers. In many respects the opportunities only increase with time; they certainly increase with one’s social, cultural, and economic standing.

147) also participates in the embassy to Julius Caesar (IG xii.2.35, where his name comes before Crinagoras’). When he returns to Mytilene a letter from Tiberius warns that anyone who dares to wrong him should consider if they can make war on Tiberius (Suda 2127). Potamon writes an encomium of ‘Caesar’; he is much honoured on Mytilene (IG xii.2.23–34, 159–63, cf. Buraselis (2001), 63–4; IG xii Suppl. no. 7). See on him also R. W. Parker (1991), Dueck (2000), 146–7. 38 For Leonidas see Page (1981), 503–14; Luz (2010), 254–70. The culture of Tiberius’ house may be illuminated by CIL vi.12652 = IGUR iii.1250, which presents high-quality poetry in both Greek and Latin on behalf of and perhaps by a freedman of Tiberius who is Greek in origin. On the relation between patronage by the princeps and others after Augustus cf. Haberl (2004), 113–42, with references. 39 For Galen’s life and activities see the notes in Nutton (1979); Hankinson (2008), adding BoudonMillot and Jouanna (2010); Mattern (2008); Johnson (2010), ch. 5 (78–9 for Boethus, etc.). Praecogn. 2.11–12 xiv.608 (note K  ı#, ‘he had heard’) make it unlikely that Galen had been taught by Eudemus; 4.17 xiv.624 Ø #ŒÆº (‘teacher’) is perhaps a title of honour. App. pr. 62 advertises a separate work on his life. IGUR iv.1700.1–2, which refers to a priesthood given an Appianus by the emperor, would probably have mentioned at least the contents of pr. 62 if this were Appian’s sarcophagus; cf. Bucher (2003).

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VIL LAS Members of the élite to some extent organized their mobile lives so as to carry their cultural world with them, and thus eliminate place. Philodemus, for instance, seems to have been with Piso both at Rome and in Herculaneum (cf. Cic. Pis. 68 ut . . . nec fere umquam ab eo discederet). Practicality and literary activity mix in the case of Pompey’s intimates. He took the historian Theophanes (RE 1, FGrHist 188) with him on his campaigns (cf. Strabo 11.5.1 503 C. iii.320.32–3 Radt). Theophanes was a close adviser (T 1, 5 b), 7, 8 b), d), 10 a), cf. Cic. Att. 9.11.3) but was also writing accounts of Pompey’s deeds (Cic. Arch. 24 = T 3 a), F1 cf. F 2– 7 on regions). So Lucullus was accompanied on campaign in Mesopatamia by Antiochus (Philod. Acad. Hist. col. xxxiv 37–43, see T3 Sedley; cf. Cic. Ac. Pri. 61 and T7). The initiative is less clear when the geographer Strabo accompanies his friend L. Aelius Gallus, prefect of Egypt, on an expedition as far as Syene (2.5.12 118 C. i.286.7 Radt Icæ çº# E ŒÆd !ÆEæ#, ‘a man dear to me, my friend’).40 But members of the élite also exploit differences of place for differences of cultural activity. Many use their villas outside Rome for less frenetic but more sustained contact with Greek literature. They create there a world in which to enjoy and study Greek literature, among other delights. The contrast with all the bustle and all the people encountered in city life is made to articulate an unpressured time spent partly with ueterum libris (Hor. Serm. 2.6.62: with Horace the ueteres would be Greek). The books replace real people and their demanding presence: mecum tantum et cum libellis loquor (Plin. Ep. 1.9.5, cf. Cic. Att. 2.16.3, and also (not necessarily in the country) Sen. Brev. 10.14.5). Villas are not only about display. They have an inward dimension, as well as an outward; both are relevant to living with literature.41 An apt atmosphere can be fashioned, and enthusiasm evinced, for the benefit of visitors, and of oneself; so they could be in houses at Rome, but with less space and scope. Cicero made an Academy in his villa at Tusculum near Rome; it was to be his version of the Academy just outside Athens (the villa near Cumae was also called Academia, according to his freedman Laurea (FRP 194; Plin. Nat. 31.6–7)). There later at least he held philosophical disputes, presented in the Tusculans (2.9, 3.7, cf. Fat. 19 for descendere; fr. 10.71–6 Courtney for Cicero’s own experience in Athens). He sought sculptures which would suit the place and recall the original (Att. 1.4.3, 1.9.2, 1.11.3). Sculptures and other decorations for libraries were common; Cicero would rather sit in Atticus’ little seat beneath the statue of Aristotle (i.e. to read) than in the curule chair of the mighty in Rome (Att. 4.10.1). The great collection of Philodemus’ and other philosophical works was found at a villa just outside Herculaneum; even supposing it was not located there in the first century bc, a villa in the Bay of Naples was later judged a suitable place

40 Cf. Bowersock (1965), 126–33, Syme (1986), 371. On Theophanes see Gold (1987), 87–107. Another of Pompey’s companions, the freedman and Latin grammaticus Lenaeus, was asked to translate Mithridates’ notes on poisons (Plin. Nat. 25.7). Antiochus in Syria: Hatzimichali (2012), 25, 27–9. 41 Villas: e.g. Neudecker (1988 and 1998), Lauter (1998), Wallace-Hadrill (1998), (2008), 196–208, Marzano (2007), esp. 82–101, with an emphasis on literary production.

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to keep and use such a library. And Philodemus is likely to have been present with the books, wherever they were: P. Herc. 1021 looks like work in progress.42 Busts of Greek writers and Greek historical figures frequently appeared in villas. The so-called Villa di Cassio outside Tibur (i bc–ii ad; the sculptures are copies made in the time of Hadrian) presented herms of, among others, Aeschines (IG xiv.1129 = I.It. iv.1.551), Antisthenes (1135 = 555), Bacchylides (1144 = 559), and perhaps Plato, with quotations (1196 = 583; cf. 1549 Socrates, with quote from Crito). The surviving herms were probably part of a more comprehensive sequence of authors and others. Hadrian’s villa and other sites at or near Tibur show plenty of other examples for such depictions: so the ‘Villa of the Pisones’ (three villas) included herms of Aristophanes and Philemon, Andocides and Isocrates (IG xiv.1140 = I.It. iv.1.558, 1221 = 587, 1134 = 554, 1168 = 570). The cryptoportico of the ‘Villa of the Vibii Vari’ had frescoes of Greek lyric poets, with names and ethnics in Greek: Pindar, Simonides, Ibycus, Bacchylides (ˇ˙B˜ˇ" is presumably ¨˙B`ˇ", ‘of Thebes’; ˙ˆ"˝ˇS should be ˙ˆ¯˝ˇ", ‘of Rhegium’; ˚¯ˇ" [‘of Ceos’] . . . ø) . . . should be Bacchylides as Simonides is there already). Many other portraits would seem to have been present; the date of the cryptoportico itself is Republican.43 More explicit connection with the owner’s mind appears in the Villa of Aelianus outside Rome. Here were presented matching herms of Menander and Homer (IGUR iv.1526, 1532). One of the poems on Homer names Aelianus; one of those on Menander manifests Aelianus’ ardour for the comedian (1526.11 çºÆ Ø, ‘dearest to me’), and mentions (10–14) Aelianus’ arrangement of the herms and the scholar Aristophanes’ ranking of Menander second after Homer. The lettering is compatible with the date of the famous Aelian, who wrote and declaimed (Philostr. VS 2.31 624) in Greek, while maintaining a Roman identity (VH 2.38, al.; he came from Praeneste: Suda ÆØ 178).44 A statuette of Euripides found in Rome on the Esquiline gives, up to , and with Ø for Ø in the arrangement by initial letter, what was probably once intended as a complete list of his plays (IGUR iv.1508). The Tabulae Iliacae most likely all come from villas around or not far from Rome; they present miniature reliefs of scenes from Iliad, Odyssey, Epic Cycle, and Stesichorus. One gives in minute writing, next 42 Cf. Dorandi (2010), 101–2. Though Philodemus will not have owned the Villa dei Papiri, the collection could be compared with Galen’s, had he brought it to Campania (cf. p. 67 n. 46 below). On the library of the Villa, see Sider (2005b). The relation of the sculptures to each other and the library is more problematic; see recently Mattusch (2005) and (2010); Zarmazoupi (2010) generally for recent work on the villa. On private libraries more widely, see Casson (2001), 68–79; Hutchinson (2008), 36 for decoration. On the Academy in Athens see Travlos (1971), 42–51; on Laurea, Ll. Morgan (2007). Cf. Varro’s Tower of the Winds, RR 3.5.17. 43 ‘Villa di Cassio’: Neudecker (1988), 229–34, and more broadly 64–74 (including a discussion of the types of portrait unlikely to survive); Marzano (2007), 568. ‘Villa of the Pisones’: Mari (1991), 139– 43, 145–56, esp. 150, 156, Marzano (2007), 583–7. ‘Villa of the Vibii Vari’ (not accessible to Mari): Mari (1991), 239–40, Marzano (2007), 573. Portraits generally: Zanker (1995), esp. 198–266. The slight representation of Latin authors in all visual media probably reflects Hellenistic traditions of decoration for homes; but the strong representation of Greek authors still has implications for the prestige of zeal (even feigned zeal) for Greek literature. 44 See pp. 94, 139–40 below. Cf. for the poems Bowie (1989), 244–7. IGUR iv.1527 presents a double herm of Menander and another author, found in the Sabine ‘Villa Cornelia’. It gives Menander’s dates of birth and death, and is not casually mistaken; cf. de Marcellus (1996), St. Schröder (1996).

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to a picture of the Iliupersis, an account of the days in the first book of the Iliad according to Zenodotus (IG xiv.1290 = IGUR iv.1619 = 8E Sadurska). Another includes a note on poems of the Epic Cycle, with line-numbers (1292 = 1621 = 10K; the Cycle is not likely to have been read much at this period). Another (1284 = 1612 = 1A) comes from the same villa outside Bovillae where the relief of the ‘Apotheosis of Homer’ was found (London, BM, Sculpt. 2191; ii bc?; Archelaus of Priene). It gives pictures and summaries of the books of the Iliad (Theodorus is named, as often with regard to the pictures); and it mentions the Cycle and Stesichorus for a depiction of the Iliupersis. Another again (14.1289 = 1625 = 14G) presents a brief summary of the Iliad, and depicts Homer sitting with a roll. Zeal for the supposedly greatest Greek poet, and especially the Iliad, is much on view, in a visually elegant fashion.45 Roman authors would use rural seclusion for writing as well as reading; the process of writing would no doubt often include the reading of Greek works. This is obvious in the case of Cicero in the Caesarian period. We find him, for example, requesting from his Tusculan villa Greek works which would be relevant to a dialogue he is projecting (Att. 13.32.2 . . . tris eos libros quam maxime nunc uellem; apti essent ad id quod cogito: cf. 13.31.2 (some had been suggested by Atticus)). His æØ ºØØŒe (‘The Threefold Statesman’, cf. Dicaearch. fr. 70, 72 Wehrli, etc.) non inuenio (13.32.2) implies he is using his own collection of books at the villa. Pliny both writes and reads in his Laurentine villa (Ep. 1.9.4–7). From the use he makes of other literature, it is evident that the reading will influence the writing; cf. e.g. 7.30.5: a speech of Demosthenes is in his hands for inspiration while he composes a speech of his own. Horace indicates (Epist. 2.2.65–86) that it is only in the country, not amid the tumult of Rome, that he can contracta sequi uestigia uatum (80); the phrase suggests imitation and so reading. We see him rereading Homer ‘at’ Praeneste, while Lollius declaims at Rome (1.2.1–2; Italian towns and the country are not sharply distinguished). Epistles 1 as a whole (cf. poems 7, 10, etc.) encourages us to see the resulting poem 2 as composed in the country itself. Horace presents poets generally as preferring to write in the country (Epist. 2.2.77), an idea also found, for example, in Tac. Dial. 9.6, 12.1–2 (cf. e.g. Stat. Silv. 2.2.112–17 (Pollius Felix)). If we suppose on internal grounds that poets are using Greek literature, it will be particularly in villas that they encounter it.46 For all the emphasis on solitude, involvement with Greek literature is not simply a confrontation of reader and text. Other people enter in. Works can be read out and performed to Romans in retreat (and at Rome). The Greek word anagnostes for a slave whose job is to read indicates a Hellenizing fashion rather than a primordial oral inheritance. Seneca describes the reading out to some friends at his villa of an inspiring book by Sextius the Elder, almost certainly in Greek (Ep. 64.1–2); even if this is a fiction, it is still meant to seem plausible. Seneca then talks of his own mental experience when he reads Sextius to himself 45 For the Tabulae see Sadurska (1964), Squire (2010, 2011), Porter (2011), 292–3. More obscure is the setting for the scholarly lists of Attic comedies and comedians, and of actors in Attica and Rhodes, IGUR i.215–33. 46 As Cicero and Pliny show, it is not just poetry that is written in the country; Quintilian has to argue against composing oratory there (Inst. 10.3.22–5). Galen was planning to have copies of all his work in Campania, partly, it seems, for convenience in working (—æd Iºı Å#Æ# 20–1).

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(4, cf. 59.7). One would imagine that some of the reading which invariably accompanied Atticus’ dinners was in Greek (Nep. Att. 14.2). During the summer in Pliny’s Tuscan villa, dinner with his wife or a few friends is accompanied by reading, and followed by a lyristes or by a comedy (Ep. 9.36.4). The comedy could be recited by one or more artists; cf. 9.40.2, where we have a singular comoedo as at 9.17.3, and 1.15.2, where we have a plural comoedos. As a regular entertainment the singing to the lyre sounds especially likely to be in or to include Greek. So at Lucian, Merc. Cond. 18 singing by the youth is likely to be in Greek to impress the Greek visitor; this is evidently in Rome, cf. 17. Greek is explicitly included for the uetus carmen melici poetae read at Favorinus’ dinners (Gell. 2.22.1). Plin. Ep. 5.19 tells of a beloved freedman Zosimus (from Egypt?, cf. 6); his specific skill, like that advertised for a slave (quasi inscriptio), is to perform comedy, but he reads many kinds of literature and plays the cithara. The comedies at least are likely to be Greek. Cf. SEG 17 (1960) no. 438 (Malta, iii ad), funerary altar of P. Aelius Hermolaus from Pergamum, Œø øØe# ŒÆd ºıæØ# # (‘comedy-performer and performer to the lyre’), IG xiv.1860 (Frascati) Œø øØ# (‘performer of comedy’) Moschianus from Smyrna, 1946 C. Plinius Eutychus (freedman), Œø øØ# (‘performer of comedy’), 2030 (via Tiburtina) ºıæØ# # (‘performer to the lyre’) Soterichus, son of ‘Lucis Pomponis’ Soterichus. We learn from Plutarch of a controversial new fashion introduced at Rome: the dramatized performance of Platonic dialogues during parties (Quaest. Conv. 7.8 711b–d).47 More ambitious performance was possible too. Unlike Pliny, emperors and others sometimes built significant theatres at their villas. It seems to be the extravagant Vedius Pollio (PIR1 V 213) that erected at a villa near Naples a theatre with capacity for over 1,000; there is also an odeion (stage building Hadrianic). Vedius played an important role in Asia Minor, and left behind enfranchised protégés; an interest in Greek drama would not be impossible. Less promising is the maligned Agrippa Postumus: he probably owned a villa on the island of Planasia, in which there is a small theatre.48 At Gell. 19.9, a young man of equestrian class from Asia has at a villa near Rome (1) boys and girls who can sing and play the Greek lyric of Sappho and ‘Anacreon’ and the Greek love-elegy poetarum . . . recentium (cf. p. 96 below on Sosius Senecio and Plut. Quaest. Conv. 7.8 711d). These perform, at a Roman’s request, after the young man’s birthday dinner; perhaps the Sappho is sung by the girls. A playful but meaningful debate then develops between the Roman and some Greeks present, who decry Latin love-poetry. (Despite the ‘recent’ Greek 47 The combination with reading and comedy in Pliny makes it likely that the lyre-playing includes singing (cf. 7.4.9), as do the combinations of talents in inscriptions (cf. I.Did. 579, sarcophagus of ºıæØ# # and ØÅ #); Plutarch knows of lyre-playing without words and song at a symposium, but disapproves (Quaest. Conv. 7.8.4, 713b). Cf. J. Robert and L. Robert (1959), 283. On Pliny, see Johnson (2010), 58–60. As fundamental for Galen as talking to a friend is the ability to follow when someone reads him a book (—æd Iºı Å#Æ# 78b); he could, however, have deteriorating sight in mind. 48 On performances and recitations of plays see Csapo (2010), 179–91. For Vedius’ theatre, etc., see Sear (2006), 46–7, 129–30; for Vedius in Asia Minor, IK xi.1.18c.4–11, etc., Atkinson (1962), Scherrer (1990). But since Augustus inherited the villa (Dio Cass. 54.23.5), one wonders if he can be excluded as builder of the theatre. For Postumus’ villa and theatre see Sear (2006), 169; Marzano (2007), 692–3. Socalled ‘Greek theatre’ at Hadrian’s Villa: Sear (2006), 140–1, León (2007) (note Hidalgo (2007), 180–3, 242–53). For theatrical artists in the emperors’ household cf. Jory (1970), 244–9.

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elegiac poets, Latin poets later than Catullus do not come into this Antonine discussion.) Ethnic antagonism and competition here take a personal and social form. The vivacity and dismissiveness of the Greek side in the wrangle are less to be seen in surviving Greek literature. Even libraries were not simply a question of the owner and his books. Cicero had much help in the initial arrangement of his books at Antium, particularly from the Elder Tyrannion; Atticus sent a Dionysius and Menophilus to help with the interior design and the practicalities (Att. 4.8.2, cf. 4.5.4). Cicero’s comment that Tyrannion’s arrangement had given mens to his house gives again the idea of substitute people, but through a person. The help of Tyrannion was sought in getting Greek books for Quintus (QF 3.4.5, 3.5.6; his own Chrysippus was also used); and of course Quintus was being helped by his brother. At the start of Cicero’s Topica, Trebatius and Cicero at first study separately in Cicero’s library in his Tusculan villa before Trebatius asks Cicero to explain a work of Aristotle. Cicero briefly does so, but suggests Trebatius reads the book himself or consults a particular (Greek) rhetor (1–2, cf. Fam. 7.19); the rhetor proves of no use (3). Whatever the degree of fictionalization, the general idea of discussion and help with Greek works is undoubtedly true to the culture. At the start of De Finibus 3, discussion grows out of the interests shown by Cicero and Cato in the library of young Lucullus (7–8). The two of them also mean to enhance by guidance and encouragement the educational effect on Lucullus of simply owning the library (8–9).49 The Villa of the Papyri had a portico next to the philosophical library; this could have been used for conversation related to the books (cf. on Lucullus p. 60 above). If the villa was owned by Piso, Philodemus will have been active there. In any case, the philosophical education of Piso satirically depicted by Cicero (Pis. 68–72) would have been accompanied by the exposition of texts; and Philodemus’ poems were presented by the author himself. Even Cicero conveys the element of friendship in the association of the two men, and the Roman’s enthusiasm. A philosophical mentor is of course a common phenomenon among the élite; so Colum. RR 1 pr. 3 presents it as the standard means of learning philosophy and virtue.50 It is at his villas that Cicero can especially spend time with Atticus’ learned freedman Dionysius (RE Pomponius 14a). Dionysius was ethnically Greek; he may well have been a uerna (cf. Nep. Att. 13.4), but an admirable education was available in Atticus’ household (13.3–4). In June 55 Cicero takes only Dionysius with him to the country; uoramus litteras (Att. 4.11.2) suggests they are reading Greek literature together, as well as engaging in scholarly conversation. Cicero revels in Dionysius’ omniscience. In 4.8a.1 (country) they are to spend the day together. At 7.3.10 Cicero is at a friend’s villa; Dionysius and Nicias (below) give him their opinion on a Greek detail in his work. Cicero claims to have honoured Dionysius as Scipio did Panaetius (9.12.2); he hoped Dionysius would educate him as well as his son and nephew (4.15.10 (Rome)). The role of teaching the boys

49 On libraries in villas cf. Casson (2001), 69–71, 73–5. For Chrysippus see Christes (1979), 115–18. On the proem of the Topica, see Reinhardt (2003), esp. 178–81, 369–70. 50 On Cic. Pis. 68–72 cf. Beer (2009), 37–44.

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becomes more fixed, though Dionysius gets furiously angry with them (6.1.12; cf. 8.4.1). The relationship with Cicero eventually deteriorates: the Greek freedman acts independently. Nicias of Cos (RE Curtius 22), perhaps the same as Curtius Nicias the Latin grammaticus of Suet. GR 14.1 (LGGA Curtius Nicias), was another source of learned conversation in the country (e.g. Att. 13.28.4). Yet at Att. 12.26.2, from his estate at Astura, in his present state of mind Cicero prefers solitude to the company of Nicias. The diverging impulses of villa life appear.51

S O U T H IT A L I A N C I T I E S Italian cities other than Rome were important for the experience of Greek literature. Culture in cities north of Rome will have been significant, especially for writers and others born there; but the obvious Greek connections in the south, and the concentration of Greek inscriptions there rather than in the north, makes it reasonable to focus our attention on the south for these purposes. The cities of Greek foundation underwent many vicissitudes, thanks to Italic peoples, Hannibal, and the Social War and especially Sulla, and to less dramatic processes of acculturation. For the most part, their Greek character is diminished or diluted over time, and their wealth and power fades; but the area continues to provide a vital element of Greek culture in the imperial period.52 It is of fundamental significance in the early period of Roman literature. Two aspects may be stressed particularly: poets and drama. Especially but not uniquely important was the city of Tarentum. For all the complications of Cic. Brut. 72, it is evident that Livius Andronicus was Greek, and probable that he came from Tarentum, and that his acquisition or appropriation sprang ultimately from Rome’s military actions (Tarentum was captured from Pyrrhus by the consul L. Papirius in 272). Ennius came from Rudiae (Tarentum Euseb. GCS vii.133, deriving from Suetonius); Strabo calls it a Greek city (6.3.5 281 C. ii.212.34–5 Radt, mentioning Ennius; add to standard testimonia for Rudiae (CIL ix p. 6) Mela 2.66). Ennius knew Greek and Oscan (Gell. 17.17.1; Greek Suet. GR 1.2). He will unquestionably have learned Greek as a child from his South Italian environment; thus Callipolis is nearby (still urbs Graia in Mela 2.66). He is called semigraecus, i.e. not fully Roman, at Suet. GR 1.2; Graecus at Fest. p. 374 Lindsay. Naevius came from Campania (Gell. 1.24.2), Pacuvius from Brundisium (Euseb. GCS vii.142 (T1 Schierl), 144 (T3?); said to be Ennius’ nephew, Plin. Nat. 35.19 (T4; grandson T1)). Pacuvius retired to Tarentum (Gell. 13.2.2 (T6, cf. T1, T3 = Euseb. GCS vii.144)).53

51 sed mihi solitudo et recessus prouincia est seems curiously expressed: this is not a task, and the roles of solitudo at 12.13.2 and 14.3 are dissimilar. Those passages also prevent prouincia est from meaning ‘is worth a province’, cf. Sull. 26. Dionysius: Christes (1979), 107–15; Rawson (1985), 70–1. Nicias: Christes (1979), 55–6, Rawson (1985), 71–2, Kaster (1995), 170–6; on his relationship with Cicero, see Mouritsen (2011), 61–2, 223. 52 See Lomas (1993) for an overall account. 53 For Livius Andronicus see Gruen (1990), 79–83, Oakley (1997–2005), ii.61–3. Testimonia in Lenchantin De Gubernatis (1937), 1–9. For Tarentum in iii bc, cf. Fronda (2010), 189–217.

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Theatres abounded in the Greek cities of South Italy; Tarentum had two, or a theatre and an odeion. These were largely built in the fifth and fourth centuries. The fourth-century vase-painting produced primarily at Tarentum contains many depictions of theatre (probably Attic). Rhinthon pioneered there in the early third century a new form of tragic burlesque, in Tarentine dialect (PCG i.259–71); he probably came from Syracuse, with its strong theatrical tradition. In the second and first centuries bc, numerous Italic cities in the South built theatres; clearly they were impelled by the Greek theatres and the performances there. The theatrical activity in Rome should be seen in the light of the theatrical activity implied by these buildings: the Romans are not uniquely imitating Greeks, but sharing in the wider Italian enthusiasm.54 The Greek Artists of Dionysus are likely to supply the model for the group activities and associations already mentioned (p. 48); note the ŒØ (‘guild’) of the Artists of Dionysus at Rhegium in IG xiv.615 (ii bc, or possibly early i bc). Andronicus was, in the probably correct tradition, the first to put on dramas in Rome, in 240, closely followed by Naevius (235). Rome had already a tradition of acted shows from Etruria (Livy 7.2.1–7; note the word histrio is of Etruscan origin, like persona); but Livius Andronicus and Naevius offered Latin recreations of Greek tragedies, Naevius of Greek comedies. The Aiax Mastigophorus looks like a reworking of Sophocles’ play (cf. title and frr. 16–17 Spaltenstein); Naevius’ Acontizomenos and Colax must represent reworkings of the plays by Dionysius and Philemon or Menander, or of homonymous plays (see above p. 48). A humbler version of South Italian performances of Athenian and other classics appears extremely likely. Andronicus also rehearsed a chorus of girls, in the temple of Jupiter Stator on the Palatine, and wrote poems for them to perform (the song they were rehearsing, and then one for Iuno Regina, which Livy evidently read; see 27.37.7–15 for all this). These choral performances too could well have been influenced by Greek practice in South Italy.55 Performance in Greek persists in the South after this early period; from the second century on Romans have luxury villas in the South or are otherwise available to be entertained. Cicero talks about how the Greek cities Rhegium, Locri, Naples, Tarentum used to give citizenship to dramatic artists, scaenicis artificibus (Arch. 9). He has in mind the pre-Sullan era, when Italy was plena Graecarum artium et disciplinarum (5). Archias, attracted from Antioch, displayed his skills at extempore poetry in these places. After the First Mithridatic War Agathocles, a hexameter poet from Naples, won the Amphiaraia and Rhomaia at Oropus (IG vii.416.14). Statius mentions Naples’ two theatres, one covered (i.e. an odeion), one not, geminam molem (Silv. 3.5.91): an imposing 54 Rhinthon: Taplin (1993), 48–52. For theatres see Mitens (1988), 129–74 (Greek 129–48, Greekinspired 149–74; map 80); Todisco (2003), 30–1. Building of the theatre in Gioiosa Jonica goes back to late ii or early i bc (Mitens (1988), 150–2, Sear (2006), 146); the ethnic identity of the city is not known. 55 For the artistic associations see Jory (1970), 224–36, Gruen (1990), 80–94, Lomas (1993), 112; for IG xiv.615 Lazzarini (1979). It would be rewarding to know how Varro related the ludi Tarentini of 249 bc to the beginning of drama in Rome nine years later (Scaen. Orig. Book 1, fr. 70 Funaioli). The ludi in Tarentum are of course known to Romans (Plaut. Men. 29–30), but Tarentini may well have to do with the place Tarentum in the Campus Martius. See Weiss (1973), 207; and cf. Livy, Perioch. 49 (with P. Oxy. IV 668 col. iv 103–5), Ps. Acr. Carm. Saec. 8 i.471 Keller. Spaltenstein (2008), 73–83 seems excessively sceptical on the relation of Livius’ play to Sophocles’ (and note 75 bottom).

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complex for performance. They were Augustan. Statius mentions immediately afterwards the four-yearly games (92), the Sebasta. These Greek-style games (Dio Cass. 55.10.9) were probably introduced in ad 2. The context in which Strabo mentions these contests, including music, makes it apparent that performances of poetry and the like would be in Greek (5.4.7 246 C. ii.108.9–15 Radt). M. Aurelius Ptolemaeus, the poet who wins there and at games in Greece, clearly performs in Greek (FD iii.1 no. 89, late ii ad). The Greek readership for Inscr. Olymp. 56 (ii ad; cf. SEG 37 (1987) no. 356), and the connection with the Olympic Games, make it all the more obvious that the competitions at the Sebasta for tragic and comic actors (lines 56–8) will be in Greek. The victories of Statius’ father at the Sebasta were plainly for Greek poetry (Silv. 5.3.104–15, cf. 136–45). Claudius put on (docuit) a Greek comedy, evidently written by Germanicus, at a contest in Naples (it won; Suet. Claud. 11.2, cf. Cal. 3.2). Piso, perhaps the conspirator, competed in Greek at Naples (Laus Pis. 91–2). The severely critical young M. Aurelius listens to Greek encomiographers at Naples in 143 (Fronto p. 31.1–7 Van den Hout). For all the cultural mix of the city (Strabo 5.4.7 246 C. ii.108.11–13 Radt, cf. 10–11; Stat. Silv. 3.5.94), the emphasis on Greek in its institutions makes such Greek performance natural. The Greek artistic culture of Naples is exemplified in P. Aelius Antigenidas from Nicomedia (IG xiv.737 = I. Napoli 47, ii ad). He was demarch at Naples, and chief priest ƒæA# #ıı Łı[ ºØŒB# (4), i.e. the musical part of the Artists of Dionysus. He won in the games at Rome, Naples, and Puteoli; he played the aulos, and in Nicomedia at least won as choraules (which suggests a choral performance).56 There is plenty of evidence for Greek performance beyond Naples. So the Eusebeia at Puteoli (founded by Antoninus) included a competition for reciting comedy (IG xiv.1114.2 —غı# Œø øØ#). Another Greek inscription tells of Gamicus’ death (IG xiv.874); the inscription was found at Misenum, in between Cumae, Puteoli, and Naples. Gamicus was a Œø øØ# who died at 15 and came from Aizanoi in Phrygia. SEG 54 (2004) no. 961 is a first-century ad inscription, with Latin heading and Greek poem, for an actor aged 5, dedicated by the grex of Ionicus the pantomime-artist; it comes from the Greek foundation Petelia. A Greek choral or solo performance of the pantomime text is at least possible. Petr. 59.2–7 depicts a performance by Homeristae, who enacted Iliadic battlescenes, at a private home in South Italy (Puteoli?); public performances by them are certainly standard in the Greek world (theatres in Athen. 14.620b and Ach. Tat. 3.20.4, cf. also Strabo 1.2.8 20 C. i.46.6–7 Radt; festivals: P. Oxy. III 519 (ii ad), VII 1050 (ii–iii ad), 1025 (iii ad), P. Oslo III 189 (iii ad; Iªg ØÅH, ‘contest of poets’, too), SB IV 7336 (iii ad), Roueché (1993), no. 1.6 (v–vi ad; with pp. 21–2; has equipment)). The performers seem to use the Homeric speeches in Petr. 59.3 (cum . . . Graecis uersibus colloquerentur, ut insolenter solent); Homeristae in Ach.

56 For the archaeology of the theatres at Naples cf. Johannowsky (1985), 209–13, Baldassarre (1986), 229–30 (supposes the original Greek theatre was in a different place), Sear (2006), 126–7. For the Sebasta see Inscr. Olymp. 56, I.Napoli 47–80 (Miranda (1990–5), 75–114), Rieks (1970), 99–101 (date), Miranda (1985), Caldelli (1993), 28–37. In IG xiv.729.5 = I.Napoli 20 Titus is the agonothete. For the demarchy see Lomas 145, 149–52 (honorific).

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Tat. 3.20.4 are H a  ˇ æı HØ # ÆØ ØŒø K E# Ł æØ# (‘those who present Homer with their mouths in theatres’).57 Individual figures in South Italy had a potent impact on individual Roman writers and readers. So we find two connected groups which both seem to be located in that region and interacting there: (i) the Romans Varius Rufus, Virgil, Plotius Tucca (PIR2 519), and Quintilius Varus (PIR2 Q 28) and (ii) the Greek Epicureans Philodemus and Siro. For (i) in Campania see Hor. Sat. 1.5.39–42 (the first three meet Horace at Sinuessa), and e.g. Virg. G. 4.563–6 (Virgil in Naples), cf. Donat. Vit. Verg. 11 (usually there?), 36. For (ii) in South Italy see P. Herc. 312 i.4.5–13 (Siro and Philodemus at Naples; Herculaneum mentioned). Cf. also Cic. Fin. 2.119 (Siro and Philodemus as pair), P. Herc. 155/339 col. xxi 9–10 (Campanian Epicurean community). For (i) and (ii) interacting see P. Herc. Paris. 2, where (i) are addressed, as were all but Plotius in P. Herc. 1082 col. xi.3 (now lost) and all but Virgil in P. Herc. 253 fr. 12 (now lost). It was claimed that Siro taught Virgil ([Virg.] Catal. 5.8–10, etc.; Serv. Buc. 6.13 may have learned of Siro teaching Quintilius Varus). Cf. also Cic. Fin. 2.119 (Siro and Philodemus friends of Cicero and of the Epicurean Torquatus), Fam. 6.11.2 (Siro Cicero’s friend). Later Seneca in Naples goes to hear Metronax the philosopher teaching in his own house (Ep. 76.4).58 M. Pupius Piso cos. 61 (RE Pupius 10) was taught philosophy by the Peripatetic Staseas of Naples (Cic. Fin. 5.75), who lived long at his house and perhaps taught him there (8, cf. De Orat. 1.104–5). Either the acquaintance with the father was made in Naples, or Staseas came of his own accord from Naples to Rome. Of incidental interest for the context is the Greek and Latin inscription IG xiv.674 = CIL ix.48: the senate at Brundisium gave a public tomb to the Epicurean philosopher Eucratidas of Rhodes. They attracted and honoured a philosopher who evidently taught in Greek (cf. perhaps their summoning of a Latin litterator (grammatistes) from Rome, Gell. 16.6.1). Because of its port, the city is much frequented by Romans. Statius’ father was probably Greek in upbringing, and certainly a conduit of Greek literature for his son and others. He came from Velia (see pp. 75–6 below). From his boyhood he performed Greek verse and prose at contests in Naples and in Greece, with conspicuous success (Stat. Silv. 5.3.112–15, 133–45; 89–103 suggest a wide range of actual composition in prose and verse alike). He was honoured by the Areopagus IæB# *ŒÆ ŒÆd [PÆ#] (‘for his excellence and goodwill to Athens’), IG ii2.3919 = I.Eleusis 347. He became a Greek grammaticus at Naples (the paraphrases of Homer at Stat. Silv. 5.3.159–61 will have been into Greek prose). The syllabus of his poets ranged widely, even if exaggerated at 156–8, and his teaching included lyric metre (151–6); his son describes him as praedoctus (3). Greek cities are prominent in the list of Italian places that sent children to him (163–71). He eventually moved to Rome, and expanded his teaching to Roman religious lore (176–94); Rome was evidently the 57 For SEG 54 (2004) no. 961 see Lazzarini (2004), (2007), 836–7. On the libretti of pantomimes (often related to tragedy), see Hall (2008), 258–9. On Homeristae cf. Hillgruber (2000), M. L. West (2010a), 5, and (2010b), 32. In Petr. 59.3 Trimalchio is using a crib, M. S. Smith suggests ((1975), 164). 58 For these friends of Philodemus see Körte (1890), Gigante (1984), 15, 71–7 (though at P. Herc. 312 i.4.5–13 we cannot know if a Roman is involved), Gigante and Capasso (1989).

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most lucrative and prestigious place for him, and perhaps his son. One may compare the move to Rome at the age of 12 of the poetic prodigy Atimetus, born in Rhegium from a Greek father and Roman mother (IG xiv.1436). The poet Statius was his father’s most significant pupil. The son’s progress to Latin composition, the father’s advice even on the Thebaid (Stat. Silv. 5.3.233–8), show in concrete practice one way in which Greek literature feeds into Latin.59 Strabo emphasizes the contribution to Naples’ Greek Iªøª (‘culture’; Radt Iªøª  for Øƪøª , ‘entertainment’, at 5.4.7 246 C. ii.108.24 Radt) of teachers retired from Rome. He views the abundance of individuals from the Greek Iªøª (i.e. scholars and the like) as a prime reason for visiting and living in Naples. Virgil seems to have spent the greater part of his creative life there. Statius’ withdrawal to Naples is multiply determined (a popular place for retirement, his native city, cf. Silv. 3.5.12–13); but it was evidently a congenial place for writing the Achilleid (4.4.49–55, 87–94; cf. Sil. 12.31–2 hospita Musis | otia). The inviting calm and ease of Naples particularly recurs as a theme, in contrast with Rome: the place is non tam ad inflammandos calamitosorum animos quam ad consolandos accommodatus (Cic. Sull. 17); pax secura locis et desidis otia uitae . . . nulla foro rabies (Stat. Silv. 3.5.85–7). Villas and other houses for the Roman élite abounded in the region, as archaeology and literature show. At Cic. Att. 1.6.1, for example, Rabirius is building a house in Naples, which Fonteius buys; at Ac. Pri. 9 Hortensius has a villa at Bauli, Lucullus near Naples, Cicero near Pompeii. Earlier, near Misenum Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi had  Eºº ø ŒÆd çغºªø (‘Greeks and men of culture’) always about her (Plut. Gracch. 40.2). Romans relaxing or retired were natural recipients of Greek culture; but contact with Greek literature in South Italy could happen in many ways. At Gell. 9.4 Gellius is returning from Greece to Italy, and at the port of Brundisium (the standard route for those going to Rome, cf. Strabo 6.3.7 282–3 C. ii.214 Radt, and Gell. 16.6.1) he finds old Greek books for sale at low prices, and purchases a large number.60 Some places, like Brundisium, had much direct connection with the East; Puteoli, a big commercial centre, contained substantial communities from the East (IG xiv.830, ad 174: there used to be ººd . . . ŒÆd º#ØØ, ‘numerous and rich’, Tyrians living in Puteoli). Even in Pompeii, the presence of Greek literary culture can be seen. So in the Casa degli Epigrammi (V 1.18; CIL iv.3407), Greek epigrams are inscribed with pictures. Two are in the Palatine Anthology; of these one was popular in Rome (cf. Suet. Dom. 14.2), and in the other Pan and Leonidas of Tarentum call to mind Prop. 3.13.43–6. Homer and the fishermen’s riddle are also depicted. The whole exedra forms a sort of bucolic ensemble. The pictures are in Style IIA, c.40–25 bc. The peristyle of the Casa degli Amorini dorati (VI.16.7), as decorated in the first century ad, indicates enthusiasm for Greek drama: it has reliefs connected with tragedy, comedy, and satyr-play (masks, etc.), and a possible portrait of Menander. What has been seen as a stage is earlier than this 59 On Stat. Silv. 5.3.90 see B. Gibson (2006), 300. For Athens see Clinton (1972), (2005–8), i.322, ii.318, and in general A. Hardie (1983), 1–14, McNelis (2002), B. Gibson (2006), 260–378. 60 White (2009), 272 n. 10 thinks the books are destined for Rome, but they are certainly being sold at the port (note expositos), and without awareness of their value. For villas etc. see Lafon (2001), D’Arms (2003), including updated bibliography 228–43.

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decoration (i bc); it could still have been used as a stage later. Images of Greek poets at Pompeii include Menander, in the House of the Menander (I 10.4), and poets not certainly identified in the Insula Occidentalis of Regio VI, 41 (i bc, Style IIA) and 42 (i ad Third Style, Casa del Bracciale d’Oro). In 41 the poet has Greek letters behind him; he adorns a library.61 The strongest Greek presence was to be found, it seems, in Naples, Tarentum, and Rhegium, of the most substantial cities (same group as especially Greek e.g. Livy 35.16.2; Cic. Verr. 4.135 (Rhegium, Tarentum)). Strabo separates Tarentum, Rhegium, and Naples from the rest of Magna Graecia. His assertion that these cities have retained aspects of Greek culture (6.1.2 253 C. ii.130.25–8 Radt) is relevant to the first century bc or later, even if his KŒÆæÆæH#ŁÆØ ‘have become barbarian’ of the rest involves an earlier perspective (but note ŒÆd ªaæ ÆPd   ø ÆEØ ªªÆ#Ø, ‘they themselves have become Roman’). He does not provide support for thinking the Hellenism in Naples simply the result of Augustus’ actions (cf. 5.4.7 246 C. ii.108.11–15 Radt); the Sebasta apart (Strabo loc. cit. 13– 15), it is disputable whether there is an increase in Hellenism as opposed to prosperity in the Julio-Claudian period (there are few Latin Republican inscriptions from Naples, e.g. CIL i2.1616). For Naples, the inscriptions thoroughly confirm Strabo on remaining elements of Greek culture and institutions, and actually suggest he is pessimistic. Greek is still the language of official inscriptions in the second century ad; what to deduce about spoken Greek is more difficult, but it is likely to have been significant. Cognomina, however, and other evidence suggest the abundant presence of people whose first language was Latin; the presence increases with time. Élite Romans could enjoy their experiences of Greek literature at Naples in an ambience that had Greek aspects; but the ambience was not unmixedly Greek.62 Our evidence for Rhegium and Tarentum in these respects is slighter than for Naples. More illuminating for us is Velia. It was a Greek foundation (e.g. Strabo 6.1.1 252 C. ii.126.7–8 Radt); the Romans summoned Greek priestesses of Ceres from Velia as from Naples (Cic. Balb. 55; event of 96 bc mentioned). It became a municipium (cf. CIL x.462); Stat. Silv. 5.3.126–7 Latiis ascita colonis | Graia . . . Hyele indicates not a Latin colony but a substantial number of citizens whose first language was Latin. None the less, Greek predominates: more Greek inscriptions than Latin have been found on the site (on Latin note IG xiv p. 688). The city 61 On the situation in IG xiv.830 and the relation with Tyre see Sosin (1999). For Pompeii V 1.18 see Pugliese Carratelli, Baldassarre, et al. (1990–2003), iii.539–41, 568–70, 572; Bergmann (2007), V. Weber and Varone (2011). On the epigram AP 9.75 see Gow and Page (1968), ii.289, 291. For VI 16.7 see Tamm (1963), 143 and fig. 43; Jashemski (1979–93), i.38–41, ii.159–63, Pugliese Carratelli, Baldassarre, et al. (1990–2003), v.714–16, 741–77, Csapo (2010), 154. On VI Ins. Occ. 41 see Strocka (1993), De Simone (2006), 45, 60–5, and, for the letters, http://www.fastionline.org/micro_view.php? fst_cd=AIAC_847&curcol=sea_cd-AIAC_958; on 42 see Ciardiello (2006), 222, 225–7. 62 Bowersock (1995) suggests simple anachronism in ıd [‘now’] . . . KŒÆæÆæH#ŁÆØ; but the context shows that something more complicated is happening here. For anachronism in Strabo see Syme (1995), 361, St. Radt (2002–11), v.455; on this passage cf. Madoli (2005). In any case, Strabo excludes Naples, so that some of Bowersock’s argument seems not quite to fit. On Greek in Naples see especially Leiwo (1994), a judicious assessment; see also Lomas (1993), 158, cf. 173–4, 176–81, J. N. Adams (2003a), 401–2. Stat. Silv. 3.5.79–80 nostra quoque haud tenuis propriis nec rara colonis | Parthenope (haud Markland: et MS; Otto’s nostraque nec less good geographically) should not be used as evidence for a Latin colony; it need not even refer to recent movement.

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produced Statius’ father in the first century ad, and in the second Palamedes, who wrote works on comic and tragic language and a commentary on Pindar (Suda 43; he appears as a guest of Larensius at Athen. 9.397a). Whatever the nature of the medical group that met there in i ad, it is notable that they make their own Parmenides into a founding figure: a herm is inscribed with —Æ[æ] Å# _ con—æÅ# | ˇPºØ Å# çı#ØŒ# (‘Parmenides, son of Pyres, “Ouliades” [some nection with Apollo Oulios and medicine], natural philosopher’, Vecchio (2003a), no. 21, cf. figs. 43, 44, 96). As for the Roman élite, the lawyer Trebatius certainly has property at Velia and spends much time there (Cic. Fam. 7.20.1; cf. 7.19, Top. 5); from Velia he is likely to come. Cicero visited him and others there.63 Parmenides takes us back to the start of the chapter (p. 47), and the interest of Romans in figures like Parmenides, Archytas, and Pythagoras. South Italy gains in connection with Greek literature through the location of some of that literature there, particularly the travels of Odysseus (Strabo 1.2.11 21–2 C. i.50.29–52.12 Radt, etc.). This placing is likely to have enhanced the experience of literaryminded Romans in the region. Strabo tells of supposed monuments and sites: so the tomb of the Siren Parthenope who gave her name to Naples (1.2.13 23 C. i.54.5–6 Radt, 1.2.18 26 C. i.62.17–18, 5.4.7 246 C. ii.108.6–7), the place of Homer’s Nekuia (5.4.5 244 C. ii.102.7–9, cf. 1.2.18 26 C. i.62.18–20), a temple of Athena founded by Odysseus (5.4.8 247 C. ii.112.19–20). Cf. for Parthenope e.g. Plin. Nat. 3.62, Stat. Silv. 2.2.1, 116–17 (with play on the poet whose Surrentine villa the poem is about), 3.1.64, Sil. 12.33–6 (31–2 on poetic retirement are in any case connected, even if they are put after 36); Dionys. Perieg. 360. Further up the coast, the sculptural ensemble of the villa at Sperlonga will be inspired by the presence of Odysseus in the region; the inscription which mentions Virgil is much later (iv ad), AÉ 1967 no. 85 (note 8 uiuăs acc. pl.). Seneca compares himself humorously with Ulysses in the part where Ulysses had voyaged (Ep. 53.4); he prepares with Parthenope in 53.1, the only time he so refers to Naples.64

63 For Rhegium cf. Savalli and Michelini (2001; inscriptions 7–11), for Tarentum Lippolis (2005). For Velia in the Roman period see Musti (1966), Ebner (1966), Lomas (1993), 135–6, 152–4. Up to 89 bc see Greco (2005), 597–641; especially interesting thereafter is the development and decoration of the originally Hellenistic complex called La Casa degli Affreschi, see Cicala, Fiammenghi, Vecchio (2003), Fiammenghi (2006), 552–62. On the medical group see Vecchio (2003a), 67–96, (2003b); cf. also Nutton (1970). The Latin inscription (now lost) by the Astynomi for the sacrorum curator of Athena’s sanctuary Athoste(ni) Aeginensi is probably after the ii ad (Ebner (1965), 307; contrast Lomas (1993), 103). 64 Inscription at Sperlonga: see Squire (2007).

4 Sicily, Athens, Rest of Greek Mainland, Rhodes SICILY Direct evidence for Roman engagement with Greek literature in Sicily is sparse; but as we shall see, some types are probable, and the importance of the place both for Rome and for Greek culture makes some comment desirable. Rome had been much involved with Sicily, at least since the First Punic War, which was largely fought there (264–241 bc). It became a major source of grain for Rome. Whatever the extent or nature of land ownership by individual Romans, there were certainly plenty of negotiatores active in Sicily. But Cicero’s Verrines illustrate how before Augustus the Sicilians are seen as predominantly Greek; archaeology confirms. In Sicily Scipio (cos. 205) wore Greek clothing (Livy 29.19.11–13, Tac. Ann. 2.59.1): controversially, but it is implied that Sicily is Greek. The Roman presence increased with the colonies of veterans founded by Augustus (coloniae Augustae), in Syracuse and in Panormus, Tauromenium, Catina, Thermae Himeraeae, and Tyndaris (Strabo 6.2.4 270 C. ii.178.18–20 Radt, 6.2.5 272 C. ii.184.13, Plin. Nat. 3.87–91; main set of colonizations 21 bc (Dio Cass. 54.7.1), Tauromenium perhaps 36 (Diod. Sic. 16.7.1)). The island was conceived of as a separate entity from Italy (cf. e.g. Cic. Agr. 3.12, Caes. BC 3.42.3, Val. Max. 9.8 ext. 1, Plin. Nat. 35.174). It did not become for the Roman élite a comfortable retreat, like the Bay of Naples, nor, it would appear, such a prime site for villas. None the less, the tourist attractions of the island were portrayed as overwhelming (Lucr. 1.716–30, Just. 4.1.1–6, Sen. Marc. 17.2–6 (the bad side in 17.5 is in the past), Nat. 4a.1.1; cf. already Lucil. 102–4 Marx = III 3 Charpin; nobilem Flor. Verg. 2.1 on trip). Members of the élite often held posts there.1 Lucilius 594 Marx = XXVI 16 Charpin suggests that Sicilians were like Tarentines and Consentines in being Greek but able to understand Latin up to a

1 For Sicilian archaeology see esp. R. J. A. Wilson (1990) (22–32 on late Republic: overwhelmingly Greek; a little Italian influence on architecture; 33–45 for Augustan policy in Sicily). See also Coarelli (1980), 381 for the significance of the colonization for building. One may contrast housing at Agrigento, where there was no colony: De Miro (2009), 401. For villas, see e.g. Portale (2007). More broadly cf. Pinzone (1999), 119–20. Latin makes a limited arrival in Syracusan inscriptions after colonization, with (in particular) Greek influence on Latin funerary inscriptions: Korhonen (2002), 70–3; for the wider, and complicated, picture see Korhonen (2011) (Greek thought significant in early imperial period). Dress of Scipio: Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 48, 184.

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point. (He visits Sicily in Book 3; whether he has estates there is questionable.) In Diodorus’ time, the Roman presence was sufficient for him to claim he had acquired much experience in Latin through contact with those on the island (1.4.4). Whether this contact included literary and historical conversation with Romans, we cannot say. We could bear in mind the Roman citizen Q. Caecilius Niger (RE 101), domo Siculus (so Ps. Ascon. In Div. p. 185.16 Stangl); he is probably not in the first generation of citizenship (despite Plut. Cic. 7.6 I ºıŁæØŒe# ¼Łæø #, ‘freedman’). He is imagined by Cicero as studying Greek and Latin literature in Sicily (Div. Caec. 39) and is capable of delivering a speech in Latin. At any rate Diodorus himself indicates literary activity in the first century bc.2 Literary interaction with Romans is apparent in the cases of Caecilius of Calliacte and Sex. Clodius; some of this interaction is likely to have occurred in Sicily, and in any case the men suggest the cultural milieu. ‘Of Calliacte’ suggests Caecilius was at some point a free citizen of that place; ‘Caecilius’ indicates enfranchisement or manumission of himself or his family (Suda Œ 1165 I e ºø, u# Ø# ƒ#æ ŒÆ#Ø, ‘from slaves, as some have reported’). He was a (no doubt Greek) rhetor, and practised in Rome under Augustus. His many books included not only a comparison of the Attic and Asianic manners (a subject of much interest to Romans), but of Demosthenes and Cicero. Plutarch thought attempting the latter over-ambitious; presumably he opined Caecilius’ appreciation of Latin, like his own, was not on a high enough level: so the dolphin suggests (Dem. 3.2). Sex. Clodius came from Sicily (Suet. GR 29.1), and at least retained a connection with the island, where Antony gave him land (Cic. Phil. 2.84, 101, 3.22). He was both a Greek and a Latin rhetor (Suetonius), and helped Antony; if he is the same Sex. Clodius, he wrote on the Bona Dea in sexto de diis Graeco (Arnob. Nat. 5.18, p. 271 Marchesi). We may note Cicero’s coniunctissimos friends M. Clodius Archagathus and C. Clodius Philo at Halaesa (Fam. 13.32.1).3 Sosippus of Acragas, praised by Cicero as homo disertissimus et omni doctrina et uirtute ornatissimus (Verr. 3.204), spoke to a large gathering in Rome (a contio of Pompey’s?); whether he spoke in Latin or Greek (with interpreter?), he indicates that oratory which Cicero could plausibly praise was cultivated in Sicily. See also Sthenius, who in primis Siculorum in dicendo copiosus est (2.88). Cicero himself attended a meeting of the boule in Syracuse; he heard Greek oratory and spoke in Greek (4.138, 147). In IG xiv.316 (Himera; ii–i bc?) we have a poet with a mixed name, Aristodamos Persius, son of Nemenidas, with a patron Aristodamos (for the name Aristodamus cf. IGDS 120.2 (Camarina, v bc)). Cicero does not play up the learning and culture of present Sicilians in the Verrines (3.204 is an exception with reasons; Tusc. 5.66 does not really show the contrary); he does stress their devotion to art. Fam. 13.30, however, tells of L. Manlius Sosis. He was a citizen of Catina, where his brother remained, and retained business interests there; he moved to Naples, became a citizen of Naples and so of Rome. Cicero

2

For Caecilius, see Badian (1958), 298, 302 (citizenship from Metelli). With Caecilius, cf. Caecilius Niger above; rather than the same family (Brzoska (1899), 1174–5), patronage from the same family? For Sex. Clodius see Rawson (1985), 36–7, Kaster (1995), 307–9. 3

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describes him as iis studiis litterarum doctrinaeque praeditum quibus ego maxime delector (2). No doubt Cicero would not have remained on friendly terms with Demetrius Megas (or Meges) for almost thirty years (his closest familiaritas with a Sicilian, Fam. 13.36.1) if he had not had some cultural attainments to recommend him; Cicero had got him Roman citizenship through Caesar. There are other Sicilian hospites too whom he recommends to Acilius in 46–45.4 We have seen the opportunities in Sicily during the late Republic for encountering Greek oratory, opportunities taken by Cicero and no doubt others. On and after colonization, the Romans are eager to adapt theatres, and so probably to watch plays. (The theatre in Syracuse is unlikely to have been used much for gladiatorial games, as the amphitheatre there is probably Augustan.) The theatre at Tyndaris was adapted 21 bc–ad 100; in Catane there is Augustan building or rebuilding, probably Augustan adaptation at Syracuse. There is also Augustan rebuilding not at colonies: at Segesta and Monte Iato. There is building or rebuilding in the later first and the second centuries ad at Tauromenium, Syracuse, Catane, and elsewhere. Greek plays were put on by Caligula at Syracuse: asticos ludos (Suet. Cal. 20.1). It seems unlikely that this would be the only appearance of Greek drama in the colonies. Inscriptions of i bc show a guild of the Artists of Dionysus in Syracuse (IG xiv.12 and 13); other inscriptions seem to show related guilds there in 47–45 bc and perhaps i ad (Manganaro (1963), 57–61, L. Moretti (1963); for a Syracusan actor Œø øÆ# ƺÆØA#, ‘of an old [not ‘Old’] comedy’, of earlier i bc see IG vii.420.27–8, Stephanis (1988) no. 1035). There is not much sign of contests in Sicily after the colonization, or earlier in the first century bc, by contrast with mainland Greece; but a Syracusan poet with a Roman name (C. Cassius Flaccus) wins contests in Corinth, evidently in Greek (Corinth VIII.1 no. 14.84–6 (ad 3), and 19.10–11 (Claudian?)). At Tauromenium, the Trajanic or Hadrianic reconstruction of the theatre was accompanied by the building of an odeion for performance on a smaller scale. Greek texts would be available in quantity: at an earlier date (late iii or ii bc?) a library ‘catalogue’ at Tauromenium offers a range of prose, with summaries, including the philosopher Anaximander, the Syracusan Philistus, and Fabius Pictor (Battistoni (2006)).5 In the empire, even Romans with serious work to do might be thought to have leisure for literary and cultural activities (more than at Rome?). Horace imagines Iccius, Agrippa’s agent in Sicily, studying philosophy intensively (Epist. 1.12.12–20) 4 For Sosis cf. Rawson (1985), 25 (first language clearly Greek). The name "H#Ø# is common in Sicily: LGPN iiiA.415, e.g. IG xiv.421.II.28 (D a. 8), Tauromenium (not far from Catane), ii–i bc, add IGDS ii.40 col. iii 8 (Dubois (1989–2008), ii.94–6; region of Syracuse, c.200 bc). See Deniaux (1993), 425–6 for the patronage of Sosis, etc.; 316 for Demetrius Megas. Later (i or ii ad) we have a Greek inscription (IG xiv.278) in honour of a philosopher Flavius I[, doubtless Greek by descent. 5 For changes to theatres in Sicily and their dating, see _Polacco, Anti, et al. (1981–90), i.201–12, Mitens (1988), 82–127, and esp. R. J. A. Wilson (1990), 57–78, and Sear (2006), 185–97. The case for Augustan rebuilding at Syracuse (R. J. A. Wilson (1990), 61–3) is less strong than elsewhere: rebuilding would not necessarily be implied by a statue of Augustus. The Augustan dating for the amphitheatre at Syracuse is strong: Coarelli (1980), 381, R. J. A. Wilson (1990), 82, as against Polacco, Anti, et al. (1981–90), i.204, 212. For the odeia at Tauromenium and Catina, see R. J. A. Wilson (1990), 78–80. A tombstone of the Roman period from Messene commemorates Paphianos from Paphos, a Œø øØ# (‘performer of comedy’) who presumably recited in Greek (14 IG xiv.411): en route for a competition in Italy, thinks L. Robert (1960), 330–1. For contests in Sicily (none in Roman period) cf. Ringwood Arnold (1960).

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and deciding between the Sicilian Empedocles and the Roman Stertinius. (There is too much detail and politeness for the study to be an absurdity.) The procuratorship of Sicily could be compatible with the study of litterae and philosophy, so Seneca considers for Lucilius (Nat. 4a pr. 1); Lucilius himself allegedly talks of procurationis otiosae. Problems appear in Letters 19–21, but in the fiction he still has time to read Seneca’s letters and to write.6 Tourism at all times, by officials and others, had many literary and cultural dimensions. Syracuse was thought to be the largest and most beautiful of all Greek cities (Cic. Verr. 4.117, Livy 25.24.11 (illa tempestate), 25.29.5). Many of its works of art attracted Marcellus to remove them (Livy 25.40.1–3). Cicero’s account of Verres’ depredations emphasizes statues of gods, but even here we learn of a statue of Sappho (4.126), and of the Himereans’ own poet Stesichorus (2.87; Sappho’s statue-base has an epigramma pernobile, probably an epigram). The locals’ love of these statues is evidently connected with their literary heritage (cf. e.g. [Mosch.] 3.86–92 for local poets); Stesichorus is even holding a papyrus roll, not a lyre. Roman visitors were impressed by these great figures from the past. Silius displays the island’s (and particularly Syracuse’s) mighty tradition from a tourist’s perspective: hic Phoebo digna et Musis uenerabere uatum | ora excellentum (14.28–9). He presents Archimedes as the glory of Syracuse, easily excelling all inhabitants of earth (14.341–52). Cicero as quaestor interested himself in locating the tomb of Archimedes, which was unknown to the locals (Tusc. 5.64–6). We cannot know whether Ennius’ concern with adapting Sicilian works had any connection with a visit (it would be natural to stop there in proceeding from Rudiae or Tarentum to Sardinia). At all events, his activity only underlined the cultural prestige of the island. Comedy was thought to have been invented by Epicharmus (Solin. 5.13 hic [in Sicily] primum inuenta comoedia, cf. + Dion. Thr. 2 (AE) p. 475.21.2 Hilgard); Theocr. Ep. 18 indicates a statue of Epicharmus in the theatre at Syracuse. Theocritus’ Sicilian origin is stressed in Manilius’ Sicula . . . tellure creatus (2.40, no name), as in Virgil’s Sicelides Musae (Ecl. 4.1), cf. [Mosch.] 3.8 etc., 93 (Theocritus in Syracuse), AP 9.434. Lucretius presents Empedocles (1.715–33) as the most amazing product of the island, which uisenda . . . fertur.7 The urban and natural attractions were themselves steeped in literary associations. The port of Syracuse was the scene of a great event in Greek history and in the narrative of the most admired Attic historian: cf. Cic. Verr. 5.98, Livy 25.29.6 (note posteris quoque eam spectaculo esse), Sen. Marc. 17.4 with Man. 5.50, Sil. 14.281–6 (and even Dion. Hal. Thuc. 26–7). The musings on drastic historical 6

Stertinius was a Stoic: see Hor. Sat. 2.3.32–6; Porph. Hor. Sat. 2.3.32. For Ennius’ exploitation of Archestratus, Euhemerus, Epicharmus, see Feeney (2007), 57 (as part of a larger picture of Sicily and Rome, 43–59). Cf. perhaps Varro, Poet. fr. 60 Funaioli: deinde ad Siculos se adplicauit. Note that Euhemerus (FGrHist 63) is ambiguously ‘of Messene’; perhaps the alternative ‘of Acragas’ suggests the Sicilian not the Peloponnesian Messene, though we find ‘of Tegea’ too. Cf. Winiarczyk (2002), 7–8. For Ennius in Sardinia see Nep. Cato 4, Euseb. GCS vii.133, Gruen (1990), 107. On Theocritus’ statue see Wilamowitz (1905), 87. Stat. Silv. 5.3.151 Siculusque senex probably refers to Theocritus too; otherwise to Epicharmus. See p. 276 n. 2 below. Calpurnius Siculus or his family may or may not have come from Sicily (cf. CIL vi.25352 M. Raecius Roscius Clodianus Siculus Syracusanus). Definitely Sicilian is the author of a Latin Perseid, Ov. Pont. 4.16.25. Arrighetti (1980), 393–410 assembles extant Sicilian authors, Greek and Latin, after Theocritus. 7

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change which Seneca ascribes to Lucilius in Sicily (Nat. 4a pr. 21, note ingenti spectaculo interfuit) are only a Romanized updating of Marcellus’, which include Athens (Livy 25.24.11–12). Virg. Ecl. 10.1–5 equates Theocritus’ poetry with the famous Syracusan spring Arethusa and its legend (cf. e.g. Diod. Sic. 5.3.5–6, with links to history, and Strabo 6.2.4 270–1 C. ii.178.32–1 Radt, with reference to Pindar and Timaeus on Arethusa). Some of the most memorable stories from the Odyssey were located in or near Sicily: Scylla and Charybdis (e.g. Mela 2.115 Scyllae Charybdisque saeuis nominibus inclutum, Just. 4.1.12 fabulae, cf. 17 neque hoc [straits of Messina] ab antiquis in dulcedinem fabulae compositum, like other attractions), Calypso (ibid. 2.120), and especially the Cyclops. The Cyclops appeared too in, for example, Euripides and the Sicilian Theocritus; he is already placed on Etna in Euripides (e.g. Cyc. 20–4, 366; cf. e.g. Virg. Aen. 11.263, Ov. Met. 13.770, 868–9, 877). Ovid’s account of his stay in Sicily, for much of a year, stresses mythological connections (Pont. 2.10.22–30).8 In Etna Empedocles perished (Hor. Ars 463–6; Siculique poetae 463, famosae mortis 469). Visiting Etna would inspire Lucilius to write poetry on it, Seneca imagines (Ep. 79.5, 7). The place has been treated by ‘all poets’ (79.5); though Seneca dwells on the Latin ones (cf. also 51.1), Gell. 17.10.8–19 shows Virgil’s treatment (Aen. 3.570–7) as an adaptation of Pindar’s (Pyth. 1.21–6). Favorinus there criticizes Virgil on the basis of the real Etna (17.10.11): sight (probably) and reading go together.9

ATHENS: VISITORS We now proceed to Greek cities and places which are substantially separated from Italy. Athens was for Romans the pre-eminent city in mainland Greece as regards the experience of literary culture. It bulks far larger than any other city outside Italy in the evidence for visits with a cultural element.10 Since few members of the Roman élite, including writers, simply lived outside Italy, sojourns in Athens fitted into various points in the structure of their lives. The best-known is during the time of education, but most often after the three usual stages (roughly) of education for boys. Val. Max. 2.1.10 implies that Athens would normally be thought an ideal place for education: quas Athenas, quam scholam, quae alienigena studia huic domesticae disciplinae [Romans of old singing songs at banquets] praetulerim? The number of authors and others who spent years in Athens for this purpose is remarkable. The earliest clear example is 8 Cf. White (1992), 216. res egisse simul (41) does not necessarily indicate that Ovid is in Macer’s cohors on a one-year post (would it even be apt?); the phrase could also refer to Asia. 9 The whole passages in Pindar and Virgil are 17–28, 570–87. Ovid picks up Typhoeus from Pindar, Fast. 4.491–2, cf. Man. 2.878–80? The Aetna refers to the poetic tradition with fallacia uatum 29, cf. 36. Lost works on Sicily include Augustus’ hexameter poem Sicilia, in one book (Suet. Aug. 85.2); it presumably drew on his experiences of the island. 10 For Hellenistic Athens see Habicht (1997); for imperial Athens, Graindor (1927, 1931, 1934), though old. Important for Athens, and Greece in general, is Spawforth (2012). See Daly (1950) on Roman study-trips; Osborne and Byrne (1996), 266–71 for Romans resident in Athens and recorded on inscriptions.

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T. Albucius, who later circulated speeches; he studied Epicurean philosophy at Athens as an adulescens (Cic. Brut. 131; 120 bc or earlier). His Greekness is mocked in Athens by Q. Scaevola (Lucil. 88–94 Marx = II 19 Charpin, Cic. Fin. 1.8–9), who is en route as praetor to or from Asia. But his activity was not so very exceptional: in SEG 38 (1988) no. 114 col. v 116–17, 122–4 (122/1 bc; cf. SEG 47 (1997) no. 138) four Romans are listed as foreign ephebes (not yet Athenian citizens) in 123/2 bc; they attended lectures for a year from all the philosophers in the Lyceum and the Academy (IG ii2.1006.19–20). Perhaps earlier than Albucius, Q. Metellus Numidicus (RE Caecilius 97) is said as an adulescens to have heard Carneades in Athens for many days, i.e. not a whole year (Cic. De Orat. 3.68; cos. 109, so born by 152; Carneades dies 129/8).11 Cicero and Atticus were both partly motivated by the political scene in Rome. Atticus went to Athens to follow his studies (idoneum tempus ratus studiis obsequendi suis, Nep. Att. 2.2) and avoid offending rival factions, perhaps in 86, when he was 23 (he was born in late December 110). He continued to live there for many years; he was involved with Epicurean philosophy (he heard Epicurean philosophers together with Cicero, Fin. 1.16), and devoted much time to litterae (4.3). Cicero, who had already performed as an orator, went east at the age of 27 or so, partly for reasons of safety; he thus had a sequel to his education which included six months of studying philosophy and oratory in Athens (Brut. 314; ND 1.59: extra-curricular listening).12 Brutus (b. c.85), who wrote philosophical works and was an orator, got in Athens the philosophical and oratorical arts he could not get at home (Cic. Brut. 332; see also p. 93); he heard Aristus in Athens for some time (Ac. Post. 12, Fin. 5.8, cf. Plut. Brut. 2.2–3). He will already have learned some philosophy from Cato, and Cato’s guest Athenodorus. Cicero sent his son to Athens to hear the philosophers, for over a year (Off. 1.1, 3.6, Fam. 12.16.1 (Trebonius), Plut. Cic. 45.3 (after August 44)). The son was probably born in July 65, so was 21 in July 44, and arrived at Athens in the spring of 45 (Att. 12.24.1, 15.15.4), aged 19. His other activities included Greek rhetoric with Gorgias: Fam. 16.21.4–6, Plut. Cic. 24.8–9 (p. 16 above). Corvinus the orator (Cic. Att. 12.32.3) will have been around 19 in Athens, if he was indeed born about 64.13 11 On Roman education, and its Hellenistic models, see M. L. Clarke (1971), 76–80 (Athens 55–71, etc.), Bonner (1977), T. J. Morgan (1998), Bloomer (2011). On Romans in Hellenistic Athens, see Habicht (1995), 340–7. Albucius also spends his exile studying in Athens, Cic. Tusc. 5.108; C. Aurelius Cotta cos. 75 (RE Aurelius 96; Rawson (1985), 7) heard Philon and Zeno cum Athenis essem (Cic. ND 1.59), possibly during his exile (from 91 bc; cf. Dyck (2003), 141). On Albucius, see Castner (1988), 1–6, Habicht (1995), 294, 345. Note that the Romans in SEG 38 (1988) no. 114 are designated, as we would expect, by praenomen only; this is part of the joke against Albucius in Lucilius, where the praenomen from Romans is rudely familiar. Roman ephebes are attested in inscriptions of 122/1, 119/18, 117/16, 107/6, 102/1, c.40, 39/8 bc (Osborne and Byrne (1996), 266–71). Thereafter the inscriptions themselves are less revealing, but it does not look as if Roman citizens from Rome are enrolling as ephebes, even in ii ad, when we have literary evidence for considerable interest in education at Athens. 12 Cicero mocks Q. Caecilius Niger (RE 101) for learning his litteras Graecas in Lilybaeum not Athens (Div. Caec. 39); he probably alludes to the grammaticus, but suggests a contrast with his own final education in Athens. The most the passage would show is that educational visits to Athens were frequent. Cicero’s need for safety was probably real enough; but the move at this stage in his career makes a striking contrast with his later reluctance to leave Rome for a province. 13 Birth of Cicero’s son: Att. 1.2, with Shackleton Bailey (1965–70), i.296 (though the joke does not wholly convince). For his time in Athens cf. Bonner (1977), 90–5. For Corvinus see Syme (1986), ch. 15

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Horace’s presentation suggests, perhaps misleadingly, that he went straight from the grammaticus in Rome to philosophical study in Athens: Epist. 2.2.41–5. He would have been there at the age of 18 if as is likely he met Brutus there in 44 (cf. Sat. 1.6.47–8, Carm. 1.7.1–2, Epist. 2.2.46–8, Plut. Brut. 24.1–2, Suet. Vit. Hor. 6–7 Rostagni). There at the same time was L. Calpurnius Bibulus (RE 27), who wrote a little book of memories on Brutus (Plut. Brut. 13.3; Cic. Att. 12.32.2: March 45 Bibulus and others Athenis futuros). Ovid studied in Athens (Trist. 1.2.77). Lucan, born November ad 39 (Vacca, Vit. Luc. ll. 13–14 Rostagni), was recalled from Athens by Nero, and performed in Nero’s quinquennial (or quadrennial) games of summer 60 (Vacca 39–43, Suet. Vit. Luc. 2–11; the chronology would not work out with the second Neronia of 65). So he was there at the age of 20 or younger; he had already been studying philosophy (probably) with Cornutus in Rome (Vacca, Vit. Pers. ll. 21–2).14 Gellius probably spent several years in Athens (Saturnalia Athenis agitabamus hilare 18.2.1, 13.1); he was there in 147 (so roughly 19 to 22), had already at least studied rhetoric in Rome (19.8.1 auditionibus), and had possibly already studied philosophy there with Favorinus. Apuleius claims to have begun even his philosophical education in Carthage (Flor. 18.5). He may imply (20.3–4) that his study in Athens followed a full education in Carthage, or simply indicate that his education in Athens was broader than most: it included poetry and dialectic. His main study in Athens was most likely of Platonic philosophy. He makes friends with another Roman studying there, and probably has a network of Roman friends (Apol. 72.3).15 Visits later in life were common. Athens frequently appears as an obvious place to travel to in a context where the education of youth is not in question: so Sen. Ep. 104.8 to Lucilius (Athens, Rhodes); Aetna 581–2 uariis spectantur Athenae | [sc. gaudentes] carminibus (cf. 585–6 tu quoque Athenarum carmen, . . . Erigone). There is often an element of study. Strabo (4.1.5 181 C. i.466.4–6 Radt) writes of Massilia (Marseille) as having at present persuaded f# ªøæØ ø ı#   ø Æø (‘the most well-known of the Romans’) to go there to study Id B# (date of birth p. 201). Cicero’s young listener at Tusc. 2.26 has been in scholis philosophorum at Athens. Varro’s sed meos amicos in quibus est studium in Graeciam mitto, id est ad Graecos ire iubeo in Cic. Ac. Post. 8 must have Athens primarily in mind (Graeciam is used to make the point about Graecos; cf. what follows). It is worth asking, though we cannot answer, whether Lucretius is likely to have learned his Epicurean philosophy from years of study in Athens. The centrality of Athens for current Epicureanism as seen in Philodemus (p. 90 below) is probably relevant to Book 6. 14 For Horace see Fraenkel (1957), 9–10; Syme (1939), 171, 198; R. G. M. Nisbet (2007), 8. On Cornutus and his network of literary connections see Takács (2007); p. 138 below for his Greek and Latin writings. 15 Gell. 14.2.1, 11 certainly sound as if Gellius goes on from rhetoric to being a judge; if the passage does not distort, could he have been allowed an educational intermission in Athens? Otherwise Holford-Strevens (1977), 99–100, (2003), 16–17. Perhaps the Attic nights on which he begins assembling his work are a later visit (pr. 4). There are problems in thinking that Apuleius studied at the Academy itself: see Harrison (2000), 5 n. 19, and pp. 90–1 below; but there were clearly ‘Platonic philosophers’. Cf. e.g. IG ii2.3803 (ii ad): a herm on authority of Areopagus for C. Iulius Sabinus —ºÆø|ØŒe çغ#ç (PAA 811145; Byrne (2003), 314), who is an ephebe in 142/3 (IG ii2.3740.23, with Attic deme), and must have begun activity as a philosopher before the imperial posts (170s). The same phrase Gell. 15.2.1 and e.g. SGO 03/02/29. Petr. 5.1 is not good evidence for Romans actually starting their education in Athens, and studying poetry there.

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N# Ł Æ# I Å Æ# (‘instead of going away to Athens’). Strabo is not talking of men aged 19, as will be seen later (pp. 120–1). Sulla’s remark in Plut. Sull. 13.5 that he had not been sent to Athens by the Romans to study (çغ ÆŁ #ø) makes better sense if visits later in life were common. Propertius in poems contemplates visits to doctas . . . Athenas, a term that evokes literature and study (1.6.13, 3.21.1; cognoscere 1.6.13 strictly implies it would be his first visit: perhaps part of a picture in his work of a disrupted childhood). In 3.21 he is envisaging (25–8) a period of philosophical study, based on the works of Plato or Epicurus, or oratorical study, on the model of Demosthenes, or enjoyment of Menander’s drama (in the theatre as well as in texts?). Some of this sounds like postponed education, though love has made animum emendare all the more necessary (cf. 3.5 for philosophy as a post-amatory retirement project).16 The eques L. Saufeius, who may well be the author of the work mentioned at Serv. Dan. Aen. 1.6 (fr. 1 Peter), spent several years in Athens studying philosophy, late in his life (Nep. Att. 12.3; aequalis of Atticus, his visit includes time of second triumvirate). He dedicated a statue to his ŒÆ]ŁÅªÅ[  (‘teacher’) the Epicurean Phaedrus (SEG 23 (1968) no. 117.4–6). Horace depicts a man spending seven years on study in Athens, and growing old over his books—before his time, but evidently he is not a youth either (Epist. 2.2.81–4). Presumably as an established philosopher, with a school in Rome, Sextius (probably the father) visits Athens (Plin. Nat. 18.274); he is already of senatorial age in Caesar’s dictatorship, but is not a senator (Sen. Ep. 98.13, cf. Plut. Sent. Prof. 77e; p. 137 below). Virgil is visiting Athens in Hor. Carm. 1.3.1–8; this is at the time of composing the Aeneid. If the visit is actual, Greek poetry and philosophy will have played some part in the reason. A trip to Greece in 19 bc took Virgil to Athens (Donat. Vit. Verg. 35); he had been going to Greece and Asia to revise his poem for three years, and after that study philosophy. The future emperor Septimius Severus visits Athens in his late thirties or early forties, perhaps on the way back from service in Syria; he went, according to Hist. Aug. Sept. Sev. 3.7 studiorum sacrorumque causa et operum et uetustatum.17 Visits also occur as part of official duties, or are otherwise impelled by circumstance. Such visits are particularly notable earlier on, most likely before educational visits become standard. Cato went to Athens as part of Glabrio’s expedition in 191 bc; he was probably military tribune, though ex-consul, but was sent to persuade the Athenians (Plut. Cat. Mai. 12.4–7). He claims that his investigations there (dicam . . . quid Athenis exquisitum habeam) revealed to him the nature of 16 In the Plutarch çغ ÆŁ #ø is Reiske’s rearticulation of çغ ÆŁc# þ (‘being keen on study’); in the Strabo çغ ÆŁ #Æ# is Madvig’s respelling of çغ ÆŁE# ZÆ# (cf. Madvig (1871–84), i.535–6). Note also Philod. Mort. col. xxxviii 3–12 Henry of so-called philosophers (evidently Greek-speaking) who plan #ÆFÆ b Å ØÆæ|łØ Ł Å#Ø çغ ÆŁF#, ‘to spend so many years in Athens studying’. 17 For Saufeius’ dedication see Raubitschek (1949). (Cic. Att. 14.18.4 need not refer to books.) For Septimius’ movements and the text at Hist. Aug. Sept. Sev. 3.6 see Birley (1988), 68. Cf. further Hor. Sat. 2.7.12–13 (on Priscus) iam mallet doctus Athenis | uiuere, and note Cicero’s planned trip, Off. 3.121. Inv. 1.63 presupposes that brief trips to Athens are entirely ordinary. Ael. fr. 314a Domingo-Forasté tells of a Roman goldsmith called Postumus, who went to Athens to receive a Greek education at or over the age of 30, seized with a çغºª# æø# (‘passion for culture’). The case is presented as unusual, no doubt because the education envisaged was exactly that for younger people.

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Greek litterae (Fil. fr. 1 Jordan). Some kind of reading, however hostile, appears to be involved; he sees the literature in the context of the people—a negative version of the cultural tourist’s experience. Plutarch, using Cato’s own account, makes him sound, so to speak, an anti-tourist, mocking those who marvelled at a  EººÅØŒ (12.5). The spurious Greek speech gives what he should have said, admiring c Iæc H ƺÆØH ŁÅÆø (‘the excellence of the Athenians of old’). Crassus the orator listened to and studied philosophy in Athens while returning as a quaestor from Asia and Macedonia (Cic. De Orat. 1.45–7, 2.365, 3.75, cf. 68; 111–110?). At De Orat. 1.82–95 Antonius the orator, while stuck in Athens on his way to a campaign as praetor in Cilicia (102–100), hears philosophers and others, including Menedemus, who recites Demosthenes abundantly (88). The occasion could have been invented by Cicero, but Antonius certainly spent time in Athens (2.3) and forged a friendship with Menedemus (1.85), and the verisimilitude would still be significant. L. Gellius cos. 72 stopped in Athens as proconsul in 93, summoned the philosophers, and urged them to cease their disagreements (Cic. Leg. 1.53).18 Pompey listened to philosophers in Athens, on his way back from the East (Plut. Pomp. 42.11). Cicero fitted in some philosophical discussion with Aristus in Athens, when returning from Cilicia as governor (Tusc. 5.22, note imperator; fiction is unlikely); he stayed with him. Plut. Cic. 36.7 suggests contact then with other philosophers too. Cicero contemplates producing a public sign of his philosophical enthusiasm, by bestowing a propylon on the Academy (Att. 6.1.26, 6.6.2). Brutus, when visiting Athens in the later part of 44 bc, notionally as part of the duties assigned by the Senate, spent much time listening to philosophers (Plut. Brut. 24.1)—and recruiting from their youthful pupils. Interest in the philosophy for itself, and even the lengthy stay, sound very like Brutus (Plutarch defends him, 24.1–2). Antony, who devoted much time, money, and enthusiasm to Athens, attended scholarly lectures in Greece, probably Athens (Plut. Ant. 23.2); later (32 bc), in Athens, ºØ K ÆØØÆE# q ŒÆd Ł æØ# (‘again spent his time on fun and theatres’, 57.1). Hadrian, seemingly the first emperor to visit Athens since Augustus, acts as agonothete at the Dionysia in 125 and 132 (Hist. Aug. Hadr. 13.1, Dio Cass. 69.16.1), and requests and hears a speech by Polemon on the dedication of the Olympieion (131 or 132; Philostr. VS 1.25 533). He shows considerable involvement with the Artists of Dionysus and related bodies in Athens (Oliver (1989) nos. 97–104). In Gellius a governor of Crete visits (and hears) the philosopher Taurus in Athens (2.2); Gellius suggests that this was his purpose in coming to Athens.19

18 For Cato’s status, see Astin (1978), 56 n. 15. On the nature of the work to his son (who does not seem to have been to Athens) see Astin (1978), 332–40, Gruen (1992), 77–80. The jocular manner of the fragment should not be missed, and Greek literature is not viewed just adversely. For Antonius, Crassus, and Gellius see MRR i.546, iii.118, Sumner (1973), 96–7; MRR i.568; MRR ii.14, Dyck (2004), 208–10. 19 Antony liked to be called çØºÆŁ ÆØ# (‘lover of Athens’), and was made an Athenian citizen: Plut. Ant. 23.2, 57.3; cf. Pelling (1988), 208–9. Lack of attested imperial visits between Augustus and Hadrian, apart from Germanicus: Perrin-Saminadayar (2007). See Graindor (1934), 5 and 49–50 for the Dionysia and Olympieion (and 30–2 for Hadrian’s devising laws on the basis of Dracon, Solon, etc.); Geagan (1972) for the Artists of Dionysus (he argues that Hadrian revives the Athenian branch).

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Athens presented Romans with the coalescence of present and past in a single place. It is true that Athens’ fall from its days of empire was vividly present to the Romans, and part of the general fall of Greece from power (Ad Her. 4.34 imperium Graeciae, Cic. S. Rosc. 70 dum ea rerum potita est, Verr. 5.98 (fall in Syracuse, cf. Sen. Marc. 17.4 potentia fracta), Man. 54 (thalassocracy), Fam. 4.5.4 (Servius; Piraeus); Livy fr. 37 Jal (49 bc; loss of naval power, cf. 28.41.17, Luc. 3.181–3); Ov. Met. 15.430 perhaps not genuine). But its abiding cultural glory partly redeemed that fall; and talent with words was seen as in general more the Athenian forte than the courage of the rather Roman Spartans. See Cic. Flac. 62 (Athens) auctoritate tanta est ut iam fractum prope ac debilitatum Graeciae nomen huius urbis laude nitatur; Sest. 41: they lacked our grauitas: see how they treated their great men (cf. De Orat. 2.56, e.g. Val. Max. 5.3 ext. 3, and, on Socrates, Man. 1.774–5, Apul. Met. 10.33.2–3); De Orat. 3.43 (Crassus) doctrina of Athenians has long perished but foreigners enjoy studia, capti quodam modo nomine urbis et auctoritatis; Fat. 7: Athenians acutiores because of climate; Sall. Cat. 8.2–4: Athenians’ deeds exaggerated (cf. 2.2), precisely because they produced great writers; Sen. Suas. 1.6: the continuing nasus Atticus, but adulation of Antony; 2.5 (Cestius) Athenae eloquentia inclitae sunt . . . Sparta armis—at time of Thermopylae; Val. Max. 2.6.3: Sparta splendid in war, Athenians prudentissimi pacis moribus; 4.3.6 licet Athenae doctrina sua glorientur, Fabricius better than Epicurus, Athens lost its empire because devoted to pleasure; 4.5 ext. 2 Spartans better than Athens at doing what they know is right, 5.3 ext. 3 (Athenians) ingeniosum et garrulum populum, 8.12 ext. 2 dissertissimus populus; Sen. Ep. 94.62: for Spartans freedom optimum, for Athens eloquence; Quint. Inst. 3.7.23: Athenians prize studia litterarum more, Spartans courage; Flor. 1.40.8 Malcovati ipsum Graeciae decus Athenae (not just at time of Mithridates). The antiquity of Athens went beyond literature: they were autochthonous, they had invented agriculture and civilization, and had devised outstanding laws. Their mysteries at Eleusis were particularly venerable, and Romans were keen to be initiated. See Cic. Flac. 62: Athenians the origin of humanitas, doctrina, religio, fruges, iura, leges (cf. Plin. Ep. 8.24.1 on Greece), De Orat. 1.13 illas omnium doctrinarum inuentrices Athenas; Lucr. 6.1–6: Athens first to give agriculture, laws, and philosophical salvation (Epicurus); Nep. Att. 3.3 eam . . . ciuitatem . . . quae antiquitate, humanitate doctrinaque praestaret omnes (the humanitas and doctrina are here present; cf. 4.1), Just. 2.6.1–5 autochthony, origin of agriculture, etc.; Livy 45.27.11 plenas . . . uetustae famae, Luc. 5.52 fama ueteres, Tac. Ann. 2.53.3 uetustae urbis. Laws: Cic. S. Rosc. 70: laws of Athens, prudentissima in the past; Tac. Ann. 3.26.3: Solon gave laws quaesitiores et plures; Apul. Met. 10.33.2 legiferos Athenienses catos illos et omnis scientiae magistros. Mysteries: Cic. Verr. 4.108: enthusiasm for Atheniensium sacra; Leg. 2.36: Athenian mysteries beginning of civilization, nothing better among all the Athenian gifts to human life. Cicero’s language in the last passage illustrates how the Romans are drawing on the Athenians’ own self-image, cf. e.g. IG ii2.1134.16–21 (c.117/16 bc: Decree of Amphictyones, corresponding to Athenian views); compare with Cicero’s exculti ad humanitatem et mitigati sumus 18 f# I]Łæ ı# N# æÅÆ (‘(brought) mankind to be civilized’; the connection is closer than with Isocr.

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Paneg. 28–9). Such language continues in Athens: cf. AÉ 1999 no. 1394.15–16 (time of Hadrian). For practical engagement cf. e.g. CIL i2.775 = iii.547 = I.Eleusis 290: propylon built at Eleusis by Ap. Claudius Pulcher (cos. 54, proconsul in Cilicia 53–51 bc, Achaea 49–8; cf. Cic. Att. 6.1.26, 6.6.2, IG ii2.4109); I.Eleusis 287 (c.50–c.15 bc?): Q. Pompeius’ statue of Aion, N# Œæ #    Å# ŒÆd ØÆ c |

ı#Åæø (‘so that Rome may keep its power, and the Mysteries endure’); Euseb. GCS vii 198.20–2, etc.: Hadrian builds a bridge. Initiates included Cicero and the Epicurean Atticus (Leg. 2.36), and Augustus, Hadrian, M. Aurelius, and Verus (Suet. Aug. 93.1, Hist. Aug. Hadr. 13.1, Ant. Phil. 27.1, I.Eleusis 483.23–5).20 The Athenians’ cultural achievements included sculpture, painting, and architecture: these were prized by Roman tourists (Cic. Verr. 4.135, Prop. 3.21.29–30, Livy 45.27.11; Quint. Inst. 12.10.9, Apul. Mund. 32 (Phidias’ Athena)). But the traditions of Athenian philosophy, oratory, and drama were especially important. See Cic. De Orat. 1.13: in Athens summa dicendi uis et inuenta est et perfecta; Brut. 49: only Athens in Greece was keen on eloquence; Man. 4.687 (Athens) in regnum florentes oris; Vell.1.18.1: ingenia of Greece you would think just in Athens, eloquentia (i.e. probably literature in general) flourished there pluribus annis . . . quam uniuersa Graecia operibusque.21 Roman writers were awed by the literary achievements of the Athenian past, and see the present city as embodying them. So Cic. Brut. 26 lucent Athenae tuae, Atticus’ present city, with the invention of oratory, 332 quae domus est semper habita doctrinae (in philosophy and oratory); Just. 2.6.6 litterae certe ac facundia . . . uelut templum Athenas habent; Mela 2.41 clariores quam ut indicari egeant, cf. Lucr. 6.2. The imprint of the past is powerfully conveyed at the beginning of Cicero, De Finibus 5: the areas of philosophy, oratory, and drama all come to the fore. In the Academy, outside Athens, M. Pupius Piso is moved by the memory of Plato and his successors, Quintus the tragedy-writer by the memory of Sophocles at Colonus, which they passed on their walk, and by the thought of the Oedipus Coloneus and the myth, Atticus by the memory of Epicurus in his gardens, just passed, L. Cicero by the memory of Demosthenes and Aeschines in the Pnyx (soliti sunt suggests not the courts), of Demosthenes at Phalerum, of Pericles at his tomb. There is no end to such things in this city (5.5). We have seen the same connection of the present with the literary past in Propertius 3.21. Strabo ends his account of Attica with the stream hymned by Plato in the Phaedrus (9.1.24 400 C. iii.28.6–30.10 Radt).22 The Athenians themselves, not purely through Roman influence, were deeply immersed in their own past. So IG ii2.1134.16–28 (c.117/16 bc), already mentioned, seems to speak, after mentioning their other benefits to mankind, of their creation Cic. Leg. 2.36 ‘loosely modelled’ on Isocrates: Dyck (2004), 352–3. For Atticus’ initiation cf. Ap. Saufeius’ dedication of a statue of Phaedrus in the Eleusinion (Raubitschek (1949), 101–2), and Epicurus’ own reported concern to participate in [H] | Ł Å#Ø . . . ı#Åæø (‘the mysteries at Athens’, Philod. Piet. Pt. 1.554–9 Obbink). For Hadrian see Graindor (1934), 35–6, Travlos (1971), 439; add the Greek antecedent IG ii2.1191 (321/0 bc), Antag. II Gow–Page. More widely on the Romans at Eleusis see Clinton (1997), Spawforth (2012), 143–4, 167–9, 192–7, 236, 246, 250–2, 272–3. 21 Contrast with Vell. 1.18.1 his point in 1.16 on the compact flourishing of each genre; the flourishing seems none the less entirely Athenian (1.16.3–4, on tragedy, comedy Old and New, philosophy, and oratory). Cf. Quint. Inst. 10.1.76: Athens produces ten orators in one period. 22 With the passage in De Finibus, cf. Atticus in similar vein, Leg. 2.4; see also Mango (2010). Piso has been discussing philosophy with Antiochus for several months already, Fin. 5.8. 20

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of drama. Although they had been compliant and respected allies of Rome before Mithridates (honoured with first turn in senate: Livy 35.32.12, 43.6.2), their interests were not then particularly turned towards Rome. This is illustrated on a lowly level by the pottery found in a deposit from the time of Sulla’s disastrous sack. The involvement with the past continues after it. The bust of Aristotle found recently on the Acropolis (end of i ad) offers one typical example. Tacitus makes the ancient city bring forth uetera suorum facta dictaque, of course for enhanced adulation (Ann. 2.53.3).23 Powerful and wealthy Romans made an impact on the physical city and its life after the sack. Atticus may be mentioned (Nep. Att. 2.2–3.3; statue 3.2); so may Pompey, Antony, and later figures with military power (Pompey: Plut. Pomp. 42.11). The modest temple on the Acropolis to Roma and Augustus is probably the idea of the Athenian élite rather than of Augustus (IG ii2.3173 = Schmalz (2009) no. 103); but the ‘Roman’ agora was at least built with gifts from Julius Caesar and Augustus (IG ii2.3175 = Schmalz (2009) no. 102 (20s bc?), on the propylon). An embassy was required, to instigate or spur on the agora. The Odeion of Agrippa could well have been Augustus’ or Agrippa’s own initiative. Uniquely extensive is the building enthusiastically undertaken by Hadrian. He writes to the Athenians Y# ‰# #ÆØ# åæH ÆØ æç ##Ø F s ØE ŒÆd | Å #ÆØ c ºØ ŒÆd NÆØ ŁÅÆø Ø # (‘be aware that I use every opportunity to benefit the city publicly and individual Athenians privately’, IG ii2.1102 = Oliver (1989) no. 85.10–11). IG ii2.5185, on Hadrian’s arch, says with reference to the part of Athens east of the arch Æ¥  Y# AæØÆF ŒÆd Påd ¨Å#ø# ºØ# (‘this Athens here is Hadrian’s; it is not Theseus’ city’). Pausanias, who writes not long after Hadrian, says ŁBÆØ b oø#  e F º ı ŒÆŒøŁE#ÆØ F   ø Æø [Sulla] ÆsŁØ# AæØÆF Æ#غ# XŁÅ#Æ (‘Athens, after being so damaged in the Romans’ war, blossomed again in Hadrian’s reign’, 1.20.7; cf. also 1.18.6, 9; Hist. Aug. Hadr. 13.1, 6, 20.4; IG ii2.3327–74 #øBæØ ŒÆd Œ#ÅØ, ‘saviour and founder’: unusual language in Athens). Hadrian located the Panhellenion in Attica. He and others are continuing the munificence of Hellenistic kings. Romans with wealth and power made a place for themselves in the long history of the city, at once changing it and seeking to appropriate the glamour of its past.24 23 On the relation of tradition and Rome in Athens cf. Stephanidou-Tiveriou (2008), and next n. For the bust see Choremi-Spetsieri (2008); for the deposit, Rotroff (2000), cf. (1997) and Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 390–1. On the sack itself see Hoff (1997). Vell. 2.23.4–5 defends the Athenians on the period of Mithridates. 24 Temple of Roma and Augustus: Travlos (1971), 494–7, Dally (2008), 43–50. ‘Roman’ agora: Travlos (1971), 28–36, Hoff (1989). Odeion of Agrippa: Thompson (1950), Travlos (1971), 365–77, Sear (2006), 390–1, Winter (2006), 192, Spawforth (2012), 59–86. The building is associated with Agrippa on the strength of Philostr. VS 2.5 571 e K HØ ˚æÆ ØŒHØ ŁÆæ n c K ø Æ#ÆØ ªæØ

E (‘the theatre in the Kerameikos called the Agrippeion’), cf. 2.8 580 (it is supposed that ˚æÆ ØŒ# can be extended to the middle of the Agora, cf. Travlos (1971), 300). The idea that the building was originally for declamation (Spawforth (2012), 63–4) does not account convincingly for the colossal and the life-size statues of Dionysus probably in the stage area (Thompson (1950), 69, 78–80, plates 51–2; Paus. 1.14.1; the architectural form of odeia is perfectly suited to theatrical performance or performance related to drama). On the temple of Ares, cf. Torelli (2007), 105–6. For Hadrian see Travlos (1971), 242–57, 402–11, 439–43, Willers (1989), Spawforth (2012), 246–55; for the arch A. Adams (1989), for the Panhellenion C. P. Jones (1996) (Oliver (1970), 119–20 no. 38 for date). For wider discussion, with particular relevance to i bc, and making comparisons with Ephesus, see

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Games for ephebes were instituted by or in honour of Romans from the Sulleia on (SEG 37 (1987) no. 135 (c.80 bc). The Sebasteia included musical and so doubtless poetic elements (SIG3 802A.14–15 (c. ad 41–7)). The Germaniceia (founder uncertain), Antinoeia (Hadrian), and Hadrianeia certainly included literary elements (competitions for encomium and for poem: IG ii2.2024.133–4 (ad 112), 2087.30–3, 44–5, 64–5). M. Aurelius seems to supervise the awarding of chairs and posts in Athens (Philostr. VS 2.2 566–7; he pays, cf. earlier Hist. Aug. Ant. Pius 11.3). He instituted an imperial chair of rhetoric, and himself chose at least one of the holders, Hadrian of Tyre (Philostr. VS 2.2 566–7, 2.10 588–9). The dealings between Plotina, widow of Trajan, and the emperor Hadrian over the choice of head for the Epicureans show the enthusiasm of the Roman Plotina (from Nîmes). A system in which succession is internally managed, but the choice is restricted to those with Roman citizenship, is changed by the Roman state, on Greek initiative, to allow an unrestricted selection (IG ii2.1099 = Oliver (1989) no. 73, cf. SEG 55 (2005) no. 249.1–7.25 The second century sees a home-grown figure with significant impact, the fabulously wealthy Greek sophist and Roman consul Herodes Atticus. He maintains the traditions and expands the monuments of the city. IG xiv.1389.I.30–7 = IGUR iii.1155 = Ameling no. 146 (monument for his dead Roman wife Regilla; Greek poem by Marcellus) dwells on his double prestige as Roman and as gloriously descended and supremely eloquent, ªºH##Æ . . . ŁÅø (‘the tongue of Athens’, 37). Gellius calls him uir et Graeca facundia et consulari honore praeditus (9.2.1).26 The independence of Athenians over their philosophical, religious, and legal traditions was often a source of impediment or annoyance to individual Romans. So Cic. De Orat. 3.75: they would not rerun the mysteries for Crassus; Fam. 4.12.3: Servius is not allowed to have Marcellus buried within the city; Att. 5.11.6, Fam. 13.1: Patron objects to Memmius’ building plans, the Areopagus is caught in the middle; Tac. Ann. 2.55.1–2: Areopagus do not cede to Cn. Piso: whence an attack on their history; cf. also Hist. Aug. Sept. Sev. 3.7 iniurias quasdam, which Severus avenges when emperor. Strabo says the Athenians are allowed to keep their freedom and honoured by Romans (9.1.20 398 C. iii.24.13–20 Radt). The Romans express various ideas on the continuity of Athenian liberty. At Val. Max. 4.3.6 Rome (i.e. through Sulla) gave Athens the liberty it could not keep (pp. 33–4 above;

Walker (1997), Torelli (2007). Rödel (2010), Mango (2010), Krumeich (2010) should be read together; Krumeich deals with the change of statues to honour Romans, as well as, not only instead of, their original subjects. As for Hellenistic benefactions, note that the Ptolemaion itself probably goes back to Ptolemy III (Habicht (1982), 112–17), but not necessarily the library. 25 Sulleia: Raubitschek (1951) nicely suggests the Athenians just renamed or adapted the Theseia for a year or two. Sebasteia: see Lozano (2007); on one occasion (IG ii2.1069.7), the poet and notable Nicanor presides. On Plotina’s and Hadrian’s letters see Follet (1994), Dorandi (2000), Van Bremen (2005). 26 On Herodes, see Ameling (1983), Holford-Strevens (2003), 139–44, Spawforth (2012), 267. For the monument see Lucchese (2009). On his lineage see Follet (2007), and note I.Eleusis 438; see Rife (2008) on his burial. On his Odeion see Travlos (1971), 378–6, Sear (2006), 391–2; for the Panathenaic Stadium, Travlos (1971), 498–504.

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cf. Liv. Per. 81); Cicero has seen the ardent cult of the tyrannicides at Athens, and elsewhere in Greece (Mil. 80). At Curt. 10.2.6 the Athenians were non suae modo sed etiam publicae uindices; at Livy 34.23.5 they were not then like the old libertatis . . . duces et auctores. Plin. Ep. 8.24.1 tells a Maximus being sent to Achaea that the mainland Greeks are liberos maxime liberos; he should not take the reliquam umbram et residuum libertatis nomen from Athens and Sparta (4).27

LITERARY EXPERIENCE IN ATHENS Literary experience may be divided by genre: philosophy, oratory, drama, other poetry. In the first two the experience resembled that available in Rome, but in a very different context of place. Philod. P. Herc. 1080 fr. III 1–15 ii.145 Sudhaus strikingly presents the appeal of Athens from a Greek perspective, in contrast to Rome or Alexandria: ººf# b e H | []ŁÅH æd c çغ|#çÆ KŁı#ØÆŒe# | ŒÆd æç I ıŁ ı# ŒÆ|#å ØŒºÅØ #æÅØ | ŒÆd H IŒæ #ø ŒÆd | H KŒE ØÆåH (‘the excitement of Athens over philosophy and its nurture of it has held many speechless through the artistry and charm of the lectures and the Successors there’). Most of the philosophical traditions were centred on Athens. The ‘schools’, with their formal succession of scholarchs, underwent varying fortunes, and some came to a temporary or permanent end; but the Latin evidence suggests that Romans continued to find inspiring philosophical lecturing and other teaching. Even between the apparent ending of the succession in the Academy (Sen. Nat. 7.32.2) and the ØÆåÆd ƃæ#ø (‘successions of the philosophical sects’) spoken of by Galen as a novelty (Ord. Libr. 1.4 p. 89 Boudon-Millot), Platonic philosophy finds enthusiastic adherents in Athens.28 While some schools can be said to end, we can also see a revived ‘succession’ (the fire of Vesta was the fire that came from Troy, but it sometimes went out, and seems to have been relit each year). The tradition and glamour of the term is welcomed, and can be transferred to places other than Athens. The Epicurean school (in Athens) continues to the time of Julius Caesar, according to Suda  2404; according to Diog. Laert. 10.9 (iii ad?), the Epicurean ‘succession’ still continues, alone. We see it in operation before M. Aurelius, and the Epicureans evidently in possession of their original site (IG ii2.1099.34–7, SEG 55 (2005) no. 249.8–13). In diadochi sectae Epicuri, diado|chen sectae Epicureae (IG ii2.1099.9 (Plotina), 12–13 (Hadrian)), the choice of the word secta rather than schola need have no special significance: the Roman word especially appealed at that period. The head of the Epicureans will no doubt be teaching. Seneca on the cessation of Academic, Pyrrhonist, Pythagorean, Sextian successions (Nat. 7.32.2) is actually evidence for the continuation of the Stoic (he could hardly not mention it if it had died out too); it was presumably Stoicism that Lucan studied in Athens.

27 With Cic. Mil. 80 cf. Dio Cass. 47.20.4: the Athenians give Brutus and Cassius even more honour than the other Greeks by putting bronze portraits of them alongside those of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. 28 See above, p. 83 n. 15.

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At Philostr. VS 2.2 566–7 Herodes, at Marcus’ request, judges Platonists, Stoics, Peripatetics, and Epicureans for positions parallel to the chair of rhetoric. The holders of the imperial posts in Athens were evidently called Ø åØ (‘successors’): cf. SEG 54 (2004) no. 1031 (ad c.200); it seems likely that the term links the holder in Athens to the Athenian tradition, and unlikely that there was competition with a separate scholarch. Galen speaks of Alexander of Damascus as F F Ł Å#Ø IØı ı f# —æØ ÆÅØŒf# ºªı# Ø #ŒØ Å #ÆØ (‘the man now given the honour of teaching the Peripatetic ideas publicly’, Anat. Admin. 1.1 i.82 Garofalo, ii.218 Kühn). Philosophical teaching is clearly available, and connected with the past.29 The conflict of the Old and New Academies should not be seen as just a prelude to disintegration, whatever it involved institutionally. From a Ciceronian perspective, it is full of interest: philosophically exciting debate combines with attempts to claim the authentic tradition of the Athenian founder. This adds a twist to the idea of philosophical lineage. We have already glimpsed the dedication of Roman Epicureans to Phaedrus in Athens. In Cic. Phil. 5.13 he is a philosophi nobilis; because of him, Cicero indicates, his son Lysiades is known to plerique.30 The Athenian setting for Roman students of philosophy is full of philosophical history. In the case of the Epicureans, we see the attachment of their head himself to Epicurus’ house and the uestigia summorum hominum, Cic. Fam. 13.1.4 (cf. Att. 5.11.6, and the last part of IG ii2.1099; note the phrase at Att. 12.32.2 qui eo tempore . . . Athenis . . . praefuerit hortis). Young Roman students were in a small minority among the body of ephebes, as inscriptions show, and would remain a small minority later if ephebes were present (note the gregibus epheborum at Cic. ND 1.79; Strabo 14.5.13 673–4 C. ii.110.29–3 Radt will give a misleading impression). In Gellius Roman students socialize with other Roman students of philosophy (cf. e.g. 1.2.1, 18.2.2), but also with well-known philosophers (so Taurus 7.13.1). In the daytime at all periods they would listen to lectures, often eloquent. Gellius talks ardently too (19.2.1) of Herodes’ grauitate atque copia et elegantia uocum in speaking on a philosophical subject (in Greek). Gellius’ summaries and snippets of philosophical speeches, often at parties, give an idea of how formalized and inventive such utterance was, and how close to published pieces by philosophers (so 19.12). Indeed, Musonius’ and Epictetus’ spoken discourses, for instance, were transcribed by listeners and circulated as the texts we have. At 2.2 29 For secta and other terms cf. Apul. Apol. 9.11 Stoicae sectae conditoris (likewise e.g. Sen. Ep. 83.9), 22.7 Platonicae sectae . . . Cynicae familiae, 64.3 Platonica familia ( familiae . . . sine successore Sen. Nat. 7.32.2, followed by schola and secta; Apuleius never uses the word schola), Gell. 19.1.13 conditores sectae Stoicae. For Vesta, note Ov. Fast. 3.143–4, Sil. 13.620 Sidonia Iliacas nunc uirgo accenderet aras. On the issue of philosophical schools, cf. Glucker (1978); from a Roman point of view, the presentation is too negative (and one should bear in mind for Diogenes the possibility of conventions over chronological limits in mentioning names). Cf. also Lynch (1972), 163–207. On buildings cf. Camp (1989), with plates 8–12. The head of the Epicureans at Athens in SEG 55 (2005) no. 249.8 is Heliodorus, evidently Hadrian’s great friend (Hist. Aug. Hadr. 16.10). For SEG 54 (2004) no. 1031 see Chaniotis (2004), 388–9; Sharples (2005), 52–3. Ø åØ elsewhere: cf. M. F. Smith (1996). 30 On Lysiades see Rawson (1991b), 455–9; Spawforth (2012), 82–3. For Atticus and Phaedrus see Raubitschek (1949), 99, 102; I.Eleusis 291 (c.40 bc). Rawson (1985), 6 notes there is no evidence that Phaedrus was ever in Rome. At 11, she discusses the absence of teaching in the Academy itself after Sulla (but note id temporis in Cic. Fin. 5.1); cf. Polito (2012), 34–7. On Philon and the Academy see Brittain (2001) (life of Philon 38–72).

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Taurus grauiter . . . et comiter disseruit on the basis of an awkwardness over who should be seated: improvised and impressive expatiation, like a sophist’s, but with a sense of the personal situation.31 The impact of the living voice is apparent; cf. e.g. Cic. Tusc. 3.38: Zeno’s enthusiastic loudness in delivering Epicurus’ ideal, in words which Cicero wants to transmit. There could also be a sense of living debate; cf. e.g. Cic. De Orat. 2.3 acceperamus quem ad modum ille [i.e. Antonius] uel Athenis uel Rhodi se doctissimorum hominum sermonibus dedisset. But Romans assessed verbal performance critically. So Gell. 15.2.3 decries the uili et incondita uerborum caterua of a would-be philosopher; Cic. Tusc. 2.26 indicates differences in levels of eloquence. The aspect Cicero dwells on there, the insertion of poetry, brings in another dimension of literary experience for Romans: Greek poetry as appreciated and delivered by Greek philosophers. It is one that has inspired his own present practice in performance. Contact with the classic works of each school is heightened by reading them with a present philosopher, who will comment and explain. So at Cic. De Orat. 1.47 Crassus reads the Gorgias with Charmadas, diligentius; Gellius reads [Aristotle’s] Problems with Taurus (19.6.2; passage not in extant text of Problems). Plato’s Symposium is read out apud philosophum Taurum (17.20.1), and Taurus interjects animated and personal comments. At a party a passage of Epictetus is read out for Herodes to an overbearing young Stoic, and is dramatized into a present communication: tamquam si ea omnia non ab Epicteto in quosdam alios sed ab Herode in eum ipsum dicta essent (1.2.13). At another party Taurus moves the conversation to an exposition of a passage in Plato’s Parmenides (7.13.7–12). It is also part of the Roman students’ time in Athens to hold discussions among themselves, over dinner at the Saturnalia, on passages of Greek and Latin poetry and prose (18.2).32 Rhetoric bulks less large than philosophy in the Latin evidence for literary experience in Athens. Cicero shows less enthusiasm for his rhetorical teacher in Athens than for his philosophical teachers there. At Brut. 314 he talks of Antiochus, ueteris Academiae nobilissimo et prudentissimo philosopho, and of Demetrius Syrus, ueterem et non ignobilem dicendi magistrum (Cicero did not seek philosophers in Asia, unlike teachers of rhetoric). By the second century ad, we are into the era of flamboyant sophists colourfully depicted by Philostratus. There are one and then two chairs (ŁæØ) of rhetoric; Lollianus from Ephesus is said to be the first to hold a chair (Philostr. VS 1.23 526), Theodotus the first to hold the 31 On Zeno, cf. Angeli and Colaizzo (1979), M. F. Smith (1996), 123, Dorandi (1997), 36–40. An earlier example of philosophical eloquence was Charmadas, cf. Cic. Ac. Pri. 16: a major figure, cf. Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. 1.220. Euphrates (Plin. Ep. 1.10) had also been in Athens, cf. IG ii2.3945 = Schmalz no. 226, if rightly identified by C. P. Jones (2003), 160–3. Herodes mostly spoke in Greek to Gellius and his friends (1.2.6); he treats the notion that he is an amateur in philosophy (idiota) with heavy irony. 32 See Johnson (2010), 120–7 on reading a text with a group. Johnson (2010), 112 is probably right to have the passage read out for not by Herodes: if by, the passive lecta . . . sunt in 1.2.7 would be unexpected. With 1.2.13 compare the mixture of dramatization and direct communication in actual delivery by Epictetus’ teacher Musonius, Epict. 3.23.29 oø# ºª u#Ł *ŒÆ# H ŒÆŁ  Y#ŁÆØ ‹Ø #  ÆPe ØƺŌ . . . (‘he used to speak in such a way that each of us sitting listening thought that at some point someone had slandered us [to Musonius]’—so not really based on detailed personal knowledge of pupils’ lives).

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imperial chair, under Marcus (probably 170s; Philostr. VS 2.2 566, contrast 2.20 600). Sophists and Þ æ# (‘orators’) overlap; Þ æ# are politically distinguished figures, as we see from inscriptions, and like sophists can be very rich. Vanity and strife mark many of the figures in Philostratus: so for strife Philagros (2.8 578–81); for vanity Hadrian of Tyre (2.10 586–7), with his costly clothes, jewellery, and chariot for coming to performances. There are various places where they perform; so the Odeion of Agrippa comes to be used for this purpose (Philostr. VS 2.5 571, 2.8 580).33 Philostratus, and many other sources, give us an idea of the kind of rhetorical display that would have been on offer. Romans naturally responded to the extra force of live oratory; Valerius thinks Demosthenes would have much more impact on us if we could hear him (8.10 ext. 1; cf. Quint. Inst. 11.3.6–7; Plin. Ep. 2.3.9–11, urging Nepos to hear Isaeus live, 4.5.1–2). The charm of Attic pronunciation for Romans (and Greeks) adds a particular attraction to listening in Athens (so Cic. De Orat. 3.42: any Athenian’s voice beats the most learned Asians; Gell. 17.8.7: a slave speaks perquam Attice). But rhetorical study also includes reading Athenian classics with teachers. So at Cic. Orat. 104 Brutus studied Demosthenes in Athens with Pammenes: cum eius studiossimo Pammene . . . totum diligentissime cognouisti (cf. Brut. 332: Pammenes uir longe eloquentissimus Graeciae).34 Two developments in the varied history of oratory have a direct relation to Athens, and questions of the past and present. Near the end of Cicero’s life, there is a conflict in Rome between oratory that supposedly shows the impact of Asia, and of Athens. The emphasis on place is clear: the terminology is of place rather than of time (cf. e.g. Cic. Orat. 23: not even Athens was more Attic than Demosthenes). The Attic orators admired are clearly those of the fifth and fourth centuries. Yet their excellences seem to combine with an Attic grace and wit that can be located in the past, but is often presented as a general attribute of Athenians, unfixed in time and connected with the local character and language. So Cic. De Orat. 2.217: Attici surpass even Rhodians and Byzantines in wit (includes present), cf. Orat. 25: Caria etc. are not elegant; Brut. 285: from Demetrius of Phaleron’s speeches mihi . . . redolere ipsae Athenae uidentur (timelessness and time mixed); Sen. Suas. 1.6 nasus Atticus in 39–38 bc, cf. Cic. Orat. 28 Atticorum . . . auris teretes et religiosas (seems present), 89: wit uel maxime Atticum (cf. e.g. Mart. 3.19.8, 4.23.6, 86.1); Quint. Inst. 6.3.107: urbanitas is like that famous (ille) Atticism among the Greeks reddens Athenarum proprium saporem (timeless?); 12.10.19: Aeschines brought Athenian oratory to Rhodes, and those 33 On the number of chairs and the date of their establishment see Avotins (1975), 313–15. For the sophists, see, among other works, Bowersock (1969), Anderson (1993) (119–21 on place of Athens for sophists), Schmitz (1997), Puech (2002), Whitmarsh (2005). #çØ# # and Þ øæ: Swain (1996), 97–100, Schmitz (1997), 12 n. 11, Puech (2002), 2–7, 10–15. For wealth cf. e.g. Acusilaus, Suda Æ 943, an Athenian rhetor who comes to Rome in the principate of Galba and leaves much wealth to Athens, or the non-Athenian Þ øæ, a member of the Panhellenion, who stages a gladiatorial show: Oliver (1970) p. 119 no. 37, p. 122 no. 42. Interesting for the impact of the First Mithridatic War on Athenian oratory is Plut. Luc. 22.6–7: Amphicrates the Þ øæ goes in exile to Seleuceia on the Tigris; when asked to perform there, he treats the city with hauteur. 34 On Pammenes: Spawforth (2012), 72, 79–80. The pupils of Proclus the sophist are allowed to use the books in his house K# e º æø Æ B# IŒæ #ø# (‘to supplement the lecture’, Philostr. VS 2.21 604).

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transplanted studia then saporem illum Atticum peregrino miscuerunt; 35 illam gratiam sermonis Attici (partly a matter of sound).35 The Asian manner seems not to have been practised in Athens, at least in Cicero’s time: cf. Orat. 25 Rhodii numquam probauerunt . . . Athenienses uero funditus repudiauerunt. Petronius, in self-conscious contrast with passages on oratory passing from Athens to Asia (so Cic. Brut. 51), talks of the Asian manner ‘recently’ (nuper) coming back to Athens, 2.7 nuper . . . istaec . . . enormis loquacitas Athenas ex Asia commigrauit. (Presumably before this teachers who moved could adapt their manner; see p. 106 below on Molon.) In any case, the Attic orators of the past are bound up with the city as perceived by backward-looking Roman visitors (note Cicero, Fin. 5.5 (p. 87 above), and Prop. 3.21.27). It will be discussed later (p. 237) where this debate originates; but clearly the Greek contributors too link it strongly with place. Dionysius’ preface invests the Attic muse with Athenian qualities in making her IæåÆÆ ŒÆd ÆPåŁø (‘ancient and autochthonous’, Orat. Vet. Praef. 1 i.4.13–14 Usener–Radermacher = 1.6 Hidber), not a Mysian, Phrygian, or Carian (16–17 = 1.7). Craton, the professus Asianus, qui bellum cum omnibus Atticis gerebat, is unhappy with Augustus’ huge gift of an Attic talent (Sen. Contr. 10.5.21); his ¥Æ c ØŒe qØ (‘so that it may not be Attic’) is a joke, but a joke that gains more point from a firm connection between Atticism and Attica. Plut. fr. 186 Sandbach e #Æçb# ŒÆd ºØe ª #Ø r ÆØ ØŒØ#  Œº. (‘the clear and simple is the authentic Atticism’) seems to connect place and style, but also to complicate the relationship (Plato affected by the disease Gorgias introduced). The debate acquires special intensity at a critical juncture in Roman oratory and prose (the close of Cicero’s oratorical career), but continues in various forms through later Roman writing on oratory, and is visible in Longinus. Quint. Inst. 12.10.14–15 presents the debate as past, but also as continuing.36 The other movement, in some degree connected, is that to speak in the Attic of the classic authors. This is a striking linguistic retrojection into the past; it includes live utterance, and probably accent: Lucian, Soloec. 5 (someone speaking); Favorin. Cor. 25–6, where IØŒÇØ BØ çøBØ (‘he is Attic in language’) refers to spoken performance, cf. 24; Philostr. Her. 3 665 p. 133.30 Kayser (nightingales metaphorically), VS 2.31 624: Aelian’s atticizing equal to that of Athenians in interior of Attica (i.e. speech, and contemporary). The practice is regarded by 35 Cf. e.g. Dion. Hal. Imit. Epit. 5.1 ii.211.14–15 Usener–Radermacher, Lysias HØ IØŒØ# HØ håÆæØ# ‘charming in his Atticism’; p. 162 below. Spawforth (2012), 23–5 takes Dion. Hal. Orat. Vet. Praef. 3 i.5.21–6.7 Usener–Radermacher = 3.1–2 Hidber to show that Augustus openly intervened on the side of the Atticists in oratory (Hose (1999), 287 presents rather as Dionysius’ idea); but if so, we would not have r ÆØ (‘I think’) in 1, the mention of history, philosophy etc. in 3.2, and so forth. P ÆıØ . . . ª Ø (‘being well-cultivated’), if ÆÅ# . . . ƒ ıÆ## (‘those in charge of Rome’) does refer to Augustus, would seem to show Dionysius trying in the whole sentence to turn a social action into a cause of stylistic change. The ‘extraordinariness’ of the intervention (Spawforth (2012), 25) could be thought to indicate its improbability (cf. 78). Note that Aug. Epist. fr. 30 Malcovati (Suet. Aug. 86.2) is from a letter of unknown date (cf. 69.2), and cannot be assumed a public statement (cf. Spawforth (2012), 22; note too that most of the references to Antony’s letters at Malcovati (1944), 19 are not explicitly ascribed to letters). Augustus is extremely munificent to the sworn foe of Atticism at Sen. Contr. 10.5.21 (paragraph after next). On the Agrippeion see above, p. 88 n. 24. 36 For the Latin debate cf. e.g. Tac. Dial. 18.4–5: Calvus and Brutus, Cicero parum Atticus; Cicero’s Orator, De Optimo Genere, Brut. 285–91, etc., and see pp. 235–8 below.

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some, according to Galen, as the only acceptable way to write and speak, for the rich or those in any branch of knowledge (Ord. Lib. 5.2, p. 100.4–9 BoudonMillot); but even Atticists can allow moderation is needed (Philostr. VA 1.17, VS 1.16 503). It is not apparent exactly when this movement begins; it is particularly visible in the second century ad: so Lucian exemplifies, Fronto apologizes, Galen deplores (Front. p. 24.1–13 Van den Hout (in Greek)). At the other end, Dionysius illustrates devotion to Attic oratory before linguistic strictness has begun. In this movement, Athens is the basis for literary creation. We catch some echo of the ideology in, for example, Plin. Ep. 2.3.1: Isaeus (Syrian, Philostr. VS 1.10 512) improvises with sermo Graecus, immo Atticus. His compliment to the Roman Arrius Antoninus non medius fidius ipsas Athenas tam Atticas dixerim (4.3.5) turns Cicero’s remark on style (Orat. 23) to describe spoken language.37 The chair of Greek rhetoric at Rome is sometimes occupied by those who previously held the chair at Athens; the chair at Rome is the supreme honour. Drama, however, is very different in Athens and in Rome; the Athenian theatre is placed in the inmost heart of the city, and Greek drama is naturally its prime focus. The Athenian branch of the Artists of Dionysus appears in e.g. IG ii2.1134 (c.117–116 bc), I.Eleusis 271 (c.76 bc), Schmalz (2009) no. 229. In the first inscription, the Romans approve their privileges; in the last the governor and perhaps historian C. Sulpicius Galba (PIR2 S 996 = 998?) seems to have done something for them. The theatre of Dionysus was clearly in use. Substantial rebuilding takes place in the principate of Nero; it is paid for by a local, perhaps a freedman (Ti. Claudius Novius?). Huge statues and other decorations are added in the principate of Hadrian (IG ii2.3287). A statue of Hadrian dedicated by Areopagus and Demos is placed in the middle of the seating (IG ii2.3286, cf. 5029a). In the seating of the theatre, the imperial cult follows on from that of Ptolemy III (IG ii2.5029a, 5034, etc.).38 Productions will have at least included classics of fifth-century and fourthcentury drama, performed in their original locale. The theatre of Dionysus in the second century ad displayed statues of dramatists: so Aeschylus (IG ii2.4265), and the obscurer Timostratus and Dionysius (4267–8; cf. Paus. 1.21.1–2: portraits of obscure poets in the theatre, besides Menander, Sophocles, Euripides, Aeschylus). The popularity of Menander as well as Euripides in Rome indicates that such performances would be a significant experience for Romans (note p. 84 above on Prop. 3.21.28; picture of Menander painted on pompeion (iii bc), inscription with names of ephebes, later ii bc, IG ii2.4256). IG ii2.3157 (i ad, 2nd half) = Schmalz (2009) no. 101 shows that choral dithyramb performances 37

At Lucian, Merc. Cond. 35 performances in Greek by Romans must be praised as Attic; linguistic correctness is clearly involved (even if not actually attained). More on Attic speech as seen by Romans: pp. 160–3 below. On Atticism see Schmid (1887–97), Anderson (1993), 86–100, Swain (1996), 17–64, Schmitz (1997), 67–96, Whitmarsh (2005), 41–6; Spawforth (2012), 265–70. For Galen cf. e.g. Hose (1999), 283. But even Galen thought his works on Attic words would be useful to ¥ Ø# ‹ºø# IØŒÇØ ºØ (‘whoever wanted to be completely Attic’, —æd Iºı Å#Æ# 24b): the verb is likely to indicate active usage, oral or written, not just knowledge (cf. Boudon-Millot and Jouanna (2010), 83–5); elaborate explanation of his stance at Ord. Libr. 5 pp. 100–2 Boudon-Millot. 38 For the theatre see Gogos (2008), esp. 87–103, for the rebuilding 99 and Sear (2006), 388–9; Novius uncertain: Spawforth (1997), 198 n. 50. On the statues see also Camp (2001), 206–7. For the seating see Maass (1972), 33–59, 110–13, 116, Clinton (1997), 166, Spawforth (1997), 183–6, 199 n. 59.

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took place during the Great Panathenaea, and new tragedies were performed. One tragedian was Sarapion (TrGF 185 F 1), presumably the Athenian poet (Plut. Pyth. Or. 396d), likely to have come originally from Hierapolis in Syria (Steph. Byz. Ø 33 ii.270 Billerbeck–Zubler). He also wins a prize e åæe Ø Æ# (‘having trained the chorus’) for his tribe, and probably writing the poem, in a visually splendid competition, most likely in ad 87/8 or 91/2 (Plut. Quaest. Conv. 1.10, 628a–b). The honorary statue of (probably) the Roman tragedian and orator Maternus (IG ii2.4187 = Schmalz (2009) no. 264) shows him contributing to the city; he seems unlikely to have gained nothing from the theatrical culture of Athens.39 The theatre would probably be used for other literary purposes too (cf. e.g. Inscr. Délos 1506 (c.144 bc): recitals by contemporary hexameter poet in theatre and KŒŒºÅ#ØÆ# æØ, ‘hall of the assembly’). We hear of the composition and delivery of new poems, not only in competitions for the young. Q. Pompeius Capito from Pergamum, and an Athenian citizen (PAA 563890), received a statue in the theatre of Dionysus (IG ii2.3800 = Schmalz (2009) no. 203, i ad, c.79–82); he is said to have displayed in improvisation Æd æøØ ŒÆd ÞıŁ HØ c ªÆºçıB B# Ø #ø# Iæ  (‘in every metre and rhythm the noble excellence of poetry’). He is quite likely the hexameter poet who also wrote at least four books of scholarly Ὑ   ÆÆ (Observations) addressed to Philopappus (Athen. 8.350c; but note 10.425c: Capito the hexameter poet, Alexandrian by birth). The name Philopappus is not common; King Philopappus of Commagene, in exile, was agonothete in Athens in a year between 75/6 and 87/8 (IG ii2.3112.3–6), and (?) on the occasion of Sarapion’s victory (above). If Capito is the poet alluded to by Dio Prus. 31.116, Dio did not think much of him; on the other hand, Sarapion’s original philosophical hexameter poems are highly spoken of in Plutarch’s dialogue De Pythiae Oraculis (396f, 402e–f). Other poets include, besides Sarapion, Heraclitus from Rhodiapolis, also a doctor and prose-writer; he visits and is honoured by Alexandria, Rhodes, and Athens, in Athens by the Areopagus, ‘the Epicurean philosophers in Athens’, and ƒæa Łı ºØŒc ## (‘the sacred association of musicians’, TAM ii.910.9–12; the Homer of medical poems, 15–16). Statius’ father will have spent time in Athens performing; the inscription suggests not just a passing visit on a tour of competitions (see p. 73 above). The various Odeia, of Pericles (rebuilt by Ariobarzanes after Mithridatic War, Vitr. 5.9.1), of Agrippa (c.15 bc; rebuilt around ad 150), of Herodes Atticus (160–74), served as places where music, and so lyric compositions, could be performed and other poems could be recited. There were also, of course, more intimate and exclusive locales. So the party of Sosius Senecio’s (cos. ad 99, 107) at which "Æ çØŒ ØÆ were sung (Plut. Quaest. Conv. 1.5, 622c) was very likely to have happened in Greece, and quite possibly in Athens, like the party he attends at 1.1, 612e.40

39 A paean by Sarapion is probably inscribed on the Sarapion monument; for him and the monument, see C. P. Jones (1978), 228–31; Geagan (1991); Aleshire (1991), 50–6, doubting the original dedication, and so the inscribed hexameter poem, by Sarapion; Follet and Peppas-Delmousou (2001), 100–2; Bowie (2002b), 44–5, and (2006), 83–5; Byrne (2003), 441–4. For choral performances in i and ii ad more generally, see Follet and Peppas Delmousou (2001). 40 For Capito see Bowie (2002b), 46, Byrne (2003), 20. On the Odeia see Meinel (1980), esp. 44–59, 80–117, Sears (2006), 389–92. For Sosius Senecio see PIR2 S 777; Swain (1996), 426–7 rightly doubts his eastern origin. The poet honoured in IG ii2.3791 is likely to be a competitor, and youthful. Homeristae

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Private reading was also associated with Athens: note the man intent on books in Hor. Epist. 2.2.81–4, and Terentius Iunior who reads so much he seems to be living in Athens (Plin. Ep. 7.25.4). But opportunities varied in the course of time. Athens did not have libraries as famous as those of Pergamum or Alexandria; the large ‘library’ of Apellicon, derived from Aristotle’s, was in Athens for a short while until moved to Rome by Sulla (Strabo 13.1.54 608–9 C. iii.602–3 Radt; in Rome at least there is a librarian, e K d B# ØºØŁ ŒÅ#, iii.602.18, so probably a building of some sort). The books, and evidently later copies of those books, enabled better teaching by the Peripatetics, according to Strabo (iii.602.10–15). About ad 100 we know of Pantainos’ library: building and books. This is dedicated by a local, and may be particularly strong in philosophy: Pantainos is › ƒæf# ı#H çغ#çø (‘the priest of the philosophical Muses’, cf. Plat. Phil. 67b6?), and his father was Ø å# (SEG 21 (1965) no. 703). Books were not to be removed (SEG 21 (1965) no. 500; images Camp (1992), 191, Perrin-Saminadayar (2010), 238). Not long after (ad 132), Hadrian built his enormous library. There were lecture-halls, and porticoes for discussion, as in the Villa of the Papyri: the library is not just seen as a place for silent study. As for high-powered teaching, Athens does not have such a famous scholarly tradition as Alexandria or Pergamum in the study of poems (but e.g. Ateius was born in Athens, Suet. GR 10.1). None the less, Apuleius learns about poetry at a level that goes beyond ordinary study with a grammaticus (Flor. 20.3–4).41 There are many changes in Athens and what it could offer; but its own image of itself, and Romans’ ideas of it, create an entity that endures through time.

REST OF MAINLAND GREECE A little should be added about mainland Greece in general. While no city there other than Athens attracts Romans for long educational or cultural stays, and while tourism around Asia is more conspicuous in the evidence, Roman tourists travelled around Greece too; cf. e.g. Cic. Verr. 4.135 longum est et non necessarium commemorare quae apud quosque uisenda sunt tota Asia et Graecia. The tourists’ experience had various probable or possible literary elements. The places themselves formed the settings of many myths and historical events which were treated in literary works, and had various associations with authors. So Pomponius Mela describes the island of Calaureia, just off the Troezenian coast: Calaurea inter ignobiles alias leto Demosthenis nobilis (2.109; cf. Strabo 8.6.14 374 C. ii.500.9–502.16 Radt). For Mela Cithaeron is fabulis carminibusque celebratus were first introduced into theatres by Demetrius of Phaleron (fr. 33 Wehrli), but we do not have information on whether the practice continued in Athens. Cf. Hillgruber (2000), 69–70. 41 See Gell. 7.17.1–2 on books brought back by Seleucus Nicator—at least part of Athens’ image; note the book-learning of the doctor praised in IG ii2.3783 (ii bc, or later). For Pantainos’ library see Travlos (1971), 432–8, Camp (1992) 187–91 and (2001), 196–7, Perrin-Saminadayar (2010) (with some discussion of the library of the Ptolemaion); for Hadrian’s, Travlos (1971), 244–52, 579, Camp (2001), 202–3, Choremi-Spetsieri and Tinginanka (2008), E. Bergemann (2010). For their relation to the Ptolemaion, cf. Brenk (2007).

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(2.41: plays?), and Pliny calls Thebes nec cedentes claritate Athenis . . . Thebae (NH 4.25). Pindar’s tomb was on view for Pausanias (9.23.2), as was a statue allegedly dedicated by Pindar in the temple of Ammon, near the Nø#Œ E (‘place for augury’) of Teiresias (9.16.1, 17.3; Pindar’s hymn to Ammon was also inscribed in the temple). Hadrian adds another stele to the tomb of Epaminondas, haud scio an summum uirum unum omnis Graeciae (Cic. De Orat. 3.139); he writes an epigram, to match the epigram on the old stele and no doubt inscribe himself into the tradition (Paus. 8.11.7–8). L. Aemilius Paullus’ early trip round Greece (167 bc), while he was there for military purposes, as presented by Livy concentrates on religious sites and physical monuments; but Livy also mentions Aulis, famous for Agamemnon’s thousand ships and Diana’s temple, where Iphigenia was taken to the altar (45.27.9). The art too has literary connections: at Olympia Paullus exclaims that only Phidias has captured (  Ø B#ŁÆØ, I  º #ÆØ) Homer’s Zeus (Polyb. 30.10.6, Plut. Aem. 28.5 (utterance ºıŁæºÅ, ‘celebrated’); Homer omitted in Livy 45.28.5). Athens stands out in Livy’s account; its uetustae famae is important as well as its many uisenda (45.27.11). Aetolia may not seem culturally the most promising area for Ennius to have visited on campaign with M. Fulvius Nobilior (cos. 189; RE Fulvius 91). But one may notice: the size, numerous art-works, and theatres of Ambracia, Pyrrhus’ capital (Polyb. 21.30.9, Livy 38.9.13, 38.43.4–5); the involvement of Athenians and Rhodians in the negotiations (Polyb. 21.29.1, 9); the connection of Cephallenia (Polyb. 21.13.14, etc.) with the Odyssey (Same was captured (Livy 38.29.9–11; cf. Hom. Od. 1.246, etc.); Ithaca was very close). Even Stymphalos, if Terence died there (Suet. Vit. Ter. 92–6 Rostagni), was a prosperous Hellenistic city, with a theatre.42 How far contemporary cultural life interested Roman visitors to mainland Greece can for the most part only be conjectured. While it might be supposed that visitors to Sparta would be interested purely in the tradition and the agoge, Vespasian seems to be involved in the rebuilding of the theatre (IG v.1.691, found iuxta theatrum; cf. SEG 11 (1950) no. 848); the theatre had also been extensively rebuilt in the Augustan period. Too narrowly circumscribed a conception of Roman conceptions of Sparta is dissuaded by the leading Epicurean Demetrius Laco’s —æd ØÅ ø (On Poems, P. Herc. 188 and 1014). This work of the second or first century bc is part of the Hellenistic debate on poetry, and includes many specific references to a range of Greek literature. It, or its second book, is dedicated to a Nero. The Claudii were traditional patrons of the Spartans (Suet. Tib. 6.2); this link was still important when the young Tiberius visited Greece. The Spartan embassy’s scholarly appeal to the Senate under Tiberius, backed up with

42 See Cato, ORF 4 8 F 149 etc. for Fulvius taking Ennius (and other poets?); Gruen (1990), 113–14. On Ambracia, see Hammond (1967), 584–5, AR 2007/8, 61; the theatres themselves will have been of interest to Ennius, though he probably did not see plays there. For the theatre at Stymphalos, see Williams (2002), 159, 160–8: theatre early Hellenistic, new colonnade added to stage building iii or early ii bc.

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annalium memoria uatumque carminibus (Tac. Ann. 4.43.1, cf. 3) exemplifies the continuation of the cultured and literary milieu.43 The diachronic richness of the Greek landscape is well illustrated by Helicon, the mountain of the Muses, and especially the grove of the Muses at its foot. The place is of course immensely significant in Latin poetry, and emphasis on its foliage reflects the actual place, and not least the grove of the Muses (Hor. Carm. 1.12.5 umbrosis Heliconis oris, Prop. 3.3.1 molli . . . Heliconis in umbra (the poem is set on the mountain); Paus. 9.28.1 æø æø I ºø#, ‘full of cultivated trees’). The presence of Hesiod in particular was manifest: there was a statue (Paus. 9.30.5), the tripod that he won (31.3), an ancient lead copy of the Works and Days, and local scholarly expertise (4). The Aetia had intensified the interest of Hesiod’s meeting with the Muses for Latin poets. Romans can be seen in the vicinity, and government takes an interest; sometimes there are literary links. The nearby town of Thespiae (c.10 km away), which presided over the festival of the Muses in the grove, was given the privilege of freedom (Plin. Nat. 4.25.1 liberum oppidum; like Delphi, Sparta, Athens, and some less famous places). Cicero recommends to Servius Sulpicius Rufus T. Manlius, qui negotiatur Thespiis; a studiis nostris non abhorret (Fam. 13.22.1). For Roman businessmen see also IG vii.1862.1–2 = I.Thespiai 352 (ii–i bc)   ø Æ[ø] H

æƪ[ Æı]| ø K ¨# ØÆE# (‘the Romans doing business in Thespiae’), I. _ Thespiai 373.1–2 (ii–i bc). The Greek honorand in the former seems to appear as a hexameter poet in IG vii.2727.13–14 = Manieri (2009) Acr. 27 (c.80 bc; competition in Acraephia presided over by a Roman; son (or father) comedy, 27–30 = 30–3).44 Cicero was evidently thinking of Thespiae itself when he described the statue of Eros by Praxiteles, no less, as the one reason people had to visit Thespiae (Verr. 4.4, 135); the statue later went to and fro between Thespiae and Rome, following the wishes of different emperors (Paus. 9.27.3–4; Plin. Nat. 36.22). Cicero’s remark remains bracingly negative; perhaps it rests on an actual visit, during his period in Athens. But there is considerable Roman activity in Thespiae after that. A bilingual building inscription of Domitian has been found (Slapšak (2008), 18–19, AR 2008/9, 47; ad 86?); Julius Caesar, Augustus, and unsurprisingly Hadrian are benefactors (IG vii.1835 = I.Thespiai 420, 1836 = 421, 1841–2 = 436, 438). Important too is T. Statilius Taurus (cos. suff. 37 bc, cos. 26), who

43

For the theatre see AR 1998/9, 31; Cartledge and Spawforth (2002), 128–9; Spawforth (2012), 121–30, arguing for an oratorical event in the Augustan period. On Spartan literary culture more widely, see Cartledge and Spawforth (2002), 176–89, on Sparta under Augustus, Spawforth (2012), 86–102; note also Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 238–9. For Demetrius, see Crönert (1906), 100–25, esp. 100, 106–7; Romeo (1978, 1988); Janko (2000), 5 (on date). Dedication: Crönert (1906), 100; Rawson (1991a), 111. Note, incidentally, the comites Graeculi who always accompanied Clodius (they are included in nugarum), Cic. Mil. 28 and 55; these seem likely to have among them literary figures (e.g. philosophers). 44 For e K ØŒØ (overall contest?) here see Wörrle (1988), 232. See p. 143 below on SEG 19 (1963) no. 335 = Manieri (2009) Tan. 2, Sarapieia at Tanagra, i bc. For Romans and their interaction with the Thespians, see Müller (2002), 93–100. For its relative prosperity in our period, cf. Bintliff (1996), 198, 213–15; see http://www.hisoma.mom.fr/ for P. Roesch’s edition of the inscriptions, and Slapšak (2007 and 2008) for the archaeology of Thespiae. There would seem to have been a theatre (Slapšak, 2007, 9).

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appears to receive deification (I.Thespiai 72–80 (cippi) ¨F Ææı). Hadrian writes a poem to Eros ¨# ØÆE#  EºØŒøÆØ#Ø Æø (‘dwelling in Thespiae possessor of Helicon’), with which he dedicates the IŒæŁØ (‘firstfruits’) of his hunting, a she-bear (IG vii.1828 = I.Thespiai 270, 0.578 m wide; Hadrian V FGE).45 In the principate of Tiberius, a monument was erected at the sanctuary of the Muses at the foot of Mt. Helicon; there were also other statues, of figures including Thamyris and Augusta, the Muses’ companion. Livia, not Julia mother of Lucius and Gaius, is recommended by Honest. XXI.1 Gow–Page Øf# #Œ æØ#Ø Ł# (‘two gods with sceptres’) and confirmed by I.Thespiai 174.6 (ad 14–29), where she is the object of encomia, with the added name of Mnemosyne. The latter inscription suggests, what one would assume, Thespian cooperation, at least, over the erection of the monument. Its Greek poems were written by Honestus of Corinth (c.45 km from Thespiae); see Honest. X–XXI Gow–Page = I.Thespiai 288–98, 300, 312, 424 (IV concerns Helicon and Corinth, V is about Helicon, in connection with poetic achievement). A statue-base of Mnemosyne, I.Thespiai 301, bears a poem which has also been ascribed to Honestus. Corinth, destroyed by the Romans in 146 bc, had been resurrected in 44 bc as the Latin colony Laus Iulia Corinthiensis; as colonists Caesar sent F I ºıŁæØŒF ªı# º#ı# (‘a great many from the class of freedmen’, Strabo 8.6.23 381 C. ii.522.24–6 Radt; cf. Crinag. XXXVII.5 Gow–Page). Honestus is most likely Roman in family; his city combines Greek and Roman. His repeated signature  ˇ#ı visibily mixes the Roman and the Greek (a Roman cognomen, but no other nomina, and the Greek alphabet). The monument unites Greek cult and imperial cult in Greek poetry, and will be of interest to Romans.46 The competition Mouseia was once sponsored by Hellenistic kings, including Ptolemy IV; it eventually conjoined the cult of the emperors with the festival and games for the Muses celebrated by Thespiae at the foot of Helicon (Paus. 9.31.3). In I.Thespiai 174 (ad 14–29) other Romans appear too: there are prizes for encomia not only to Livia (see above) and to the Muses, but to Taurus (see above) and Messalinus. Winners come from Alexandria and from Athens. At this or a related festival there was a contest for encomium N#  0EæøÆ | ŒÆd  ø Æı# (‘on Eros and the Romans’, I.Thespiai 175.10–11, c. ad 20); a Roman wins a prize for encomium to the Muses (11–12). In IG vii.1776 = I.Thespiai 180 (early iii ad), cf. 1774 = 176, the Mouseia are called H | ª ºø ˚ÆØ#Ææ ø | "Æ# ø ı#|[ø] (‘the Great Caesareia, Sebasteia, Mouseia’). The competition includes rhapsodes, comic and tragic actors, and a local chorus (åæF

ºØØŒF). Participants come from across the empire. IG vii.1773 = 178 (late ii ad?) indicates an elaborate menu for the Mouseia, with many imperial

45 For Taurus, wealthy builder of an amphitheatre in Rome, see Kajava (1989). On Hadrian’s poem see L. Robert (1978), 437–41, Bowie (2002a), 180–1. 46 For other elements in the population of Corinth, cf. Plut. Caes. 57.8 and App. Lib. 646; the inscriptions in Corinth VIII.1 and 2 indicate a mixture. C. Iulius Ion the Corinthian, who wins for prose encomia of Tiberius and Livia at the Caesareia at Corinth (Corinth VIII 1.19.1–8), illustrates the presence of Greek literary culture in Honestus’ milieu. On the colony cf. J. Bergemann (1998), 74–87. On the monument, see among other items L. Robert (1946), esp. 13–14, Peek (1953), Gow and Page (1968), ii.305–9, C. P. Jones (2004), 93–5.

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connections; this includes prizes for a poet of prosodion (cf. I.Thespiai 170.14 (ii–i bc)), a writer of encomium and of poetry to the emperor and to the Muses, a rhapsode, actors in classic tragedy and comedy, composers of original tragedy, comedy, and satyr-play. The event clearly has much to please Romans, and a wide range of literary performances. There is considerable literary interaction around Helicon between Greek and Roman, and the Roman element extends to composition in Greek.47

RH O D ES The history of Rhodes is commonly thought to come more or less to an end with 164 bc and its alliance with Rome; it is commonly thought to have diminished economically in the course of the second century bc. But culturally it retains its vitality throughout the second and first centuries bc, and is a major site of education and literary experience for Romans from Cicero to Augustus. After the principate of Augustus, this is harder to show; before Cicero there are significant visits.48 The Rhodians actually incorporate acknowledgement of Rome into their rituals earlier than the Athenians: so they institute a quinquennial Rhomaia from at least 100/99 bc (SIG3 724). There is a large statue of the Roman people in the temple of Athena at Polyb. 31.4.4 (164/3 bc). A priest of Rome appears in an inscription which is either before 81 bc or after 65 bc (the latter? Segre (1949), 72–80). Naval resources, and tumult from external affairs, are very important until at least 44 bc. Even in the imperial period, Rhodes’s internal history looks more troubled than Athens’ (cf. Tac. Ann. 12.58.2). Supposing Athens did revolt in the last years of Augustus, it is hard to imagine Romans being crucified by Athenians as by Rhodians in the first century ad (Dio Cass. 60.24.4). The Romans’ conception of the Rhodians includes respect for their naval knowledge, their recent power (in comparison with Athens), and sometimes their more than Greek courage. So B. Alex. 1.15.1–5: the naval commander Euphranor was animi magnitudine ac uirtute magis cum nostris hominibus quam cum Graecis comparandus; notissimam scientiam; Cic. Verr. 2.159: they withstand Mithridates, prope soli; Sall. Cat. 51.4 magna atque magnifica (especially at the time of Perseus); Luc. 5.49 pelagique potens, Flor. 1.23.8 Malcovati nauticus populus, Suet. Claud. 21.6 (naumachia). The Romans’ conception of the Rhodians’ history includes their supposed lack of fides towards the Romans with regard to Perseus (e.g. Sall. Cat. 51.4; Vell. 1.9.2), and, by contrast with Athens, their fides towards the Romans with regard to Mithridates (Livy, Perioch. 78, Vell. 2.18.2, Flor. 1.40.8 Malcovati). At Livy 33.20.1–2 the narrator dwells on their earlier fides (cf. 37.54.28, Vell. 1.9.2), with 47 For the Mouseia, see Manieri (2009), 311–433 (314 scope for theatrical performance), and, for further context, Wörrle (1988), 229–33. On I.Thespiai 175 cf. L. Moretti (1981), 71–3. 48 For the supposed end of real history in 164 cf. e.g. Berthold (1984), ch. 11; Wiemer (2002), 328–39 modifies such views. Cic. Man. 54 has the Rhodians’ naval glory last usque ad nostram memoriam. For trade see Gabrielsen (1997), ch. 3. On wine see Rauh (1999), and J. Lund (1999). The useful volume Kypraiou and Zapheiropoulou (1999–2000) more or less omits the Roman Empire.

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lavish praise of their courage: nihil magnificentius quam quod ea tempestate non territi . . .49 The foundations of Rhodian culture had been laid in the fourth century. The philosophical tradition went back at least to the school of Eudemus, pupil of Aristotle, taken over by Hieronymus in the third century. The rhetorical tradition supposedly went back to Aeschines, who is further credited with introducing improvised oratory (Philostr. VS 1 pr. 482, 1.18 509; the spurious Letters of Aeschines say disappointingly little on rhetoric). In poetry and scholarship the island produced in the early Hellenistic period Simias, Antagoras, Apollonius (before that Pisander, Anaxandrides, and so on). Rhodes is presented in Athen. 1.3b as one of Ptolemy II’s main sources for his library. The immense artistic tradition (a powerful motive to tourism) had already included the painter Protogenes, and Chares’ colossal sculpture of the Sun, Rhodes’s reigning deity (cf. e.g. Strabo 14.2.5 652 C. iv.54.18–25 Radt; Plin. Nat. 34.41; it fell in an earthquake c.226 bc).50 In its earlier part, the second century includes the historians Zeno and Antisthenes (FGrHist 508 and 523), respected by Polybius. From the end, two inscriptions adumbrate the cultural world. In a poem of around 100 bc (GVI 1001), Philonicus portrays his activity as a speaker before the people, his learning in books, his versatility as a poet. An inscription of around 99 (Lindos 2; FGrHist 532) presents in Rhodian dialect an elaborate account of dedications at the temple of Athena at Lindos, and of the goddess’s epiphanies. The writers are named; they themselves name many learned authorities.51 Other inscriptions indicate the presence of a library by this time (cf. Maiuri (1925), nos. 4 (ii bc) and 11 (ii–i bc); for text of 11 see Segre (1935), 215–17). The catalogue (11) includes oratory and Theodectes’ åÅ (‘rhetorical handbook’). Rhodes has more than one theatre (so Diod. Sic. 20.98.6–8: city of Rhodes), and choregic activity indicates a continuous history of performance, at the Dionysia and Alexandreia (choregic activity e.g. IG xii.1.68–72 (starting iii bc; tragedy 71), Lindos 197f (festivals; after 156 bc), 300a (comedy; activity c.121 bc), Maiuri (1925), nos. 21.5 (comedy, ii/i bc), 18.17–18 (festivals, tragedy, c.80 bc)).52 The main city was Rhodos, on the extreme northern tip of the island. It was founded in the very late fifth century; from what we can tell of the archaeology, its 49 In Greek historiography of the Roman period, cf. Strabo 14.2.5 652 C. iv.54.13–16 Radt on Rhodian naval expertise and, in the past, power; App. BC 4.285 (Rhodian speaking): they fought both Demetrius and Mithridates for freedom. Demetrius’ siege in 305 is very important in the Greek tradition, cf. e.g. P. Köln VI 247 col. iii last part (and fr. c?; end ii/i bc; cf. Lehmann (1988)), Diod. Sic. 20.82.3–88.9, Plut. Demetr. 22.3–8, P. Berol. 11632 (FGrHist 533; pap. ii ad). It came in Trogus 15 (Prol. 15, with an excursus on origo Rhodiorum; not in Justin). 50 For Eudemus see Bodnár and Fortenbaugh (2002). 51 For Zeno cf. also Lehmann (1988). Antisthenes writes too ƃ H غ#çø ˜ØÆåÆ (The Successions of the Philosophers), a work with lots of biographical detail; he is commemorated in a statue of the imperial period, Kontorini (1989), 59–63, no. 7. For the circumstances of the inscription at Lindos see Chaniotis (1988), 124, 126–8, and also Blinkenberg et al. ii/1.153–7. The date of the hexameter poet Idaeus is unknown (Suda Ø 91; FGrHist 533 F 10); he writes a  ØÆŒ in three books and indulges in the monumental jeu d’esprit of doubling Homer by adding a line after each of his. 52 For åæƪ #ÆÆ [æ]ƪøØE# (‘when he had been choregus to the actors of tragedy’, IG xii.1.71) etc. cf. e.g. Isae. 6.60. For the library see also Papachristodoulou (1990). The site of Rhodes’ old theatre is still not located; cf. Philimonos (1996), 76, Sear (2006), 350.

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most impressive aspects will have been Hellenistic. The present temple of Athena in Lindos was fourth-century (the chronicle brings out the antiquity of Rhodian mythological tradition, cf. e.g. Plin. Nat. 33.81). There will have been less appearance and cultural resonance of antiquity than in Athens; Rhodos seems to have been of great magnificence, and wealthier and more luxurious than Athens, certainly until the second century ad. Rhodes’s worship of the Sun, its relatively recent power, and its cultural fame in the Hellenistic period combine in the image it shows in Latin literature. More distinctive than the standing epithet clara is its dedication to the Sun or Apollo (clara, Hor. Carm. 1.7.1 (the city), Luc. 8.247–8, Mart. 4.55.6 (city), 14.69.2; Phoebeia, Ov. Met. 7.635, Luc. 5.49; dedicated to Sun, Man. 4.763–6, Priap. 75.8, Stat. Silv. 1.1.103–4, cf. Fest. p. 190.28–30 Lindsay (ritual)).53 In the period before Cicero, we do not find clear evidence of Roman visits undertaken purely for the sake of education; but we know of various visits which must have had a dimension related to literature. The presentation of Rhodian oratory in the sources suggests a continuous tradition from Aeschines and from the end of the most famous period of Attic oratory; it is thus likely to have been established by 165, when Ti. Gracchus cos. 177 and 163 (RE 53) made a speech in Greek on Rhodes (Cic. Brut. 179). He can hardly have failed to find his visit oratorically interesting. Scipio Aemilianus was already acquainted with the leading Stoic Panaetius of Rhodes when he went to the island during his political tour of 140–139: he took Panaetius with him on the entire journey. He and the orator and poet Sp. Mummius are made by Cicero to reflect on the politics of Rhodes (Rep. 3.48); acquaintance with Panaetius makes it very probable that the visit will have had philosophical aspects too.54 C. Laelius (cos. 140; RE 3), Q. Scaevola (cos. 117; RE Mucius 21), Q. Tubero (tr. before 129; RE Aelius 155), and P. Rutilius (cos. 105; RE 34), and others, were pupils of Panaetius (Cic. De Orat. 1.75, Brut. 114, Fin. 2.24, Off. 3.10 = Panaet. T 47–9, 94 Alesse). Their births, and Panaetius’ departure from Rhodes, cannot be precisely dated; they could all have been taught by Panaetius in Rome. This is particularly probable for Rutilius. Tubero’s intimacy with Panaetius’ Rhodian pupil Hecaton could also have come about in Rome, although we do not happen to hear of a visit to Rome by Hecaton. Scaevola had discussions on oratory and philosophy with the anti-philosophical orator Apollonius the Soft when on Rhodes on his way to Asia as praetor in 120 or earlier (Cic. De Orat. 1.75).

53

Cf. also e.g. Antiphil. VI Gow–Page, where Rhodes itself is described in sun-like terms (3, 6), Pind. Ol. 7.54–76, especially the present in 70 åØ  Ø OØA › ªŁºØ# IŒø Æ æ (‘the island is possessed by the father who begets the sharp rays’). clarus is also used of Asia (and Alexandria): see pp. 114, 127. See on Rhodes and its cities Blinkenberg et al. (1931–92), Kypraiou and Zapheiropoulou (1999–2000), Nielsen and Gabrielsen (2004), with extensive bibliography. The most significant literary account is Strabo 14.2.5–13 652–5 C. iv.54–64 Radt. 54 We have no evidence that the Elder Cato’s visit to Greece with Glabrio had included Rhodes; some connection with Rhodians would provide a reason—should one be needed—for his speech in favour of the Rhodians (ORF4 8 F 163–71), on which see Astin (1978), 273–83. In Panaet. T 2 Alesse (Lindos 223.17 = IGRR 1143) Panaetius is among the priests of Poseidon Hippios on Lindos: his social status is apparent (cf. Dorandi (1991b), ch. 7, Alesse (1997), 155).

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The orator Antonius hears him and other learned men on Rhodes at some point during his command in Cilicia in 102–100 (1.126, 2.3).55 In 100, Q. Metellus Numidicus (cos. 109; RE Caecilius 97) went to Rhodes in voluntary exile, and read and listened to philosophers: Livy, Perioch. 69 audiendo et legendo magnos uiros auocabatur, Plut. Mar. 29.12 çغ#çH ØÅØ ŁÅ (‘he spent his time on philosophy’). He was accompanied by the scholar Aelius Stilo (Suet. GR 3.2 = Funaioli T 7); Stilo could have heard Dionysius Thrax, who had a school there after 144–143—if we accept that Dionysius did not move to Rome. T. Torquatus (RE Manlius 85), an orator, seems to have been on Rhodes in an official capacity, so an inscription from Delos indicates (Inscr. Délos 1660 (80s or 70s bc)); but he benefits from the rhetorical teaching of Molon, the most distinguished teacher of his time (Brut. 245; cf. Suet. Jul. 4.1).56 Cicero’s tour after the Pro Sex. Roscio had some prudential grounds; but its educational remit was extensive. Cicero had already had some lessons from Molon when Molon was in Rome on an embassy (Brut. 307, 312); he now received sustained instruction from him (316, whence Quint. Inst. 12.6.7; Cic. Planc. 83–4 could suggest that the visit was not seen as entirely standard procedure). This was much more significant than Cicero’s rhetorical education in Athens. He was also taught on Rhodes by the Stoic Posidonius (ND 1.6; Plut. Cic. 4.5), who became a friend (Att. 2.1.2; Tusc. 2.61, Div. 1.6 noster). Posidonius had taken over Panaetius’ school on Rhodes, and was the leading Stoic thinker of the time—not to mention a polymath of almost Aristotelian range. Cicero was accompanied by Servius Sulpicius Rufus, who became the leading legal expert and writer of the day, but was at this stage concerned with rhetoric (Brut. 151).57 Shortly afterwards (75 bc) Caesar went to be instructed by Molon (Plut. Caes. 3.1, Suet. Jul. 4.1). The nouus homo Favonius went to Rhodes and probably Molon with a similar purpose (Cic. Att. 2.1.9; he would have been 20 around 70 bc). In 66 and 62 Pompey, before and after campaigns in the East, visited Posidonius on Rhodes (T 35–9 Edelstein–Kidd, including Cic. Tusc. 2.61). In 62 he heard and generously rewarded lectures by ‘all the sophists’, and one by Posidonius on the intersection between philosophy and oratory (Plut. Pomp. 42.10)—like Apollonius from the other side (cf. also on this area Quint. Inst. 2.17.14: Athenodorus of Rhodes). Posidonius later wrote up and circulated the lecture: an illustration of the relationship between such lectures and published literature.

55

The mention even of Gabinius as quaestor in Maiuri (1916), 143–4 = IGRR iv.1116 might relate to a visit by Antonius. It is notable that Apollonius is already quoted by Cic. in Inv. 1.109. Letter and dedications to Tubero from Panaetius: Cic. Ac. Pri. 135, Fin. 4.23, Tusc. 4.4; dedication from Hecaton, Off. 3.63. On Panaetius’ chronology cf. Dorandi (1991b), 35–42. Lucilius sees the attractions of an embassy to Rhodes, XIV 16 Charpin. 56 On Dionysius see Pagani (2008). For Aelius Stilo, see Kaster (1995), 78; he was born c.150, so that Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 233 ‘studied in Rhodes’ gives a misleading impression. On Inscr. Délos 1660 cf. Sumner (1973), 130–1, MRR iii.136–7. The orator Norbanus escaped to Rhodes after being proscribed (Livy, Perioch. 89, App. BC 1.422); he was caught by Romans and committed suicide. This could be thought an early instance of choosing Rhodes as a place for exile; but practical motives may have affected the choice. 57 For Cicero on Rhodes see Konomis (1996). Posidonius was, like Panaetius, a member of the élite on Rhodes, and involved in political life: he acts as prytanis (Strabo 7.5.8 316 C. ii.306.29 Radt, T 27 Edelstein–Kidd), and is sent on an embassy to Rome (Plut. Mar. 45.7 = T 28).

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Cassius received education on Rhodes in Archelaus’ school; it sounds as if this was at an earlier stage than the rhetorical and as if Archelaus was a grammaticus (App. BC 4.283 K  øØ a  EººÅØŒa Ø #ŒÆº# ªªÅ HØ ˚Æ##øØ, ‘who had been Cassius’ teacher of Greek literature on Rhodes’, 287 Æı#Ø, ØƌƺE,  ÆØı øØ, ‘education’, ‘school’, ‘having been educated’, cf. 292 H ÆØ#Æø, K Æı#Æ, ‘who educated’, ‘educated’, Dio Cass. 47.33.4 KŒ B# ØÆæØB# m KŒE ŒÆa ÆØÆ K  Å, ‘from the time he had spent there for education’). Cassius was quaestor in 54, presumably at the age 27 to 30; if he were on Rhodes at the age of 18, this would be about 64. His later capture and treatment of Rhodes is variously discussed by the historians, Greek and Roman (cf. Vell. 2.69.6, Val. Max. 1.5.8, Plut. Brut. 32.4, App. BC 4.276–313, Dio Cass. 47.33.4). Cicero made a brief visit to Rhodes in returning from Cilicia (e.g. Brut. 1; Plut. Cic. 36.7); the visit was for the sake of his son and nephew, who were with him, and was no doubt meant to be educationally improving (Fam. 2.17.1 causa puerorum, Att. 6.7.2 puerorum causa).58 Last but not least, in the period from Cicero to Augustus, comes Tiberius. His premature retirement to Rhodes c.6 bc–ad 2 was preceded by an earlier visit to Rhodes and by instruction from Theodorus, a leading rhetorical theorist who eventually taught there; visit and instruction may have coincided. (Suetonius makes it appear Tiberius first saw Rhodes in 20 bc when returning from Armenia (Tib. 11.1), while Theodorus, his teacher of rhetoric, comments on him when he is a puer (57.1; he was born in 42 bc); in Plut. fr. 185 Sandbach he studies rhetoric in Rhodes Ø ØæÆŒøØ ZØ (‘when still a youth’); in Quintilian he ‘is said’ to have listened to Theodorus studiose, cum in eam insulam [Rhodes] secessisset (3.1.17).) In his seclusion, Tiberius tirelessly attended the scholas et auditoria professorum (Suet. Tib. 11.3). Suetonius’ account is full of rewarding details on procedures and behaviour: there was a fierce quarrel between antisophistae (11.3); Diogenes the grammaticus used to disputare (so there were lectures from grammatici), and Tiberius wanted to hear him outside the regular occasion (32.2: refused on the Sabbath). The comments on Doric (56) imply that Rhodian speech could be thought unpleasant: even though rhetoricians will probably have taught in Attic, the grace of authentic Attic pronunciation, and its ubiquity, would be missing from visits to Rhodes (56). Tiberius had astrology lessons from an expert too (Tac. Ann. 6.20.2, Suet. Tib. 14.4, Dio Cass. 55.11.2).59 58 The divisions between categories of teachers are not always firm; and there are uncertainties, for example, about Aristocles: the contemporary of Strabo is presented as a grammaticus or poet (Strabo 14.2.13 655 C. iv.64.26–7 Radt); he may or may not be the same as the Rhodian orator mentioned by Dionysius (Din. 8 i.308.5–10 Usener–Radermacher). Aristodemus the Younger holds both a rhetorical and a grammatical school on Rhodes (before he educates Pompey’s sons in Rome): Strabo 14.1.48 650 C. iv.50.29–31 Radt. Brutus, according to Vir. Ill. 82.1, Athenis philosophiam, Rhodi eloquentiam didicit: at the least a simplification, cf. on Athens p. 93 above. 59 Sen. Suas. 3.6 presents Tiberius as Theodoreus, a follower of Theodorus’ ‘school’ rather than Apollodorus’ (Augustus’ teacher), cf. Contr. 2.1.36: the subject is lively and controversial. The ˜Øı#ØÆ#A ˝æøØÆH (‘Neronian Dionysiastae’) of Lindos 392 b.19 (ad 10) probably derive from Tiberius’ stay on Rhodes, and could be a theatrical group. See Maillot (2007). The work of the Rhodian sculptors (SEG 19 (1963) no. 623, cf. Plin. Nat. 36.37) in the grotto at Sperlonga seems to be 30–20 bc, earlier than Tiberius’ main stay on Rhodes, and perhaps too early for Tiberius’ ownership of the villa; in any case, a visit to Rhodes is not needed to explain the appearance of work by these artists in Italy. See Kunze (2009), 38–43.

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The prolonged period spent on Rhodes outside the normal time for such things is extremely awkward and unwelcome in a member of the princeps’ family. The hostile view of it is exile (Suet. Tib. 13.1, 59.1, 2; Tac. Ann. 1.4.4 (contrast 4.15.1)). More favourable is Man. 4.763–6, Vell. 2.99.4 (cf. also Apollonides XXIII Gow– Page); at Dio Cass. 55.9.8 Augustus uses an excuse: ‰# ŒÆd ÆØ## Ø#  # K# ºÅ (‘he was sent on the grounds he needed some education’). Rhodes in fact appears very frequently as a destination which individuals would choose should they be exiled: so Cicero (Fam. 7.3.5—or Mytilene; very hypothetical), Marcellus (4.7.4 (to Marcellus)—or Mytilene), D. Brutus (11.1.3 (from D. Brutus)—or somewhere), Matius (11.28.8). In Horace it is seen as an attractive place to visit (Hor. Epist. 1.11.15–21; it is put first in Odes 1.7). We have already seen many aspects of what Rhodes had to offer. More generally, Rhodian oratory is spoken of with considerable respect. In Tacitus only the Rhodians and the classic Attic orators count as real orators; the Rhodians come second, with quidam for the Athenian plurimi (Tac. Dial. 40.3). At least some of the Rhodian orators and rhetors mentioned by Dionysius will belong to this period, besides Molon (Din. 8 i.308.8–10 Usener–Radermacher: he lists Artamenes, Aristocles, Philagrios, Molon; one Aristocles at least belongs to Strabo’s time, as we have noticed). They are seen to represent a middle term between the Attic and the Asian; they are more admired by Cicero than by Dionysius, who finds them ÆPå Åæ (‘dry’), in their unsuccessful imitation of Hyperides. See Cic. Brut. 51 Rhodii saniores et Atticorum similiores, Orat. 25; Quint. Inst. 12.10.18–19. Philostr. VS 1.18 509 supposes a mixture of Doric and Attic, thanks to Aeschines; so, less favourably, Quint. loc. cit. Cic. De Orat. 2.217 perhaps suggests wit as one characteristic of this oratory, Planc. 84 emotional force as another. We should notice that Molon and Apollonius the Soft are not originally Rhodian but are drawn to Rhodes from Asia by its fame (Strabo 14.2.13 655 C. iv.62.22–64.26 Radt; cf. likewise e.g. Aristodemus the Younger (RE 30), Strabo 14.1.48 650 C. iv.50.27–31 Radt). The verdict of Dionysius suggests that Molon adapted his manner to fit the Rhodian milieu; Cicero’s references would suit this notion well (Brut. 245 doctus uir ex Rhodia disciplina Molonis, 316 hi tum in Asia rhetorum principes numerabantur. quibus non contentus Rhodum ueni meque ad . . . Molonem applicaui). Cicero underlines here the practical dimension which the Rhodian orator and teacher retains (actorem in ueris causis scriptoremque praestantem); Molon’s embassy illustrates this too (cf. Strabo 14.2.3 652 C. iv.54.3 Radt, Molon’s speech against the Caunians).60 Philosophically, the Athenian Academy matters more than Rhodes to Cicero, who became an Academic (Old Academy); but he includes Posidonius in the list of his teachers at ND 1.6 (principes illi Diodotus Philo Antiochus Posidonius), and calls him at one point omnium maximum Stoicorum (Hort. fr. 50 Grilli).

60 Hegesias’ Encomium of Rhodes suggests a visit by the proto-Asianist in iii bc (Lindos 2 B 33–4, 64–5 (name supplemented in latter place)); he also appears in the library catalogue (Maiuri (1925) no. 11.8; work ˇƒ ØºÆŁÅÆEØ, The Lovers of Athens). The rhetor Castor of Rhodes (FGrHist 250) undertook a large chronographic work, which incorporated Rome, extended to 61 bc, and was probably influential on Varro (Roman customs F 15–16). See Jacoby (1926–30), II D 815–26; he admirably deals with the Suda’s characteristic confusions (Œ 402; Cole (2004), 357 n. 7 is less decided). Cf. also Feeney (2007), 63–5.

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Posidonius also provided a link to his own teacher Panaetius, at Div. 1.6 the princeps of Stoicism, and the primary source for De Officiis 1–2. Posidonius like Molon and Apollonius › ƺƌ# (‘the Soft’) came to Rhodes from elsewhere (T 2a–b, 4, 48 Edelstein–Kidd); Panaetius, who taught Posidonius in Athens, moved from Rhodes to Rome and Athens. Philod. Rhet. 2 (P. Herc. 1674 + 1672) col. li 29– (P. Herc. 1672) col. viii 36 Longo Auricchio shows some Epicureans on Rhodes and Cos taking a hostile line on rhetoric in their lectures (cf. Aeschines ÞÅæ #Ø, ‘scourge of orators’, in the rhetorical Mytilene). We see Epicureans moving between Athens and Rhodes, and a dispute on what Epicurean orthodoxy holds in one sphere of thought. The dispute is presented with a strong emphasis on place; Athens is at the top of the Epicurean hierarchy.61 As regards buildings and performances outside prose: choregic activity goes on (so Maiuri (1916), 143–4 = IGRR iv.1116 (Alexandreia; 101 bc, MRR i.573), SEG 39 (1989) no. 759 (after c.78 bc) tragedy, festivals). The theatre at the city of Rhodes has been mentioned (above, p. 102); there was a theatre of the fourth century bc at Lindos. There was also the odeion at the city of Rhodes, where poetic and musical performances will have been heard; it is linked with a temple of Apollo and a gymnasium.62 The attractions of Rhodes remain after Augustus. Seneca views it as an obvious place for Lucilius to tour (Ep. 104.8); Nero considers retiring there (Suet. Nero 34.1). The Elder Pliny calls it pulcherrima (5.132). Dio of Prusa calls the Rhodians the richest of the Greeks (31.55); Juvenal thinks of the island as wealthy (6.294–7). Florus has included it in his travels (Verg. 2.2). We can see too that theatrical and poetic performance continues (IG xii.1.84 (i ad; Stephanis (1988) no. 2198): comic actor in competitions; Jacopi (1932), 201–2 no. 33 (early imperial): Dionysia and Alexandreia; Lindos 449.12 (c. ad 100) åæƪ #ÆÆ #, ‘having been choregus twice’—not necessarily theatrical or poetic). In the second or third century we have an inscription about the sophist Nicostratus (IG xii.1.83 = Puech (2002) no. 187), honoured by Rhodes, and coming from the Rhodian Peraea (Amos). The culture also produces a poet who moves to Rome in Nero’s reign and starts writing Latin poetry (Euodos, Suda  3612, K  Ø#, ‘hexameter poet’). But we have little concrete evidence after Augustus of Roman visits for educational or literary purposes.63 One likely example is Germanicus’ tour in ad 18, which included Rhodes (Tac. Ann. 2.55.3). The trip had political objects, but Tacitus mentions first Germanicus’ cupidine ueteres locos et fama celebratos noscendi (54.2), and Germanicus’ ability 61

Cf. Chandler (2006), 122–46. Posidonius’ school on Rhodes was taken over by Iason (Suda Ø 52). Iason writes about Rhodes, and produces a B#  Eºº # (Life of Greece); the غ#çø ˜ØÆåÆ (Successions of Philosophers) goes back to (or continues?) the Rhodian Antisthenes (cf. Iason’s BØ ¯ ø, Lives of the Famous). 62 See Kondis (1958), 151, 153, and Beilage 125, Sear (2006), 350–1. 63 Puech (2002), 369 rightly argues against identifying this Nicostratus with Nicostratus the Macedonian in Philostratus (VS 2.31 624); it would also be surprising that he should move from Macedonia to Amos, and not directly to Rhodes. In Puech (2002) no. 243.6–9 = SGO 03/02/31 (ii ad) two Rhodian pupils honour the sophist Soteros in Ephesus. Earlier than Euodos’ Latin, Pitholeon’s mixture of Greek and Latin may have been less distinguished, Hor. Sat. 1.10.20–2 with Porphyrio (epigrams, he says).

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in Greek and Latin literature was exceptional for his family. Another likely example is Titus’ visit to Rhodes as part of his leisurely return to his father’s province in ad 69 (Tac. Hist. 2.1.1–4.2). Titus liked composing and improvising Greek and Latin oratory and poetry (Suet. Tit. 3.2), and his return trip is portrayed by Tacitus as youthful indulgence (Tac. Hist. 2.2.1 laetam uoluptatibus adulescentiam egit—he was actually 29). IG xii.1.58 records gratitude to Titus; he has probably restored its liberty (cf. SIG3 819: Domitian and a city in the Rhodian Peraea on the mainland). At the age of 16 Nero makes a Greek speech to Claudius pleading for the return of Rhodes’s freedom (Tac. Ann. 12.58.1–2, Suet. Nero 7.2, cf. Claud. 25.3); it is to this he refers in his letter when he speaks of being well disposed to Rhodes I e B# æÅ# ºØŒÆ# (‘from his early youth’: SIG3 810.25–6 = Oliver (1989) no. 34). Since he also pleaded for Ilium and Bononia, there is no special reason to posit a preceding visit. But between Claudius and Trajan the record of visits by those with at least some proximity to imperial power equals that of Athens.64 We must clearly reckon with some further cultural visiting at this time; suitable sources of evidence are relatively sparse for this period. But in the second century ad we have nothing to match the prolonged stays of Gellius and Apuleius in Athens; and it is notable that Rhodes does not produce sophists in Philostratus (Nicostratus is the only instance in inscriptions). The emphasis on Athens and Attic in the Second Sophistic is clearly not in Rhodes’s favour as a choice for education. In the second century ad, Athens magnifies its rhetorical prestige and restores or sustains its philosophical eminence; it also benefits from imperial munificence. Rome itself now has the highest chair in rhetoric, once Rhodes’s special glory. For Romans seeking literary experience, we must suppose a diminution in the significance of Rhodes.

64 Nero’s speech is probably the occasion of Antiphil. VI Gow–Page; see also IG xii.1.2.12–14. (The coin RPC I 2772, it should be noted, comes after ad 62.) Vespasian later removes Rhodes’s liberty: Suet. Vesp. 8.4.

5 Asia, Massilia, Alexandria ASIA: GREEK TALENT Asia can be used in two senses, explains Varro: et Asia quae non Europa, in qua [Laetus: quo MS] etiam Syria, et Asia dicitur prioris pars Asiae, in qua est Ionia ac prouincia nostra (LL 5.16). Our interest encompasses the larger sense, but some of the Roman remarks have the smaller primarily in mind. Asia presents us with something of a surprise. Roman individuals exploit it culturally in a more limited fashion than one might expect. To see the surprise, we must look first at the general importance of writers from Asia, an importance manifest in Rome. Athens apart, Greek literary culture from the first century bc onwards does not exist predominantly in mainland Greece. In oratory, innovation moved away from Athens after the fourth century bc, particularly to Asia (cf. e.g. Cic. Brut. 51). It is notable how many of the significant rhetors in the Elder Seneca about whom we have further information still originate from Asia (in the large sense) rather than mainland Greece. Thus we have Apollodorus of Pergamum (founder of a Æ¥æ#Ø#, ‘school’, of rhetorical theory, and author of åÆØ, ‘handbooks’, Strabo 13.4.3 625 C. iii.644.9 Radt), his pupil Dionysius of Pergamum and his rival Theodorus, originally from Gadara, Apollonius (RE 84) originally from Alabanda, Cestius (who becomes a Latin rhetor) from Smyrna, Damas (RE 4) Scombros from Tralles (Strabo 14.1.42 649 C. iv.46.13–14 Radt), Hybreas of Mylasa (and his son), Volcacius Moschus from Pergamum (becomes a Latin rhetor). Adaeus and Craton could in principle be Asiani in a purely stylistic sense (Contr. 9.1.12, 10.5.21). The important city of Mytilene, very close to Asia, produces Lesbocles and Potamon. The island of Euboea produces Diocles of Carystus. From the mainland proper we have Nicocrates the Spartan, aridus et exsucus declamator (Contr. 7.5.15, cf. Suas. 2.22).1

1 We could perhaps contrast with this general picture Polyb. 31.24.6–7, before the Mithridatic War, when the flood of useful intellectuals is I e B#  Eºº # (‘from Greece’). Pammenes (RE 3) ex nouis declamatoribus Sen. Contr. 1.4.7 is probably not the same as Brutus’ teacher, who is from Greece; see p. 93 above. Cestius’ ethnicity is a complicated question, cf. p. 40 n. 29; but that does not affect the present discussion. For Volcacius see p. 118 below. Strabo has numerous Þ æ# (‘orators’) to mention from the continent of Asia; the absence of Þ æ# from everywhere else (Lycurgus apart) is not significant: cf. Engels (2005). The liveliness of Mytilene may be underlined by an anti-rhetorical opposition: Aeschines ÞÅæ #Ø (‘scourge of orators’, Diog. Laert. 2.64; date not known). Pompey’s links with Mytilene spring from his relationship with the politician and writer Theophanes (IG xii.2.202 statue for Pompey; 150 dedication to Cn. Pompeius Theophanes, saviour; 163 dedication to

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Most of the sophists in Philostratus actually originate, Athens apart, from the continent of Asia (they feed Athens and Rome). After the fourth century bc, he shows us from Asia Dion of Prusa (he passes over Ariobarzanes from Cilicia), Nicetes of Smyrna, Isaeus the Syrian, Scopelianus from Asia (Clazomenae; studies and teaches in Smyrna, then Athens), Dionysius of Miletus (teaches first in Lesbos, then lives in Ephesus), Lollianus of Ephesus (first holder of the Athenian city chair), Marcus of Byzantium, Polemon of Laodicea (or Smyrna, or Phrygia), Aristocles of Pergamum, Antiochus of Aegae in Cilicia (taught by Dardanus the Syrian), Alexander of Seleucia in Cilicia, Varus of Perga, Hermogenes of Tarsus, Philagros the Cilician, Aristides from Hadrianutheris (trains in Athens), Hadrian of Tyre (trains in Athens), Chrestus of Byzantium (taught by Herodes), Pausanias of Caesarea in Cappadocia, Damianus of Ephesus (taught by Aristides in Smyrna and Hadrian of Tyre in Ephesus), Antipater of Hierapolis (some study in Athens), Hermocrates of Phocaea (taught by Rufinus of Smyrna), Heraclides the Lycian (chair in Athens, then forced to Smyrna), (Varus of Laodicea scorned), Quirinus of Nicomedia. From Greece come Secundus of Athens, Herodes Atticus, Theodotus of (or in) Athens, Apollonius of Athens (Soterus discounted; born in Athens, goes to Ephesus); Onomarchus of Andros; Phoenix from Thessaly, Hippodromus from Thessaly, Philiscus from Thessaly, Athenodorus of Aenus in Thrace. (Thessaly and Thrace lie beyond the traditional heart of mainland Greek culture.) This picture appears in Seneca and in Philostratus despite the decline of the Asianic style in oratory asserted by Dionysius, and the later Greek vogue for Atticism.2 In poetry the position is a little different. The Palatine Anthology offers us a unique glimpse into the range of a period on which we are very under-informed. Among the non-Roman poets of known origin in the Greek Anthology between 200 bc and 200 ad those from the continent of Asia form a little under half. They form about four times more than those from mainland Greece itself south of Thessaly and excluding islands; the authors from the mainland are mostly minor figures. The second century bc offers Antipater of Sidon, Demetrius of Bithynia (date?), Dionysius of Cyzicus (early ii bc), Oenomaus of Gadara (date?); ii/i Meleager of Gadara; the first century bc offers Aeschines of Miletus (the rhetor), Alexander of Magnesia (date?), Archias of Antioch (comes to Rome), Diodorus of Sardis (orator), Diodorus of Tarsus (perhaps the same as grammaticus), Diotimus of Miletus, Erycius of Cyzicus, Evenus of Ascalon (date?), Menecrates of Smyrna, Philodemus of Gadara (philosopher, lived in Italy), Polemon I of Pontus, or (i ad) Polemon II of Pontus, Polyaenus of Sardis (sophist, historian; probably distinct from Julius Polyaenus); i bc/iad: Antiphilus of Byzantium, Heraclides of Sinope, Archias of Byzantium (date?); first century ad: Aemilianus of Nicaea (Roman Pompey, Theophanes, Potamon, each saviour and founder). However their relationship began (cf. Jacoby (1926–30), D 615), it was certainly not from a cultural trip planned by Pompey. 2 For Scopelianus see Bowie (2002b), 44–5; Hadrianus erects a statue in Ephesus to Claudius Severus cos. II ad 173 (SGO 03/02/28). Philostratus lists with contemptuous plurals Soterus and others from Ephesus who are to be discounted (VS 2.23 605). For the emphasis on Athens in his work cf. Kemezis (2011). On Asian sophists in Philostratus cf. Spawforth (2012), 267–8. The numbers of orators and sophists in Puech (2002), 17, on the basis of inscriptions, show near equality in origin between Asia Minor (48) and Greece (50); but 23 of the 50 are from Athens.

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connection apparent), Apollonidas of Smyrna, Bassus of Smyrna (date?), Bianor from Bithynia (might or might not be same person as grammaticus), a second Diodorus of Sardis (Þ øæ, historian, lyric poet; writes on Tiberius and Drusus), Thallus of Miletus (writes on birth of a Caesar; quite likely the same as Antonius Thallus, possibly a freedman of Antonia mother of Claudius); in the second century ad (after the two main anthologies) comes the major figure Straton of Sardis.3 These are twenty-seven. From Egypt and Africa there are six (four from Alexandria, including Leonidas), from Sicily one or two. From Macedon there are four, from Thessaly four, from islands ten or eleven (including Diocles of Carystus (i bc–i ad), presumably the same as the rhetor; four are from Mytilene). From mainland Greece we have five to seven: Alcaeus of Messene (clearly the Peloponnesian Messene), Antonius of Argus (i bc–i ad), Evenus of Athens (date?), Antiphanes of Megalopolis (i bc–i ad?; not known which of eight epigrams ascribed to ‘Antiphanes’ are by him or by Antiphanes of Macedon), Glaucus of Athens (date?); Etruscus of Messene (i bc–i ad) could be from Peloponnese or Sicily, Honestus of Corinth (i ad) could well be of Roman origin. The early Alcaeus of Messene (c.200 bc) is the only significant figure. The Supplementum Hellenisticum presents a comparable picture. Of course, Asia and mainland Greece are not comparable in size or population; but at the least literary culture in this period is not dominated by authors from the mainland.4 The Asian cities were not mere sources of supply, in themselves insignificant, for large centres outside Asia. Even Asia Minor contains a great many cities; but cities like Ephesus and Pergamum were highly important centres, in numerous ways. Seneca ranks Ephesus with Alexandria as a large and attractive city (Ep. 102.21); the Elder Pliny sings the praises of both: Nat. 5.120 Ephesum, alterum lumen Asiae, 126 longeque clarissimum Asiae Pergamum ( Hutchinson; MSS < -ſim̄ lum̄ ?).5

3 For Straton see the edition of Floridi (2007), for his date cf. Cameron (1993), 65–9. The Anthology does not include Parthenius of Nicaea. For the two Diodori of Sardis see Strabo 13.4.9 627–8 C. iii.650.36–652.5 Radt: the earlier, in the time of Mithridates, fought many contests (i.e. political) for Asia; the later is Strabo’s friend, and writes on Tiberius’ return to Rome (from Spain?) and on Drusus. It is doubtful whether Automedon of Cyzicus exists: Antimedon of Cyzicus is given in the MS for AP 11.406, and kept by Gow and Page; Automedon the Aetolian is doubtful (the ethnic is put first on its one occurrence). 4 Isidorus (date?), given in the Anthology as `Nª Å#, could come from many different places. 5 Or < -mum lum̄. It is the strangeness of clarissimum Asiae Pergamum that necessitates change; for the pair cf. 17.37–8. On ‘lesser’ cities, cf. Dig. 27.1.6.1–3 (Modestinus, with letter of Antoninus to the ŒØ (‘council’) of Asia): three sophists and three ªæÆ

ÆØŒ (‘grammatici’) are allowed to be free from liturgies in smaller cities, four in larger cities (there are some textual problems; sophists may not be distinguished from Þ æ#; ªæÆ

ÆØŒ clearly teach). Cf. P. Oxy. XLVII 3366.12–16 (iii ad): the quantity of public ªæÆ

ÆØŒ is set ŒÆa ªŁ# H | ºø (‘in accordance with the size of the cities’). For the archaeology of Hellenistic and Roman Ephesus see the series Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut (1906– ) and for overviews Scherrer (1995), 1–15, Hueber (1997), 39–91. For Roman connections cf. Torelli (2007), 106–15; also, for Second Style wall-painting, Zevi (2007), 493–4, with Tober (2007) and Prochaska, Weber, and Zimmerman (2007). It is disputed which Memmius is honoured by the lavish monument of i bc (cos. suff. of 34 bc supported by e.g. Outschar (1990)). See Sear (2006), 334–6, Öztürk (2010) for the theatre, elaborately reworked in i and ii ad, not least by Domitian. Note also the odeion, mid-i ad?, Meinel (1980), 117–33, Sear (2006), 336–7.

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Ephesus (like Mytilene) is presented in Tacitus’ Dialogus as a prime centre for Greeks learning rhetoric now: . . . et si quis alius Ephesum aut Mytilenas concentu scholasticorum et clamoribus quatit (15.3: the scornful Messalla). It certainly had rhetorical schools, and numerous sophists (like Mytilene). In SGO 03/02/31 (ii ad) a monument has been erected by pupils from Rhodes and the continent as far as Antioch to Soterus, who taught in Athens, then Ephesus, then Athens, then Ephesus (the Ephesians twice ‘called’ him, presumably with rising offers). And this is a sophist dismissed by Philostratus, who implies that he operated in Ephesus (VS 2.23 605). For students in Ephesus from elsewhere in Asia cf. e.g. SGO 03/02/61: a student from Bithynia studying ºªØ (‘rhetoric’) in Ephesus from 15 to 20, when he dies. In philosophy note, for example, the reincarnate Plato Ofellius Laetus in SGO 03/02/29; Plutarch refers to him, Aet. Phys. 911f– 912a, 913e (ºª, lit. ‘he used to say’, does not imply that Plutarch had heard him). T. Iulius Celsus Polemaeanus (cos. suff. ad 92, procos. Asia 105/6, PIR2 J 260), probably from Asia but with a major career in the Roman state, began the building of the library erected in his honour in the early second century ad (IK xvii.5101–15).6 Pergamum, on the other hand, had long had famous libraries, not damaged by fire like that at Alexandria (and probably not annexed by Antony). Diog. Laert. 7.34 tells us of the activities of Athenodorus (Cordylion), who was in charge of the library in the earlier part of the first century bc; he gets into trouble for attempting to excise passages from Stoic writers on non-scholarly grounds. Another library was added to the Asclepieion in the imperial rebuilding. The Asclepieion stood some way outside the city; it was an attraction in itself, and became a cultural centre in the imperial period. Aristides was a devotee ( Iæd ¸ªØ, ‘Sacred Discourses’, 1–6; SGO 06/02/16), and illuminates its cultural life: so at 50.38–47 he sets up choruses to Asclepius there, and at 50.55 we learn that his friend Pyrallianus e KŒ F ƒæF (‘from the sanctuary’) is well versed in Plato. Inscriptions in the Asclepieion honour sophists and philosophers (Perg. viii.3.31, 32, 34A, 35). It included a theatre (ii ad). The city itself produced the favoured physician of M. Aurelius, the extraordinarily prolific and wide-ranging Galen, and the teacher of Verus, the grammaticus Telephus (RE 2). Claudius Charax, philosopher and historian (FGrHist 103), becomes a senator through Hadrian’s patronage (Perg. viii.3.8, cf. 141; cos. suff. 147).7 6 On Celsus’ career, cf. Syme (1979a), 578–80. It is intriguing that Martial gives Ephesus, Rhodes, and Mytilene as grand Greek-speaking places, 10.68.1; the same trio at the start of Horace, Odes 1.7 as cities to praise. For Mytilene, note Marcellus there at one point in his exile, learning philosophy and rhetoric from Cratippus: Cic. Brut. 250. In SGO 03/02/72 (probably imperial) a student from Ephesus, who dies at 17, evidently goes to Lesbos to learn rhetoric. 7 Cf. L. Cuspius Pactumeius Rufinus cos. ad 142 (PIR2 C 1637), who comes from Pergamum, builds the temple of Zeus Asclepius, and is a friend of Galen’s teacher (Anat. Admin. 1.2 i.92 Garofalo ii.224–5 Kühn). In general on Pergamum see the series Conze (1912– ), and the summation in W. Radt (1999). On the founding of the ØºØŁBŒÆØ (‘libraries’) in ii bc (first half) by Eumenes II see Strabo 13.4.2 624 C. iii.642.11–18 Radt, R. Pfeiffer (1968), 235; most likely the (or a) library was in the temple of Athena, cf. W. Radt (1999), 165–8. For rivalry with Alexandria cf. e.g. Vitr. 7 pr. 4 (note egregiam bybliothecam Pergami), Plin. Nat. 13.70, 35.10. The library in the rebuilt Asclepieion may have been an afterthought; see A. Hoffmann (2011), 21–2. On the Asclepieion see Habicht (1969) (15–18 for cultural life), Ziegenaus (1981), W. Radt (1999), 220–42, A. Hoffmann (2011); Sear (2006), 348 for the theatre, ibid. 346–8 for other theatres and an odeion or odeia in Pergamum.

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Smyrna, though second best for Heraclides, ‘sacrificed to the Muses of the sophists most among cities’ (Philostr. VS 2.26 613); Heraclides attracted students from Asia, Egypt, and mainland Greece (cf. Polemon in VS 1.25 531). Philosophically, we may note that Galen moves there in part because of Albinus › —ºÆøØŒ# (‘the Platonic philosopher’, Libr. Propr. 2.1 p. 40 Boudon-Millot xix.16 Kühn; cf. Albinus’ surviving N#ƪøª , ‘introduction’, to Plato’s doctrines). SIG3 849 = Oliver (1989) no. 135A–B (Antoninus) shows us Smyrna’s rivalry with Ephesus over titles. Smyrna’s surviving theatre, probably built after the earthquake of 177 or 178, slightly and no doubt deliberately exceeded the huge theatre of Ephesus in size. The city has a less extensive archaeological record than Ephesus from the Roman period, and was rebuilt after the earthquake; earlier, Ovid thought it paene minus nullo . . . petenda loco (Pont. 1.3.66), Strabo thought it ŒÆºº#Å H Æ#H (14.1.37 646 C. iv.36.4 Radt). Hermogenes of Smyrna’s work

Æ  ø Æø ŒÆd Z ıæÆø· ØÆåc ŒÆa åæı# (Catalogue of Romans and Smyrnaeans: Chronological Sequence, SGO 05/01/26.10, i ad), could be an attempt to establish Smyrna’s importance for Romans.8 Many cities, including Ephesus, Pergamum, and Smyrna, were essentially Hellenistic in their present incarnation. Even the famous temple of Artemis at Ephesus, when the sixth-century temple of Chersiphron and Metagenes (Vitr. 3.2.7, 7 pr. 12, Plin. Nat. 7.125) was burned, was rebuilt from the fourth to the third century bc—though Mela 1.86 takes it back to the Amazons. A new Smyrna was built in the late fourth century (cf. Strabo 14.1.37 646 C. iv.36.1–38.14 Radt, Paus. 7.5.2–3, SGO 05/01/01 (ii ad)). The mythical heritage of Asia was somewhat less abundant than for the mainland and the Aegean islands. Even so, Germanicus and others are impressed by the tradition (Tac. Ann. 2.54.1; Mela 1.86–9); and the cities, in their mutual rivalry, seek to play up their heritage (e.g. Tac. Ann. 4.55–6). Ilium was the home of the Roman people (cf. e.g. Tac. Ann. 2.54.2, 4.55.2); Smyrna had a leading claim to be the birthplace of Homer.9

ASIA: ROMAN VIEWS AND VISITS Asian cities, that is primarily cities in Asia Minor, are commonly seen as a group in Roman writing. This is significant for Roman conceptions of the region, and of visiting it. Among its attractions were richness and luxury. The land itself was fertile; the region and cities are regularly diues, potens (meaning much the same), and amoenus. For fertility, cf. Trag. Inc. Inc. Fab. 164 Ribbeck frugifera arua Asiae, Hor. Epist. 1.3.4 pingues Asiae campi, Livy 38.17.17 uberrimo agro, Ov. Her.

8 Excavation of the Roman agora (Naumann and Kantar (1950)) continues to advance (Taşlialan and Drew-Bear (2004), Taşlialan, Drew-Bear, et al. (2006)); note the impressive sculptures of a goddess and of a child lately found there (Ersoy and Laugier (2011), 241–7). For the theatre cf. Berg and Walter (1922), Sear (2006), 352–3, Taşlialan, Drew-Bear, et al. (2006), 318–19. 9 Smyrna’s claim is formally accepted by Lucan, Silius, and Statius; Cic. Arch. 19 mentions their Homereion, cf. Strabo 14.1.37 646 C. iv.36.8–38.11 Radt. Hermogenes of Smyrna writes a work æd B#  ˇ æı . . . Ææ# (‘on Homer’s land of origin’), SGO 05/01/26.6 (i ad); we can perhaps guess its conclusion.

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16.178 qua nulla beatior ora est, Just. 38.7.6 nec (sc. esse aliud) solo fertilius. For diues, see Hor. Sat. 1.7.19, Man. 4.671 (cf. 672–3), Tac. Agr. 6.2; Val. Max. 4.8.4 ditissimam; Luc. 3.162, Stat. Silv. 5.3.188 dites Asiae populi/os; cf. Caes. BC 3.31.4 Pergamum atque in locupletissimas urbes, Ov. Fast. 6.420 Asiae . . . opes. For potens: Man. 4.680, 753, Sen. Ag. 785, Luc. 9.1002, Stat. Silv. 5.2.56. For amoenus: Val. Max. 4.8.4 amoenissimam, Sall. Cat. 11.5 loca amoena, Livy 38.17.18, 49.4, 39.1.3 amoenitas Asiae or urbium (cf. Just. 38.7.6). clarus is another recurring word, cf. Cic. QF 1.1.9 clarissimae prouinciae, Cat. 46.6 claras Asiae . . . urbes; related are Man. 4.621–2 nitentis . . . Asiae, Phaedr. 4.23.4 urbes Asiae nobiles. The conventional picture remains static; it does not reflect changes in economic prosperity or the problems inflicted in the first century bc by Roman publicani and war (cf. e.g. Plut. Luc. 20; Cic. QF 1.1.25, 32, Fam. 3.1.1 (from Lentulus), Ad Brut. 2.4.3, RDGE 61), nor those caused by natural disasters like earthquakes. So for the earthquake of ad 17, which affected twelve cities in Asia, and especially Sardis, see Bianor XVII Gow–Page, OGIS 471, CIL iii.7096, x.1624, Vell. 2.126.4, Sen. Nat. 6.1.13, Tac. Ann. 2.47, Suet. Tib. 48.2. In ad 143 ‘many’ cities were involved in ‘the earthquake’ (TAM ii.905.XIB13–XIC12 (Rhodiapolis)); cf. also Tac. Ann. 4.13.1 (Cibyra, ad 23), 14.27.1 (Laodicea, ad 60; no help from Rome), Aristides 18 and 19, ii.8–16 Keil (Smyrna ad 177 or 178).10 Luxury and softness made the inhabitants unwarlike, and something of a degeneration from the Greeks of the mainland, the uera atque integra Graecia (Cic. Flac. 61, 64–6). Cf. QF 1.1.16: the few who are uetere Graecia digni, Plin. Ep. 8.24.1 illam ueram et meram Graeciam; Livy 9.19.10 imbellem Asiam, of Alexander’s opponents, 38.17.3 mitissimum genus hominum, Val. Max. 2.6.1 Asiae moribus, Sen. Ira 1.11.4 Asiae Syriaeque molles bello uiri. Indeed, the pleasures and riches of Asia could have a deleterious effect on Romans, an effect feared or felt by others before them (Val. Max. 2.6.1: Spartans fear temptation ad delicatius uitae genus; Livy 38.17.17 omnis . . . mansuefacta est feritas of Gauls, risk to Romans 18). Cf. e.g. C. Memmius ORF4 125 F 4 (against Lucullus) inque luxuriosissimis Asiae oppidis consedisse; Sall. Cat. 11.5 luxuriose of Sulla’s treatment of his army in Asia. The corruption could be resisted: cf. e.g. Val. Max. 3.7.1d; Tac. Agr. 6.2. These ideas of Asia can have literary implications, cf. e.g. Cic. Opt. Gen. 8: let us not imitate those quorum uitiosia abundantia est, qualis Asia multos tulit. Cf. also Quint. Inst. 12.10.15 (Atticists claim sanitas), 17 Asiana gens tumidior alioqui. Despite the ethical perils, there was no shortage of visits to Asia.11 It is striking that the typical plan for Romans is not to spend prolonged time in one city with educational or literary experience as their primary goal. And yet Ephesus, Pergamum, and Smyrna were all on or near the west coast, and so particularly easy to reach. Cicero, after his period of philosophical and rhetorical study in Athens, goes all over Asia (Brut. 315 tota peragrata est; cf. Tac. Dial. 30.3 peragrasse, less true of Achaeia). His account suggests that he tried Asia first, and 10 For potens and wealth cf. OLD 1a; political power is appropriate at Sen. Tro. 7 pollentis, but would not be in most instances of potens with Asia, cf. e.g. Suet. Jul. 28.1 Italiae . . . Asiae quoque et Graeciae potentissimas urbes praecipuis operibus exornans. On RDGE 61 see Dignas (2002), 120–8, and 110–39 for Rome and Asia Minor. 11 On moral ideas of Asia cf. Arweiler (2008), 35–7; Spawforth (2012), 12–13 on Pro Flacco (Augustus’ approach is perhaps not easily made new). See also Ferrary (2011).

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in dissatisfaction proceeded to Rhodes and his earlier teacher Molon. But he has motives in the Brutus for stressing his disquiet with Asianism (so he is judicious in Brut. 325–6, Orat. 230); and a trip to Molon would make a likely part of his original plans. He evidently visits many cities, but takes Asian orators with him as he goes (Brut. 315 peragrata est cum summis quidem oratoribus; 316 adsiduissime . . . mecum fuit . . . erat etiam . . . ). When Cicero’s son takes a fancy to seeing Asia, Trebonius says he will arrange for Cratippus, the son’s teacher, to accompany him, and prevent any interruption to his studies (Cic. Fam. 3.2.2 (from Trebonius)). No doubt he guesses the father’s wishes (and the son’s?).12 The degree of movement in Cicero’s visit is typical: the standard pattern is to whizz round a great many cities. The region seems popular for exciting but speedy tours—like most of mainland Greece. Catullus, who has had a free trip to Bithynia as part of Memmius’ staff (57 bc: MRR ii.203; Cinna also on staff, Cat. 10.28–32), looks forward to visiting the claras Asiae . . . urbes (46.6); presumably these are the cities of the province Asia, on the way home (cf. 9–11). Catullus’ brother evidently visited Ilium, perhaps with literature in mind. Ovid has seen the magnificas cities of Asia with Macer (Pont. 2.10.21; te duce). Bullatius’ tour in Hor. Epist. 1.11 takes in the Aegean islands (including Lesbos) and Sardis, Smyrna, Colophon, etc. Propertius in 1.6.13–14 is declining a trip with Tullus; with significant expression, he talks of getting to know doctas . . . Athenas (one city) and seeing Asiae ueteres . . . diuitias (cf. also 31–2). The multitude of cities was one of the attractions: cf. Cic. QF 1.1.42 theatrum totius Asiae . . . celebritate refertissimum, magnitudine amplissimum; Just. 38.7.6 (Mithridates) neque . . . esse . . . aliud . . . nec urbium multitudine amoenius.13 Clearly, some Romans had extended stays in one city, and significant educational experience there; we cannot establish that they chose the city purely for the sake of the experience. (Octavian would not have gone to Apollonia in Epirus, with his own tutor Apollodorus of Pergamum, had it not been for Caesar’s military plans.) Roman names appear, without Pergamene tribes, in lists of ephebes at Pergamum which run up to the end of the first century bc, and especially in the later of the lists; in some cases there are grounds for relating the youths to Roman magistrates in Asia on duty (cf. Dörpfeld, Jacobsthal, Schazmann (1908), 384–400). Their experience remains of interest. Roman names appear on a list of ephebes at Ephesus of the first century bc (IK xiii.904A.9–10, cf. also 905A, esp. 16); there is not enough reason to connect P. Fabius P. f. with the C. Fabius who appears as proconsul in 57 on Ephesian cistophori. Other cases of educational stays in one city are more doubtful. Tullus has been in Cyzicus for tam multos . . . annos (Prop. 3.22.1); he would seem to be 12 For the pattern of Cicero’s journey cf. Quint. Inst. 12.6.7. Contrast the emphasis of Sen. Suas. 6.11, Tac. Dial. 30.3 (Achaea and Asia). Cicero follows the ‘Asian’ mode of rhythm even in his earliest speeches, so before this visit; cf. Cic. Orat. 212 unum (dichoreus) est secuta Asia maxime (Winterbottom (2011)), 230 apud alium autem et Asiaticos maxime numero seruientes . . . Criticized as Asianus by contemporaries: Quint. Inst. 12.10.12. Caesar was Asiam petens when captured by pirates near Miletus, according to Val. Max. 6.9.15, but this is probably just an erroneous guess; cf. Suet. Jul. 4.1, Pelling (2012), 139. 13 Cf. B. Gibson (2006), 211 on Stat. Silv. 5.2.57 mille urbes Asiae. On Macer see White (1992), and p. 144 below. Buraselis (2001), 61 has doubts about White’s rejection of Theophanes’ son as Ovid’s friend.

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continuing the expedition which began in connection with his uncle’s governorship of Asia (1.6). If so, he has been in Asia five years at least; it would not be a normal visit for education, which is not indicated. Castricius, honoured by the Smyrnaeans and their ephebes, and florem iuuentutis at death (Cic. Flac. 75), seems himself to be a wealthy businessman, involved also with Tralles (54; cf. for the Castricii IK xxiii.238 (Smyrna)). Cato’s trip to Pergamum, from Macedonia, is made purely to secure Athenodorus: see above, p. 62. The accessible Massilia is mentioned by Strabo as an alternative place to Athens for Romans to study in (see below, p. 120); he does not so mention Asian cities, despite his zeal for Asia (in a large sense). It must be telling that there is none of the abundant positive evidence which exists in the case of Athens for substantial study trips to a single city unconnected with family movements.14 Trips to Asia Minor begin early, before the Roman province has succeeded the Attalid kingdom (e.g. Sall. Hist. 4 fr. 69.8, 11 Maurenbrecher, Vell. 2.38.5, Flor. 1.35.1–3 Malcovati). Accius sets off for a trip there; Terence was already thought to have done so by Volcacius (fr. 4 Courtney; other versions involve Greece). Understanding Greeks is seen as one possible motive; in another version Terence works on texts (Suet. Vit. Ter. 80–96 Rostagni). Later Virgil intends to visit Asia as well as Greece, as a place to revise his poem. In all these cases the travelling happens at a later stage in life than the probably more typical travel in early manhood (see above). Longer stays than those of rapid tourists like Ovid are those of Romans who choose or are sent to Asia in exile. In 98 bc (MRR ii.5), Q. Metellus Numidicus (RE Caecilius 97) is found attending ludi in the theatre at Tralles (Val. Max. 4.1.13; others say Smyrna). Rutilius was accompanied into exile (92 bc) by the philosopher, rhetor, and grammaticus Opillus, who worked at scholarship in Smyrna (Suet. GR 6.1–3). Rutilius himself grew old litterarum studiis intentus, according to Oros. 5.7.13 (for his exile in Smyrna cf. Cic. Rep. 1.14, Brut. 85, Ov. Pont. 1.3.61–6; he was made a citizen there, Tac. Ann. 4.43.5). Under Claudius, C. Licinius Mucianus (PIR2 L 216, RE Licinius 116 a), probably in his twenties, was removed to a corner of Asia (in secretum Asiae) in near-exile (Tac. Hist. 1.10.1); he acquired a noteworthy ability in Greek oratory (2.80.2). Under Nero, Rubellius Plautus (PIR2 R 115) lives with philosophers, including the Greek

14 Strabo claims that Tarsus, not far from Syria, excels the philosophical schools and ØÆæØÆ (‘places of education’) of Athens and Alexandria (other cities omitted from text? Cf. ÆE#  ¼ººÆØ#

º#Ø, ‘the other cities’) because of the general enthusiasm for philosophy and c ¼ººÅ ÆØÆ KªŒŒºØ (‘the rest of general education’, 14.5.13 673–4 C. iv.110 Radt); but the çغ ÆŁF# (‘students’) are all local, and even they go elsewhere and ºØFÆØ (‘receive their finishing’). PŒ K ØÅ F#Ø ÞÆØø# (‘do not come to stay easily’) seems to suggest practical difficulties for visiting; but it is in any case obviously Greek visitors that Strabo has in mind—Romans would not even come into question. Apuleius (Flor. 18.38–43) is a friend of the eloquent Iulius Perseus, the honorand of Perg. viii.3.27, and makes him the Greek speaker in his bilingual dialogue; but he presumably got to know him at Carthage (cf. also CIL viii.997). For Octavian in Apollonia in West Greece see e.g. Nic. Dam. FGrHist 90 F 130.37–47, Vell. 2.59.4, App. BC 3.30–1 ÆØ#ŁÆ  ŒÆd I#ŒE#ŁÆØ a º ØÆ K 

  e F ˚Æ#Ææ# ‰# K# f# º ı# !ł # ÆPHØ (‘was sent by Caesar to gain education and practice in war, with a view to accompanying Caesar against the enemy’).

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Coeranus (˚æÆ#), in Asian exile (Tac. Ann. 14.22, 57–9; his family had property there, 22.3).15 Important too is time spent in Asia by Romans on political or military business; this includes parts of the continent that tourists would not normally entertain, such as Syria; still less those planning a susbstantial period of study. Equestrians doing financial business will be important too; but here cases of literary experience are naturally harder to find. The Younger Pliny owes his friendship with the philosophers Artemidorus and Euphrates to his own activity in Syria as a military tribune, where he heard and admired both (Ep. 1.10.2, 3.11.5). The orators Crassus and Antonius listened to Metrodorus of Scepsis (RE 23, FGrHist 184) when in Asia on official business (Cic. De Orat. 2.360, 365); Cicero presents them as much impressed by this man. If there is not a confusion of two people, he was a politician and rhetorician, and had been a philosopher. Kåæ #Æ , says Strabo, çæ ## ØØ åÆæÆŒBæØ ŒÆØHØ ŒÆd ŒÆ º Æ ºº# (‘he used a new style of expression, and stunned many’, 13.1.55 609 C. iii.604.27–8 Radt).16 Part of an official’s experience would certainly have been watching Greek oratory, practised in actual cases under (for the Greeks) significant and prestigious circumstances. So Hybreas makes a speech to Antony ‘on behalf of Asia’, which Plutarch assesses stylistically (Plut. Ant. 24.7–8). Hybreas is rated by Strabo the greatest Þ øæ of his time (13.4.15 630 C. iii.658.25 Radt); Seneca the Elder calls him disertissimi uiri (Suas. 7.14), Valerius copiosae atque concitatae facundiae oratorem (9.14 ext. 2). Probably texts by him were available to Strabo, Seneca, and Plutarch. Although he had a school, he was very much a practical and powerful politician within Mylasa (indeed ŒæØ#, ‘in charge’); but a spirited remark against Q. Labienus with his military power had calamitous consequences (Strabo 14.2.24 659–60 C. iv.74, 76, Radt). Likewise Aeschines of Miletus, an orator and political writer (Diog. Laert. 2.64) thought well of by Cicero (Brut. 325) and Strabo (14.1.7 635 C. iv.10.23–4 Radt), had to leave Miletus because of excessive frankness towards Pompey. If reports on oratory are often of unusual or entertaining instances, that should not obscure the significance of such occasions for those with rhetorical interests. The hearing before M. Antony at which the poet Boethus was indicted for theft involved amusing play on Boethus’ would-be Homeric immortalization of Antony in a narrative hexameter poem (Strabo 14.5.14 674 C. iv.112.13–24 Radt; SH 230). Strabo relishes the play as typically Tarsian, and the cultural interest and appeal for Roman listeners is evident. Cicero’s son is not impressed by Hybreas’ son (Sen. Suas. 7.14, cf. 13); but it is notable that he like the audience is familiar with the father’s oratory, which the son is plagiarizing: he listens as a connoisseur.17

15 P. Scipio Nasica’s legation (cos. 138, RE Cornelius 354) is presented as a means of retiring to Smyrna in Val. Max. 5.3.2e, cf. Cic. Flac. 75; probably the importance of the mission is underrated by Valerius. 16 Both Artemidorus and Euphrates later come to Rome; Pompeius Iulianus, whose daughter Euphrates married, is evidently from Syria (1.10.8 prouinciae princeps). 17 Seneca’s Aeschines ex declamatoribus nouis (Contr. 1.8.11, 16) is probably not Aeschines of Miletus. The incident with Cicero’s son may occur 29–28 bc, cf. Magie (1950), ii.1580. Cicero’s son uses a quote from Hom. Il. 4.405; cf. West’s apparatus for other uses.

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In more epideictic vein, M. Aurelius hears Aristides declaim in Smyrna. The performance goes well; but Philostratus is probably right in seeing a more practical effect (VS 2.9 582–3). The impression left by the performance, and the relationship created with the emperor, form the basis for Aristides’ written appeal to Marcus and Commodus after the earthquake of 177 or 178 (Aristid. 19; Philostratus, though quoting from 19, describes it as øØÆ (‘monody’): cf. the connected piece 18). Aristides claims to have become the friend of the Caesars (42.14 ii.338.9–19 Keil, cf. SGO 06/02/16.13); the connection of reading, performance, and personal acquaintance is notable. The appeal certainly succeeded; the tears reported by Philostratus are not implausible. Tears feature again in a more disputed story of the impact which Nicetes Sacerdos’ practical oratory has on the hostile Roman magistrate who eventually hears him (Philostr. VS 1.19 512). Admiration for the sophist Polemon had brought about munificence from Hadrian to Smyrna (IK xxiv.1.697.33–42 with n. = Puech (2002) no. 209, cf. Philostr. VS 1.25 532–3 (alleged corruption)).18 In some circumstances, Greek orators might speak in Latin, particularly where cases involved both Greeks and Romans. Even here it could be illuminating to watch the Greek speakers: so the case, clearly in Latin, witnessed and converted into a poem by Horace, who was in Asia as a member of Brutus’ staff (Satires 1.7). We do not know if Moschus of Pergamum (Porph. Hor. Epist. 1.5.9) spoke in Latin as well as Greek before L. Volcacius Tullus (cos. 33 bc) when Volcacius was proconsul of Asia (RDGE 65D.41–2)—if it is indeed through Volcacius that Moschus obtains the Roman citizenship (Volcacius Moschus, Tac. Ann. 4.43.5; RE Volcacius 14 (Suppl. ix)). At any rate, he comes to Rome, and turns into a Latin rhetor.19 Cicero sets the philosophical discussion of his Timaeus during his brief stop in Ephesus on his way to govern Cilicia (2). Cratippus the Peripatetic comes from Mytilene mei salutandi et uisendi causa. The meeting may be fictional; one could contrast Lucullus’ hearing of Antiochus in Syria (Ac. Pri. 61). But the fiction would still illustrate the possibility of philosophical contacts and experiences in the East. Cicero’s arrival in Ephesus was certainly a big event (Att. 5.13.1, 20.1). Lucullus redeploys the artists of Dionysus assembled by Tigranes for his theatre in the partly Greek Tigranocerta in Mesopotamia: he uses them æe# f# IªHÆ# ŒÆd a# ŁÆ# H K ØØŒø (‘for the competitions and spectacles of his victory celebrations’, Plut. Luc. 29.4). In general, Lucullus’ long period in the East will have supplied him with many of the links used to make his house in or near Rome a centre of Greek culture and learning. Likewise Pompey in Mytilene watches e IªHÆ e æØ . . . H ØÅH (‘the traditional contest of poets’), on the subject of his deeds (Plut. Pomp. 42.8). There were of course innumerable contests and performances that could be attended. In the imperial period, an increasing number honour Rome and Roman emperors; Roman officials would make 18 See e.g. C. P. Jones (2000), 460–1. Bowie (1982), 51–2 argues for caution on the reasons for Polemon’s influence. For Aristides 19 see Quet (2006). 19 Spawforth (2012), 76 n. 86 thinks Moschus is probably not straightforwardly Greek; this is a less promising case than that of Cestius Pius, and again legal status and educational culture are distinct matters. Cf. e.g. Dörpfeld, Jacobsthal, Schazmann (1908), 390 (with AÉ 2000 no. 1390 for Titius PIR2 T 261). On Horace, Satires 1.7 see Henderson (1994).

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especially suitable listeners. Examples of such contests are the Rhomaia in Ephesus (IK xiii.859A: money donated by C. Iulius Nicephorus, freedman of Augustus) and the Traianeia set up by Iulius Quadratus, cos. suff. 93, who came from Pergamum (Perg. viii.2.269: Trajan approves; Quadratus’ origin [Aristid.] 30.7–9 ii.203–4 Keil, inscriptions Perg. viii.2.436–51). Contests at Ephesus included citharodes (IK xiv.1106), poets (xi.1.22), encomiographers (xiv.1104a). Ephesus was the seat of the governor in the imperial period, and Pergamum the seat of the Caesarian cult. The imperial cult, like some other cults, included hymnodes; these bodies of singers belong to the élite (cf. e.g. IK xiii.616.10 (Ephesus) for the honour). Perg. viii.2.374 (time of Hadrian) shows us the hymnodes in Pergamum, their family tradition (cf. IK xi.1.17+18d.14–16), their responsibility for monthly hymns to Augustus (and Rome?), the special building for performance. IK xi.1.17+18d4–67 (Ephesus, ad 44) indicates the expense of the institution in the case of Pergamum; it is met by the whole of Asia.20 The luxuries of Asia which posed such a temptation to those with power prominently included works of art. Where a Greek or pro-provincial Roman viewpoint would see theft, governors may have seen the extension of their immersion in Greek culture to their homes in Italy (temptations of art: Cic. QF 1.1.8; Juv. 3.214–17; Antony, Aug. RG 24.1, Plin. Nat. 34.58; Nero, Tac. Ann. 16.23.1). Statues, buildings, performances, intellectuals, and ambitions and disputes of cities and talented individuals: all will have given a prolonged experience of Greek culture to culturally inclined governors and their staff.21 Cicero admonishingly points out to Quintus, in charge of Asia for a further year, that the Greeks are humanissimi (QF 1.1.6), and their writing the source of Quintus’ and his brother’s remarkable achievements (iis studiis et artibus . . . quae sint nobis Graeciae monumentis disciplinisque tradita, 28). One could easily see these points in a more positive light for other Romans on official business in Asia, and the experience may even have affected Quintus himself, for all his harsh treatment of Greeks (note his local experts on dreams: Div. 1.58). Quintus’ interests as writer and reader are evinced by the tragedies he later composes in Gaul, with remarkable rapidity (QF 3.5.7), and by his library, which seems stronger in Greek than in Latin, and which he is later keen to improve in Greek too (3.4.5, 5.6; Att. 2.3.4 implies the Theophrastus was acquired before the governorship). Like independent travel immediately after standard education, travel early in a career is interesting for its formative possibilities (so Horace, Pliny); but major office held by an established author, like Tacitus’ proconsulship of Asia, will certainly have had an impact too. Tacitus had probably already written the Dialogus. On the simplest level, scenes with Greek embassies in the Annals and phrases like facundissimis totius Asiae (Ann. 3.67.2), if later than or contemporary with his proconsulship, must be in some way affected by his experience; if earlier, they confirm his interests.22 20 On hymnodes cf. Bowie (2006), 90–2; note Oliver (1989) no. 21 (Hypaepa): Claudius to hymnodes. 21 For Augustus’ restorations of art cf. Scheer (1995), reducing his beneficence, Cooley (2009), 211–12. 22 Marcus already seems anxious about Quintus in Att. 1.15.1, and his own reputation as a philhellene. Cf. Suet. Aug. 3.2 on QF 1.1 and 2. But even the brutal L. Valerius Messalla Volesus (cos.

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Two particular cities outside Greece and Asia require mention. Massilia was certainly a significant place for Roman cultural experience, though its importance may have been exaggerated. Strabo stresses the enthusiasm of everyone refined there ( # ƒ åÆæ#) for oratory and philosophy. A little while previously Massilia had made the Gauls philhellenes, K b HØ ÆæØ ŒÆd f# ªøæØ ø ı#   ø Æø  ØŒ Id B# N# Ł Æ# I Å Æ# KŒE# çØA çغ ÆŁ #Æ# (‘and at present it has persuaded even the most well-known Romans to go there to study instead of visiting Athens’, 4.1.5 181 C. i.466.4–6 Radt, see pp. 83–4 n. 16 above). Strabo is painting with a broad brush, as elsewhere on education. The passage does not prove a general move away from Athens to Massilia as a place to send sons: it does not actually talk about sons at all. Not the sons but their fathers would have to be persuaded; and, while young men could be ªæØ Ø (‘well-known’, cf. 5.3.2 229 C. ii.58.18–19 Radt), f# ªøæØ ø ı#  ø Æø is unlikely to be confined to males in their early twenties or younger. This is confirmed by, say, Plutarch’s use of the word (so Cat. Mai. 16.4, Flam. 18.3, Gracch. 29.6, Cic. 7.2). The passage of Strabo is talking about periods of adult study, and perhaps not, in view of the men’s distinction, for a matter of years (note çØA? B# is simply possessive). Massilia was easier to get to from Rome than Athens.23 Tac. Agr. 4.3 vouches only for the main education of Agricola, not supplementary study: statim paruulus sedem ac magistram studiorum Massiliam habuit; prima in iuuenta [not necessarily in Massilia] studium philosophiae acrius . . . hausisse. Agricola only came from Forum Iuli, further east along the coast (111 km, as the crow flies). Favorinus, from Arelate (Arles), was even closer, about 72 km. It is likely enough that he learned his main literary language, Greek, in Massilia. He will have moved elsewhere for further education, probably Rome, where Dio of Prusa was his teacher (Philostr. VS 1.8 490, 492; his thinking of Herodes as his teacher (490) may not imply formal study in Athens). Somewhat more significant is the case of L. Antonius, son of Iullus Antonius cos. 10 bc. In 2 bc his father, son of M. Antony, met his death after the discovery of his adultery with Julia; L. Antonius was sent, admodum adulescentulum, to Massilia, ubi specie studiorum nomen exilii tegeretur (Tac. Ann. 4.44.3). His parents were married in 21 bc, so he will have been 18 or younger. The movement of Antonius indeed makes it look like supplementary education; but the place need only be plausible rather than typical. If he stayed at Massilia until his death in ad 25, the excuse will have worn thin.24

ad 5), proconsul in c. ad 11/12, exclaims in Greek, fantasizing on himself as an Asian king, at Sen. Ira 2.5.4. Cf. Magie (1950), i.489 (with n. 60), 1581. Quintus at least gains an honorary inscription, SEG 51 (2001) no. 1591. 23 Birth can be involved in Plutarch’s use of ªæØ #; but it is not a straight indication of nobilitas. On Massilia in general see CIL xii pp. 55–6, Hermary, Hesnard, Tréziny (1999), Gantés, Moliner, Tréziny (2001), Lomas (2004), and especially Rothé and Tréziny (2005). 24 For Favorinus and Dio see Amato and Julien (2005– ), i.11, for Favorinus and Massilia Amato and Julien (2005– ), i.10 n. 26. Cor. 27 ((Dio of Prusa) 37, probably by Favorinus), does not tell us where Favorinus learned his Greek; Amato–Julien wrongly insert a ‘y’, 402. Their point that he could

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We may grant that Strabo suggests a relatively recent phenomenon, possibly beginning after 49 bc, when Caesar captured the city and vastly reduced its prosperity and its importance in the region; and we may grant that after Cicero the amount of evidence on cultural travel in general diminishes drastically. But there is still far too little to establish the displacement of Athens as a place for supplementary education, and we would positively expect more indication of trips to Massilia if it had had Athens’ importance. None the less, it remains a significant locale. To the Romans who chose straightforwardly to go there, we may add Romans who chose it as a place of exile: L. Scipio Asiagenus, cos. 83 (RE Cornelius 338), in 82 (Cic. Sest. 7: visit to Massilia; Schol. Bob. ad loc. p. 126 Stangl: might actually have died on Stoechades); Milo (an immediate choice: Ascon. p. 54.19–20 Clark); L. Volcacius Moschus (a place where he can work as rhetor: Sen. Contr. 2.5.13, 10 pr. 10, Tac. Ann. 4.43.5; he is made a citizen, and bequeaths them him his property); Tarius, son of L. Tarius Rufus cos. suff. 16 bc (son PIR2 T 17): exilio delicato (Sen. Clem. 1.15.2; implies that Massilia is a pleasant place). Note also Catiline, who was claimed to be going there (Cic. Cat. 2.14, 16, Sall. Cat. 34.2), and Sulla cos. ad 52, sent there by Nero (Tac. Ann. 13.47 (3)). It was evidently seen as an attractive place to be, on either side of 49 bc. Strabo conveys the élite’s enthusiasm for rhetoric and philosophy; if surrounding Gauls pay for sophists both privately and publicly (4.1.5 181 C. i.466.6–9 Radt; note Müller’s ºº#, ‘most’), we may certainly suppose the same of Massilia (cf. e.g. Ephesus and Soterus, p. 112 above). Moschus may have taught as a Greek or Latin rhetor (p. 118 above); Pacatus the rhetor, if he was teaching while there, will presumably have done so in Latin (Sen. Contr. 10 pr. 10). Agroitas, a Greek rhetor, came from Massilia to Rome (Sen. Contr. 2.6.12; RE 2). Grammatici will also have been available, both for Greek and for Latin (Latin grammaticus: IG xiv.2434 = IGF 21 = CAG 13/3 no. 21, late ii–early iii ad; Greek name, Greek father, Greek inscription), and ŒÆŁÅªÅÆ (‘personal teachers’; IG xiv.2454 = IGF 17 = CAG 13/ 3 no. 17, late i–early ii ad; both pupil and teacher are of Greek descent: T. Pompeius Apollonides, T. Flavius Nicostratus). There were performances, probably in Greek (in view of the Massilians’ ethnic identity, the only alternative would be both Greek and Latin). Valerius Maximus indicates theatrical performances: nullum aditum in scaenam mimis dando (2.6.7). There was a theatre, built, it now seems, in the Augustan period. It was large, and followed the pattern of theatres in Greece and Asia rather than of theatres in Italy. IG xiv.2444 = IGF 125 (imperial) mentions activity as a åæŪ# (‘choregus’); but the inscription was not actually from Massilia (111 km away, in St-Gilles-du-Gard). It remains of interest for the region. For competitions, including literary elements in one and probably more cases, see IG xiv.2445 = IGF 15 = CAG 13/3 no. 15 (ii–i bc? ephebes), L. Moretti (1953) no. 74.12–13 (Argos, ii ad) Æ##ƺÆ Œø øØ#, | [æƪ]øØ# (‘won in recitation of comedy and tragedy at Massalia’), CIL

also have studied in Arelate is reasonable. The diffusion of Greek culture is nicely illustrated by the mosaics from a house in Augustodunum (late ii ad), which depict Anacreon and Epicurus in Greek, with substantial Greek quotations from the latter: IGF 156–8 (SEG 26 (1976/7) no. 1213, 42 (1992) no. 965), Blanchard-Lemée and Blanchard (1993), Rebourg (1993), i.111–13. Note also e.g. the high-quality epitaph from Nîmes, IGF 119 (ii ad).

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vi.33973 certamine Massiliensi; v.7914 agonothetae (more likely at Massilia than at Nicaea (Nice)).25 The city was probably less predominantly Greek in language than say Ephesus; even in Naples Greek may have had a stronger presence. Varro described the Massilians as trilingues (quod et Graece loquantur et Latine et Gallice, Varro fr. 215 Salvadore: Jerome In Gal. 2, CCSL lxxviia 79.26–8 Raspanti). In our period there are more Latin inscriptions than Greek (see Rothé and Tréziny (2005), 177– 208). The dress of the Massilians probably marked their difference from Romans as from Gauls; it is recurrently presented as Greek in Latin authors (Livy 37.54.22, Sil. 15.171–2). It may have been (or more likely may once have been) elaborate and flowing (Athen. 12.523c). The ambience of the city was felt to be Greek: Tac. Agr. 4.3 speaks of a Graeca comitate (elegance), mixed with provincial parsimonia.26 The Roman (and Greek) impression that the Massilians had kept their old customs must have had some basis in their present customs. Cf. Val. Max. 2.6.6 prisci moris obseruantia, and his long account 2.6.6–9, which includes argument from his own experience that their attitude to suicide is derived from Greece not Gaul; Cic. Flac. 63, which indicates their maintenance of Greek or super-Greek ways amid the barbarians (disciplinis probably includes cultural activity); Livy 37.54.22; Mela 2.77. Yet there were certainly changes over our period, for example in the basic constitution. Divergence from the typically Greek is mostly psychological and to the good: a more than Greek fides, a touch of Gallic toughness. Cf. Livy 38.17.12 (aliquantum . . . animorum), Luc. 3.302 non Graia leuitate (cf. 388 Graiae), Flor. 2.13.24 Malcovati Graecula ciuitas non pro mollitia nominis . . . ausa. For the Massilians’ fides and grauitas cf. Cic. Font. 12 fortissimorum fidelissimorumque sociorum (the notion of loyalty goes back at least to Polyb. 3.95.7); Flac. 63 grauitatem (cf. Val. Max. 2.6.6 disciplinae grauitate), Phil. 8.18 grauitatem et fidem; Vell. 2.50.3 fide melior quam consilio prudentior (in 49 bc). Caesar’s account emphasizes the Massilians’ naval skill (e.g. BC 1.58.1), but depicts them as less brave fighters than the Romans or their Gallic helpers (1.34.4, 57.3; cf. Polyb. 3.41.9). Strabo depicts a shift away from naval practicality and fighting (4.1.5 180–1 C. i.466.26–1 Radt).27 The picture of restraint (Strabo 4.1.5 181 C. i.466.10 Radt B# ºØÅ# H ø ŒÆd B# #øçæ#Å#, ‘the simplicity and restraint of their lives’) predominates over the picture of decadence which was one possibility in the tradition; that was perhaps based on older times (Plaut. Cas. 963 mores Massilienses, to Lysidamus; Athenaeus above, cf. 10.429a: Theophrastus says Ø ŒÆd F (with regard to a more restrained custom; cf. Ael. VH 2.38)). The luxury of the city must have been limited after 49 bc (Strabo 4.15 180 C. i.466.27–8 Radt; Tac. Agr. 4.3; note 25 No doubt Pacatus went back to Rome and got the anecdote circulating; at all events Massilia seems of interest to Latin rhetors. For the theatre cf. Gantés, Moliner, Tréziny (2001), 208–9; Rothé and Tréziny (2005), 326–31 (327 for Augustan date), Sear (2006), 249. The man in L. Moretti (1953) no. 74 is a reciter not a writer, despite Moretti. 26 On Athen. 12.523c etc. cf. Crusius (1883), 82–3; W. Bühler (1982–99), iv.221. 27 For constitutional changes by ii ad (CIL v.7914), see CIL xii pp. 55–6; Lomas (2004), 480–1. Caesar’s depiction of the siege shows more sympathy than his practical treatment of Massilia. He wishes at the end to stress his clemency (2.22.6); his triumph may have incurred criticism even at the time (cf. Cic. Off. 2.28, Phil. 8.18).

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promises of restoration alleged, Cic. Phil. 13.32). Yet archaeologically we see significant enhancement of the city in the first century ad. We hear of at least one wealthy Massilian (the doctor Crinas) as sponsoring such improvement (Plin. Nat. 29.9; Charmis another successful doctor). Strabo notes the Massilians’ concern with architects (14.2.5 653 C. iv.56.5–8 Radt, cf. 12.8.11 iii.514.24–30; could be an older feature). At all events, the city will have offered an environment for experiencing Greek which was saliently different from Rome as well as Athens.

ALEXANDRIA ‘When I went up into Alexandria by the “Gates of the Sun”, immediately I was met by the lightning of the city’s beauty, which filled my eyes with pleasure.’ So the narrator of Achilles Tatius, at the beginning of Book 5 (ii ad; not later). Many rank it the first city in the world, says Diodorus (17.52.5): ŒÆd ªaæ Œ ººØ ŒÆd

ªŁØ ŒÆd æ#ø º ŁØ ŒÆd H æe# æıçc IÅŒø ºf ØÆçæØ H ¼ººø (‘for in beauty and size and quantity of revenue and of the things that pertain to luxury it greatly differs from all other cities’). A woman who lived in both Alexandria and Rome is made to describe them as ƃ Œ# ı ŒÆd ªB# . . .

Å[æ ºØ#] (‘the capitals of earth and universe’, IGUR iii.1191.2; original lost, so hard to date). This vast and spectacular city was in its early stages the centre of the Hellenistic poetry which so greatly influenced Latin poetry (note the metaphorical si adire Cyrenas . . . possumus in [Virg.] Catal. 9.61–3); it remained the leading centre of scholarship on Greek literature. Yet the evidence for Roman literary experience in Alexandria presents a striking contrast with the evidence for Athens and even Rhodes. Almost no trips are attested of which the main purpose is educational or literary; not many journeys made for other reasons show such a dimension.28 The Latin (and Greek) grammaticus (and rhetor) M. Antonius Gnipho, born in Gaul c.114 bc, was manumitted and educated in Alexandria—according to some; but Suetonius doubts the report (GR 7.1), and Gnipho’s evidently Greek origin may have encouraged the choice of place (the master was a Roman citizen; but the place of birth and finding could have been Greek, like Massilia). In late 87 L. Lucullus (cos. 74) was sent as proquaestor to Alexandria, Libya, and Syria to get ships (Plut. Luc. 2.3, App. Mithr. 131–2). Here he and other learned Romans, and Aristus, and the Alexandrian Academics Aristo and Dio (Cic. Ac. Pri. 11–12, 61), are supposed in Cicero’s Academica Priora to have spent several days hearing Antiochus. The immediate impulse was a work of Philon’s which had just arrived. Cicero certainly invented the later recapitulation and discussion by Lucullus and others (e.g. Catulo . . . contuleram, Att. 13.19.5), and afterwards found it implausible: the Academica were ºªØŒæÆ [‘more dialectical’] quam ut illi [the speakers] de iis somniasse umquam uiderentur (Att. 13.19.5), and the speakers had in his rebus

28 On Achilles Tatius’ date see Henrichs (2011). Diodorus is describing Alexandria before 30 bc; he visited Egypt in 60–56 bc (1.44.1, 46.7). In IGUR iii.1191.1 read Ł[Æł ? On Roman visits up to _ (2007), 173–228. 30 bc, see Van’t Dack (1980). For imperial Alexandria, see McKenzie

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IæØłÆ (‘lack of familiarity’; 13.16.1, cf. 13.12.3). Hence the original eager and thorough listening sounds unlikely too, and invented. It is also perhaps suspicious that P. and C. Selius and Tetrilius Rogus, who copied down these books of Philon, should handily be present to attest their authenticity (11), but should not have shown them on the journey to Antiochus, who has evidently come with Lucullus (4, 11). The narrative is not incidental to the dialogue—that would have made it more plausible it should be historical; rather it is the device which makes possible the presentation by Lucullus which ensues (cf. 10, 12, 61).29 The Alexandrian philosopher Dio, a follower of the Old Academy (Philod. Acad. Hist. xxxv.2–17; Strabo 17.1.11 796 C. iv.434.22 Radt), had been known to T. Coponius in Alexandria (Cic. Cael. 24), and stayed with him at Rome in 57. Stress is laid on Coponius’ and his brother’s doctrinae studio atque humanitatis, which linked these adulescentes humanissimi et doctissimi to Dio. C. Coponius, mentioned second here and at Balb. 53, was probably the younger brother, and was praetor in 49 (minimum age 39); so Titus will have been 33 or older in 57. A trip in his twenties with some educational dimension seems a plausible possibility.30 Caesar in Alexandria in 48, while awaiting more men (App. BC 2.376), H çغ#çø a F º Łı# !#g# MŒæA (‘listened to the philosophers—he stood with the crowd’: the lectures were evidently packed). He was later rumoured to be considering moving there, or to Troy, with the opibus imperii (Suet. Jul. 79.3). Much later, Hadrian enjoyed competitive scholarship with the professores in the Museum (Hist. Aug. Hadr. 20.2); but his treatment of Athens is very different. Marcus Aurelius is said to have behaved like a citizen and a philosopher apud Aegyptios . . . in omnibus studiis templis locis (Hist. Aug. Ant. Phil. 26.3). Cicero did not visit Alexandria in his educational tour, though he went to Athens, Rhodes, and Asia; he says in 59 that he has long desired to visit Alexandriam reliquamque Aegyptum (Att. 2.5.1); he might be offered and might accept a post in connection with Ptolemy Auletes (it was not offered).31 For the rest, there are various visits or appointments where an element related to literature seems conceivable or plausible. Scipio visited Alexandria in 140/139 with Panaetius, as part of a wider mission (Diod. Sic. 33.28a–b; Posidon. FGrHist 87 F 7 = F 58 Edelstein–Kidd (confusion?); Plut. Reg. Imp. Apophth. 200f–201a). Diodorus’ account does not mention philosophy or the library among the things Scipio admired, but the accounts, which probably go back to Posidonius, stress Scipio’s low opinion of the King and luxury. Octavian entered Alexandria in 30 just with Areius his philosopher (who came from Alexandria); he said he was making peace with them in part for Areius’ sake (Plut. Praec. Ger. Reip. 814d). Listening to some Alexandrian philosophical lectures would seem a possible 29 Kaster prefers Cisalpine Gaul for Gnipho; cf. Christes (1979), 21–2. Note Lucullus’ severe attitude to distraction from his post as proquaestor in Plut. Luc. 2.9. An admirable account of the Ciceronian narrative, without the heretical scepticism above, in Hatzimichali (2012), 16–24, cf. (2011), 37–40. 30 On Dio see Blank (2007). Some Coponii look as if they belong to the élite before this generation (despite Rawson (1985), 16 n. 68): cf. e.g. Cic. De Orat. 1.180, Plin. Nat. 35.162, probably SEG 1 (1923) no. 151 (ii bc). 31 Negative examples could be multiplied indefinitely, of course; but it is interesting that Virgil visited Athens, and set off to visit Greece and Asia (Donat. Vit. Verg. 35), but not Alexandria. Caligula longed to visit Alexandria, according to Philo, Leg. 338; cf. Suet. Cal. 49.2.

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sequel. The poet Gallus was the first prefect [Ale]xandreae et Aegypti, as it is put in the inscription from Philae (CIL iii.14147; note Dig. 1.17.1 pr. (Ulpian)). A later one was Ti. Claudius Balbillus (PIR2 C 813), perfectus . . . in omni litterarum genere rarissime (Sen. Nat. 4a.2.13; not necessarily the same as the Balbillus with charge over Museum and Library, AÉ 1924 no. 78). Germanicus speaks of the city as a [º]Æ

æÆ ŁÆ Æ (‘the most magnificent sight’, P. Oxy. XXV 2435 recto 18–19 = Oliver (1989) no. 295). He especially mentions Alexander and Augustus, but interest and the wild enthusiasm of his reception would both have recommended devoting some time to the culture on display.32 Seneca seems to have spent time in Egypt before his quaestorship, during his uncle’s term as prefect (ad 16–31; Sen. Helv. 19.2, 6; Seneca was born perhaps between 4 and 1 bc). His journey there is likely to have been for reasons of health (cf. p. 126 below). Although he wrote De situ [ritu MSS] et sacris Aegyptiorum (fr. 12 Haase), and owned estates in Egypt later, none of his few mentions of Alexandria indicates any literary experience of note, by contrast with his mentions of Attalus or Sotion. Ep. 102.21 Ephesum aut Alexandriam aut si quod est etiamnunc frequentius accolis laetiusue tectis suggests some liking for the city. Nat. 4a.2.18 comments on the climate; Tranq. 9.5 does not imply first-hand praise of the present Library. Apuleius plans to visit Alexandria for unspecified purposes (Apol. 72.1, cf. 5); one may again contrast the place of Athens in his work.33 This paucity of evidence is unlikely to be accidental. As T. Coponius probably indicates, there will have been some Romans who had literary experience in Alexandria; but it does not look like a major destination. Various aspects will now be mentioned to gain a better grasp of the situation and possible causal factors; these may in their turn throw light on the Romans’ approach to Greek literature. The Romans had involved themselves in Egypt’s affairs from the second century bc (in the first century before 30 bc one may instance Gabinius, Rabirius, Pompey). There will have been numerous trips for political, military, and business reasons. P. Tebt. I 33 (112 bc) anxiously urges officials in the Arsinoite nome to give the important L. Memmius a splendid time as he leaves Alexandria for some tourism, K d ŁøæÆ (6). H I e #ıŒº ı (‘those from the Senate’, 3–4) suggests a political visit. But the number of Romans in Egypt before Actium does not seem large, to judge from ethnics. ILLRP 343 (cf. AÉ 2003 no. 1612) is a statue-base on Delos for a legate: lega]tum Alexandreae Italicei quei fuere; some Italians were in Alexandria at the same time, not as part of his entourage but for some business purpose which he assisted.34 32

Areius (and Augustus) were friends with Xenarchus, who taught in Alexandria at one point, and Athens, and Rome: Strabo 14.5.4 670 C. iv.102.25–104.29 Radt. On Germanicus’ visit, and a portrait which perhaps commemorates it, see Hausmann (1995). 33 On Seneca in Egypt, see Griffin (1976), 42–3. Fronto, who was born in Africa, had friends in Alexandria (p. 167 Van den Hout), including Appian (pp. 168, 242–8); but he was probably not educated there, particularly not after his main education. Cf. Champlin (1980), 20–1, 150. Aelian claims to have seen various improbable things in Alexandria at the end of Book 11 of the Historia Animalium (40); if he went there, his claim never to have left Italy was false or falsely reported (Philostr. VS 2.31 625). 34 For ethnics see La’da (2002), 278–9, nos. E2376–82, not all with Roman names. In ILLRP 343 Alexandreae will not be genitive after lega]tum but locative, or fuere has no point; for legatus without

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After Actium, Alexandria becomes of central economic importance to Rome. A set of officials and agents runs Egypt from Alexandria, with one legion and three cohorts in the city (Strabo 17.1.11 797 C. iv.7–21 Radt). The set must have included many readers of literature. But there is also a rule of Augustus’: uetitis nisi permissu ingredi [sc. Alexandream, cf. 2] senatoribus aut equitibus Romanis inlustribus (Tac. Ann. 2.59.3). Tacitus sees the motivation as political; in view of the reputation of Alexandria as a Babylon of dissipation and vice, one might wonder if it is also moral. Cf. e.g. Caes. BC 3.110.2: soldiers left by Gabinius in 55 bc qui iam in consuetudinem Alexandrinae uitae ac licentiae uenerant et nomen disciplinamque populi Romani dedidicerant; Front. Strat. 1.1.5: Caesar wanted it to be thought captum se gratia locorum ad mores Alexandrinos uitamque deficere. For the preceding stage cf. Livy 38.17.11: the Macedonians in Alexandria have degenerated (degenerarunt) into Egyptians. This reputation could be a reason (financial as well as moral) why fathers would be less enthusiastic about sponsoring a son’s educational years abroad in Alexandria than in Athens.35 Strabo says that the Alexandrian philosophical and other schools take lots of Ø (here non-locals, 14.5.13 674 C. iv.110.3–4 Radt); but there is no reason why these should include a large proportion of Romans. An example of someone from outside Egypt who was keen to study in Alexandria is Galen in his twenties; medicine, and especially anatomy, are his concern (so earlier Philotas, Plut. Ant. 28.3). Since Alexandrians are firmly and legally differentiated from other Egyptians, we should also add Egyptians from outside Alexandria; P. Oxy. XVIII 2190 (c. 100 ad) illustrates rhetorical education, with private ŒÆŁÅªÅÆ (‘tutors’) and performers to listen to (H K ØŒı ø IŒæ #, 35; #çØ#H, ‘sophists’, 18, though something negative is being said about them).36 Other types of travel from Rome will have taken place under the Principate, despite the rule; the rule is not a prohibition, but an insistence on official approval. For consumptives between 18 and 35 a voyage to Alexandria is recommended (Cels. 3.22.8; cf. Plin. Nat. 24.28, 31.63). Quintilian gives in Alexandriam (and Aegypto uenio) as familiar examples of bad grammar (Inst. 1.5.38); the lawyers often give as an example of a condition in a will ‘if he goes to Alexandria’ (e.g. Marcellus (ii ad) Dig. 28.5.5, with peruenerit; perhaps as a tricky place to get to).

further explanation cf. CIL i2.836 (leg). Compare the parallel Greek fragment found in the same place; it includes ƒ K ºÆæÆØ (‘those in Alexandria’). For the form of this and related inscriptions cf. J. N. Adams (2003a), 650–1. Cf. also CIL x.1797 (with AÉ 2002 no. 348, 2005 no. 336; Augustan?, for spelling cf. CIL x.1240): to L. Calpurnius Capitolinus from mercatores qui Alexandr[iai] Asiai Syriai negotiantu[r]. Spawforth (2012), 15 sees the passage in Livy as ‘clearly a swipe’ at Cleopatra; but Cleopatra’s sense of Macedonian identity was not unique to her (cf. Spawforth (2006), 5–6). For Alexandria, the economy, and the emperors see Bowman (2010). 36 See von Staden on Galen (2004); Galen’s mixed views of his experiences in Alexandria are characteristic of him. His remarks on specialization in Rome and Alexandria (Part. Med. 2.3 CMG Suppl. Or. ii pp. 28–9) may be compared both with CIL xi.5400 (Assisi; a medical Figaro) and 5441 (Assisi; oculist). Notable for medicine in Alexandria earlier, and links with Rome, is an inscription of ad 7, where the guild (?) of doctors in Alexandria honour the IæåÆæ# (‘leading doctor’?) C. Proculeius Themison, evidently the protégé of Augustus’ friend C. Proculeius (PIR2 P 985; met by Themison in Rome or Alexandria), and possibly the founder of Methodism. See Römer (1990), Hirt Raj (2006), 41–2, 63, 167–8. On P. Oxy. XVIII 2190 see Hutchinson (2007a). 35

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Ovid going into exile says his destination is not Athens, Asia, or Alexandria (Trist. 1.2.77–80): . . . non ut Alexandri claram delatus in urbem | delicias uideam, Nile iocose, tuas. It sounds a typical place to visit (note claram), but Ovid pointedly indicates he has not been there (note uideam after loca uisa prius), gives Egypt some disreputable colouring, and perhaps hints at Augustus’ requirement. Egypt was thought to be aditu difficilem (Tac. Hist. 1.11.1); problems like the Etesian winds did not help (Caes. BC 3.107.1: aduersissimi for those returning from Alexandria). Travel to Alexandria will naturally have happened; but there were significant deterrents and difficulties, there is not much sign of educational visits, and even cultural tourism may have been rarer than we would expect.37 For those that did go, what were the attractions—or the less hedonistic attractions? Our Latin sources particularly mention Alexander’s tomb (e.g. Strabo 17.1.9 794 C. iv.428.5–6 Radt, Suet. Aug. 18.1; P. Oxy. XXV 2435 recto 18–21 (Germanicus; tomb not mentioned explicitly)). Other tombs and temples abounded (temple of Augustus P. Oxy. VIII 1116.10–11, originally ˚ÆØ# æØ, ‘temple of Caesar’, it is likely: Strabo 17.1.9 794 C. iv.430.33 Radt). A more directly literary experience was provided by the theatre: Philo tells of a performance of Euripides he saw the other day (Prob. 141). And then there were the sophists and the philosophers. For the sophists see P. Oxy. XVIII 2190 above; real cases were also handled by orators (so BGU 361, ii ad). Significant were figures like Harpocration (Suda Æ 4014; Valerius (3) Harpocration in LGGA, RE Harpokration 5; P. Oxy. XVIII 2192.28–46 (ii ad)?) and Aelius Theon (Suda Ł 206; Aelius [4] Theon in LGGA, RE Theon 5). Timagenes and others from Alexandria taught in Rome (Suda  588; FGrHist 88).38 More notable was the philosophical tradition; thinkers like Aenesidemus were important. Aenesidemus, who appears frequently in Sextus (e.g. Adv. Math. 8.215), was active as a Sceptic in Alexandria, according to Euseb. PE 14.18.29. His —ıææØØ ¸ªØ (Sceptical Discourses) summarized by Phot. Bibl. 212, were dedicated to L. Aelius Tubero, the friend of Cicero (RE Aelius 150; Phot. 212.169b). Ariston and Dio were friends, #ı ŁØ#, of Philodemus (Acad. Hist. col. xxxv 7–8). The schools were established_ _and well known beyond Alexandria (Strabo above; cf. e.g. Philod. Acad. Hist. col. xxiii 2–3 Zenodorus ªÅ# [ #], ‘who was head’, at Alexandria (ii bc), Suda  1173 succession at Alexandria (i ad)). It was a lively and fluctuating philosophical scene. In the second century 37 In Tac. Hist. 1.11.1 aditu difficilem seems a standing feature of Egypt, to judge from what follows, not what Augustus plans. There is also a more general rule for senators (Dio Cass. 52.42.6): in 29 bc Octavian æ#Æ E  A#Ø E# ıºı#Ø c KŒÅ E ø B#  ƺÆ#, i c ÆP# ØØ Œº#ÅØ j ŒÆd K ØæłÅØ (‘told all senators not to travel outside Italy, unless he himself had bidden or permitted someone to do so’, cf. 8 ÆæÆØ #ø# ‘request for permission’); still in force, says Dio, save for Sicily and Gallia Narbonensis. 38 On Alexander’s tomb see Adriani (2000); on the temple of Augustus see St. Pfeiffer (2010), 237– 41. It is now clear that the ‘small theatre’ began later than our period: see Kiss (2010). For Harpocration and P. Oxy. XVIII 2192 see Turner (1952), 91–2, Hemmerdinger (1959), 107–9, Keaney (1991), ix–xi, Ucciardello (2006), Parsons (2007), 153, Johnson (2010), 182 n. 6 (‘only a probability’ that the Harpocration in P. Oxy. XVIII 2192 is the famous one). The relation of the Theon mentioned to the Theon whose Progymnasmata we possess is debatable (cf. Patillon (1997), vii–xvi; time of Hadrian or Augustus?). There is also the philosopher Theon, who wrote on rhetoric, like other philosophers: Suda Ł 203. For another significant Þ øæ cf. e.g. Aelius Sarapion (# 115; RE Sarapion 9 (Suppl. vi.1434)), works include seven books of IŒæ #Ø#, panegyric to Hadrian, ıºıØŒ to Alexandrians.

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ad we find e.g. Pol(l)ion (time of Hadrian), father of a philosopher in turn (Suda  1150, 2126; P. Oxy. XVIII 2192 (ii ad)). More significant is Ptolemy the astronomer and geographer (Suda 3033; active 146–c.170; quantity of works extant in Greek and Arabic).39 But a much larger and more distinctive aspect of Alexandrian culture was scholarship. Even after Aristarchus, the city produced an extraordinary number of professional scholars, many of them famous: Dionysius Thrax (Suda  1172 (claim he lectured in Rome probably a muddle); c.170–c.90 bc), the prolific Didymus (LGGA 1, RE 8, Suda  872; i bc–i ad?), Tryphon (LGGA 1, RE 25, Suda  1115; i bc; Alexandrian also at Athen. 3.109b = fr. 117 von Velsen), Philoxenus (RE 27, Suda ç 314; i ad), Aristonicus (Suda Æ 3924; Strabo 1.2.31 38 C. i.92.6 Radt › ŒÆŁ A# ªæÆ

ÆØŒ#; i bc–i ad; lectured in Rome), Pamphilus (Suda 142; RE 25; working c. ad 50), Seleucus (Suda # 200 LGGA 3 = 1?, RE 44 = 28?; lectured in Rome; i ad), Eirenaeus (Suda Ø 190; i ad?; LGGA Minucius, RE Minucius 7; may have taught in Rome), Nicanor (Suda  375; LGGA 3, RE 27; ii ad; a work in at least 8 books dedicated to Hadrian), Apollonius Dyscolus (Suda Æ 3422; LGGA 9, RE 81; ii ad; Grammatici Graeci ii, ed. Schneider and Uhlig), father of Herodian (Suda Å 546, LGGA Aelius [2]; in Rome and friend of M. Aurelius, Vita p. vi Lentz), and so on. The ‘four men’ used for the A scholia of the Iliad (Didymus, Aristonicus, Nicanor, Herodian) are all from Alexandria, where Aristarchus himself worked.40 The institution of the Museum was renewed and sustained by the Emperors. Strabo reports that the priest in charge of the Museum is now chosen by Caesar (17.1.8 794 C. iv.428.2–4 Radt). We have seen Balbillus, in charge of Museum and Library (p. 125 above). In IG xiv.1085 = IGUR i.62 (after ad 130) appears L. Iulius Vestinus (PIR2 I 623), K Ø# Å# (‘superintendent’) of the Museum; he is later in charge of libraries in Rome, is an author in his own right, and may well be the composer of ‘Besantinus’’ pattern-poem ‘Altar’, dedicated to Hadrian. Strabo ascribes to the Museum æ Æ ŒÆd KæÆ ŒÆd r Œ ªÆ K zØ e #ı##Ø H åø F ı#ı çغºªø IæH (‘a portico, exedra, and large hall, in which the learned men who are members of the Museum eat together’, 17.1.8 794 C. iv.428.1–2 Radt). TAM v 498 shows us a (conceivably the) Fronto among H K HØ ı#ı [sic] #Øı ø çغ#çø H ºÆæØÆ[H] (‘the Alexandrian philosophers who eat in the Museum’). Even though many members of the Museum were not outstanding for cultural achievement, some were, and the institution clearly promotes culture, the prestige of culture, and the cultural prestige of those who belong. Members appear in various 39

On Aenesidemus, see Decleva Caizzi (1992). For the philosophical scene, see Hatzimichali (2011), esp. 25–66. For links between philosophers and rhetoricians, cf. e.g. Philostr. VS 1.5 486: Philostratus philosopher with Cleopatra, and also sophist; OGIS 712 (ad c.150–200): statue base dedicated to Þ øæ by ƒ çغ#çØ (‘the philosophers’); the group of Harpocration mixes the Þ øæ with philosophers, cf. also P. Oxy. LI 3643 (ii ad). 40 For Dionysius Thrax see R. Pfeiffer (1968), 266–72; on the authenticity of transmitted work cf. Hutchinson (2013a), 20 n. 2. For Didymus cf. R. Pfeiffer (1968), 272–9, Harding (2006), Braswell (2011); for Pamphilus see Hatzimichali (2006). As Wendel (1949), 336 notes, the Suda’s ºÆæ# (‘Alexandrian’) need not mean a given scholar was born there, only that he was a citizen; but in principle the Suda would say if he was born elsewhere. Philo too partakes in this scholarly environment: cf. Niehoff (2011). Note also Jolivet (2011).

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inscriptions, e.g. Bernand (1984), no. 32 (i ad), SB v.8340 (ii ad), 8914; they include a philosopher (if same Valerius Diodorus: P. Merton 19, ad 173), a —ºÆøØŒe çغ#[ç] (‘Platonic philosopher’, Bernand (1984), no. 14; ad 250–300), and a  ˇ ÅæØŒF ØÅF (‘Homeric poet’, SB 8355; i ad). Claudius _ __ his own version, the Klaudion, and demand that was sufficiently impressed to add two Greek works of his should be recited there annually (Claud. 42.2; sophists later performed there, cf. Athen. 6.240b, who disapproves). But it was not an institution that he or any other Emperor sought to replicate in Rome, unlike a chair of Greek rhetoric, or poetic competitions including Greek. Still more imposing was the Library. A disastrous fire caused by Caesar’s soldiers had destroyed a very large number of books; but Domitian uses it for copies of books destroyed in fires of libraries at Rome (Suet. Dom. 20.1). Latin writers, however, comment on the earlier destruction rather than praising the present Library—on which they are remarkably silent (Seneca and Livy below; Gell. 7.17.3: all burned). This will say more about them than about the Library. Alexandria is also the leading centre for the production of books in the Greek world, as Strabo shows (p. 58 above).41 Here we probably find the key. Rhetoric and philosophy were available in places easier to reach and still more prestigious; literary scholarship did not matter as much to young men who had already passed from the grammaticus to rhetors and philosophers. Such scholarship was perhaps less important to older Romans too, despite our presuppositions about learned Latin poetry. That is not to say they did not make much use of scholarship in forms more convenient than voyages to Egypt; but, as we shall see, Latin literature deliberately avoids chasing extremes of erudition, and pursues a more interactive exploitation of learning between author and reader (cf. pp. 349–50 below). The city of Alexandria possesses a distinctive image in Latin (and imperial Greek) literature: one connected with riches, luxury, a huge population, decadence, treachery. Learning is an attribute of the city which concerns these writers less, save as an element in the cultivated splendour of the departed Ptolemies.42

41 On Vestinus cf. Bowie (2002a), 185–7, Puech (2002), 467–8. For a list of known members of the Museum after 30 bc see N. Lewis (1995), 263–5; but note that in OGIS 712 it is Flavius Hierax, not Aelius Demetrius, who is described as #ı##ı. Cf. also Pruneti (1996), 390–1. On Diodorus see Hemmerdinger (1959), 108; Pruneti (1996), 395; Ucciardello (2006). For the Klaudion note the lighthouse at Ostia, imitating that at Pharos: Suet. Claud. 20.3. Fraser (1972), 335 rightly emphasizes that the continuation of Alexandrian scholarship after 48 bc implies the availability of books (Fraser (1972), 312–35 for Museum and Library in Ptolemaic period). Possibly the Library had been restored by appropriating the library in Pergamum, Plut. Ant. 58.9; but R. Pfeiffer (1968), 236–7 is doubtful, reasonably. 42 Livy fr. 52 Jal (on the burned library) elegantiae regum curaeque egregium . . . opus, elaborated by Sen. Tranq. 9.5 pulcherrimum regiae opulentiae monumentum. Decadence is an idea exploited in and assisted by the case of Antony: Plut. Ant. 71.3–5 etc. (note 29.4 comic mask). Size: Plut. Praec. Ger. Reip. 814d; Philo Flacc. 163 (Flaccus speaking) B# ªÆº ºø# j ºı ºø# (‘the mega-city or multicity’), Leg. 338. Ptolemies after Euergetes all corrupted by luxury: Strabo 17.1.11 796 C. iv.432.1–2 Radt. Artworks and luxurious objects for display: Livy 45.33.5–6. Wealth: Livy 44.19.9 regno opulentissimo (earlier time, but the succeeding economic problems are not vividly present to Roman writers), Strabo 17.1.13 798 C. 438.13–440.27 Radt, Hist. Aug. Quadr. Tyr. 8.5 ciuitas opulenta, diues, fecunda. See also Abd-el-Ghani (2004). On Laberius’ mime, cf. Panayotakis (2010), 107–15. For trade, luxury, and art see Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 331–2, 357–61 (for Vestorius cf. Hermary, Hesnard, Tréziny (1999), 140).

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It is hoped that the trip has been of some interest to passengers; a few larger points may be drawn out to end the tour. This collection of material shows us how different ways of experiencing Greek art with words fitted into the temporal and spatial patterns of élite lives. The structures of Roman lives are made to accommodate various subordinate structures, some of which are in themselves essentially Greek. The whole sequence of education is Hellenistic; Greek too is the idea of moving to a famous city not one’s own, especially for the last stage of main education or for a supplement. Fashions are visible, and changes (e.g. with Rhodes); so too are conventions and restrictions (Asia, Alexandria).43 Generically, there are noteworthy differences. In oratory Greek rhetoric provides a practical training for Latin, alongside (after the earlier period) a Latin tradition; there are many performances to hear, for those attending schools, for a wider public, and for the audience of real cases. The specifics of expression and style are crucial to the study. Philosophy is an educational subject largely confined to Greek, with primary emphasis less on expression than on ideas and on arguments as routes to truth. Philosophers too can be heard lecturing in schools or to a wider audience; going through great works of the past with pupils is more important than in oratory. Historiography is not a genre one is trained for, or a job, and there is relatively little ancillary literature. Greek drama is performed in specific buildings, which multiply, and there is also the opportunity to hear actors perform extracts, in competition or at home; the point is not primarily educational, nor is there a sustained period of exposure. Other types of poetry are performed too, including Homeric poetry and lyric; there are competitions for original poetry. The second stage of education studies poetry in detail, and enables one to perform it; learned scholars can help in its study at different ages, and there is a rich written tradition of comment, biography, and discussion. The study is useful for, but not designed for, writing poetry in Latin oneself. (There is little sign of Latin poets receiving instruction in writing poetry, apart from Statius and his father the Greek poet, and Greek grammaticus (cf. Silv. 5.3.209–14).) Study with the grammaticus is followed by the third stage, which leads on to supplementary education; on the whole, it is rhetoric and philosophy, not poetry, that are studied at the supplementary stage. The notion that contemporary Greek poetry is thought unimportant finds little support in this material; and there is much against it (cf. especially Ch. 3 above). We shall see more against it when we look at Latin writers on contemporary Greek poetry by Romans (cf. p. 143), where there is no systematic reason to constrain mention. It is undoubtedly the case, however, that our sources of information are, by genre, primarily concerned with oratory and philosophy; poetry on poetry tends, by genre, to be less revealing for contemporary actualities.

43 The Romans in the earliest list of foreign ephebes at Athens are accompanied by youths from other places, including Pergamum. Strabo 14.5.13 673–4 C. iv. 110 Radt (p. 116 n. 14 above makes clear the numbers of Ø in Athens and Alexandria; the Tarsians, who ºØFÆØ outside Tarsus, may be acting distinctively in all following this pattern, but the notion of the final stage is treated as fairly selfexplanatory. Note at p. 112 n. 6 above the boy who moves from Ephesus to Lesbos (Mytilene?).

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We have seen many ways in which Greek artistic utterance is communicated. The material should not be taken to show that literature is conceived of in primarily oral or performative terms; performance has some primacy with drama and oratory, but even here texts are studied. The present work is meant to complement an earlier work, which dwelt on the importance of books and reading. The point is rather the multiplicity of literary experience. Even in reading Greek books, Romans are aware of the sound and dynamism of Greek literature in delivery, and of Greek writers and speakers and their lives. Philosophy, and some oratory, particularly gains from this link to the persons whose outlook and nature are being expressed; friendship enlarges the sense of personal context. (Biography is fundamental to the scholarly tradition that Roman readers encounter on authors of the past.) The audience, sometimes a crowd, is a critical factor in performance, and listeners can be enthusiastic or obstreperous; reading itself takes place in a variety of environments, and can be enhanced by explication and debate. All this should enrich our standard notion of a Roman poet reading a text of a Greek poet; it is all very unlike an English sixth-former of the past reading a French play with no exposure to French literature in performance or to any French cultural environment.44 We have seen how Rome, Italian villas, Naples, Massilia, Sicily, Athens, Rhodes, cities in Asia, cities and places in Greece, and for some Alexandria offered connected but diverse experiences with relation to Greek literature; distinctive conceptions of the places themselves informed the experiences. The total panorama reveals a complicated relationship with Greek literature in both time and space. As to time, the material amply demonstrates the distortion in the Romans’ schematic depictions of their own and Greek literary history; it shows likewise the over-simplification in the stock modern notion that ‘the Romans’ simply despised the Greeks and Greek literature of their own day. Roman writers can present a view of decline, or a view of periods in the past as classic; these are themselves Greek constructions. But obedience to these constructions, and the Roman writers’ own wish to excel, combine—sometimes in the same authors—with enthusiasm and respect for present Greeks and their art and thought. We need to bear in mind the pose and patriotism of scornful remarks on contemporary Greeks; in English literature expressions of scorn for contemporary French people and their literature have often been seen at the same time as deep respect for French literature and intense literary exploitation. Nor was the past inaccessible. The unification of time through place enabled the past to pervade the present, above all in Athens. The location of historical and mythological subject-matter brought Romans into the actual setting of renowned works, not just in mainland Greece, but in Asia, Sicily, and South Italy.45

44 Earlier work: Hutchinson (2008), esp. ch. 1. Johnson (2010) makes a very valuable contribution to this area; see also H. N. Parker (2009). In performance by the creator, as in philosophy or declamation, interaction with opponents or the crowd is itself part of the intellectual and personal performance; the broad approach of performance theory is relevant here (cf. e.g. Schechner (2003)). 45 In 1678, for example, Dryden’s preface to All for Love ridiculed Racine’s Phèdre (1677) and French poetry (tragedy) in general (Works xiii.12–13 Swedenberg and Roper), while in 1677 Otway’s Titus and Berenice (Works i.251–92 Ghosh) had offered a close adaptation of Racine’s Bérénice (1670). Dryden is explicitly replying to English critics who in his view revere French literature too much.

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Space is not just an adjunct to time in conceptions of the two literatures. For Romans, one of the most fundamental features of Greek literature is that it is not written or set in Rome, and, unlike Roman literature, is not seen predominantly from a spatial viewpoint in Rome (this last point will be developed in chapters to come). While Greek literature is in a whole range of ways vividly present in Italy and Rome, it has its fullest existence in a different space. This spatial separation is enhanced by the temporal separation of Greek literary history as formally conceived. The position is made more complex by geographical shape: the separation of mainland Greece from Italy to the west is partially mirrored in its separation from Asia to the east. Asia takes some alien aspects of Greece to a further extreme, but in other ways is more modern; mainland Greece stands out in its antiquity, which connects to its most classic literature. (The latest period of classic Greek poetry is particularly associated not with Asia but with Alexandria; the poetry of Alexandria brings in its own mitigated separation from Greece.) Such separation is complicated and modified by many factors, as we have just seen. Particularly striking geographically is the proximity of Sicily and its past poets, myths, and history. The oldest (perhaps) of poets presents particular intricacies, possibly from Asia Minor himself, and with his poems set partly in Sicily, Italy, and Asia Minor, but çغººÅ (‘pro-Greek’) in the conflict with the ancestors of the Romans. The force and meaning with which geography is invested appear in the many colourful conceptions in Latin literature of Greek cities and Greek space.46 We have moved from the Romans’ bold schemata of literary history to a rich picture of abundant present interaction. The schemata themselves form part of the data for a different kind of cultural history, one filled with contradictions and changes, surprises and specifics, and with manifold uses and perceptions of time and place.

46 Homer as çغººÅ, with the Trojans as  æÆæØ (‘barbarians’): cf. e.g. + bT Il. 11.1, 16.841–5. The scholar Pius (ii ad?) stresses the Greek audience, + T Il. 6.234 b.1 = Hiller (1869), 86, fr. 2.

Part III Words

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6 Two Languages So far we have looked at Romans’ conceptions of literary history and at the complex picture of actual contact with artistic Greek. We now turn to language; the specifics of words are important for intertextuality in general, and for our particular type of intertextuality the movement between two languages is fundamental. In the first chapter we shall look at the linguistic situation which forms the basis and precondition for literary interaction; the emphasis will be more on perception than on philological realities. We will begin from the subject of Roman authors who write in Greek. In the following three chapters we will proceed to consider in detail specific cases of transposition from Greek into Latin. In looking at each set of passages, we will also consider larger questions, particularly of spatial setting; this will provide a context for the transposition, and help us to see some of the bigger issues involved. But the detail of words and style is also essential to approaching the subject: the difference of languages is by definition one of the aspects that most distinguishes this special kind of intertextuality.

PASSIVE AND ACTIVE LITERARY USE It is no part of our investigation to assess the Romans’ abilities in Greek; philologists are not eager to undertake the task. But we have seen in Part II ample evidence of Roman education in and exposure to Greek literature and Greek artistic utterance. Naturally these presuppose the previous stage of education, where a separate teacher imparts the Greek language; Quint. Inst. 1.1.13 indicates that often the spell of learning and speaking only Greek (in school) was prolonged. Tiro following Cic. ND 2.111 speaks with striking contempt of the Romans of old (those who gave the original name?) as being so rudes Graecae linguae and so opici that they connected the Hyades with o# (‘pigs’, fr. 13 Funaioli; note fr. 6 on Cato’s rhetoric: it begins inerudite et Iƪªø#, ‘in an uneducated manner’); Gellius replies that they were not so rupices et agrestes as to make that mistake (13.9.5). Even in the second century bc, the litterae Graecae that Cato is said to have learned first in his old age (Cic. Ac. Pri. 5, Sen. 26, etc.) refer to the study of Greek literature, not the knowledge of the Greek language. The similar statement about Varro Atax from Gallia Narbonensis, that he learned Greek litterae in his thirtyfifth year (FRP 105 (a), Euseb. GCS vii.151), also refers to literature, and also is not

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to be taken too literally. It is more interesting that Suetonius thought the matter worthy of remark.1 The Roman élite was certainly not like the Russian élite at the start of the nineteenth century, as depicted by Tolstoy: ‘he was speaking in that refined French in which our forefathers not only spoke [i.e. to each other] but thought’ («Он говорил на том изысканном французском языке, на котором не только говорили, но и думали наши деды», Война и мир i.1.1). Naturally they could all make mistakes and most lacked a perfect accent; naturally some members of the élite were less good at Greek than most. There was always someone in the senate who required an interpreter (Cic. Fin. 5.89, for Greek speeches; on the languages implicitly separated from Greek at Div. 2.131 cf. Dig. 45.1.1 (Ulpian)). But we may safely suppose that most Roman writers and many or most Roman readers read Greek of various kinds easily, understood it aurally, and had studied the primary classics at school.2 We can reasonably go further. The material we have seen on performance shows us a more engaged enthusiasm in many members of the élite for aspects of the Greek literary language and Greek intellectual culture. The extremes that are possible appear in the phenomenon we are about to consider, that of Romans who write works in Greek. (There are also Greek authors who write in Latin, but that is of less importance for our inquiry.) The phenomenon, commonly overlooked, indicates that Romans could attain a high level of mastery in Greek, and that in principle their control of literary Greek need not be simply passive. It is hard to give meaning to the quantity; but it appears much more extensive than, say, that of English authors who wrote substantial works in French or Italian, even at periods when English literature exploited those literatures most. Writing in Greek is often accompanied by a particularly high degree of authenticity in delivering Greek: production and performance go together. The phenomenon displays an unfamiliar literary world. No less illuminating, however, is that Roman authors who write in Greek for the most part firmly maintain their Roman identity (some take the crossing over quite far). The question of legal identity grows ever more complex as time proceeds; yet we seem here to be looking, not just at ‘additive’ bilingualism, at the possession of two languages and cultural identities, but at the strong retention of the original political and ethnic identity in combination with an artistic focus 1 On Cato cf. Astin (1978), 149 (ORF 4 8 F 20 Antiochus epistulis bellum gerit, Dem. Phil. 1.30 ¥ Æ c

 K E# łÅç# Æ#Ø ŒÆd ÆE# K Ø#ºÆE# º B غ

øØ, ‘so that you may make war against Philip not just in your decrees and letters’), 159–64, Powell (1988), 103; the supposed ignorance of Greek literature seems doubtful too. For Varro of Atax cf. Hollis (2007), 177–9; some Romans of course learned without liking, cf. Cic. Ac. Pri. 5. 2 P. Crassus (cos. 131; going as consul to fight Aristonicus, but also hears cases among allies) went to the length of learning a variety of Greek dialects: supererogatory, it is thought (Val. Max. 8.7.6; Quint. Inst. 11.2.50; cf. Magie (1950), ii.1039–40 for dates). It was actually a crucial juncture, and arguably a good move in displaying civilization and sympathy. On bilingualism in the Roman world see esp. J. N. Adams, Janse, and Swain (2002), and J. N. Adams (2003a). On the linguistic situation of the Russian élite, both literary and social, in the second half of the eighteenth century, see Vinogradov (1969), 86–102. In the first half of the nineteenth Pushkin begins one letter (to Chaadaev, 6.6.1831, Собр. соч. (10 vols., Moscow, 1974–8), x no. 424), ‘Mon ami, je vous parlerai la langue de l’Europe, elle m’est plus familière que la nôtre’; but most of his letters are in Russian. In French are, particularly, formal letters, letters to the grand, and letters to women—but not to his wife once they are married.

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predominantly on the new language and culture. The retention is no surprise: Albucius in Lucilius (pp. 81–2 above, 154 below) does not want to be thought a Greek, for all his philhellenism. The Romans are familiar with the separation of language from other kinds of identity; so at Livy 34.24.3–4 the Achaean speaker describes the Aetolians: linguam tantum Graecorum habent sicut speciem hominum; moribus ritibusque efferatioribus quam ulli barbari, immo quam immanes beluae uiuunt.3 Particularly important for our whole discussion is that the phenomenon tests the separation of literatures by language. The crossing over complicates the competition between the series; but each series remains linguistically largely intact: that is to say, most authors, whether Greek or Roman in identity, are entirely or primarily authors in Latin or authors in Greek. There are few authors who have a balanced output in both languages, especially in the same genre.

RO M AN A U T H O R S O F G RE E K

(i) Prose The Roman writing of Greek does not diminish with the empire; the areas in which it happens most alter over time. The liveliness of the practice may emerge most vividly if we begin with the empire and so primarily with philosophy and declamation. It is not easy to disentangle the Sextii: the father, founder of a new philosophical sect, his son, who took over leadership, the Sextius who wrote on medicine (PIR2 S 655, 657, 674); but books were written by one or more of them in Greek on philosophy and on medicine (Sen. Ep. 59.7, Plin. Nat. e.g. 1.12b, 1.20b; the father Sen. Ep. 64.2). Father and son taught in Rome; among their pupils were Fabianus (Sen. Contr. 2 pr. 4; note Sen. Nat. 7.32.2: the sect evidently did not last beyond the son), Crassicius Pansa (Suet. GR 18.3—in his maturity), and possibly the Peripatetic Sotion (Sen. Ep. 108.17), who wrote in Greek (extracts in Stobaeus) and taught Seneca. Seneca stresses the Roman ethos of a Sextius and of the sect (Ep. 59.7, Nat. 7.32.2). Pliny, while mentioning that a Sextius wrote in Greek, includes him in his list of Roman sources (likewise Iulius Bassus at 1.23b).4 3 See Briscoe (1973), 235–6, (1981), 87–8; add Polyb. 4.3.1–3 (1 ŁÅæØøB ÇH#Ø , ‘they live like animals’), 30.11.1–6. corda in Ennius’ remark on tria corda (Gell. 17.17.1) does not quite mean ‘hearts’. One could compare Philoch. FGrHist 328 F 93, but the remark that Cecrops was Øçı # because he knew the two languages Greek and Egyptian need not go back to Philochorus. For ‘subtractive’ and ‘addititive’ bilingualism cf. e.g. Yihong, Ying, Yuan, Yan (2005). Conceptually this piece lays valuable emphasis on the relation between bilingualism and ‘self-identity’; it is interesting how little competition between the two languages and cultures enters in (but these are learners of a language, not authors in one or other). 4 Earlier it should not be thought that Brutus’ —æd ŒÆŁ Œ# (On Duty, Sen. Ep. 95.45) was in Greek: this is the work in Latin from which Priscian quotes, with the title De Officiis (Inst. 6.6, GLK ii.199.8–9). Note the many ‘subtitles’ and titles with æ (‘on’) in Varro’s Menippean Satires, and cf. —æd ºH of the De Finibus, Cic. Att. 13.19.4; in the actual text of his treatises Cicero naturally uses Latin to indicate works. See p. 153 below. Kaimio (1979), 207–71 covers the whole territory of Roman writing in Greek with erudite care. Not all authors are mentioned in what follows below, but detail and discussion is added, and a different angle is investigated.

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L. Annaeus Cornutus from Lepcis Magna wrote many philosophical and rhetorical works (Suda Œ 2098). These include his (assuming it is actually his) Stoicizing account of divine mythology, addressed to a child pupil, —æd !ŒH (qualities of substances) in at least two books (P. Oxy. LII 3649), and works cited by Porphyry and Simplicius, among them  ÅæØŒÆd åÆØ (Handbook of Rhetoric, Porph. Arist. Categ. 86.23–4 Busse (Comm. in Arist. Graeca iv.1), with reply to Athenodorus). All these are in Greek; there is also a Latin rhetorical work de figuris sententiarum in at least two books (Gell. 9.10.5–6, with comment on Virgil; [Julius Rufinianus] De Schem. Dian. 1 p. 60.10–11 Halm (text uncertain), commenting on practice in rhetorical schools). Cornutus also wrote grammatical works in Latin, including a commentary on Virgil (Gell. 2.6.1(-4), Charis. GLK i.127.19–21). His writing of tragedies, in whichever language, is extremely dubious (Prob. Vit. Pers. 22–3 Rostagni); the production this source stresses are libros philosophiae. So philosophy in Greek, Latin grammatica in Latin, rhetoric divided; there is, unusually, substantial production in both languages. Philosophy and perhaps more generalized rhetoric draw the author to Greek.5 C. Musonius Rufus was born in Volsinii (Suda 1305) in Etruria, and was an eques (e.g. Tac. Hist. 3.81.1; Tusci generis is contrasted with Graeci (generis) of Coerănus at Ann. 14.59.1). He was variously exiled and restored. His hugely influential philosophical teaching was in Greek; he seems not to have written books, but his disquisitions were recorded (CPF 72 1 (P. Harris 1, iii ad); Stobaeus). His attack on P. Egnatius Celer at a judicial hearing in the senate (Tac. Hist. 4.10, 40.3) will have been a Latin speech, but one made to attack a treacherous Stoic teacher (cf. also Tac. Ann. 16.32.3, Juv. 3.116–17, Dio Cass. 62.26.1, Schol. Juv. 6.552). His profile as a Greek-speaking philosopher is plain; his eloquence is emphasized e.g. at Fronto p. 135.3–6 Van den Hout (together with his pupils’), his searching insight in performance at Epict. 3.23.29.6 Favorinus, from Arles, presents himself as a Roman eques, but one who has become Greek, in outlook and dress as well as in his Attic spoken Greek (Cor. [= [Dio Prus.] 37] 25–7). He has taken crossing over unusually far. He discusses Roman literature learnedly in Aulus Gellius, but with a bias in favour of Greek, quam tu uidere elegisse, says Fronto (Gell. 2.26.7, T 23 Amato; cf. maluisti in Pliny below). Gellius bills him as a philosopher. His declamations and numerous writings were all in Greek.7 By contrast with Musonius and Favorinus, M. Aurelius the Emperor gave no performances, but wrote philosophically in Greek, seemingly for himself; some at least of the Meditations were written while on campaign. At this late stage he is a Greek writer, but one apparently without readers or authorial status. We hear something about his private experiments in Greek when he is young. He was

5 See on Cornutus Nock (1931), Most (1989), Ramelli (2003), Berdozzo (2009), Busch and Zangenberg (2010), 19–34. Most (1989), 2044–6 very reasonably impugns the text at Prob. Vit. Pers. 22–3; the idea might have arisen at some level from a misunderstanding of Pers. 5.1–18 (Schol. 12 takes Cornutus to be addressed at that point). 6 See p. 92 n. 32 above. For wider speculations on the trial of Celer see J. K. Evans (1979); see also Courtney (1980), 171–3. 7 For Favorinus see Gleason (1995), 3–20, 131–68, Holford-Strevens (2003), 98–130, Amato and Julien (2005– ). See above, p. 120.

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taught Greek rhetoric by Herodes Atticus (Hist. Aug. Ant. Phil. 2.4). At Fronto p. 42.9–15 Van den Hout he is nervously eager to write something in Greek, presumably of a rhetorical kind; he is aged 18 or 19 (Van den Hout p. 292). At p. 31.1–7 he has been driven to write in Greek by the ignorant Greek performers of encomium he has been listening to in Naples; he self-deprecatingly stresses his remoteness from the writing of Greek literature, with spatial language (tantum absum quantum a terra Graecia mons Caelius meus abest). He is aged 23 (or 22). At Med. 1.7 and 1.17.4 he is grateful to his teacher the Stoic Q. Iunius Rusticus (cos. ord. ad 162; PIR2 I 814; Dio Cass. 71.35.1 (Xiph.), Hist. Aug. Ant. Phil. 3.2) for keeping him from various kinds of writing, sophistic, theoretical, protreptic, rhetorical, poetic, and for lending him E#  ¯ ØŒÅØ#    Æ#Ø (Notes from Epictetus, 1.7.3). He is grateful to the gods that he did not make more progress in rhetoric, poetry, and other branches. There had been at least an impulse to various kinds of writing, at least some of it in Greek.8 Apuleius is exceptional (he might agree): he wrote a work on natural history in Greek (Apol. 36.8, 38.2–4), and also wrote on natural history in Latin (38.5); he writes the philosophical discourse De Deo Socratis in Latin, and perhaps De Platone and the translation De Mundo. His rhetorical (and philosophical) Apology and Florida and his fictional (and philosophical) Metamorphoses are in Latin. He wrote the bilingual works mentioned below (p. 155), and boasted of writing philosophy in both languages, as well as declaiming (Apol. 36.6, 39.4; 4.1), and of composing poems and prose in all the main genres tam Graece quam Latine, gemino uoto, pari studio, simili stilo (Flor. 9.27–9). It might seem that he actually had a much more substantial reputation as a Latin writer (and a prose writer); but we do find here an uncommon claim to equal competence, as part of a wider claim to universal mastery.9 Aelian (born c.170) came from Praeneste (Suda ÆØ 178), and never left Italy according to himself according to Philostratus; this was seen as a sign of respect for Roman ways, Philostratus says (VS 2.31 625). Philostratus’ presentation makes it clear that Aelian was not from a Greek background. Aelian sometimes mentions that he is a Roman, and Rome his Ææ# (‘fatherland’; VH 2.38, 14.45; 12.25); he claims to affinity with and concern for both Greeks and Romans (K d

æ#ÅŒø, ØÆçæØ 12.25). If his villa is his (p. 66 above), it proclaims his enthusiasm for Greek literature. The De Natura Animalium in particular gives a sort of natural philosophy. Both in his declamation and in his published works (De Natura Animalium, Varia Historia, Epistulae Rusticae if genuine, and lost philosophical works) he is obviously a composer of Greek only. Philostratus says that Aelian spoke Attic like a native (VS 2.31 624); he evidently finds this impressive rather than common (cf. e.g. Nepos’ claim about Atticus, Att. 4.1.3). Aspasius the sophist (ii–iii ad?) came from Ravenna, but travelled widely, unlike

8 Cf. R. B. Rutherford (1989b), 104–6, on Marcus’ change to philosophy. On Marcus as a writer and thinker see R. B. Rutherford (1989b) and Van Ackeren (2011) (i.42–9 for the choice of Greek). On Marcus in general see Van Ackeren (2012). 9 For the philosophical works by and possibly by Apuleius see Harrison (2000), 136–209. Kaimio (1979), 247 actually presents the use of Latin for philosophy as exceptional in this period; but it is probably always an enterprising choice. Note also Tertullian (not in Kaimio).

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Aelian (Philostr. VS 2.33 627); it must have been the Greek chair in Rome that he held. He also wrote. He was clearly a composer of Greek alone.10 Tertullian, from Carthage, adventurously produces a large corpus of Christian writing in Latin; some of the Latin treatises were preceded by Greek treatises which he had written on the same subjects (Bapt. 15.2 CCSL i.290.16 sed de isto plenius iam nobis in Graeco digestum est, Virg. Vel. 1.1 CCSL ii.1209.1–2 Latine quoque ostendam; Cor. 6.3 CCSL ii.1047.21–2 sed et huic materiae [spectacles] . . . Graeco quoque stilo satisfecimus [here the order is not revealed]). His work on Œ#Æ#Ø# (‘ecstasy’) might have been in Greek (Jerome, Vir. Ill. 40 208.11–12 (with apparatus), 53 216.15 Siamakis; Tert. CCSL ii.1334–5 not necessarily from this work). But his identity as primarily a Latin writer is obvious, and important. Speeches delivered in Greek by Romans to public bodies in Greek-speaking provinces stand at a further distance from authorship and authorial identity; but they still give an instance of individual ambition. In the Empire, C. Licinius Mucianus (cos. suff. 64?, 70?, 72, PIR2 L 216, RE Licinius 116a)) spoke to the people of Antioch in the theatre, satis decorus etiam Graeca facundia (Tac. Hist. 2.80.2). His identity as a Latin writer is evident. He wrote Latin books of paradoxography and natural history (fragments Peter (1914–16), ii.102–7; Pliny would say if in Greek), published a collection of Republican historical, oratorical, and epistolary material (Tac. Dial. 37.2–3), and with a vehement attack persuaded Vespasian to exile most philosophers (Dio Cass. 66.13.1 (Xiph.), 1a (Exc. Vat.)). In the Republic, mention has already been made of Ti. Gracchus on Rhodes (cos. 177 and 163), Cicero in Syracuse (Verr. 4.147) (pp. 78, 103 above). The weight of philosophical tradition and activity maintained a strong incentive to becoming a writer and speaker of Greek in that area; the incentive to Greek declamation will have increased with the Second Sophistic. It is predominantly in the Middle Republic, and in the early stages of Roman historiography, that we find historians in Greek who are Roman. Four writers, Q. Fabius Pictor, L. Cincius Alimentus, A. Postumius Albinus, C. Acilius, from the Second Punic War to c.155 wrote works in Greek which at least in most cases were later called Annales and at least in most cases extended from before the beginnings of Rome to very recent or contemporary events. Cincius’ title is not known; Albinus’ work is only known to include Aeneas, Ascanius, and Brutus (both in the first book: Annali primo), and thus to have had at least a second book which went beyond Brutus. Evidence that their work was in Greek: Fabius fr. 3 Chassignet (Cic. Div. 1.43), Dion. Hal. Ant. 1.6.2 (both Fabius and Cincius), Albinus fr. 1 Chassignet (Polyb. 39.1.4, Gell. 11.8.2–3, etc.; cf. also Cic. Brut. 81), Acilius fr. 5–7 Chassignet (Cic. Off. 3.115, Livy 25.39.12, 35.14.5; see also Cic. Ac. Pri. 137). A Claudius (Claudius Quadrigarius?) is spoken of by Livy as having translated Acilius’ Annals into Latin. A Latin version of Fabius seems to have existed (see especially Gell. 5.4 (fr. 23 Chassignet)), but was presumably secondary to the Greek referred to by Cicero as well as Dionysius.11 10 Pausanias was not Aelian’s grammatistes: cf. Philostr. VS 2.31 625. There is no evidence that Aelian was himself a freedman. He says he could have been rich ŒÆd K ÆE# ÆPºÆE# K Ç#ŁÆØ ‘and have appeared in courts’ (NA Epil. p. 430.11–12 García Valdés etc.). On Aelian and travel, cf. p. 125 n. 33 above. 11 On this stage and on Cato see, besides Chassignet (1996–2004), i.l–liv, etc., Dillery (2002, 2009).

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The accumulation of parallel works, and perhaps their shapes—concern with kings, amplitude on recent events—could be thought to create a general resemblance to the Atthides, still being produced in the third century. The works are more ambitious in scope than the Greek works on recent events with which the earlier (and the later) of these Annales were in conflict: Philinus of Acragas on the First Punic War (FGrHist 174 T 2), Silenus (FGrHist 175), Sosylus (176), and others on the deeds of Hannibal (176 T 3: not historically organized, according to Polybius); the authors named favoured the Carthaginians. The immediate controversies belonged to a Mediterranean discussion in the international language; but the Roman writers were also asserting their own and Rome’s significance in that context. With success: Fabius was soon being read in Sicily, and the summary certainly gives space to the antecedents and beginnings of Rome (see Battistoni (2006)).12 Albinus and Acilius had another area of controversy to deal with: Cato was producing his Origines in Latin; they set Rome in an Italian context. The scope was comparable; he may not have had much between beginnings and recent events, but the scale of treatment in between is uncertain with the Annales too (cf. Dion. Hal. Ant. 1.6.2). He deplored worship of the Greeks, as embodied by Albinus (Polyb. 39.1–3). He mocked Albinus’ preface, where Albinus apologized for any inelegances in his Greek (Polyb. 39.1–9 (Cato clearly envisages Albinus as joining the competition among Greek authors), Nep. fr. 56 Marshall, Plut. Cat. Mai. 12.6, [Reg. Apophth.] 199e). Cato sought, as we saw, to terminate the visit of the Greek philosophers in 155, which had such an impact on Roman youth (Plut. Cat. Mai. 22). Acilius acted as interpreter for these philosophers in the Senate (22.5, Gell. 6.14.9); Albinus, praetor urbanus and perhaps in charge of the meeting, tried to joke with them philosophically (Cic. Ac. Pri. 137). Albinus, keen on Greek culture and language from his youth (Polyb. 39.1.2), and a poet in Greek too (39.1.4), none the less asserted his Roman identity in his preface (fr. 1b Chassignet homo Romanus, natus in Latio). These authors are conceived of as essentially authors in Greek, whether or not it was Fabius who translated his own work; Albinus’ Latin oratory is noted by Cicero (Brut. 80–1).13 P. Cornelius Scipio (RE Cornelius 331), son of the Elder Africanus, wrote oratiunculae in Latin, and historia quaedam Graeca scripta dulcissime (Cic. Brut. 77); he died young. Rutilius Rufus (FGrHist 815) wrote a Roman history in Greek (Athen. 4.168d–e, T 4b); he also wrote a Latin De Vita Sua (Latin quotes in grammarians and Isidore). Lucullus’ histories were in Greek (de suis historiis Cic. Att. 1.19.10 suggests there were no others); Plut. Luc. 1.8 knows a history on the Social War (some doubt on authenticity in his tone?). According to a story in Plutarch, he decided by lot whether it should be verse or prose, Latin or Greek

12 On the Atthides see Jacoby (1949), and recently Harding (2008). Greek is at this time the international and the universal intellectual language, as well as the language of one large ethnic group; Romans writing in it are combining the two strategies for international communication which Dekker (2008), 74–6 sees in the Dutch use of Latin and of modern foreign languages. On Philinus’ subject cf. Jacoby (1926–30), IID 598. 13 On their Roman standing, note the social status of historians remarked on by Nep. fr. 57 Marshall (Suet. GR 27.1); Sempronius Asellio’s military tribunate was an important office at the time (cf. Lintott (1999), 139–40).

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(1.7); it arose from a youthful and perhaps boastful conversation with Hortensius and the Latin historian Sisenna. He had maintained his Roman identity by including mistakes, or so he told Atticus, who evidently took him seriously, since Cicero does (Att. 1.19.10).14 Atticus produced serious historical research in Latin; he also wrote one Greek book (unus liber Graece confectus, Nep. Att. 18.6), on Cicero’s consulship. Its bareness of style (Atticist? Atticus-like?) contrasted with the lavish stylistic ornament which Cicero dedicated to his commentarius on the same subject (Cic. Att. 2.1.1–2). In theory Cicero’s work was meant to encourage a more ornate treatment by others (Posidonius, Att. 2.1.2; the work had been asked for by some Greek writers). Cicero wanted Atticus to check the Greek (1.19.10), but is pleased with the result. He is writing for a wider Greek audience: Atticus is to see to its distribution in Greece, especially Athens (2.1.2). This exceptional excursion does not seriously prevent Cicero from being seen as primarily a Latin writer; the same is true of his declaiming in Greek (ad praeturam usque, Suet. GR 25.3; cf. e.g. Cic. Brut. 310; later e.g. Fam. 16.21.5). Suetonius wrote in Greek a single book —æd H Ææ  ‚ººÅ#Ø ÆØØH (On Games among the Greeks) and a work —æd ºÆ#çÅ ØH ŒÆd Ł !Œ #Å (On Insults and the Origin of Each), and some other minor works may have been Greek; his big works are in Latin. The one truly ambidextrous historian is imperial (cf. Germanicus): in Latin Claudius wrote forty-two books on recent Roman history (Suet. Claud. 41.1–2), and eight books of autobiography (3); in Greek he wrote twenty books of Etruscan history, eight of Carthaginian (42.2). The choice of language perhaps marked distance from a Roman viewpoint. A Greek audience was intended: Claudius instituted annual readings of the work in the Museum at Alexandria.15 To end this section, we can return to Fronto, who is not an author of Greek works for general circulation. Fronto writes readily in Greek, with allusion, play, and stylistic elegance. His correspondents include Herodes Atticus (pp. 16–17 Van den Hout) and his friend Appian (242–8); with Appian he has an elaborate and graceful exchange over two slaves (247.1, 4–5) whom he refuses to accept as a present. He produces a piece addressed to M. Aurelius as beautiful boy, which continues and is inspired by Plato’s Phaedrus (250–5); this is probably the piece which he tells Marcus pleases him like few things he has written (42.9–10, cf. 20–1). But it seems to be a piece for their mutual amusement rather than a work to be generally distributed. Fronto modestly asks M. Aurelius to check the Greek letter he has written to Marcus’ mother (21.11–15; a Graecis litteris recentior es). The opening of the Platonic piece alleges he is almost a barbarian in language (250.12–13). The Greek letters play on Fronto’s ethnicity: mentions

14 On the difference between Rutilius’ history and his autobiography see Kaimio (1979), 231–2, against Münzer (1914), 1277–80 (not that Münzer thinks one in effect a translation of the other). Aufidius writes in Greek: Cic. Tusc. 5.112 (FGrHist 814 T 1). The notion that C. Sulpicius Galba wrote in Greek (Jacoby (1926–30) C 295) rests on a mistaken restoration of the inscription FD iii.4 no. 438, see Vatin (1972), 253–5, Pouilloux (1976), 104–5. 15 See p. 129 above. On Suetonius’ scholarly writing cf. Funaioli (1931), 623–7, Wallace-Hadrill (1995), 38–49. For the extracts of Suetonius’ Greek works discovered in the nineteenth century see Taillardat (1967).

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of Roman proverbs and words (21.20–22.3), his own barbarism as a Libyan (24.1–13), the unwise conduct of Athens as against Rome (245.14–18). All this shows how a Latin author can avoid any claim to become a circulated Greek author (possible epigrams apart), and yet show ambition and skill in writing Greek, and write even to famous Greek authors (who would certainly know Latin). The Romans love to use their Greek in a literary way; but there remains a division between those who are essentially Greek authors and those who are essentially Latin.

(ii) Poetry The evidence for poetry is much more complicated. Clear examples of significant poetic output just in Greek are offered by Martial and Pliny the Younger. In the case of Bruttianus, Martial is more likely referring to at least one book of epigrams than to isolated pieces (4.23): Bruttianus takes first place in Greek epigram instead of Callimachus. He has not written epigrams in Latin, though he could (6–8). This seems to be a Roman who is known only as a Greek poet. Another of Pliny’s correspondents, Caninius Rufus, is planning a narrative hexameter poem in Greek on Trajan’s Dacian Wars (Ep. 8.4.3); evidently he has written substantial works of the kind before (amplissimis operibus), and Graecis uersibus comes in with too little remark if he had written those earlier works in Latin. Pliny writes to Caninius both on the death of the Latin hexameter poet Silius Italicus and on Vergilius Romanus, who is experimenting in his ways of transferring Greek comedy into Latin (3.7, 6.21: 6.21.4 suggests all Romanus’ writing is in Latin). Caninius comes from Comum (1.3, etc.); connection with the Caninius Rufus (or Caninii Rufi) seen on Mytilene is not particularly tempting, so common is the cognomen (IG xii.2.88.19, 375a; the nomen is not uncommon).16 Another poet who writes in Greek not Latin is Arrius Antoninus (cos. suff. 69; PIR2 A 1086): inuideo Graecis, says Pliny, quod illorum lingua scribere maluisti (Ep. 4.3.5). Clearly it is a choice; the perfect indicates opting decisively for Greek. Arrius writes not only epigrams, which Pliny is eager to translate (4.18, cf. 5.15), but mimambi, in the tradition of Herodas (4.3.4–5). Pliny’s admiration of his Attic is presumably for his spoken Greek (4.3.5); Pliny is impressed that a Roman should speak tam Graece. On the other hand, Vestricius Spurinna (cos. 98, 100), born c.24, is writing lyric, et quidem utraque lingua (3.1.7); but he is in his old age, and it does not sound as if his poetry is known to Pliny’s correspondent. We have noted Albinus above; presumably his poem was extensive. Publius P. f., explicitly called   ø ÆE# (‘Roman’), won second prize with a tragedy in Tanagra c.85 bc (SEG 19 (1963) no. 335.35 (TrGF Did. A7) = Manieri (2009) Tan. 2; TrGF no. 163). He may well have been in Greece on the campaign against Mithridates.17

16 Bruttianus’ is not a common cognomen; it could mark region rather than adoption. Note Lustricius Bruttianus (a proconsul) in Pliny, Epistles 2.2; he is a suffect consul in 108: AÉ 2004 no. 1898. On the mooted connection of Caninii see Cichorius (1922), 320–3; he admits it is only a possibility. 17 On the date cf. Manieri (2009), 268–77 (131 seems to involve some confusion). She identifies Publius with P. Cornelius P. f., who acts as agonothete in her Acr. 27. That inscription dates its twoyearly festival as being run æH[] | I e F º ı ‘the first time after the war’ (3–4); after the

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Pompeius Macer wrote at least one Greek tragedy; it survived to be excerpted (in Stobaeus, with —

Åı  Œæı, ‘Pompeius Macer’), and the extract (from a speech by Medea) is impressive. Whether he is the same as the epigrammatist (or epigrammatists) in Greek, we cannot know: Pompeius I and II Gow–Page are given as —

Åı øæı (‘the younger Pompeius’), and —

Åı, ƒ b  æŒı [ æŒı C, Pl A:  Œæı Visconti] øæı (‘Pompeius; some say the younger Marcus [“Macer” Visconti]’). The tragedian could be the same as the Pompeius Macer to whom Augustus consigned the ordering of the libraries (Suet. Jul. 56.7). He could also be the son (Strabo 13.2.3 618 C. iii.626.1–4 Radt: procurator of Asia) or grandson of the historian Theophanes: Pompeia Macrina is a descendant of Theophanes (Tac. Ann. 6.18.2). (The cognomen has thus changed at least in the third or second generation, and cf. CIL viii.3348 (with 18185): Aelius Macer father of Aelia Macrina; Macrina’s praetorian brother, driven to death by Tiberius, could be Pompeius Macer the praetor mentioned in Tac. Ann. 1.72.3.)  Œæı øæı, if a correct change, would probably indicate two epigrammatic Macri, and —

Åı øæı quite probably indicates two epigrammatic Pompeii (æ# is used elsewhere in the Anthology for the names Plato and Archias). The descendants of Theophanes would attractively explain the pairs and the alternative attribution. But Pompeius Macer is a combination certainly found outside this family: CIL v.7566, 7816, AÉ 1993 no. 536.18 It is a much bolder step, however, to identify the tragedian, and the son of Theophanes, with the Macer under whose guidance Ovid visited Asia (te duce, Pont. 2.10.21). This Macer is the poet who wrote a prequel to the Iliad, evidently in Latin (Am. 2.18.1–4, Pont. 2.10.11–18, 4.16.6), and probably too the poet who wrote the book of four-line poems, clearly in Latin, which Ovid playfully recycled (Quint. Inst. 6.3.96). Even if the Greek epigrams and Latin quatrains were by the same poet, there would still be two Pompeii Macri to choose between for the tragedy. This is not an adequately supported instance of a poet writing substantial works in both Greek and Latin. Serv. Dan. Ecl. 8.10 says of Pollio utriusque linguae tragoediarum scriptor fuit. If this is true, we have bilingual activity within poetry; but Pollio’s main identity is clearly as a Latin writer. So is Messalla’s; but in any case the existence of Messalla’s Greek bucolic poetry (SH 558A) may reasonably be doubted. [Virg.] Catal. 9.13– 22 tells of Theocritean poetry (20) written by Messalla (no doubt the orator Messalla Corvinus, Valerius RE 261; for 40 Publicolis cf. Livy 7.32.15): 13–14 pauca tua in nostras uenerunt carmina chartas, | carmina cum lingua, tum sale

Peace of Dardanus (85 bc) would be a suitable time. The competitors are mostly from Tanagra or nearby places (Athens, Thebes), but there is one from Tarentum (9). Note IG vii.416.50, around this time, where A. Titinius A. f.   ø ÆE# (‘Roman’) wins in the diaulos. It is notable that in SEG 19 (1963) no. 335.43–7, 54–5 new dramas receive full choral and costumed performance. 18 Cf. White (1992), PIR2 P 625–6; p. 115 above. Against the MSS reading  æŒı, see Gow and Page (1968), ii.468; against change here and in Strabo 13.2.3 618 C. iii.626.2 Radt see St. Radt (2002–11), vii.526–7.

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Cecropia (Wernsdorf: -o MSS). in nostras . . . chartas is likely to mean that they have inspired Virgil (it could be ‘into his library’, but of a poet nostras chartas would suggest his own work). linguā Cecropiă (or linguā sc. Cecropiā) would refer to the language in which the poems were written: Virgil will be the first bucolic poet in Latin; he wishes patrio Graios carmine adire sales (62, a parallel line to 14). But Attic bucolic poetry is extremely implausible. The pauca . . . carmina will be a fiction, like the poem itself. Even if Cecropia meant ‘Greek’, the poem would not be a reliable source.19 Germanicus wrote comedies in Greek; Suetonius’ inter cetera studiorum monumenta (Cal. 3.2) does not necessarily imply they were written in his youth, though that is plausible enough. After his death Claudius had one performed in a competition at Naples; it won sententia iudicum (Claud. 11.2; perhaps not a surprise). His Latin version of Aratus, dedicated to Tiberius, is presented as docti . . . laboris | primitias (3–4); Tiberius adopted him ad 4 at the age of 19 or 20. He writes Greek epigrams (Page (1981), 557–8), and apparently translates Greek epigrams into Latin (559; Flaccus IV Gow–Page?, Anth. Lat. i.2.709 Riese); his poem on Augustus’ deceased horse (Plin. Nat. 8.155) was perhaps most likely in Latin. His greatest fame as a writer seems to be that of Latin orator, to judge from the place given him in the Palatine Library inter auctores eloquentiae (Tac. Ann. 2.83.3). For his activity as an orator, cf. Dio Cass. 56.24.7 (Exc. Val.), 26.1. Ovid praises him as an orator and a poet: Fast. 1.19–26 (both), Pont. 2.5.41–56 (orator), 4.8.65–82.20 How Roman Babrius was is uncertain. Babrius is only a gentile name; moments of his work seem to place him in Asia (in the broad sense; cf. e.g. Prol. II.1–3 p. 107 Luzzato–La Penna); peculiarities of his metre and of his language have been explained by Latin influence. His date appears to be second century ad or earlier, although P. Oxy. X 1249 is not necessarily as early as once thought (ii–iii rather than i–ii?).21 The genre of epigram has assets and difficulties for our purposes: it offers us an abundant sample of Greek poetry, but our information about authors is generally slight, and it is often difficult to separate Romans from Greeks (for the clearest case, Bruttianus, see above). We will be especially interested in authors not visibly of Greek ancestry and not visibly belonging to Greek cities. Thus in epigrammatists from or in the period of the Garland of Philip, less interest attaches to Aemilianus of Nicaea, Antonius of Argos, Erucius of Cyzicus, Erucius of Thessaly (if different), Etruscus of Messene (Sicily or Greece), Julius Polyaenus, Polyaenus of Sardis (possibly the same), Secundus of Tarentum

19 61 si [B, the oldest extant MS at this point; sed (roughly) the rest; et I. Voss] adire might suggest an early date, as might the many non-disyllabic pentameters; or they could be part of the illusion (the poem will hardly be earlier than 19 bc). Even if the poem is early, an error by a Latin poet is likelier than Messalla writing bucolic in the wrong dialect. 20 Anth. Lat. i.2.708 is ascribed to Germanicus, who is an alternative ascription, along with Hadrian and Tiberius, for the Greek epigram which the Latin translates. This raises the possibility that the ascription of 708–9 refers to the Greek original. For Tac. Ann. 2.83.3 see Goodyear (1981), 437. Tacitus’ phrase is more specific than the Tabula Hebana 1–4; Suetonius’ eloquentiae could be more general (Cal. 3.1). 21 Cf. recently T. J. Morgan (2007), 326–30; more sceptical Luzzato and La Penna (1986), vi–xi, xxix.

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(admittedly a cognomen, so probably a father with Roman citizenship; but a partly Greek city).22 Lollius Bassus may have been from Smyrna (AP 11.72); otherwise, the name looks Roman; V Gow–Page is on Germanicus’ death, VI on Troy and Rome. Lucil(l)ius is only a gentile name, and is often taken to be Greek. For other reasons we should note Argentarius: this is only a gentile name, but a rare one; the poet may well be related to, or be, the rhetor in the Elder Seneca. If he is the same rather than, say, the father, it is noteworthy that the rhetor is said by Seneca to be Greek (Contr. 9.3.13), but never to have declaimed in that language: he would not have mingled the languages indiscriminately. Antistius is only a gentile name. So is Maecius (or Maccius); the name of the boy-love Cornelius (II and III)—in the fiction free but poor—does suggest to the reader a Roman milieu (cf. e.g. Statilius in Myrinus II; the Oscan Flora in Philodemus XII). There is Capito (FGE 34); but note the poets or poet Capito of Pergamum and Alexandria (p. 96 above). Rufinus is likely to be later.23 That leaves us, apart from Pompeius, with the following: Asinius Quadratus (but sympathy for Greeks killed by Sulla); Cornelius Longus (an error in his Greek? I.4 Page); Mucius Scaevola (note a Latin epigrammatist (?) called Scaevola praising Cicero’s poetry in Cic. Leg. 1.2); Gaetulicus (note the Latin epigrammatist Gaetulicus, probably Cn. Cornelius Lentulus Gaetulicus cos. ad 26, PIR2 C 1390; also wrote Latin hexameters); Munatius Mundus (on Troy and Mycenae); Statilius Flaccus (IV apparently translated by Germanicus); Tudicius Gallus?; Tullius Geminus (note a Tullius Geminus as Latin orator (bringing a prosecution) in Tac. Ann. 14.50.1; could be same as cos. suff. ad 46); Tullius Sabinus or Sabinus (note the Latin elegist and hexametrist Sabinus, Ov. Am. 2.18–27–34, Pont. 4.16.13–16); Tullius Laurea (could well be Cicero’s freedman, who also wrote a Latin epigram, Plin. Nat. 31.7). Later there is Fronto (AP 12.174, 233; note the famous orator, cos. 143, but his caution over Greek might make at least a book of epigrams unlikely). There are also Germanicus (above), Tiberius, who wrote other poems in Greek and in Latin (Suet. Tib. 70.2; note the Latin poem is lyric); Trajan; Hadrian, who also wrote Latin poetry. There are plausible instances of poets writing Greek epigrams and Latin poetry; but in the cases where we can form most idea of the Latin poets, Gaetulicus and Sabinus, it seems probable that, if they are same as the Greek epigrammatists, their reputation was primarily as Latin writers.24

22

Honestus of Corinth, on the other hand, is a more complicated case; see p. 100 above. See Page (1978), 3–49; and in any case note Rufinus of Nicaea the medical writer (Athen. 1.1f), Rufinus of Smyrna the sophist (Philostr. VS 2.25 608–9), etc. Bassus could be called " ıæÆE# (‘of Smyrna’) at AP 11.72 to distinguish him from Lollius, as Gow and Page (1968), ii.191–2 point out. For Lucillius see G. Nisbet (2003), 101–7. On Argentarius cf. Spawforth (2012), 76. 24 For Asinius Quadratus see Page (1981), 86–7, and 67–70 for Cornelius Longus, 49–60 for Gaetulicus (cf. G. Nisbet (2003), 197–9), 60–2 for Tudicius Gallus, 555–71 for imperial Romans. For Mucius Scaevola see Gow and Page (1968), ii. 405–6, and 463–4 for Munatius Mundus, 451–7 for Statilius Flaccus (note also ‘Flaccus?’, Page (1981), 46–9), 294–9 for Tullius Geminus, 404–5 for Sabinus, 461–3 for Tullius Laurea (cf. Ll. Morgan (2007)). At Ov. Pont. 4.16.15–16 are corrupt (dierum too is strange); Troezena or whatever need not be Sabinus’ place of origin. 23

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DISTANCE BETWEEN THE LANGUAGES In looking at Roman authors of Greek, we have enhanced our overall picture of the literary world within which Latin literature and contemporary Greek literature related. We have also heightened our sense of Roman interest and capacity in Greek literature: Romans writing Greek illuminate Romans reading Greek. But the general conception of two separated literatures has been for the most part confirmed even in this border region, with only a minor level of infringement as regards the authors. We turn now to the languages themselves, as used in literature. The languages are in general kept firmly distinct inside literary works. This distinctness further promotes that firm separation of Greek and Latin literature as entities which provides the basic framework for Latin competition. At the same time the element of language brings colour and detail into the conception. The languages themselves are in certain respects intrinsically separate. It must be emphasized first, though, that the separation is of two structures which have many broad resemblances. Latin and Greek have much in common to make close interaction possible. In particular, they both have a phonological system of long and short vowels that makes viable a metrical system of heavy and light syllables: Greek metre and prose rhythm can be closely adapted into Latin. Both languages too are elaborately inflected; this makes possible the adaptation of Greek artistry with word-order into Latin. Macrobius’ De differentiis et societatibus Graeci Latinique uerbi (GLK v.599–630, substantially edited by excerptor) sees the many differences (599.9) within a framework of a coniunctissimam cognationem given by nature (not genetic?) (599.5–10); but the similarities are a matter of structure, syntactic and morphological, not of vocabulary. (Even Charis. GLK i.292.16–19, which looks genetic, need not claim descent in vocabulary.) Prisc. 18.156–307 (GLK iii.278–377, last part of the Institutes) collects numerous resemblances (mostly) in construction, etc.; cf. e.g. Didym. fr. 3 Funaioli. A different perspective is offered by Albinus fr. 1 (b) Chassignet sum homo Romanus, natus in Latio; Graeca oratio a nobis alienissima est; but this is not necessarily a statement about the distance between the languages as such.25 At this point we may consider briefly theories that Latin came from Greek. These theories are more evident in Greek than in Latin. They are certainly not held by Varro. For him, rather, Evander’s Arcadians, speakers of Aeolic (cf. Strabo 8.1.2 333 C. ii.390.22–391.3 Radt), have influenced the language of Rome (Varro fr. 295 Funaioli); but the language is a mixture from various sources (fr. 296 Funaioli). Some words derive, or might derive, from Greek, but only some. Cf. e.g. LL 5.96: sus bos taurus ouis could be same words as Greek because in both places they were derived from the animals’ noises (in Latio quoque ut in Graecia); 6.6 nox . . . quod nocet ‘nox’, nisi quod Graece  nox; 7.34–5 (thinks one word Greek because has found in Callimachus; next word thought Etruscan). Even Quint. Inst. 1.5.58 maxima ex parte Romanus [sc. sermo] inde [sc. ex Graeco sermone]

25 In Charis. i.292.16–17 cum ab omni sermone Graeco Latina lingua pendere uideatur, ab omni is hard to understand; omnis a (cf. Hor. Sat. 1.4.6 hinc omnis pendet Lucilius)? For likenesses in syntax cf. Bartoněk (2010).

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conuersus est is in context thinking of items of vocabulary, cf. 1.6.31. Different is the title of the Elder or Younger Tyrannion (Suda  1184–5 gives all titles to the Younger): —æd B#   ø ÆœŒB# ØƺŒı ‹Ø K#d KŒ B#  EººÅØŒB# ŒPŒ ÆPŁØª # (On the Latin Language: From Greek and not Indigenous, fr. 63 Haas (Haas (1977), 176–7); text at end very uncertain). This sounds a provocative position. Dionysius’ ethnic theory is different from Varro’s: he thinks that all the constituents of the Romans were Greek, including the Aborigines and the Trojans (Ant. 1.5.1; 11–13, 57.4, 58.2, 5, 62.1–2, etc.), so that the greater part of the mixture of their language is Aeolic (90.1). Similar is the view probably of Philoxenus that the Romans were colonists of the Aeolians (Choerob. Gr. Gr. iv.2.34.8–9 ƒ ªaæ `NºE# ƺH# ıœŒa PŒ åı#Ø u# æ ƒ   ø ÆEØ, ¼ ØŒØ Z# H `Nºø, ‘the Aeolians do not have duals at all, like the Romans, who are colonists from the Aeolians’).26 In practice the most important difference between the languages is in vocabulary. Take first a passage from D’Annunzio’s novel Il piacere (1889), and the French model which this passage closely follows. The passages are on the attractions of an author as lover. ‘La gente volgare non imagina [not spelt ‘immagina’] quali profondi e nuovi godimenti l’aureola della gloria, anche pallida o falsa, porti all’amore. Un amante oscuro . . . ’ (D’Annunzio, Il piacere (ed. P. Gibellini and E. Gambin, Milan, 2009), 123); ‘On n’imagine pas, d’ordinaire, ce que le nimbe de gloire le plus pâle même, ajoute à l’amour; jamais un amant obscur . . . ’ (J. Péladan, La Décadence latine. Éthopée. III: L’Initiation sentimentale (Paris, 1887), 34). Despite the phonological differences between Italian and French, and changes brought by French in particular, many vital words here are recognizable as essentially the same in the two Romance languages: imagine/imagina, gloire/ gloria, pâle/pallida, amour/amore, amante/amant, oscuro/obscur. Contrast this with Cicero’s rendering of a passage of Plato (in this case explicitly acknowledged): Fin. 2.52 ‘Oculorum’, inquit Plato, ‘est in nobis sensus acerrimus, quibus sapientiam non cernimus. quam illa ardentis amores excitaret sui!’ [amores MO2, cf. Off. 1.15 formam . . . honesti uides, quae si oculis cerneretur, mirabiles amores, ait Plato, excitaret sapientiae]; Phaedr. 250d3– 4(5) ZłØ# ªaæ E Oı Å H Øa F # Æ# æåÆØ ÆN#Ł #ø, wØ çæÅ#Ø# På ›æAÆØ—Øf# ªaæ i ÆæEå æøÆ#, Y Ø ØF !ÆıB# KÆæªb# Yøº

Ææå N# ZłØ N (‘for sight is the keenest of the senses which comes to us through the body; wise judgement is not seen by it: extreme would be the passion it produced if it came into sight and provided a similarly vivid image of itself ’). Here none of the words is connected in origin, except for E and nobis (perhaps from PIE *nsméy loc. and *nsméy dat. respectively), and sui and !-. Neither ˚ a Latin reader. Otherwise, not even the relative connection ˚would be visible to pronouns are cognate. So far have these two related languages diverged.27

26 Cf. Giomini (1953). Russell’s ‘derived’ ((2001), i.153) is not quite right at Quint. Inst. 1.5.58. Cf. further Enn. Ann. 357 Skutsch, 459–60, with Skutsch (1985), 523–4, 617–18 (Skutsch suggests that Ann. 357 presents a Greek assertion, presumably about non-Roman opinion—not reflexive); Fögen (2000), 49–51, with literature. 27 On Off. 1.15 cf. Madvig (1876), 231. For E and nobis cf. Sihler (1995), 380–1.

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BORROWING It might be thought that this gap could be narrowed by borrowings. Thus in what follows the sentence we have just looked at (in Fin. 2.52), Cicero has the loan architectari: cur tandem? an quod ita callida est ut optime possit architectari uoluptates? Cicero uses a metaphorical architect- freely (e.g. 1.32; S. Rosc. 132); such usage goes back to comedy (cf. Plaut. Poen. 1110, in a slightly different sense), and a comic flavour is not impossible here (cf. Plaut. Poen. 1108 callidum, Alex. fr. 153–2 Kassel–Austin: På ±æåØŒø ŒæØ# B# B# j # ŒÆŁ#ÅŒ’, ‘the creator in a given art [such as cookery] is not the only master of the pleasure’). But literary Latin is on the whole remarkably cautious about borrowing in this way, especially after the early period: we may contrast with sapientiam in Fin. 2.52 the archaic loan sophia (see Sen. Ep. 89.7, and note Enn. Ann. 211 Skutsch (and Afran. 299 Ribbeck), both the latter with glosses), and the use of philosoph- already established in Plautus and Ennius, which sticks. One may also contrast say Kant’s free creation of philosophical terms from Greek vocabulary in German. Cicero adopts few undomesticated philosophical borrowings, notably atomus (in Lucilius, but probably as Greek; already used by Varro (Antiq. Div. fr. 8 Cardauns) before Cicero’s first extant use at Ac. Post. 6).28 Terence seems to show a marked reduction in Greek borrowings in comparison with Plautus: he comes closer in style to his Greek originals, but makes his language even more firmly separate. There is a sprinkling of loans, mostly longestablished, even in the Aeneid (e.g. metallum, first extant in Lucretius, but widespread in Augustan period; cometes, in Cicero; pontus, already in Ennius; coma, already in Pacuvius; tape-, already in Livius Andronicus). But despite such sprinkling, most Latin writing remains at a great distance in vocabulary from any Greek text it could be using.29 To generalize very roughly, the categories of Greek words in Latin which most obtrude on the reader are relatively recent words for novel objects or technical terms (these overlap), and proper names. In all these cases, there is a special motive to keep the Greek word, whether or not Latinized in alphabet or formation. With names the motive is obvious; the linking of Greek gods with Latin gods of different name forms an exceptional case, and even here, and at an early period, there has been some borrowing (e.g. Apollo, Hercules; cf. in Italy Oscan Apelluneís, Herekleís, Etruscan Apulu, Hercle). With luxurious or novel objects, there is no pre-existing Latin word for the thing (contrast e.g. the later parabolare > parlare), and the Greek word can maintain precision and exoticism—foreign origin being part of the appeal of luxury. But both novel objects and novel words are self-consciously used, and are uncommon in some types of literature. With technical terms, Greek could maintain precision and learned exclusiveness; but in those areas, the higher the literary ambitions of the area or the work, the 28 On the date of Varro’s work see Cardauns (1976), ii.132–3. Cf. further on Cicero and atoms Reinhardt (2005). On IæåØŒø cf. Arnott (1996), 450–1. For loans in Cicero see P. Oksala (1953); the work includes a treatment of Plautus and Terence (15–35). Other important work on loans is offered by T. Oksala (1982, 1984, 1985, 1986, 1991); note the points on proper names at (1982), 116, (1985), 120, (1986), 144, (1991), 93–5. 29 Cf. n. 28 above, and for Plautus see Zagagi (2012).

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more likely we are to find Latin technical terms used or created, often with explicit translation.30 Proper names are in many ways felt to form a linguistically distinctive category (elderly forgetfulness of names will have a cognitive basis). They are often treated distinctively in literature; so in the metre of Attic tragedy, the heroic names from dactylic poetry stick out of the texture. Proper names likewise help to mark a nonRoman setting in say hexameter narrative or parts of history (so too Italian names in Elizabethan and Jacobean drama). It would seem that Greek names were commonly pronounced with Greek accentuation. Quint. Inst. 1.5.24 appears to indicate that the normal pronunciation of Atreus would be Greek, i.e. with no raised pitch (or stress) on the first syllable; when he was young some doctissimi senes would instead follow the correct Latin rule (cf. 23; Audax GLK vii.359.18– 20) by raising the pitch on the first syllable (and stressing it). Prob. GLK iv.25.15– 16 (on -nas) writes Graeca tertiae sunt acuto in nouissima syllaba (cf. 24.18 mimas in mas acutum) contra rationem Latinae linguae, sed -dis facientia genetiuo, Maenas Maenadis. Audax GLK vii.359.22–4 gives a circumflex on the last syllable of Allecto and Theano; the choice of syllable, though not the circumflex, presumably derives from Greek: quia Graeca sunt, Graeca ratione nituntur. Frag. Bob. GLK vii.539.28–540.6 seems to indicate and counter a view that Dryas and Thyas (and cochlis) really have an acute on the last syllable.31 Poets often emphasize the foreign quality of Greek names. Sometimes they are used with unusual metre, especially with groups of names: cf. e.g. Virg. G. 1.437 (imitating Parth. fr. 36 Lightfoot, see pp. 349–50 below) Glauco et Panopeae et Inoo Melicertae (hiatus, correption, four-syllable ending), Aen. 4.146 Cretesque Dryopesque fremunt pictique Agathyrsi (four-syllable ending; perhaps the lengthened -que), 8.159 Laomedontiaden Priamum Salamina petentem (one word fills first half of line). More notably, in poetry it is predominantly these loan words which receive the declension of Greek words: so third-declension genitives in -os frequently in Propertius and Ovid and later poets, once in Virgil (Aen. 8.343–4 gelida monstrat sub rupe Lupercal | Parrhasio dictum Panos de more Lycaei, in a heap of Greek names pointedly juxtaposed with the Roman name). Quintilian thinks Latin poets add Greek names to make moments in their poetry sweet (Inst. 12.10.33, cf. Cic. Orat. 163); this suggests the aural distinctiveness for him of the Greek names from their Latin context.32 As for objects novel or luxurious, literature shows itself self-conscious, and, in most of its branches, restrained. Varro observes multa post luxuria attulit, quorum 30 On the whole area of technical language see Langslow (2000), with the further discussion of larger context in Langslow (2005), Schiefsky (2005), Rochette (2005), Fögen (2009). One should resist moves like that at Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 69, where the discussion slips between ‘technical writing’ and ‘daily usage’. For the names in Oscan and Etrurian see Untermann (2000), 115–16, 318–19, Bonfante and Bonfante (2002), 143–4, 161. 31 Quint. Inst. 1.5.24 probably gives Nerei and Terei because those forms occur in Virgil (Nereus does too, but -ei -ei offer a neater pair); he recalls readings he has heard. 32 Third-declension genitives: Neue and Wagener (1902–5), i.449–57. Greek names tend to be less assimilated to Latin as time goes on, in both phonology and morphology (cf. Quint. Inst. 1.5.58–64); it should be noted that this tendency is not confined to literary texts. Cf. for example the accusatives in -en from names in -es as in CIL vi.10229.78 Eutychen (ad 108; note that ¯PåÅ masc. is found in Greek inscriptions too, and Marcus Aurelius).

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uocabula apparet esse Graeca (LL 5.131; e.g. Apicius confirms). He satirically notes the complicated differentation of places in the modern villa, with multis . . . uocabulis Graecis (RR 2 pr. 2). Yet except for palaestra, most of his heap of words is found elsewhere in literature only in the Younger Pliny’s descriptions (procoeton), Vitruvius (peripteros), Columella (ornithon), and his own discussions (ornithon, oporothece). apodyterion is found both in the Younger Pliny and in a letter of Cicero, with details of a villa (apodyterium comes in five inscriptions); peristyl- is found both in Vitruvius and in Cicero, Pro Domo Sua, Pliny, Epistles Book 10 (3 times), and Suetonius. And villas are a subject of much interest to literature.33 We often see Greek words for novel objects appearing predominantly in particular sorts of prose, and particular sorts of poetry. So toreuma comes nine times in Martial, and once in the Culex; not in other poets. The word is not common in prose except for the Elder Pliny, where the stem comes seven times. It is found three times in all Cicero, twice in the Verrines (at Pis. 67 the absence of the luxurious item is noted, for purposes of attack). ephemeris is novel but not luxurious. In poetry it comes once in Juvenal and once in Propertius and in Ovid’s Amores, in both the latter with scornful incongruity. Prop. 3.23.20 marks the word out with unusual metre: it comes at the end of the pentameter. The word comes more than once in a prose author only in the Historia Augusta (six times). cinnamum shows us something a little different. It is an object exotic even for Greeks (in Greek the word is a Semitic loan). The loan was made early (already in Plautus), from Œ()Æ , a rare by-form of ŒØ() ø  (Nic. Ther. 947; Pseudo-Galen in compound); sometimes it is even distinguished from cinnamomum. So long-established a borrowing is found over a wide range of poetry; what strikes one is the continuing foreignness of word and thing. The word is given a Greek ending in Propertius and Lucan; the thing is most often referred to with explicit emphasis on its Oriental origin. Many poets use the word only once: Plautus, Propertius, Manilius, Seneca tragedies, Persius, Lucan, Petronius verse (and Statius’ mythological narrative; four times in the huge Ovidian corpus). In poetry which embraces contemporary life-styles it occurs more often: five times in Martial, three in the Silvae. In prose the word appears mostly in technical writers: often in Celsus, Pliny the Elder, and Scribonius Largus. But the stem is used six times in Apuleius, sometimes metaphorically.34 Technical language is a huge subject in itself. A few characteristic passages will illustrate the recurrent urge in literature not to rest content with Greek terms but to offer Latin equivalents or explanations, or to omit the Greek altogether. In a British text, the obvious reason for such moves would be that readers understood no other language; but this could clearly be only a partial reason for numerous Latin texts, many or most of whose readers could be expected to have a competence in Greek. Aesthetic and patriotic concerns are clearly of significance; anxiety over mingling is to be displayed. At Cic. Ac. Post. 24–5 Varro is given the offer of using Greek words in expounding philosophy if Latin ones fail him; but he says 33 Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 198, talking of RR 1.2.10, should include the recurrence of oporotheca in 1.59 (three times) and in RR 2 pr. 2. 34 For ephemeris cf. also CIL iii.536; AÉ 1926.153 b), 154 b) has the derivative cinnaminum. For loans from Greek like cinnamum cf. also casia < Gk. < Hebr.; amomum < Gk.; tus < Gk. Ł#, with change.

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enitar ut Latine loquar (25). He discounts long-accepted loans (like philosophia and rhetorice) and notes that many Greek technical terms would be unfamiliar to Greeks. In the discussion at 4–13, it is apparent that even on Cicero’s view some readers of philosophy in Latin will know Greek. Varro, while urging those interested to visit Greece, at this stage thinks that anyone who could read works on philosophy would know Greek—but would not want to read them in Latin.35 The author of the Ad Herennium laments that Latin readers will find his Latin renderings of Greek terms unfamiliar (4.10). The argument, and the Greek tradition, suggest that the Greek terms would not be so unfamiliar for Greek readers (and hence for any Latin readers who knew Greek). But despite readers finding his terminology, at first, asperius et inusitatum, he clearly would not wish to give the Greek terms alone. (He has a plan to avert an unfavourable verdict on his work.) Valerius Maximus apologizes elaborately for using the Greek term strategemata for his section 7.4 (7.4 pr.): quia appellatione uix apte exprimi possunt, Graeca pronuntiatione strategemata dicantur. It is implied that if he could use a Latin term, he would. Frontinus gives a Latin version as well as the Greek term (Strat. 1 pr. 1). But it forms his title; the title stands outside the literary texture of a work, as we shall shortly see, but the reader must presumably understand it. When the term is picked up in the preface to Book 4, the explanation that the ensuing items are exempla potius strategicon quam strategemata makes the implied reader’s grasp of Greek clear enough. This is of note whether or not Book 4 is authentic.36 Vitruvius presents at some length a list of Greek borrowings which are used by Latin speakers with a meaning that does not match Greek usage (6.7.5–7). His purpose is not to change Latin convention, but to inform scholars (ut ea non sint ignota philologis). He is not just writing for those innocent of Greek. Usually his Greek terms follow the Latin: it is clearly supposed that this knowledge will add something for his readers. (Compare Kant’s parenthetical additions of Latin after his German terms.)37 The general treatment of Greek terms indicates that, far from using them with unselfconscious ease as part of a Latin exposition, the writers communicate a keen sense of the separation between the languages, which their texts maintain. This is not simply a matter of comprehension; indeed, there may often be an element of artificiality in the appearance of satisfying a reader’s need for translation.

35 With si te Latina forte deficient cf. Quint. Inst. 1.5.58 confessis quoque Graecis utimur uerbis ubi nostra desunt, quickly followed by sicut illi a nobis non numquam mutuantur. 36 Bloomer (1992), 27 argues Valerius is motivated by a preference for a single noun as heading. Farrell (2001), 30–2 argues that Valerius wishes to suggest such trickiness is un-Roman. Authenticity or otherwise of Book 4: Bendz (1938), cf. (1963), 4–6, Rodgers (2004), 21–2. Cels. 6.18.1 stresses the difficulties of writing on private parts in Latin: it is less of a problem for Greeks, as the words are thrown around in most medical books and discussion. But Celsus is not actually supposing his readers will not know Greek terms: so note the term clyster, which he never explains, in the following paragraph (in Latin the word is mostly found in medical texts). Celsus’ remarks on the avoidance of Latin words for private parts by reasonably modest speakers makes it the more noteworthy that Latin literature avoids Greek words for them, though there are many calques; see J. N. Adams (1982), 228–30. 37 See Langslow (2000), 95–118 for Greek terms explained (much commoner than simple borrowing).

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Separation is conveyed in other ways too. We can see authors exploiting the alien appearance of Greek loan-words. So Livy mocks Perseus’ specially devised phalanx for fighting elephants: sicut pleraque noua commenta mortalium in uerbis uim habent, experiendo . . . sine ullo effectu euanescunt, ita tum elephantomachi nomen tantum sine usu fuerunt (44.41.4; -mace the only MS; -machoe (= -i) Hartel). The resounding compound, so unlike Latin in appearance, helps to deflate the elaborate pretension, which had made Perseus hope to outdo Alexander (Zonar. 9.22.7– 8, Dio Cass. i.295 Boissevain).38 Lucretius uses homoeomeria (or -ea?) twice in a few lines, with no necessity, and against his usual practice (1.830, 834). He emphatically marks the term out as Greek (831), sets it in a line with the name Anaxagorae, and puts it more globally in the singular where other sources use the plural (Anaxag. A 45 Diels–Kranz etc.; it is not clear that Anaxagoras even used the stem › Ø æ-). Despite his apology here for the poverty of Latin, the Greek compound seems to be employed with some hostile humour against the theory (not against Greek or the Greeks).39 We may add a word on titles, which are often in Greek. Cf. in earlier times e.g. Ennius’ Hedyphagetica, Terence’s Heauton Timorumenos, Accius’ Parerga and Pragmatica (in Greek letters at Gell. pr. 8), Valerius Soranus’  ¯  # (meaning uncertain, but perhaps the prefixed list of contents suggests not a poem), later Virgil’s Georgica, Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica, etc. Cicero’s De Inventione was evidently called Rhetorica by him: cf. Quint. Inst. 2.14.4. Titles are not really part of the work itself. They would appear on a label attached to the papyrus roll, and also after the body of writing; even in the latter position they seem more an external than an authorial statement: cf. e.g. P. Oxy. XLII 3000 (i bc/i ad) col. ii 3– 5  Eæ B# |  ¯æÆ#Ł[F#] | IæØŁ (e#)  . . . . [ (‘Eratosthenes’ Hermes. Number of lines: 1, . . . ’). This is not to say that they are seen as unconnected with the author’s wishes: cf. e.g. Cic. Tusc. 1.34 nostri philosophi nonne in iis libris ipsis quos scribunt de contemnenda gloria sua nomina inscribunt? (title and name go together). Some Greeks’ more artistic titles are discussed by Pliny (Nat. pr.) and Gellius (pr. 3–10). But titles do not, as in a modern book, form an integral part of the text itself; they are an addition to something discrete. Virgil could not use a word like georgicos in his poem. Titles show the readiness with which Greek is used outside the body of a literary text, and so confirm the austerity of the separation within.40

SCATTERING Borrowing has indicated that in an area where it might at first seem that Greek is seeping into Latin, the distinctness of the languages is felt and kept visible. The firmness of the separation can be seen, again paradoxically, through the few Latin 38 Even if the word appeared in Polybius, it could not have had the same effect; and ŒÆa e ºª at 29.17.2 does not have the same reference to words as Livy’s in uerbis. Cf. Walbank (1957–79), iii.28– 9, 389. Livy never uses a compound in -mach- elsewhere. Hartel’s conjecture is recommended by KºçÆ å#; KºçÆ åÅ# is not found (elephantomachae H. J. Müller). 39 On the stem cf. Piazzi (2005), 52–4; Sider (2005a), 94, 172 n. 3. 40 On titles cf. B.-J. Schröder (1999), 9–91.

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works which use with relative freedom unadapted Greek: words, phrases, lines. The reaction of Horace (really Horace’s narrator) to Lucilius’ use of Greek is notable for its strength. Horace has just emphasized his own allegiance to Greek tradition, that is Old Comedy (Sat. 1.10.16–20). Lucilius’ defenders counter with Lucilius’ mixing of Greek and Latin words; Horace ripostes that this is not a great achievement, and they riposte that the effect is pleasant. Horace conquers with two advancing arguments: (i) such mixture would be out of place in a legal speech (so it is not a good thing everywhere, and it implies forgetfulness of one’s country and race); (ii) specifically, it would be foolish in poetry: in writing Greek verses one would be adding to the already vast hordes of Greek poets. (A Romanized parody of Greek poetry is deployed in Horace’s fictional dream.) Patriotism comes in, but also the idea that one would be joining a different literary series (see Ch. 1). (i) deploys a type of literature particular averse to Greek (see p. 155 below). The view that Horace counters is highly unusual, and may be invented or distorted.41 Lucilius himself does not really blend Greek and Latin like two wines (Hor. Sat. 1.10.23–4). Except for one-word loans in ordinary use (which themselves show things about society), the Greek words, phrases, and quotations in Lucilius are meant to stick out of the Latin texture that contains them. This is explicit in 15–16 Marx = I 12 Charpin (note semnos, ‘grandly’), 88–94 = II 19 (Albucius’ love of being called Greek mocked by Scaevola), 540–6 = XVII 2 (clashes between Homeric beautiful women and Latin ugliness; 543–4 = 4–5 play on the choice of word). It is virtually explicit in 84–5 = II 15.1–2 (lexis [‘words’] compostae like wavy mosaic; again mockery of Albucius), 110–13 = III 8 (ÆNªºØ #, ‘steep’, marks out the seriously scary mountains; cf., besides Homer and + Hom. Il. 9.15 a AT and 16.4 AbT, Lyc. 1324–5, Euphorion SH 415 col. i 14), 181–8 = V 1 (play on self and perhaps friend’s imagined frivolity), 343 = IX 3.3 (Greek critical terminology confronted with Ennius’ Annales), 784–90 = XXVIII 29 (the old Roman formula and Greek philosophical explanation jarringly juxtaposed, in a law-case with terrible effect). Lucilius is certainly not just following the norms of a time supposedly less anxious about Greek loans (cf. Macr. Sat. 6.4.17–22): Republican tragedy and comedy use Greek loans with care and purpose. Lucilius’ humour is apparent, as is his evocation of conversational games.42 Varro’s Menippean Satires add play between languages to play between verse and prose, philosophy and quotidian existence. Examples of evident incongruity: 62 Astbury ŒÆ åæÅ#Ø# enim uera cum in candelabro pendet strigile; 176 . . . strabones sunt facti: habet quiddam enim !ºŒı#ØŒ [‘attractive’: intellectual word, particularly used in medical writers, and philosophers] prouincialis formonsula uxor, 291 cui celer Ø !e# º

Æ# ºª# [argument with only one premise; cf. Hülser (1987–8), }4.5.1.2 (iii 1380–90, frr. 1050–7)], Antipatri Stoici filius, rutro caput displanat [incongruously violent physical language].43

41 On Horace’s argument cf. Rudd (1966), 94–5, 116–17, Scodel (2009), 214–15 (perhaps somewhat unfair), Gowers (2012), 317–23. 42 On Greek in Lucilius cf. Mariotti (1960), esp. 41–92, Rudd (1966), 111–14, Kaimio (1979), 307–8 (too inclined to periodize), Petersmann (1999), 296–302, Baier (2001), J. N. Adams (2003a), 19–20, 326–7, 353–4, Chahoud (2004). On Greek loans in drama cf. Jocelyn (1967), 230 (add aer, astrologus, and euhoe vel sim. for Greek words in Ennius’ tragedies). 43 Related play on !ºŒı#ØŒ# at Athen. 5.185c, with åØ . . . Ø (‘have something’), of wine.

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Highly unusual is the lost dialogue of Apuleius (see Flor. 18.38–43) which introduced a hymn to Aesculapius in both Greek and Latin (two sections?). The dialogue had two Greek speakers and one Latin speaker (paulatim 18.43 suggests some intermingling of languages, not just separate sections); Persius evidently speaks (Attic) Greek in conversation with Severus in Latin. The whole construction is evidently part of Apuleius’ display of talent across all genres and both languages. Clearly the mastery of both was meant to seem something uncommon, and was in some way deployed to Apuleius’ disadvantage when he was prosecuted (Apol. 4.1 ‘tam Graece quam Latine’—pro nefas—‘disertissimum’, cf. 39.4). A speech of his moved from a first part in Attic Greek to a second in Latin; the Latin transition comes at Flor. V p. 6 Moreschini (transmitted as part of the De Deo Socratis).44 The Greek which abounds in Cicero’s letters has been much discussed. Here it is enough to mention that it comes much more often in the more intimate letters, to Atticus. The letters Ad Familiares for the most part come closer to works that Cicero might eventually have published; in them the Greek is mostly confined to infrequent individual words or short phrases. One can see the sense of incongruous game in 9.4 (a note to Varro, with a play on logic); in 13.15 to Caesar the quotes from Homer and Euripides are meant to be a surprise in the formalized genre of recommendation letters (3; note 2 Homeri magniloquentia): a highly selfconscious experiment. In 3.7.5–6, to Ap. Claudius Pulcher (cos. 54, RE Claudius 297), the use of Greek is pointed and varied. Thus Greek appears first with the suggestion that if necessary Appius ask Athenodorus, a Stoic in his own province (RE 19), what PªØÆ (‘nobility’) is. The Greek word sets Stoic values (cf. Stoici 5) above Roman aristocratic values; it appeals to Appius’ doctrina (cf. Brut. 267) and justifies Cicero’s pride. The distinctness of Greek is strongly felt.45 But these letters form a striking contrast in their use of Greek with the treatises and still more with the speeches. Here any unmediated Greek words are rare in the extreme: so the early Verr. 2.50, 5.148, and in Latin script 2.154; psephisma (‘decree’) in the Pro Flacco (15, 17, etc.) ironically takes up D. Laelius’ pro-Greek usage (a twist at 75). At the start of the First Philippic, Cicero says solemnly . . . ieci fundamenta pacis, Atheniensiumque renouaui uetus exemplum; Graecum etiam uerbum usurpaui quo tum in sedandis discordiis usa erat ciuitas illa (1). The appeal to Athenian history is linked with the avoidance of a Greek word which Cicero employed on that occasion, in a speech that was not published (the word was probably I Å#Æ, ‘amnesty’). The avoidance cannot have an awkward effect in such a place as 44 Notable for the mixing of languages in actual life, evidently exploited by the dialogue, is Dig. 45.1.1.6 (Ulpian). 45 The point is probably rather that the wise man is truly Pª # (‘noble’) than that PªØÆ is worthless: SVF iii Chrysipp. nos. 594, 597, rather than 350. On Greek in Cicero’s letters cf. Hutchinson (1998), 13–15; Swain (2002); J. N. Adams (2003a), 308–47, an admirable and wide-ranging treatment. There is no doubt that Atticus himself inspires Greek (cf. J. N. Adams (2003a), 318); compare Asher inspiring English in Schopenhauer’s correspondence (Asher is German but knows English very well, cf. e.g. Schopenhauer, Gesammelte Briefe (ed. Hübscher2, Bonn, 1987), no. 495). But the special nature of Cicero’s and Atticus’ relationship and of these letters is also an essential condition for the abundance of Greek. Greek is used much more frequently in the letters to Quintus (after the public 1.1) than in the Ad Familiares; this is because of Cicero’s closeness to Quintus and not because of Quintus’ exceptional command of Greek.

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Phil. 1.1; it underlines the solemnity. But the publication of the speech clearly makes a difference: later, Suetonius notes as striking Tiberius’ abstention from Greek in the Senate, and his apology for using the Greek word monopolium (‘monopoly’, Tib. 71.1; cf. Dio Cass. 57.15.2). Tacitus like Cicero underlines the dignity of his genre by declining to give a Greek word at Ann. 15.71.1 Milichus praemiis ditatus conseruatoris sibi nomen Graeco eius rei uocabulo adsumpsit (an extra cognomen Soter). He is also expressing scorn for the servile Greek freedman who has betrayed his master and Piso’s conspiracy (cf. 54.4).46

PERFORMANCE AND IMPACT The distinctness of Greek and Latin works is made visible in other ways too. As has been set out elsewhere, Greek and Latin texts looked very different; the difference is shared with inscriptions. Interpuncts, the use of space, diagonals at the end of lines of poetry, and other features create a quite characteristic visual appearance. The Romans chose (for most of our period) to hold on to their traditions: the option of making their books more like Greek books was clearly available. Even the convenient interpuncts could have been abandoned, as they were in the late first century ad under Greek influence.47 More intricate is distinctness in performance: this is seen as a matter partly of choice, partly of the languages’ intrinsic character. The topic will bring us to the Romans’ general conception of Greek and its difference from Latin. Q. Haterius (cos. suff. 5 bc, PIR2 H 24; born in the 70s bc) was a particularly famous orator of the Augustan and Tiberian periods; he spoke at great and unusual speed. Seneca the Younger urges against such rapidity; it would be tolerable in Greeks, but is contrary to the deliberateness of the Roman language, which magis se circumspicit et aestimat praebetque aestimandum (Ep. 40.11–12). In Seneca the Elder’s depiction, the speed goes together with other aspects: Haterius alone of all the Romans transferred the Greek facultas into the Latin language (Contr. 4 pr. 7). Seneca has performance particularly in mind (note that Haterius left no written speeches, Tac. Ann. 4.61). Haterius, he says, had a copia of words, and of subjects, and treatments; he declaimed extempore to general audiences.48 Valerius Maximus tells how the magistrates of old forced Greeks in the provinces to make speeches through interpreters; this removed the Greeks’ linguae uolubilitate, qua plurimum ualent (2.2.2). Valerius approves; the grauitas and pondus of Roman power should not be surrendered to the inlecebris et suauitati litterarum. Here the weight is not explicitly associated with Latin; but the contrast with Greek suggests the kind of link more explicitly seen in Greg. Thaum. Orig. 1.7

46 For I Å#Æ cf. Ramsey (2003), 86, add Plut. Cic. 42.3  Ø# c #ªŒºÅ ŁÅÆı#

Ø Å#Æ Å I Å#Æ . . . łÅç#Æ#ŁÆØ (‘he persuaded the senate to imitate the Athenians and vote for an amnesty’). On Greek in the treatises cf. Glucker (2012). 47 See Hutchinson (2008), 21–3. 48 Great speed could sometimes be effective: note Cic. De Orat. 2.225 summa grauitate et celeritate uerborum.

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(PG x.1053A), probably ad 238. Here Gregory, who had been subjected to education in law and Latin (5.57–62, 1065A–C), finds Latin ŒÆÆ ºÅŒØŒBØ b ŒÆd IºÆÇØ ŒÆd #ı#åÅ ÆØÇ ÅØ [Koetschau (1894) here adds #ÅØ, ‘all’, with a little manuscript justification] BØ Kı#ÆØ BØ Æ#غ،BØ, çæØŒBØ b ‹ ø# K  (‘overwhelming and pompous and fitted to the authority of the Empire, but to me burdensome [not ‘vulgar’]’). The laws of the Empire themselves are very Greek: #  ØE# ŒÆd ØŒºØ ŒÆd ŁÆı Æ# (‘wise, precise, intricate, and admirable’).49 The implications of the Senecas’ remarks for actual performance may be affected by the speed which non-native speakers often attribute to native speakers; but the Romans had much exposure to the delivery of Greek and Latin oratory. The evidence need not imply that most Greek orators spoke faster than most Latin orators; but a connection is made in the passages above between Greek and fluency, Latin and weight. Ethical, political, and national elements come into these characterizations; but aesthetic admiration for Greek and the Greeks is apparent in Seneca the Elder, and grudgingly implied by Valerius. Quintilian is responding to an aesthetic challenge in urging ‘us’ Romans to respond to the superior subtilitas of Greek with superior pondus (Inst. 12.10.36). These perceptions relate to important aspects of Latin writing. Proto-Italic and Latin undergo various changes which reduce and increase the proportion of light syllables. The final upshot is that Latin appears less abundant in short syllables than Greek, and thus less swift. Diomedes writes (on prose compositio): plurimum uero auctoritatis et ponderis habent longae, celeritatis breues; quae si miscentur quibusdam longis currunt, si continuantur exultant (GLK i.467.4–6). For the same general perception in verse cf. e.g. curret of the second half of the pentameter at Ter. Maur. 1749–50 GLK vi.377; for both cf. Quint. Inst. 9.4.139–41: runs of short syllables add to celeritas, detract from grauitas. One Roman response to the difference from Greek is to emulate, match, or outdo the rivals. So Catullus not only writes iambic poems without consecutive longs (such as 4), but writes a substantial poem in the galliambic metre (63), making the most of its opportunities for consecutive short syllables (contrast the opening of Call. fr. 761 Pfeiffer: probably the beginning of the poem). The metrical transference from Greece to Rome compares interestingly with the fate of its subject, who leaves civilization in Greece for Asiatic wildness. Another response is to emphasize weight. Seneca’s iambics, quite unlike those of Greek tragedy, never allow an iambus in the fifth ‘foot’ (resolutions slightly complicate the question of speed). He has a strong preference for two longs at the start of the line. Horace, while displaying metrical virtuosity like Catullus, in the aeolic base makes two long syllables normal where Sappho, Alcaeus, and Theocritus freely use ̄ ̆, ̆ ̄, and even ̆ ̆. At various other points in his metres he similarly institutionalizes consecutive long syllables.50

49 See on Gregory and this speech Crouzel (1983), Klein and Guyot (1996), 1–73. The Valerius is discussed by Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 59–63; the notion of anxiety perhaps implies a reading with too little sense of the artifice in the passage. 50 On the loss and gain of light syllables see Sihler (1995), 68–70, 77–80, 83–5, 90. Call. fr. 761 Pfeiffer is probably Callimachus indeed: see Dale (2007). Seneca strongly prefers a long syllable at the third-foot caesura (that caesura is the norm in him); but Greek tragedy too has a preference for a long

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The copia of words which Greeks can show in performance and in writing rests linguistically on the great number of words which the Greek language is thought to possess. This often seems to be viewed as a fact of nature; but writers are also aware of the accumulated Greek achievement in specialized fields which has built up their technical vocabulary. There is no doubt the general view was that Greek had a greater abundance of words than Latin, and especially of words which a writer in a given field might need; but Roman authors do not simply accept defeat.51 Germ. fr. vi Gain, where Housman’s quidni te will be along the right lines, addresses Greece with its diuite lingua. But the poet says he will outstrip her: a racing image. At Gell. 2.26.7 Fronto, talking of vocabulary, says he is not denying that the Greek language is prolixior fusiorque quam nostra. But he shows that Latin is richer in the particular area where Favorinus had thought it poorer (8, cf. 5); and Favorinus gracefully allows that Fronto has come equal in the race with Greek (20). Lucr. 1.136–9, 831–2 depicts the egestas of Latin in comparison to Greek. But it is a challenge Lucretius will rise to, and surmounts in a specific case (140–5, 833 (see p. 153 above)). At Quint. Inst. 12.10.34 the problem with the summa paupertas of Latin is partly one of meaning (the mot juste is lacking) and partly one of style (the same word gets repeated). The answer to the copia of Attic and of Greek (34, 35) is changing weapons to rerum inuentione (36, pugnandum est). Romans can at least win with a different sort of copia (36), oratorical abundance rather than the exact word. It is suggested that Roman words are fortiores for the rerum . . . tenuitatem that could be handled in Greek (35; cf. Hor. Carm. 2.16.38 spiritum Graiae tenuem Camenae). Greek again is precise, light, refined.52 This combination of confession and competition appears under a somewhat different guise in Cicero. It was no doubt actually his opinion that Latin was richer, an opinion in conscious opposition to the usual belief; he hints at the existence of both views as early as Caecin. 51 (69 bc) non modo in nostra lingua, quae dicitur esse inops. Already there is a link to his own eloquence: cf. the mockmodest non copioso homini ad dicendum at 64 on the same issue (note also 53, of L. Crassus; he has just shown his abundance of vocabulary in 48–50). In the opening of the De Finibus, he says ita sentio et saepe disserui, Latinam linguam non modo non inopem, ut uulgo putarent, sed locupletiorem etiam esse quam Graecam. quando enim nobis, uel dicam aut oratoribus bonis aut poetis, postea quidem quam fuit quem imitarentur, ullus orationis uel copiosae uel elegantis ornatus defuit? (1.10). Though not naming himself, he suggests that his own

syllable at that caesura. The total structure of the Senecan line makes a long syllable predominate in all three ancipitia. 51 On the general view cf. e.g. J. N. Adams (2003b), 202. More widely see Fögen (2000), 61–76 etc., Farrell (2001), 28–51. 52 lingua in Germ. fr. vi is presumably an ablative of quality with te, as taken by Gain; even if it referred, improbably, to the speaker, the implication would be the same. At Phaedr. App. Perott. 28.1–4 the Greek boast of uerborum copia is mockingly rebutted in a particular instance. Lucretius’ ranking of the languages appears with a more positive spin at Man. 2.888–9 proxima Graiae | nostra . . . linguae.

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practice rebuts the general opinion; the argument is shifting away from pure vocabulary (elegantis, ornatus). At 3.51 Cato adopts the usual view of Greek as copiosa, Latin as inops; but Cicero’s contrary view is noted. It is observed that Zeno had to invent and is implied that Romans should be allowed to invent. In what follows, Cato, through the author Cicero, conveys the meaning, as in Lucretius, and copes perfectly with the problem of terminology. Tusc. 2.35 professes to follow the usual opinion that Greek is copiosior, but promptly worsts Greece in this instance, with an aggressive address (compare Germanicus): you think you always abound with words, but are sometimes inops. (Cf. also 29–30.) Cicero is less remote from the other passages than might appear. At ND 1.8, referring to himself and Latin philosophical writers inspired by him, he says tantum profecisse uidemur ut a Graecis ne uerborum quidem copia uinceremur. He (and his colleagues) have changed the outcome of the competition. At Fam. 4.4.1 Servius has written to Cicero claiming his own orationis paupertate and Cicero’s diuitias orationis; Cicero, though professing to think Servius is joking, acknowledges he is not uerborum admodum inopem, and finds other things to praise in Servius. At Att. 12.52.3 he says he is contributing, apparently to some work which is virtually transcription (and probably translation), uerba tantum . . . , quibus abundo. The phrase is humorous, but not without pride; as ever, Cicero handles self-praise with nuance.53 Yet Romans do not always compete. Plato, or rather the oral exposition and discussion of Plato, has shown Seneca with special force the Latin uerborum . . . egestas (Ep. 58.1), or, as he puts it with more political paradox, the angustias Romanas (7). He observes, criticizing his own people, that they lose the words they did have; and he rises to an amusing climax or anticlimax: the vexing word is not an abstruse refinement but one basic syllable: Z in e Z (‘is’ in ‘that which is’, 7).

RIGHTNESS In many of the passages above, Greek is marked out by its perceived intellectualism and subtlety. Likewise Gellius finds that the sophistic arguments with which 53 Atticus’ worries de lingua Latina seem in view of all the above likely to relate to the poverty of Latin, despite Shackleton Bailey (1965–70), v.341–2. The dices does not make sense on his view: Atticus is supposed to be worried. It seems implausible that the I ªæÆçÆ are not Cicero’s works but his or a helper’s list of Greek concepts (Bringmann (2012), 32): ‘transcriptions’ would be an odd denotation, adfero an unlikely verb, and minore labore fiunt would be separated in reference from tantum. Bringmann’s conjecture aliaque is interesting (but no examples in Cicero). On Cicero’s abundance of words: at Cael. 45 he points out his pupil Caelius’ copiam sententiarum atque uerborum; defendendi haec causa, non gloriandi loquor precedes. Caesar’s praise of Cicero in his De Analogia (fr. 1 Funaioli) as principem copiae (of oratorical speaking; dicendi in Cic. Brut. 255) must at least include vocabulary. Fronto faults Cicero precisely on the point he is proud of: though Cicero handles most types of word copiosissime uberrimeque, he does not go for surprising (archaic?) words, 51.5–18 Van den Hout. Note that at Brut. 310 Cicero presents himself as perhaps bringing the plura ornamenta of Greek oratio into Latin; Fin. 1.10 suggests breadth of vocabulary will be partly in mind. abundantia is thought Asianic at Quint. Inst. 12.10.18; we see a rich vocabulary, but not really pairs of synonyms in the Ciceronian manner (legal exclusions do not count), in Antiochus I of Commagene, OGIS 383, cf. Crowther and Facella (2003), Wagner and Petzl (2003).

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he and his friends played games in Athens Latina oratione non satis scie ac paene etiam inlepide exponuntur (18.13.5). But this aspect leads on to others. Gellius (and speakers in Gellius) find that Greek across a range of genres and periods attains simplicity, brevity, straightforwardness, truth, where Latin is more extreme, verbose, or casual. The Greek language and Greek authors are intermingled here. So, in the passages Gellius compares, Homer’s line is simplicior et sincerior than Virgil’s (13.27.3; Virgil’s is øæØŒæ#, ‘more post-Homeric’); Pindar is closer to truth than Virgil (17.10.11: Favorinus, on a passage he thinks unrevised; note 17.10.8). Demosthenes’ depiction is sinceriusque et humanis magis condicionibus conueniens than Sallust’s (2.27.3: Castricius); Menander has a sinceritatem ueritatemque uerborum not caught by Caecilius, and more uenustas (2.23.11, 21; cf. 2–3, 12 simplex et uerum et delectabile). Theophrastus writes inquisitius . . . exactiusque pressiusque than Cicero (1.3.21, cf. 12 strictim atque cursim of Cicero, pensiculate atque enucleate of Theophrastus; but mostly Cicero has done a good job with Theophrastus, 11). Cato’s utterance is laxioribus paulo longioribusque uerbis comprehensa than Musonius’ (16.1.3, cf. 1 of Musonius’ (illud Graecum 2), uere atque luculente dictum uerbisque est breuibus et rotundis dictum). Not just Gellius’ own but Latina oratio could not attain the proprietates of passages in Plato’s Gorgias (484c5–(?)e3, 485a3–(?)e2), where Callicles, undesirable though he is, speaks uere . . . ingenueque (10.22.1, cf. 24 cum quadam indissimulabili ueritate).54 We can see the relation between Gellius’ conception and Quintilian’s exhortation to compete by doing what Latin does best (see pp. 157, 158 above). Latin lacks the gratia of the Attic language (see below), and Greeks handle tenuiora haec ac pressiora better (12.10.35, 38). But we should let a stronger wind fill our sails (37); when we do treat the tenuiora . . . ac pressiora, we should produce by external seasoning the uerborum gratia which Latin words lack in themselves (38). Some of Gellius’ features others could think matched and outdone by Romans. Brevity was especially promising: Sallust here, in a particular passage, beat even Thucydides (Arellius Fuscus in Sen. Contr. 9.1.13).55

ATTIC AND SOUND We find matching again when Caesar seems to think that Terence equals the Greeks in his puri sermonis, though not his comic energy (fr. 1 Courtney (aequato . . . honore | cum Graecis 4–5), cf. Cic. fr. 2 Courtney; for puri cf. e.g. Cic. De Orat. 3.29, and Dion. Hal. Lys. 2 below). So the more Latin Terence’s language, the more like Attic—by analogy. For both Attic and Latin could be seen as needing preservation from pollution. Cf. Caes. Analog. fr. 2 Funaioli, on avoiding the 54 The extent of the Platonic passages largely omitted by the authoritative MSS has probably been more or less rightly seen by recentiores: so 24 suggests. 55 See above p. 30. Tert. Anim. 42.2 CCSL ii.845.9–10 multo coactius Seneca may not mean ‘more concisely’ (cf. Waszkink (2010), 460), but no doubt Seneca (fr. 28 Haase; cf. Tro. 387; Lausberg (1970), 163–7) wished to outdo Epicur. [5] 139 II Arrighetti. Cf. Prov. 6.6 contemnite dolorem: aut soluetur aut soluet and Epicur. [6] 4.

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inauditum . . . uerbum, and Cic. Brut. 258–9 (Atticus), taking up from Caesar’s work, on the Scipionic age of innocence in speaking Latin, and on those who then flooded into Athens and Rome inquinate loquentes, so that the language expurgandus est. This, then, is a further aspect. The charm of Greek comedy is felt to be due at least in part to the language, but to the Attic dialect of the language in particular. Indeed Quintilian thinks that Old Comedy, elegans et uenusta, is almost alone in keeping sinceram illam sermonis Attici gratiam (Inst. 10.1.65). Terence’s writings are elegantissima, and have gratia, but the Roman language itself does not seem to admit illam solis concessam Atticis uenerem (99–100). So in this race we Romans maxime claudicamus (cf. 12.10.38 in comoediis non contendimus, but there because we cannot do slight subjects). Earlier Quintilian is prepared to allow that elegantia et quidam uelut atticismos inueniri potest in the language of Roman comedy (1.8.8). The gratiam sermonis Attici extends to Athenian oratory at 12.10.35; at 9.4.144 Latin orators have less uenustatis et gratiae in their words than Attic orators. This notion of Attic grace connects with ideas held by Greeks under the Empire; they talk much more about the qualities of Attic than about those of Greek. One may think particularly of Lucian: he attributes å æØ# ØŒ (‘Attic grace’) to his own works (Zeux. 2), to Thucydides (by implication: Hist. Conscr. 15), and to the conversations of the recent Athenian philosopher Demonax (Demon. 7). This charm is partly created by qualities in the language that can exist outside literature or cultivated society: any unlearned Athenian will surpass the most learned men of Asia in the sound of his voice, by speaking suauiter (Cic. De Orat. 3.42 (Crassus); compare Brut. 172 on the Attic old woman who detects that Theophrastus is not a native (misunderstood by Quint. Inst. 8.1.2)). Gellius, unlike the slave’s owner, delights when an Athenian slave-boy makes some fairly ordinary remarks perquam Attice (17.8.1). He says, now talking of the past, that the Athenians in general spoke elegantius (5.20.3).56 Cicero allows Latin as spoken in Rome to reach a position that matches that of Greek as spoken in Attica (not just Athens). Although writers commonly separate Greek, not Latin, into distinct dialects (e.g. Varro, LL 5.175; Quint. Inst. 1.5.29, 12.10.34), at Cic. De Orat. 3.42 Crassus makes the most uncultured urban speaker of Latin excel the litteratissimus scholar Q. Valerius Soranus from Sora (near Arpinum!). At Brut. 172 Cicero himself talks of a sonus of Roman urbani like that of Attici. Quintilian talks of a Roman urbanitas of words, pronunciation, and gesture; he compares it to the famous atticismos among the Greeks which gives the true flavour of Athens (6.3.107).57 One could imagine a line that ran between the charms of Attic and the closeness of comedy to Attic speech and the closeness of some Attic oratory to Attic speech; that would enable Roman Atticist orators to achieve analogically the charms of Attic in Latin (on the view that Latin and Attic are similarly urbanus). The Roman 56 Lucian’s imagery of thyme (Hist. Conscr. 15) appears earlier at Quint. Inst. 12.10.25, in both places as if standard; note too the Ł# ı E . . . ºØØ (‘sweet-speaking honey of the Attic tongue’) at SGO 02/09/17.2 (iv ad). Thyme was the food of the supreme bees of Mt. Hymettus; cf. Val. Max. 1.6.3, Plin. Nat. 21.57, Mart. 11.42.3–4. 57 For Cicero on Rome and Athens see J. N. Adams (2007), 129–32, and on Latin in Rome more generally 123–47.

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Atticists allegedly wanted to match the Athenians and to be ‘Attic’: Cic. Brut. 285 Atticos . . . uolo imitari (see pp. 29–30 above), 287 Atticorum similes esse uolumus, 289 isti . . . Attici nostri, isti Attici, sint sane Attici, Orat. 23 aut dici se desiderant Atticos aut ipsi Attice uolunt dicere, 234 ita facti sunt repente Attici!, Opt. Gen. 11 se ipsos Attice dicere (note the alternative view that no Romans speak Attice).58 These Atticists, or at least some of them, would seem to have cultivated Lysias in particular: Cic. Brut. 64 (Lysias) habet enim certos sui studiosos, who aim at (consectentur) gracilitas (cf. 68, with Hyperides), Orat. 30 qui Lysiam sequuntur, Opt. Gen. 9 imitemur, si potuerimus, Lysiam, Quint. Inst. 12.10.21. Lysias is seen by Dionysius as the best canon of the Attic language, unsurpassed in purity of language (e ŒÆŁÆæØ c Ø ºŒ; cf. puro . . . fonti in relation to Lysias at Quint. Inst. 10.1.78); that is the most important thing in speeches (Lys. 2 i.9.16–20 Usener–Radermacher). Lysias keeps to ordinary words, though his apparent resemblance to the speech of men in the street (NØHÆØ) hides an artistry which makes him quite different (3 i.11.17–12.2). He has simplicity and charm (Isae. 4 i.96.13–15; for å æØ#, ‘charm’, cf. Lys. 10 i.18.8–10, etc.; Quint. Inst. 9.4.17 gratiam, quae in eo [Lysias] maxima est, simplicis atque inadfectati coloris). He speaks ø# ŒÆd ŒåÆæØ# ø# ŒÆd K Æçæø# (‘pleasantly, agreeably, and charmingly’, Lys. 11 i.20.5; cf. Cic. Orat. 29 uenustissimus of Lysias); his writing is HØ IØŒØ# HØ håÆæØ# (‘graceful in its Atticism’, Imit. Epit. 5.1 ii.211.14–15). Cicero claims that what the Atticists like in Lysias is that he is tenuis . . . atque inornatus (Orat. 29, cf. Brut. 64 gracilitates, tenuitas, subtilitate, Opt. Gen. 9 tenuitatem; Orat. 28 qui horride inculteque dicat, modo eleganter enucleateque faciat, eum solum Attice dicere). One can see here the possible shape of a coherent Atticist position, somewhat distorted by Cicero. But Cicero, despite his matching of Roman Latin and Attic Greek, resists the Atticists’ move. Even the skinny Lysias can show muscle (Brut. 64) and is multis locis grandior (Opt. Gen. 9); and speaking Attice includes Demosthenic ornament and elevation (e.g. Orat. 28–9). Where Cicero made the best forms of spoken Latin and spoken Greek match in suauitas (De Orat. 3.42), Quint. Inst. 12.10.27–33 presents the very sounds of Greek in general as aesthetically superior to those of Latin. In the structure of Quintilian’s whole section, 27–33 form, for Roman ambition, a low point before he rises to show how Romans can challenge Greeks (the strategy appears too in the anticipation at 9.4.145–6). But the passage also shows the aural attractiveness of Greek for Romans. The words he uses of Greek and its sounds (sometimes individual sounds) are iucundus (frequently), hilaris, tinnire, dulcis (twice), suauis. Some of these words appear in evocative phrases: (letters) quibus nullae apud eos dulcius spirant (27); hilarior protinus renidet oratio (when we borrow these letters, 28). Of Latin and its sounds he uses durus (twice, including the general ipsis . . . sonis durior (27), cf. mollire temptauerint (33)), tristis, horridus (twice), frango, mugire, asper, rigor. The terrible ‘f ’ paene non humana uoce, uel omnino non uoce

58 On Cic. Orat. 234 see Kroll (1913), 199. At Opt. Gen. 15 better not read nostri homines qui se Atticos uolunt quid ab illis exigant (qui se Att. uol. after exigant MSS).

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potius, inter discrimina dentium efflanda est (29; cf. Cic. Orat. 163 insuauissima littera, by contrast with splendida Greek names).59 The descriptions seem arbirtrary to us; they are coherent with, and perhaps inspired by, the wider picture of both languages that we have seen. In Greek, it is commoner to find the idea that some Greek letters are less beautiful, some more so (thus Dion. Hal. Comp. 16 ii.63.11 Usener–Radermacher ªæ

ÆÆ ŒÆº (‘beautiful letters’), though his emphasis is more on combination; contrast Quint. Inst. 9.4.145). So Quintilian’s remarks on final nu appear in a different structure at Theophr. fr. 687 Fortenbaugh (Demetr. Eloc. 174–5). Pausimachus, a Euphonist, particularly dwells on pleasing and unpleasing combinations of sounds within Greek poetry; he thinks that when all is devised rightly, !ººÅ[Ø#] e# | I ºEÆØ (‘true Greek style is achieved’, Philod. Poem. 1 col. xciv 24–5 Janko). Thus for him an ideal Greek can be produced; for Quintilian, Greek is intrinsically beautiful.

LOVE AND STRIFE A profile of the Greek language has emerged. Romans find it rich in words and subtleties, in use suited alike to sophistication and to simplicity—a simplicity both unpretentious and penetrating. Greek is found apter than Latin to swiftness in performance, and intrinsically swifter in rhythm; it is more suited to lightness. It is sweet and graceful, especially in Attic. This picture is made vivid by opposition with a picture of Latin: tougher, weightier, more restricted, less exact, less appealing. Moral and political aspects to the opposition are sometimes apparent. The difference leads to competition and strategies for equality, local and individual or more general. But admiration and enjoyment have also emerged; these take us back to the beginning of the chapter. It is even easier for Romans to like Greek than to like Greeks; they can use the language themselves, they have been taught the literature, and take pleasure in deploying both aptly. Claudius, amorem praestantiamque [excellence in] linguae [sc. Graecae] occasione omni professus (Suet. Claud. 42.1), was only taking to extremes a tendency common among the élite. We have seen Claudius and others actually writing in Greek for a public audience; but revealing too is the exploitation of Greek literature in contexts far from literary production and performance. A quotation from Greek literature, even on momentous occasions, not only conveyed self-control and distance from circumstance, but also one’s culture, wit, and intimate affection for the poetry. So Pompey, entering the boat where he will be killed, turns back to his family with two lines from Sophocles, which suggest both his wry acceptance of Ptolemy’s mastery and his

59 Russell’s claim that ç was commonly pronounced like f in Quintilian’s time ((2001), v.298) depends on an inference from inscriptions that philologists would not accept. Certainly in Athens aspiration seems to persist: cf. Threatte (1980–96), i.468–70. Aeolicae . . . litterae (12.10.29) introduces a complication between the languages, which results from theory: see pp. 147–8 above. Cf. Ter. Maur. 840–7 GLK vi.350. The sections of Terentianus’ poem de litteris and de syllabis (1–1299) show phonological differences between Greek and Latin as taught in schools; the poem largely avoids aesthetic evaluation.

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own freedom (Plut. Pomp. 78.7). Homer, the most admired Greek poet, and the poet studied first at school, is especially common in such display and communication.60 One of the best attested moments shows us both involvement and contention with Greek poetry. It is not an isolated quotation but an exchange around a text (Calpurnius Bibulus fr. 1 Peter; Plut. Brut. 23.4–7). Presumably it bears at least some relation to historical actuality. Porcia, in largely Greek Velia, is shortly to be parted from Brutus; she weeps repeatedly at a picture of the Iliadic scene where Hector is parting from Andromache. Brutus’ friend Acilius quotes Hom. Il. 6.429– 30 (Andromache says Hector is her father, mother, brother, husband); Brutus says with a smile that he will not quote 490–1 (Hector bids Andromache go and weave): her woman’s body means she cannot equal men in deeds of prowess, ª ÅØ   bæ B# Ææ# u# æ E# IæØ##Ø (‘but in her mind she will act most nobly for her country, just like us’; probably he spoke in Latin).61 Three people are here engaging with the Homeric text (not to mention Porcia’s young son Bibulus, who records the occasion). Porcia shares Andromache’s Ł# (‘emotion’, 23.4); Acilius connects Porcia’s loving Ł# with Andromache’s (cf. + Hom. Il. 6.429 bT); Brutus declines to share Hector’s final instruction to Andromache. Rather than respond to Acilius’ connection by connecting his love with Hector’s (note the smile), he rather refuses Hector’s differentiation between men and women (and the differentiation made in the Homeric world). Cf. Epict. 3.22.107–9 (Hector realizes Andromache’s powerlessness). On a philosophical level, Porcia is no less a fighter for her country than Hector (the phrase I #ŁÆØ/ øØ/  æd æÅ#, ‘defending his country’, is spoken by or about him, Il. 12.243 (quoted at Cic. Att. 2.3.4), 15.496, 24.500). Porcia thus excels Andromache. Brutus is joining a tradition in which the end of Homer’s scene is exploited and diverged from (Soph. Aj. 527–8, 594–5, and especially Ar. Lys. 519– 20, 538). Romans are engaged with Homer, filling his scenes with their meaning; Brutus is also marking a different vision, and the superiority of this Roman woman.62

60

Cf. Tolkiehn (1897). IæØ#Ø (present) P1; but the future could imply ‘although she is not going to come with us’. The picture is a striking route for the operation of literary effect; on pictures in Velia note Cicala, Fiammenghi, Vecchio (2003), 182–5. 62 The mention of the fatherland and the expression u# æ E# IæØ##Ø (for the phrase in Plutarch cf. Timol. 5.1) suggests that the Calpurnius may form part of the context for Virg. Aen. 11.891–5; here amor uerus patriae and the sight of Camilla inspires the Italian women literally to fight for their city. Cf. also for the Virgil the Corcyrean women at Thuc. 3.74.2 (note Ææa ç#Ø, ‘contrary to their nature’). 61

7 Transposition and Triads The next three chapters will use some particular sets of passages and works to explore the Roman use of Greek literature. A first, and vital, step is to see the use of Greek works by Roman works as one element in a process which pervades literature both in Greek and in Latin. Literary works are typically produced out of other literary works. Many works draw extensively on other works in their own language, sometimes with sustained proximity. (So, in my view, the anonymous Ad Herennium draws on Cicero’s De Inventione (otherwise on a lost Latin work, see p. 235 below).) Genres can be revived or continued in the same language, as in a different language. Works in the same, or another, language can be adapted into a new type of style. (So Varro’s material is adapted by Columella.) Prose can be turned into poetry in the same or a different tongue. This chapter will consider what if anything differentiates adaptation from Greek into Latin and from Latin into Latin. Two particular areas will be considered, the spatial perspective of the reader, and sameness or distinctness of language. Space and language are perhaps the two most basic ingredients of ethnic and political identity. Our present topic has affinities with the modern discussion of literary translation, a discussion which now often incorporates cultural difference and national identity. One feature of such discussion is the notional starting-point that translation aims at similarity to, rather than difference from, its original (the aim at least is often found not to be straightforwardly realized). Modern discussion of literary interaction often starts with a contrasting premise: that difference from the original must be aimed at rather than similarity. In both cases, difference is implicit in the very idea of a new writer producing a work (not least a translation in another language) and similarity is implicit in the very idea of the new work using elements of an earlier one. Intentions should not be too rapidly assigned; in this and the next chapter, emphasis will be on the degree and nature of ascertainable difference and similarity. Though intention will sometimes be talked of, it is often only a metaphor or means of spelling out the characteristics of the texts.1 The chapters will often take triads or other groups of passages or works, and see how the relation of Latin to Greek compares with that of Latin to Latin. The prime focus will be on the detail of expression, though wider elements will often come in;

1 For literary translation cf. e.g. Kittel and Frank (1991), esp. Frank and Bödeker (1991) and Turk (1991), Abel (1999), Oseki-Dépré (1999), Bermann and Wood (2005).

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and each triad or set will be seen to present its own complexities. The examples are not merely a circuitous route to generalizations, but instances of specific interactions.

CROSSING THE ALPS Livy’s account of Hannibal’s crossing the Alps shows a close similarity to Polybius’. Silius’ diverges much further from Livy’s in structure, but would seem to be based principally on his. The genetic relation of Livy’s account to Polybius’ is open to dispute. In my own opinion, Livy, who consulted numerous sources on this celebrated action (cf. 21.38), will probably have felt obliged to look up an author of such high reputation, easily available (Cic. Rep. 2.27, Livy 33.10.10, Vell. 1.13.3, P. Oxy. LXXI 4808 col. ii; Cic. Att. 13.30.2, numerous specific and animated references in Strabo). If so, the resemblances are most likely due to direct use rather than a common source. And one might wonder if Polybius would follow the pace and detail of another writer so closely. (See also p. 260 below.) Livy’s educated readers too will view his account against Polybius’. But in any case, we can still see the process by which Latin prose accounts of Hannibal grow out of Greek ones. The Greek include early works written by Romans: Greek and Roman are not always straightforwardly separated. At first, we saw, Greek is the universal medium for prose narrative and controversy about Hannibal, from pro-Carthaginian, pro-Roman, and detached perspectives. Supernatural or spectacular elements begin early, but may increase later; in any case, since they are found in later Greek as well as in Latin sources, we must be cautious in assuming that Livy’s and Silius’ differences from Polybius are due simply to ethnicity or to language. This problem extends beyond such elements to wider aspects of narrative.2 The event makes a good introduction to the question of the reader’s spatial perspective. Hellenistic literature is largely written without much firm location of the imagined reader, even in Alexandria; Latin literature, though read across the empire, is typically written with an implied reader located in Rome. If Polybius’ reader is located anywhere, the place is certainly not Rome, and could hardly be defined more closely than mainland Greece. Roman works in Greek will have been written for anyone who read Greek: Fabius Pictor is already being read in Greek in Sicily early in the second century. By the time we reach Coelius Antipater and Latin historiography in the later second century, we find that Hannibal in Italiam uenit (fr. 14 Chassignet): here the spatial viewpoint or deictic centre of the verb is Rome or Italy (cf. p. 261 below). Livy’s and Silius’ works, though superficially written from a wider viewpoint where the Romans are Romani not nos, essentially

2 On Livy and Polybius, in this passage and elsewhere, cf. Viedebannt (1919), Foucault (1968), Pianezzola (1969), H. A. Gärtner (1975), 152–69, esp. 153–4 (thinks direct use of Polybius here likely, cf. Witte (1910), 398), Tränkle (1977), Slabochová (1980), Taifacos (1982), Erdkamp (1992), esp. 144–5, Briscoe (1993), R. J. Weber (1994), Händl-Sagawe (1995), 10–12, 193–248, esp. 193, and now Levene (2010), 126–63, esp. 136–45. Silius and Livy: Burck (1984), 1, 51–2, 61–3, 71–2, Nesselrath (1986), Taisne (1994), Lucarini (2004). Particularly valuable for early writing on Hannibal is Sosylus FGrHist 176 F 1; cf. Wilcken (1906). For Silenus, who also accompanied Hannibal, cf. Cic. Div. 1.49 (FGrHist 175 F 2).

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place their implied reader in Rome. Especially when Italy and Rome have combined into an entity, as they have by Livy’s and Silius’ periods, the event draws powerfully on a spatial and national consciousness. The use of the Latin language is bound up with the presentation of the event.3 In Polybius, Hannibal encourages his troops by deploying the landscape visually, and shows them (in some way) where Rome is. Polybius explains for the reader that IŒæ ºø# çÆ#ŁÆØ Ø Ł#Ø åØ a# @º Ø# B# ‹ºÅ#  ƺÆ# (‘the Alps seem to have the role of acropolis for the whole of Italy’, 3.54.2). Here Italy is envisaged as a metaphorical city. Possibly Polybius is drawing on the Elder Cato, who is said to have said that the Alps guarded Italy like a wall (fr. 10 Chassignet); but Polybius uses the metaphor of an acropolis himself very similarly, with regard to ‘all Aetolia’ (5.8.7). Livy openly intensifies the text: moeniaque eos tum transcendere non Italiae modo sed etiam urbis Romanae (21.35.9); Rome itself is made the arx of Italy (ibid.). The conception is alarming for the constructed reader, located in Rome—if the reader is also fictionally immersed in that time. From another temporal perspective the reader sees ironies: Hannibal will not take Rome, nor will flatness make the coming terrain easy (cetera plana, procliuia fore, 21.35.9). Silius takes up Livy’s conception, and openly brings it further: nunc, o nunc, socii, dominantis moenia Romae | credite uos summumque Iouis conscendere culmen (3.509–10). The addition of the Capitol, Rome’s own acropolis, enhances the spatial directness and the alarm. The verb is sharpened from transcendere, which suits the target domain (tenor) of the Alps, to conscendere, which suits the source domain (vehicle) of the walls. Mention of Jupiter and suggestion of Olympus superimpose an element of poetic sublimity and metaphysics.4 The Roman implied reader affects the presentation of Hannibal and of ethnicity, but not straightforwardly. Livy handles Hannibal with the admiration of a fair-minded enemy (from one temporal perspective the reader is placed at the time). Some locals practise deceit on Hannibal. Polybius’ account highlights the ºøØ (‘trickery’), which involves treacherous use of the sacred symbols of peace. These Gauls’ ‘barbarian’ ethnicity—a category from which Polybius normally excludes both Greeks and Romans—is underlined by an ethnographical note on the symbols, which are common to #åe A#Ø E# Ææ æØ# (‘almost all the barbarians’, 3.52.3). Livy deploys first-century wit on the third-century foe: ibi non bello aperto sed suis artibus, fraude et insidiis, est prope circumuentus (21.34.1). In these artes Hannibal presents an extreme of the Carthaginian character (21.4.9, of Hannibal, perfidia plus quam Punica; 22.48.1). Silius, though he shares that 3 Livy pr. 10 inde tibi tuaeque rei publicae quod imitere capias is part of a general account of history, and does not imply a plurality of res publicae for Livy’s readers; the clear movement to the specific res publica of Rome in 11 as historical theme suggests Roman readers. For Fabius in Tauromenium (Taormina) see Battistoni (2006); cf. pp. 79 and 141 above. On the first-person plural in Roman historians, see pp. 259–60 below, with 258 n. 25 for readers in historiography. But the specific figure of the implied reader is not strictly needed: this is merely one way to express elements implanted in the process of reading; this process was envisaged for most of the texts discussed. The matter is different from the assumption of an addressee within all narrative: that does demand a person, and one whose existence is less self-evident than that of the reader in texts for reading. 4 Cf. Šubrt (1991) for the Alps and human limits; Hutchinson (1993), 72. For Hannibal’s use of the landscape cf. Aeschin. 3.118–19. On the Alps as walls cf. von Albrecht (1964), 18–19, 42 (walls of Rome in Silius: 24–46), H. A. Gärtner (1975), 165–7.

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attitude elsewhere (e.g. 7.260–1, 12.737), here omits the ‘almost-scene’ and epically ennobles Hannibal in this whole episode. But an interposed scene with Venus and Jupiter (3.557–629) emphasizes the whole ethnic conflict that the episode initiates.5 If the spatial, ethnic, and historical perspective marks the Roman texts out from the Greek, there is also a closeness in the linguistic connection between Livy and Silius that cannot be matched in the relationship between Polybius and Livy. The common language and literature creates a medium within which Livy and Silius interact, despite the general difference between poetry and prose and the difference in structure and content between these passages. Silius’ connections with Livy are most often in elements that do not and would not appear in Polybius. But it is rewarding to compare, for instance, the following moments in all three: Polyb. 3.55.5   a H çæø x  ŒÆÆ  ŪÆ Ø  e  æ# ŒÆd Øa e Bª Æ B# æß Ææå#Å# åØ# (the pack-animals broke through the snow lower down, and ‘remained there with the baggage, firmly fixed as it were by the simultaneous weight and congealment of the pre-existing snow’); Livy 21.36.8 (same context) ut pleraque uelut pedica capta haererent in dura et alta concreta glacie; Sil. 3.551 (different narrative context) ungula perfossis haesit comprensa pruinis (ungula too comes from the sentence of Livy); 3.518–20 (of Hannibal) qua durati concreto frigore collis | lubrica frustratur canenti semita cliuo, | luctantem ferro glaciem premit. With the last two lines cf. also Livy 21.36.7 taetra ibi luctatio erat, uia lubrica glacie non recipiente uestigium.6 Livy’s depiction is more graphic and less scientific than Polybius’. The significance of the difference extends beyond the individual authors, not because of Livy’s vividness, which lost Hellenistic historians may have matched, but because of Polybius’ intellectualism and austerity of expression, which do not seem likely to have been matched by lost Roman historians and are here partly conveyed through the abstraction of the two neuters and the complexity of the double preverb. These would be hard to capture in Latin. Identity of language (Latin) is crucial to the relation of Livy and Silius here. The use of the same words or stems creates an intimacy of relationship between the two texts; Livian writing seeps into Silius’ text and is diffused. The connection combines with the related character of the two accounts, both focused on evocation. The stem dur- which Silius takes up has a broader force within the Latin system of poetic genres; hardness, contended with by Hannibal, suits the tough world of hexameter narrative. So too at 3.482: the mountain duratas nescit flammis mollire pruinas.7 A few more examples may elaborate on some of these issues concerning language. First, Livy 21.33.9 decurrit ex superiore loco et, cum impetu ipso fudisset hostem, suis quoque tumultum auxit; cf. Polyb. 3.51.7 y ª ı ººd b H 5 On ‘barbarians’ and Romans, cf. Champion (2004), 193–203 (insinuations found), 244–53. For Hannibal in Livy and Silius cf. Foulkes (1999), Tipping (2007), 223–4, with literature. For ‘BeinaheEpisoden’ see Nesselrath (1992). 6 In 21.36.7 uia Sauppe: ut a MSS: deleted by Madvig; ut a lubrica deleted by Walters and Conway (but Silius refutes). concretus comes in Livy only at 21.36.8 and 21.58.8, in Silius only at 3.518 and 9.398; but cf. also Ov. Trist. 3.10.31–2 undas | frigore concretas ungula pulsat equi. 7 With e Bª Æ B# æß Ææå#Å# åØ# contrast Zonar. 8.23.5 (Dio Cass. i.203 Boissevain) › Œæ#ƺº# N#åıæÆÆ Æª# (‘the ice frozen very firmly’). On Silius as a reader of Livy cf. Sechi (1951), esp. 297.

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º ø I ººı Øa e ØE#ŁÆØ c ç K  æø e Æ, PŒ Kº ı# b ŒÆd H Nø· › ªaæ ŒÆa c æÆ Łæı# K I çE Åh Øa c H æØæÅ ø ŒæÆıªc ŒÆd #ı

ºŒ  (‘when he had done this, many of the enemy were perishing because Hannibal was making his attack from above; no fewer of his own men were perishing too. The turmoil during his movement increased on both sides because of the shouting and entanglement of those already mentioned’). It might be thought that tumultus and Łæı#, used with the very similar verbs auxit and Åh, were more or less identical in meaning, so that the difference of language was immaterial. Łæı#, however, gives a stronger emphasis on sound, underlined by ŒæÆıª . tumultus can have more connotation of undisciplined behaviour, which a commander should normally control. Livy makes it part of a verbal sequence, which stresses Hannibal’s masterly and imaginative handling of difficult circumstances. At first suos continuit, ne tumultum ac trepidationem augeret (21.33.8); after suis quoque tumultum auxit, tumultus is immediately picked up again in sed is tumultus momento temporis . . . sedatur (21.33.10; Polybius applies H Nø, cf. suis quoque, to actual and equal deaths). The different semantic field of the word connects with a difference in structure and point.8 Next we may consider Livy 21.37.2–3 . . . ardentiaque saxa infuso aceto putrefaciunt. ita torridam incendio rupem ferro pandunt . . . This spectacular procedure appears not in Polybius but in App. Hann. 15. Sil. 3.641–3 gives rapidisque accensus in orbem | excoquitur flammis || scopulus. mox proruta ferro | dat gemitum putris resoluto pondere moles. Silius omits the undignified vinegar (contrast Juv. 10.153), and changes incendio to flammis. But he recreates Livy’s forceful opposition of fire and iron, and enhances it through the verse-structure and the alliteration. Such effects as Livy’s could be imagined in Greek prose, though the compactness of Latin without articles assists. But the style interacts with the vocabulary: the unspecific ferro carries grandiose connotations. One may compare Appian’s . . . c b oºÅ  ø  ŒÆd ŒÆÆŒÆø, c b çæÆ #f# oÆØ ŒÆd ZØ, ŒÆd c æÆ KŒ F łÆçÆæa ªØª Å #çæÆØ# #ØÅæÆE# ŁæÆø . . . (Hannibal ‘ . . . cutting and burning the wood, and quenching the embers with water and vinegar, and breaking with iron mallets the rock that had been made crumbly by these means . . . ’). Third, Livy 21.32.8 erigentibus in primos agmen cliuos apparuerunt imminentes tumulos insidentes montani, qui, si ualles occultiores insedissent . . . Livy’s opposition of apparuerunt and occultiores takes up the strategical argumentation seen in Polyb. 3.50.4: N b s e’ jquxam c K ØÆ . . . F b jatavameE# ª Ø . . . (‘if they had hidden their plan . . . but as it was, by appearing clearly . . . ’). But the wordorder of Latin, with the final verb as norm, also produces a dramatic surprise in apparuerunt, focalized by Hannibal’s men. Silius catches the point of Livy’s language, and renders the effect by expression, not word-order: 3.540–2 iamque super 8 Händl-Sagawe (1995), 223, 227 thinks Livy is aiming at a contrast with Hannibal’s action later (34.8–35.1; cf. Polyb. 3.53.4–5); she follows H. A. Gärtner (1975), 160–1, 168, who perhaps overstates the criticism of Hannibal’s inability. For the drama of near-failure cf. Zonar. 8.23.6 (Dio Cass. i.203 Boissevain). The Livian phrase tumultum ac trepidationem, for which cf. 22.55.6, 25.33.10, 28.17.14 (and 27.47.9, 37.20.11), could be seen as a more colourful equivalent for the Greek Łæı# ŒÆd ÆæÆå , Polyb. 3.19.6, 5.25.4, 52.13, Charit. 7.4.13, Jos. AJ 4.22.3, Plut. Pelop. 32.8.

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clades atque importuna locorum | illuuie rigidaeque comae squalore perenni | horrida semiferi promunt e rupibus ora.9 Silius draws on the preceding sentence of Livy for the kinship of men and landscape on which he plays here: among the dismal features of the Alps are the men, intonsi et inculti (Livy 21.32.7). Words come in to Silius’ lines from a later part of Livy’s text, where the Carthaginians themselves have allegedly caught the Alpine tone: Scipio (cos. 218) says they are umbrae hominum . . . inluuie, squalore enecti (21.40.9). Silius develops the kinship through stems whose semantic fields would not easily be matched in Greek, such as horrida (ora) above (cf. 523–4 Corus . . . horridus, the north-west wind; Livy 21.29.7 rem . . . horrendam, of the Alps). Verbal play interacts with visual puns, as at Sil. 3.79–81 canaque aeternum grandine tecta; riget ardua montis . . . facies (canus is commonly used of old age, and facies ‘appearance’ suggests ‘face’; note rigidae in 541 (above)). This close and creative relationship through language is accompanied by a salient difference in structure, brought out by super in Silius above. In Polybius and Livy, struggles with the humans, who live lower down, are followed by struggles with the mountains themselves; in Silius, the men form a climax of horror. The snow grows red (3.547–8).10 The intense and focalized evocation of atmosphere connects Livy and Silius, and is perhaps to some degree bound up with the directions in which Latin literature developed; but elsewhere Polybius himself demonstrates the risks in supposing such interests peculiarly Latin. There remains a more revealing cultural irony: though Livy and Silius depict the place more vividly and emotively, Polybius has done what it is hard to imagine a Roman historian doing and crossed the Alps himself, ª#ø# *ŒÆ ŒÆd ŁÆ# (‘for the sake of knowledge and the sight’, 3.48.12; cf. 3.59.7, 12.25e.1). Livy, from Patavium, merely lays claim to knowledge of the Po (21.47.5). Polybius was an exceptional figure, even in Hellenistic historiography; but Diodorus too has done much travel for his work, though he emphasizes that some eminent historians have not (1.4.1).11

LEAVING LEMNOS We will look next at a different configuration. In the previous section a Latin author’s (or tradition’s) use of a Greek author (or tradition) was compared with a later Latin author’s use of the earlier Latin author; now, a Latin author’s use of a Latin author will be compared with his use of a Greek author (and tradition?). We will consider Valerius Flaccus’ use of Virgil and of Apollonius. 9

For the alarming hair cf. Xen. Eph. 1.13.3. Cf. Polyb. 10.11.4. Silius’ structure conflicts with Polybius’ depiction of the Alps’ peaks as uninhabited (2.15.10). The archaeology seems more complicated, however; cf. e.g. Pauli (1980). For negativity in description of the Alps, cf. Malaspina (2007). 11 For focalized atmosphere in Polybius cf. e.g. 2.29.6; 2.56.7–8, etc., suggests, for all its polemic, that such writing was found in others (cf. R. B. Rutherford (2007), 505). At 3.48.6–9 Polybius attacks some other writers on the crossing as fabulous and geographically ignorant; the latter point makes difficulties for ascribing the story here to Silenus, cf. D’Arco (2002). Levene (2010), 149–55 argues that Livy here criticizes Polybius; cf. also Rood (2012), 193. On Polybius’ travelling cf. further Harl (2011). 10

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It might be thought that a Roman spatial perspective, while relevant to Hannibal’s passage of the Alps, would hardly be relevant to a Greek story of eastern travel. But the constructed reader in Rome is important to a scene of movement very different from Hannibal’s, the Argonauts’ departure from Lemnos. Apollonius’ use of space may well carry political implications; but he does not construct a reader with any particular location. Valerius’ and Virgil’s implied readers are alike placed in Rome—or, to put it differently, the process of reading has a sort of ‘deictic centre’ in Rome (cf. p. 261). The significance of Rome to Aeneas’ dalliance and departure in Aeneid 4 may be evident to the earliest reception of Virgil. What could be a contemporary painting of Dido and Aeneas (Casa del Citarista, Pompeii I 4.5, 25, 28, oecus 20, north wall) would introduce Ascanius to indicate the Roman future; the surrounding pictures of Leda and Laomedon would be used to indicate the Trojan past. Aeneas in staying with Dido is delaying the movement of power from Troy to Rome.12 Valerius has already set the Lemnian queen Hypsipyle in an ample context of space and time. sed tibi nunc quae digna tuis ingentibus ausis orsa feram, decus et patriae laus una ruentis, Hypsipyle? non ulla meo te carmine dictam abstulerint, durent Latii modo, saecula, fasti Iliacique lares tantique Palatia regni. (2.242–6) But what words can I bring you now that are worthy of the mighty deed you dared, Hypsipyle, you sole praise and glory of your country as it collapsed? When you have been spoken of in my song, no age will take you away, so long as the fasti of Rome endure, and the Trojan house and the Palatium of so great a kingdom.

The reader is placed at the hub of the tanti . . . regni (tanti suggests knowledge). The vast empire is implicitly contrasted with this queen’s mere island (cf. insula in the next sentence, and 2.383 (if, Jason, you are resolved) Aegaei scopulos habitare profundi). Place is connected with time, still more than in the corresponding passage of Virgil (Aen. 9.446–9). Palatia evokes the present and the Flavian building up of the imperial complex, ruentis evokes the chaotic conflicts of ad 68–9. Latii . . . fasti and Iliaci . . . lares show the historical process, the latter in the centre of Rome. In that process Greeks will yield world-empire to Troy’s descendants (1.9, 559–60, 2.571–2). But poet and reader save Hypsipyle from being swept away by time. Her exemption from the historical process is caused by her virtue, her Aeneas-like pietas in rescuing her father (2.249, pias . . . manus in the sentence after 242–6; cf. 256, 264, 310, 411). That exemption resembles Jupiter’s exemption from mortality of the Greek heroes Hercules and the Dioscuri (1.561–73). This comes immediately after 1.555–60, where Jupiter has warned of the Greeks’ future 12 The subject of the painting is argued for by Strocka (2006), 275–6. He gives the date as ‘30/20 v. Chr.’ (302–3), and thinks the depiction earlier than the Aeneid, by the narrowest of margins. But if the identification is correct, use of the Aeneid seems much more likely than a Campanian painting of a Roman story known to us only from Naevius (if there: fr. 20 Blänsdorf). For the episode in Valerius, see Carson (1964), 272–6, Hershkowitz (1998), 140–6 (also 136–7 for Latii fasti), Schimann (1998), 130–3, W. Schubert (1998), 277–9, Keith (2000), 93–5, Tschiedel (2004), 172, Masciadri (2008), 198–201 (cf. also Gruzelier (1994)); and the recent commentaries of Poortvliet (1991), Dräger (2003), Spaltenstein (2002).

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fall from power. These particular Greek heroes will become gods, after a hard and heroic journey to the skies.13 This perspective of space and time is taken up in the scene of departure itself, in part through ecphrastic allusion. Hypsipyle gives Jason a cloak as a parting gift. In Apollonius we learn later that Hypsipyle has given him a cloak by which to remember their union (3.1204–6); the cloak in Valerius has connections too with the uestes Dido gives Aeneas (Aen. 11.72–4), and the cloak Andromache gives Astyanax (Aen. 3.482–91: | accipe (‘take this’), 486 and Val. Fl. 2.419). But Valerius also redeploys the cloak that Pallas has given Jason in Apollonius; in it he goes to meet Hypsipyle (Ap. Rh. 1.721–67). The goddess’s artefact contains many scenes which relate to the use of force and cunning in the main story; they start in the Aeolian islands, move east to Greece, then show Phrixus with the ram that will take him eastward from Greece. It reflects the goddess’s, as well as Jason’s, character, and her partial control of the plot. The cloak Hypsipyle has made in Valerius contains only two scenes: her father’s flight, which displays her pietas (pios 2.411), and Ganymede’s abduction from Ida, which points to the causal chain that will end in the shift of empire to Troy’s descendants. (Note Phrygio 417; the same scene has the same meaning at Sil. 15.425–6; compare the Trojan scene in the Casa del Citarista.) Spatio-temporal meaning, from a perspective in Rome, is important to the reworking of Apollonius.14 Hypsipyle’s final speech in Valerius treats place more ambitiously than in Apollonius; this will bring us on to the question of detailed verbal relationship. The second half of the speech runs: i memor, i, terrae quae uos amplexa quieto prima sinu, refer et domitis a Colchidos oris uela, per hunc utero quem linquis Iasona nostro. (2.422–4) Go, go without forgetting the land which first embraced you Argonauts in its tranquil bay, and bring back your sails from your conquest of Colchis, I beg you by this Jason whom you are leaving in my womb.

In Apollonius, Hypsipyle tentatively offers Jason the prospect of ruling Lemnos on his return, but then dismisses it. She tells him:

 , I  æ › H# ŒÆd #Ø # XÅ, ὙłØ ºÅ#· º   w Ø  #  Œ KÆ#ÆØ Ø

æçæø, j ¼æÆ   Łd ø#Ø Œ#ŁÆØ. (1.896–8) Remember Hypsipyle, even in your absence and when you have returned home. Leave me a command which I can gladly carry out, if the gods grant me to give birth.

In Valerius Hypsipyle imagines Jason as enlarging a Greek empire. She tells him to remember the land, not herself as in Apollonius (there with a potent enjambement and name). She transfers to the land language apt to herself and the other

13 Latii . . . fasti Sandstroem: -is . . . –is MSS. Cf. Liberman (1997), 192. The position of modo favours the nominative; and the notion that only the Iliaci lares and Palatia would perish, not the Latii fasti, removes the rhetorical point (cf. Virg. Aen. 9.448–9; R. G. M. Nisbet and Rudd (2004), 372–4). On the idea of islands, cf. Constantakopoulou (2007). 14 Poortvliet (1991), 227, and Spaltenstein (2002), 423, rather miss the point of Ganymede here (and in Silius). Cf. Virg. Aen. 5.250–7.

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Lemnian women who have become the Argonauts’ wives (mariti of Jason, 2.425, coniunx of other Lemnian women, 427); note sinu (‘bay’, but secondarily ‘bosom’). She does not disjoin mention of returning to the land from remembrance; remembrance of the land is connected with a solemn entreaty, and a moral obligation, to return. For place is now caught up with character. The moral contrast between the dutiful Hypsipyle and the forgetful Jason is related to her literary immortalization and his grim fate, and perhaps the fall of Greece and rise of Aeneas’ Rome. The following episode will associate Troy’s fall with its ruler’s immorality, and contemplate the future genus Aeneadum et Troiae melioris honores (573). The point about Jason will be intertextually and retrospectively underlined through a link with a word from Apollonius.15 memor is a relatively unusual instance of Valerius’ taking up a word in Apollonius directly. With it he recreates a large verbal bridge. In Apollonius, Hysipyle’s request is unknowingly and ironically taken up by Medea:   . . . h Æ ÅÅ#· z#  Æs Kªg I çd# K# |  # ÆØ (3.1069–71, ‘remember the name of Medea; I likewise will remember you when you are far away’, similarly 1109–10, cf. 4.382–3). So too Medea in Valerius, again taking Jason’s right hand (7.476, cf. Ap. Rh. 3.1067–8): sis memor, oro, mei; contra memor ipsa manebo, | crede, tui (7.477–8). memor implies more sense than   ÆØ of obligatory gratitude; Jason’s answering oath not to be immemor ‘forgetful’ of what she has done is, the narrator tells us, a perjury which Furor (Madness) will rightly punish (509–10, cf. Call. Hymn 6.56). The verbal interaction is strong; the idea of erudite literary memory lurks in contrast to the moral memory in the story. But the connection rests on relatively basic words in Greek and Latin. The end of Hypsipyle’s speech in Valerius ostentatiously draws on the end of Dido’s first speech in her final scene with Aeneas; she would feel less deserted, she says, if Aeneas would at least give her a son, a paruulus . . . Aeneas (Virg. Aen. 4.328–9). The nuance in Valerius is subtle, and involves cultural difference. For Romans, a son would typically have the same nomen and cognomen as his father: hence Catullus’ wish for Manlius Torquatus to produce a Torquatus . . . paruulus (61.209). Precisely because Trojans and Greeks, actual and mythological, did not usually have their father’s name, the application to the son in Virgil and Valerius is the more powerful.16 We come, then, to the nature of Valerius’ relation with Apollonius and with Virgil. The wider ethnic structuring we have seen fits in with patriotic emphasis on Virgilian connections. But it would be mistaken, as has already emerged, to think of Valerius as scornfully taking over a rough outline of the story from 15

Tschiedel (2004), 172 stresses that Jason is more affected in Valerius than Apollonius by the departure; but the notion of marriage makes the action more significant, and actually the link with Haemoni- marit- at 8.16, 283 has negative point too, cf. W. Schubert (1998), 277–9. The abduction of Medea in itself contributes to the causation of world-history, 8.395–6. Jason’s later use of Hypsipyle’s cloak at Cyzicus’ funeral (3.340–2) does point to Aeneas’ use of Dido’s cloak (Aen. 11.72–4) rather than the more blatant indications of fickleness at Ap. Rh. 3.1204–6 and esp. 4.420–34. Cf. Manuwald (2005), 304–5, and Krevans (2002–3) for Dido and Hypsipyle. 16 Cf. in another related scene Andromache addressing Ascanius o mihi sola mei super Astyanactis imago (Virg. Aen. 3.489). For memor and gratitude cf. e.g. Cic. Fam. 1.9.10, Cat. 30.1, 64.123, 248 (Theseus), Sen. Ben. 1.3.1; Hor. Carm. 3.11.49–51 (Hypermestra), 3.27.14, Val. Fl. 4.37–8 (Hylas); in Greek, cf. (-) Å - Soph. Aj. 1273, Thuc. 3.54.5, Ap. Rh. 2.469.

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Apollonius and turning it into Virgil. Valerius’ divergence from Apollonius operates as much more pointed interaction than that, and complicates his episode. In Valerius just as in Apollonius the Lemnian interlude is ended by a speech from Hercules (2.378–84, cf. Ap. Rh. 1.865–74). But whereas Hercules addresses Jason, Heracles addresses the other Argonauts, contemptuously referring to Jason without using his name. Heracles’ robust talk of reproduction and Jason (Ap. Rh. 1.872–4) is significantly omitted by Hercules, who refers more obliquely to the only amor that has drawn him to come, the love of deeds, solus . . . rerum . . . amor (Vol. Fl. 2.380–1). The embarrassed and eager reaction of the Argonauts to Heracles is altered into a similar reaction from Jason (Ap. Rh. 1.875–8, Val. Fl. 2.384–9). Apollonius has a simile at this point, a simile which describes the Lemnian women, and feminizes Homer’s simile for the Greek army (1.879–85, cf. Hom. Il. 2.87–93). Valerius’ simile describes Jason, and raises Virgil’s didactic account of horses and bees to resurgent heroic narrative (2.384–9, cf. Virg. G. 3.83–5, 4.71 Martius . . . aeris . . . canor; note Val. Fl. 2.388–9 Martius . . . clamor et . . . fragor . . . aeris). The approach to the Aeneid is playfully marked by arma uiros (Val. Fl. 2.392, the helmsman seeks ‘naval implements and men’). The simile also connects with one used in Apollonius, when Jason’s surge of valour results from a woman’s magic, not a hero’s words (Ap. Rh. 3.1259–64).17 Valerius, then, while verbally closer to Virgil, demands to be read against Apollonius in detail (and no doubt against other Argonautic poems in the tradition, Greek as well as Latin, cf. P. Oxy. LIII 3698 (archaic?), LXIX 4712 (Hellenistic?)). A more intimate verbal relationship is possible in any case with a text in Latin; but Valerius develops an elaborate model of interaction on two levels. To this the verbal distance from Apollonius and closeness to Virgil contributes. As regards episodes and narrative, while Apollonius forms a sequential intertext, relation to the Aeneid’s scenes is non-sequential and multiple (so Andromache as well as Dido is significant here). As regards basic language and style, we might at first think that Virgil stands to Valerius as Homer to Apollonius. But we should begin by noting that Apollonius, as is little realized, is marked by distance from Homer as well as by closeness. His dialect and most of his vocabulary derive from Homer (un-Homeric in this passage are especially 1.869 OŁE# ‘foreign’, 874 K Ææø ‘populate’,  Ø# ‘fame’, 880 #Ø ºÅ# ‘hive-like’, 882 I æªø ‘gather’). But he does not usually combine a given noun with the same distinctive epithet as in Homer (phrases closest to Homer in this passage are the relatively undistinctive 885 I Æ #, ‘painless return’, cf. Hom. Od. 4.519 ## I ø; 887 Þ  ŒæıÆ, ‘tears flowed’, cf. Od. 19.204 (Penelope); 890 Æhø# ‰# KŁºØ# ŒÆ Ø çº, ‘just as you wish and is dear to you’, cf. Il. 14.337 etc. Iºº N  Þ KŁºØ# ŒÆ Ø çº  º Łı HØ, ‘if you wish it and it is dear to your heart’; 893 I æÆ ºÆ, ‘boundless people’, cf. Il. 24.776 B # I æø; 905 K#  Eºº Æ ªÆEÆ ƒŒ#ŁÆØ, ‘arrive in Greece’, cf. Od. 4.823 etc. ÆæÆ ªÆEÆ ƒŒ#ŁÆØ, ‘arrive in his native land’). The sequence in Virgil from the sending of Mercury to the fainting of Dido contains relatively little close imitation of Homer; but the description of

17 On Valerius’ relation to Apollonius and Virgil, cf. e.g. Perutelli (1982), esp. 127, Korn (1991), Koutroubas (1996), Hershkowitz (1998), 271–4, Schimann (1998), Zissos (2002), and (2008), xxxiv– xxxvi, Dräger (2003), 571–8, Manuwald (2005).

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Mercury’s descent presents what Apollonius would not, an intensive reworking of a moment in Homer, itself repeated (Aen. 4.238–46, cf. Hom. Il. 24.339–44 = Od. 5.43–8). talaria . . . aurea (Aen. 4.239–40) comes very near to Homer’s ØºÆ . . . åæ#ØÆ (Il. 24.340–1, ‘golden sandals’); contrast Ap. Rh. 4.770–4, Il. 24.77–83 on Iris’ descent to Thetis. Virgil also differs from Apollonius in suggesting, with some repetition, the exact repetition of the sender’s speech by the messenger often found in Homer (Aen. 4.270–6, cf. 226, 232, 235). The phrase for Aeneas’ reaction, 280 arrectaeque horrore comae et uox faucibus haesit, itself derived from Homer (Il. 24.359 + e.g. 17.696), imitates formulaic repetition as Apollonius would not (et uox faucibus haesit 2.774 = 3.48; 4.280 = 12.868). Mercury’s message marks the re-entry of Homeric epic into the dallying poem; but it is also characteristic in bringing out Virgil’s greater closeness to Homer than Apollonius’, on some levels.18 Valerius’ closeness to Virgil is not primarily a matter of taking over, like Apollonius, a basic poetic language. In dialect and style, Virgil is not as distinct from other Latin poets as the Greek epic language from other sorts of Greek; and the phrases that Valerius adapts are not, for the most part, as widely spread in Virgil’s text as the phrases in Homer’s text that Apollonius adapts. In this passage Valerius’ phrasing in the main interacts with specific parts of Virgil, in particular Aeneid 4. Here we see an intently focused intertextuality which in some respects resembles that of Silius and Livy. Valerius like Apollonius tends not to take phrases over wholesale, but does not carry the avoidance of phrases so far; and the shared individual words carry a strong resonance. The following are phrases in this scene which derive from closely related scenes: 2.371 indulgent thalamis, cf. Aen. 4.51 indulge hospitio; 371 nimbosque [the time of bad weather] educere luxu, cf. Aen. 4.193 hiemem . . . luxu, quam longa, fouere; 372–3 Zephyrosque audire uocantis | dissimulant, cf. Aen. 4.562 nec Zephyros audis spirare secundos? (cf. also G. 3.322 Zephyris . . . uocantibus); 384 si sedet . . . habitare, cf. Aen. 4.15–16 si mihi non animo fixum immotumque sederet | ne . . . uellem, cf. also Aen. 4.232, 272; 385 monitis accensus amaris, cf. Aen. 4.203 (Iarbas) rumore accensus amaro (cf. also 10.368); (395 | en iterum cf. G. 4.495 (Eurydice parted from Orpheus), but cf. also Ov. Fast. 3.471–2 (Ariadne), Her. 20.33, [Quint.] Decl. Mai. 2.18); 399 tales admittere curas [marriage], cf. Aen. 4.550 talis nec tangere curas; 402 tali compellat Iasona questu, cf. Aen. 4.304 his Aenean compellat uocibus (but cf. also Ov. Met. 1.164, al., Il. Lat. 59); 410–11 | illic . . . | pressit . . . (depicted on the cloak), cf. Aen. 8.626–8 illic . . . | fecerat (depicted on the shield); 412 dantque locum (Hypsipyle’s father allowed to pass, in the woven scene), cf. Aen. 2.633 dant tela locum (Aeneas at sack of Troy; telā in Val. Fl. 2.412 perhaps uses the Virgil to play on the relation of female and male in the sentence); 414 frondosae . . . Idae, cf. Aen. 5.252 frondosa . . . Ida (also on a cloak portraying the abduction of Ganymede); 416 Iouis armiger (the eagle), cf. Aen. 5.255 (also 9.564; Ov. Met. 15.36 armigerumque Iouis); 419 | ‘accipe . . . ’, cf. Aen. 3.486 | ‘accipe . . . ’ (Andromache, of the cloak); 425 Haemonii . . . mariti, cf. Aen. 4.103 Phrygio . . . marito (also Ov. Met. 14.79 of Aeneas; Prop. 1.2.19 of Pelops). Other phrases shared with Virgil are not

18 On Virgil and Apollonius, see especially Nelis (2001). On repetitions of lines in Apollonius, see Fränkel (1964), 34–6, (1968), 98 n. 188, cf. 553.

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distinctively Virgilian, and less distinctive in themselves: so 375 maris aequor (also Hor. Carm. 4.5.10 maris aequora), 376 desertasque domos (Ovid and Lucan closer), 384 haec ubi dicta (Lucilius, Livy, Lucan, etc.), 386 longa . . . pace (Lucan, etc.), 391 ingenti clamore (Lucretius, Livy, Ovid), 402 | ingemit (Ilias Latina, Persius), 408 dixit lacrimans (Ennius, Ovid).19 Thus Valerius’ intertextuality with both Apollonius and Virgil is primarily a sustained dialogue with particular parts of those authors, though the interaction even with Aeneid 4 is less sequential than with Apollonius 1. The verbal intimacy with Virgil is not a mere generalized following of an approved model. In this episode many of the shared individual words concern morality and marriage. Thematic and argumentative points are being pressed in the use of Virgil as of Apollonius.

PLACING PASTORAL In this section, we look again at a trio of Greek writer and two Romans, Theocritus, Virgil, and Calpurnius. The primary pattern is as with Polybius, Livy, and Silius: the second Latin author’s use of the first can be compared with the first Latin author’s use of the Greek; as with Apollonius, Virgil, and Valerius, the authors are all writing in the same genre: the total sequence of development is to be visible in the last poet. We may begin from this second aspect, and from place. Pastoral is a type of poetry where geography and geographical perspective are especially significant for the relation of Greek and Roman. Theocritus does not seem to locate his reader anywhere in particular: it is more plausible to see the abundance of detailed place-names as conjuring up a sense of specific locality than to imagine the various poems each limited to readers in the place depicted. The naming of rivers and other local features is also part of a Hellenistic taste for the particular and the abstruse. The locations on which the poems dwell are ones that will later be of interest to Romans. The poet’s own identity as a Syracusan or Sicilian is indicated (11.7, 28.15–18; play on this in 15.90?). Some of the poems are set in Sicily, where Greek, Carthaginian, and Roman culture and power met in the third century: 1 (1.24 singer from Libya; cf. 3.5 Libyan goat), 6, 11, 16 (Carthaginians 76–9), 28, Ep. 9, 18. Others are set in South Italy itself (4, 5). Others again are set in Cos (7), Alexandria (15, perhaps 17), Sparta (18; narrative), Miletus (Ep. 8); but for the ‘bucolic’ poems Sicily and South Italy are particularly significant. Sicily is the location of the post-Theocritean poems [8] (57) and [9] (15), and to a degree [Mosch.] 3 (where Sicily is presented as the home of the genre); but many of the later poems ([19], [20], [21], [23], P. Vindob. Rainer 29801?) avoid specifying a setting. One poem intriguingly shows a poet who originates from Italy: `P#ØŒA# OÆ# º ø º#, P # TØA# | ıŒºØŒA# (‘I sing a song of Italian grief; I am no stranger to bucolic song’,

19 Most of the Virgilian parallels appear in Poortvliet and Spaltenstein; I deliberately made my own list before consulting their commentaries.

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[Mosch.] 3.93–4). The paragraph is surrounded by invocation of "ØŒºØŒÆd . . . E#ÆØ (‘Sicilian Muses’).20 Virgil’s Eclogues are spatially complex. They presuppose a reader (not a listener) located in Rome; the setting of the poems is deliberately made multiple and perplexing. The first poem is set in Italy; it deals with recent land confiscations in Italy, and 19–26, 70–2 involve Rome and Roman citizens. The very next poem is set in Sicily (2.21). The following four poems indicate no setting at all; this is deliberately teasing, as is shown by passages in 3, and at the opening of 4 and 6 (see below). In poem 7 the singers are Arcadian (4), but sing by Mantua’s river (12–13). Poem 8 has no setting, but a singer describes his song or type of song as Arcadian (Maenalios . . . uersus, 21 etc.). Poem 9 reverts to Italian land-confiscations, and names Mantua (27–8); but for local colour it gives the tomb of Bianor, a Greek name (59–60, matching Theocr. 7.10–11). The very next poem is set in Arcadia, but presents a Roman singer, the contemporary poet Gallus. Arcadia, in mainland Greece, is the home of Pan, the god of pastoral music (cf. 4.58–9; 8.21, etc. Maenalios uersus); it enters the last part of the book as the homeland of characters and as a climactic setting for the last poem. Antitheses of city and country, introduced from post-Theocritean bucolic, heighten the opposition between the constructed reader’s location and all the shifting or uncertain locations of the poems. The opening poem itself establishes the reader’s location by implying the reader’s familiarity with the Rome that so surprised Tityrus (19–26).21 Complicated passages result. The poet and poetry belong to city and country, Rome and Mantua, Syracuse and siluae, singing and reading, the Roman present and Greek tradition; the underlying perspective of Rome’s contemporary literary world sometimes emerges directly. So 3.84–91 Pollio amat nostram, quamuis est rustica, Musam; | Pierides, uitulam lectori pascite uestro . . . qui Bauium non odit, amet tua carmina, Maeui . . . ; 4.1–3 Sicelides Musae . . . si canimus siluas, siluae sint consule dignae (presumably Pollio; note also the exclusion of Arcadia as the present setting at 58–9); 6.1–12 Prima Syracosio dignata est ludere uersu | nostra nec erubuit siluas habitare Thalea . . . (Varus, reading, and columns of books follow; Gallus will later appear); 8.1–13 Pastorum Musam . . . dicemus . . . accipe iussis | carmina coepta tuis (the addressee is a distinguished Roman soldier and tragedian, probably Pollio); 9.22–50 Vare, tuum nomen, superet modo Mantua nobis . . . cantantes sublime ferent ad sidera cycni . . . nam neque adhuc Vario uideor nec dicere Cinna | digna . . . (the Cyclops and Caesar follow). The last poem is particularly intricate: Arethusa (Syracuse) is asked to provide a song for 20

Hunter (2006a), 267 n. 15 suggests the poet is perhaps not a native Greek speaker. For place in Theocritus, see Stephens (2006), esp. 99–104. On later bucolic, see Bernsdorff (2006), Reed (2006). At Longus 2.33.3 the name of the singer Sicelus, the source of the story of Syrinx, plays on the transposition of the pastoral world to Lesbos. ‘Pastoral’ is sometimes used in this book of the Latin poetry, sometimes of Greek and Latin together; it would often be awkward to mark the Greek off as ‘bucolic’. The use of ‘bucolic’ here for genre and poems adopts a viewpoint from after Theocritus’ time, without presuppositions about Theocritus’ own conceptions. 21 For city and country, cf. esp. [Theocr.] 20.1–4, 30–2; the poem is also the model for the demythologization in Eclogue 2. Heaney (2003), 6, gives some emphasis to place in the Eclogues. For Virgil and Theocritus cf. Posch (1966), Du Quesnay (1979), Segal (1981), 278–91, Rumpf (1999), MacDonald (2003), Hunter (2006b), ch. 4.

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the poet Gallus, which his mistress will read; it will be sung in the woods (1–8). Gallus is in Arcadia (13–15), while his model Daphnis had been in Sicily (Theocr. 1.68–9, 117–18, 124–5, etc.); Silvanus and Pan appear (23–7). Arcadian song (31– 3) is an inadequate distraction from his mistress’s flight to the Alps and Rhine (43–5). Gallus will play Chalcidian song (Euphorion’s hexameters) on the pipe pastoris Siculi (50–1), amid hunting in Arcadia (55–7). The last poem of the book forms part of a frame with the first in stressing the reader’s spatial perspective; at the same time it marks the culmination of the spatial confusion which plays with the literary and ethnic identity of the transposed genre.22 The poems of Calpurnius Siculus firmly move their locale to Italy. The reader’s location remains Rome; the hierarchical opposition of city and country is intensified. The Italian setting is connected with the articulation of literary history; the opposition of city and country is connected with present politics. Virgil and Nero are the crucial points of reference; Virgil is made to occupy for Calpurnius the place that Theocritus had held for Virgil, and for post-Theocritean Greek bucolic. Calpurnius’ second Eclogue, after a first full of Roman history and politics, takes up what in Virgil’s second was the assertion of a Sicilian locale: mille meae Siculis errant in montibus agnae (Virg. Ecl. 2.21). That line was particularly famous, as CIL iv.8625(c) confirms. It is now changed to mille sub uberibus balantes pascimus agnas, | totque Tarentinae praestant mihi uellera matres (Calp. Sic. 2.68–9). The Italian origin of the sheep is ostentatious and apt (cf. e.g. Petr. 38.2). At the same time, this breed was known as ‘Greek sheep’ (Colum. RR 7.4.1 and 4), and a city of Greek foundation in South Italy links up with Theocritus; there are complications beneath the patriotic surface, as we shall see. But that surface is marked in the context by mention of the Parilia (Calp. Sic. 2.63), December (and the Saturnalia, 81–2), and the proverbially non-Greek Kalends (78).23 In Calpurnius, Virgil began the transplantation of the genre: Tityrus [= Virgil, see 65–6, 160–3] hanc habuit, cecinit qui primus in istis | montibus Hyblaea modulabile carmen auena (4.62–3). The deictic istis connects the setting with the national achievement (cf. Lucr. 1.117–19); it pointedly alters the montibus . . . uestris used in Virgil by the Roman Gallus of the Arcadians, who alone were skilled in singing (Ecl. 10.31–3). But Hyblaea follows Virg. Ecl. 10.51 in underlining the Sicilian origin of the genre. Place is also used in Calpurnius’ poem to mark generic change in Virgil: Tityrus was brought from woods dominam . . . in urbem and told to spurn pastoral for didactic and narrative hexameters (4.160–3). In this poem, Virgil (Tityrus) both infringes and embodies the aesthetic hierarchical opposition of country and city: he could also surpass in his pastoral the chelys of narrative hexameter (4.65–6), was a god (70) like Nero himself, and could raise pastoral to the level of consul, or princeps (cf. 73–120). Nero likewise, it is hoped,

22

On Pollio in the Eclogues cf. the argument of Cairns (2008). The poem has also built on Virgil’s mix of Naiads and Fauni (Virg. Ecl. 6.21, 27), Silvanus and Pan (10.24–7), Pales and Apollo (5.35) with Faunus, satyrs, Dryads, Naiads (Calp. Sic. 2.13–14), Silvanus, Flora, Pomona, Nymphs, Pales, Lares, Priapus. Poems 3 and 6 do not indicate a place (with legulus at 3.49 cf. Polyaen. 3.10.9 E# ŒÆæ ºªØ#); they do not seriously disturb the Italian location of the book as a whole. On Calpurnius generally cf. R. G. Mayer (2006), esp. for the Neronian date; Magnelli (2006a). On his relationship with Virgil cf. Langholf (1990), Hubbard (1996); on Calpurnius and Theocritus see also pp. 310–12 below. For the wool of Tarentum, see Morel (1978). 23

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might come to the montes (87–91). But as this implies, Nero is essentially located in Rome; since he forms the most ideal of ideal readers, he confirms the reader’s location in Rome (for Nero as recipient at 87–8 cf. 158–9 and e.g. 1.94). The last poem, where the generic modesty of the country singer is at its most extreme, presupposes a reader familiar with Rome and Nero’s new amphitheatre; the limited rustic can only use his own landscape as a comparison, with deixis (7.30–2 qualiter haec . . . uallis . . . ). The first Einsiedeln Eclogue triangulates the relation of Virgil and Nero differently, again with forceful use of space: the hexameter poets of Troy (Homer) and Mantua (Virgil) yield to the singing of Nero (43–9). Nero’s city, by implication, is Rome (cf. 36–41); the speaker’s deixis almost brings country and city together. As in Calpurnius, Virgil and Nero add temporal to spatial complexity. Calpurnius’ use of space firmly alters Virgil’s, and draws Virgil himself into the relation of reader’s space and dramatic space; again space is crucial to the relation of Greek and Latin.24 We may now look at the verbal relationship between Virgil and Theocritus, Calpurnius and Virgil. It is characteristic of the genre to exploit close connection on the level of lines and phrases, closer than we have seen in narrative hexameters, while making drastic alterations on the level of scene and form, within the limited repertoire of the genre. The two Latin texts never the less remain more intimately bound than the Latin and the Greek; but this intimacy should not be too schematically interpreted. Lines already mentioned will serve us here. Despite his eye, Theocritus’ Cyclops has assets: Iºº y# ØF# Kg a åºØÆ #Œø. ŒMŒ ø e Œæ Ø# I ºª # ª ºÆ ø. ıæe#  P º Ø  h K ŁæØ h K O æÆØ, P åØ H# ¼Œæø· Ææ#d   æÆåŁ# ÆN. (11.34–7) But though being such as I am, I feed a thousand animals; from them I draw and drink the best milk. Cheese does not fail me in summer or autumn or the depth of winter; my baskets are always overladen.

Virgil has demythologized, following the post-Theocritean [20]; his Corydon says to the boy he loves: despectus tibi sum, nec qui sim quaeris, Alexi, quam diues pecoris, niuei quam lactis abundans. mille meae Siculis errant in montibus agnae; lac mihi non aestate nouum, non frigore defit. (Ecl. 2.19–22) You have despised me, Alexis; you don’t ask who I am, how rich in livestock, how overflowing with snowy milk. A thousand she-lambs of mine wander in the hills of Sicily; new milk does not fail me in the summer or the cold season.

Calpurnius has turned the monologue into an amoebean competition; the loveobject has turned back into a female.

24 For poem 4 cf. B. Schröder (1991), Hubbard (1996). For poem 7, Newlands (1987), cf. Payne (2007), 167. On Nero in Einsiedeln Eclogue 1, cf. Leach (1975), Newlands (1987), 224, Amat (1998), 195–6.

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mille sub uberibus balantes pascimus agnas, totque Tarentinae praestant mihi uellera matres; per totum niueus premitur mihi caseus annum: si uenias, Crocale, totus tibi seruiet annus. (2.68–71) I nurture a thousand she-lambs, bleating beneath the udders; the same number of ewes from Tarentum provide me with fleeces. Throughout the entire year, I press together snowy cheese; if you should come to me, Crocale, the whole year will be at your service.

It could be thought at first that both Virgil and Calpurnius simply pick out key words from their model: Virgil ‘thousand’, ‘milk’, ‘summer’, ‘winter’, Calpurnius ‘thousand’, ‘female lambs’, and—from Theocritus—‘cheese’. None the less, agnas is not only the same word, but specific, unlike  , and placed in the same pattern in the line: | mille . . . agnae/as |. || premitur . . . caseus uses the metrical form and precise vocabulary of Virg. Ecl. 1.34 || premeretur caseus. niueus takes up Virgil’s epithet for milk; the force subtly alters, as the application becomes less obvious. Greek ØçØ# (‘snowy’), much less often used figuratively (esp. Nic. Ther. 291, 881), could not so readily take part in such an exchange. A wider point: mille . . . agnae/s splits the adjective from the noun; this is part of a general tendency in Latin poetry. So in the whole poem Theocritus 11 the adjective is split from the noun only at the emphatic 77 ººÆd #ı

Æ#  ŒæÆØ a ŒÆ ŒºÆØ (‘many are the girls who bid me sport with them at night’); in Virgil’s second Eclogue the adjective (or adjectival participle) is split from the noun forty times, not split twenty-six; in Calpurnius’ second Eclogue split seventy-two times, not split twenty-nine. There is thus a general, and national, kinship of style between the two Latin texts.25 Yet, while Calpurnius on the surface presents Virgil as his chief model, we should not think of the Latin intertext as simply displacing the Greek. In any case, the pattern of close relationship is itself modelled on that of later Greek bucolic to Theocritus. But Calpurnius reintroduces the cheese which was so important in Theocritus’ poem just after indicating the transposition to Italy (itself complicated, as we have seen). The significance of Greek intertexts must be strongly hinted; Calpurnius’ closeness to Virgil is bound up with nationalistic statement, but does not present an exclusive position, still less an actual avoidance of Greek models. The passage in Calpurnius 4 on Virgil’s (Tityrus’) translation to imperial Rome (dominam . . . urbem) pointedly uses the Greek ending Tityron (4.161), with the epithet dulce sonantem. Virgil’s Eclogues unlike Calpurnius’ (6.6, 51) do not use these Greek forms. All the same, the very presence of intertextuality with Greek brings out for the reader the difference in the relationship with the Latin text. Degrees of distance contribute to a complex structure of intertextuality.26 These examples have illustrated how adaptation of Greek into Latin is part of a larger and basic process; it should be compared with, and is often visibly set 25 On the lines in Virgil cf. Du Quesnay (1979), 63–6. Posch (1966), 38 speaks of Corydon’s implied claims to ownership; the status of Virgil’s rustics is of interest for the tradition, not least in view of the independent slaves seen in Longus 3 and 4. 26 Calpurnius’ Tityron alludes also to Ov. Pont. 4.16.33 Tityron antiquas Passerque rediret ad herbas (if sound); there rediret and antiquas, esp. after 32, suggest the post-Virgilian poet is going back beyond Virgil.

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against, the adaptation of Latin into Latin, and of Greek into Greek. Two aspects particularly mark out adaptation across languages: the change in the spatial orientation of the reader, and the difference in the languages themselves. Though both space and language are so important to ethnic identity, neither can be viewed as a simple pre-existing thing. It is indeed a precondition for the use of space that Rome forms a centre for Italy and the empire, where Greece and the Greek world lack such a central point; Greek poetry composed for a single city does not have the larger dimension to such a degree. But the constructed reader in Rome is handled differently from genre to genre and from work to work (so Virgil’s and Calpurnius’ Eclogues, Virgil’s Eclogues and Aeneid). Time and history, political and literary, are much involved; a nationalistic surface is often complicated by a broader vision (so in Calpurnius, or Valerius’ treatment of Hypsipyle, or Silius’ of Hannibal). It is apparent, however, that the transformation of texts into a Roman spatial perspective will typically be more radical than continuing or adapting such a perspective from another Latin text. The example of pastoral shows how much change can occur even between Latin texts; the example of Virgil’s Eclogues shows how much complexity and subtlety can be involved in the spatial transformation from Greek. As to language, there are basic differences between Greek and Latin, as we saw in Ch. 6 (esp. p. 148); the fundamental fact that works have a different or the same language is bound to separate adaptation between Greek and Latin from other types. But while some of the differences we have considered relate to individual words in the languages, others turn on the literary deployment of those languages. The converse to the close and subtle linguistic relationships between texts in the same language is the greater degree of transformation commonly seen when a Greek work is adapted into Latin. Transformation can extend to strikingly different general approaches to writing, as can be seen even where the texts are verbally close: so Livy’s narrative converts a type of historiography with many unRoman elements into a notably different type, though this may not itself be uniquely Roman. Although Livy and Silius in these passages are much further apart generically and structurally than Livy and Polybius, they are closer in their underlying aesthetic. Though space and language alike tend to make for larger difference in the adaptation from Greek to Latin, it has emerged that the degree of difference between source and target text is far from predetermined, and can relate to characteristic tendencies and to wider elements in the target text (one could talk intentionalistically of policies and strategies). Even within languages, some sorts of likeness can be characteristic, others rare (so Apollonius and Homeric words on the one hand and Homeric phrases on the other). An accumulation of verbal resemblances can have structural and argumentative force (so Valerius and Virgil in the passages considered). However, we should regard cautiously supposed ideological policies of intertextuality, in particular the idea that the first century ad rejects Greek models for Latin. Degree and type of closeness can form part of a structured handling of plural intertextuality (so Valerius’ use of Apollonius and Virgil); even where nationalistic approaches to intertextuality are overtly presented, the suggested approaches and the realities of the text may be more complicated (so in Calpurnius).

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In general, we have found some basic aspects which should help the reader in thinking about the relationships of particular Greek and Latin texts. But the examples have also shown us the richness and intricacy with which specific genres, authors, and texts exploit those aspects. Receptiveness to the aspects and alertness to the complications are more important than achieving simple conclusions.

8 Styles and Settings The previous chapter explored some crucial aspects of transposition, and in particular features which marked out the transposition of Greek into Latin. The next two chapters will look chiefly at frameworks within which the transposition takes place. A particular framework is that of style: Greek passages are always adapted into a pre-existing style. The style is the Latin author’s; that in turn belongs within the wider framework of stylistic tendencies in his period. Such aspects should not be viewed as tedious formalism; they are bound up with larger matters, as will be seen, and are themselves fundamental to Roman conceptions of adapting Greek and of literary history. Other sorts of framework will also appear: in these, works, authors, and identity are important.

THE BIRTH OF POINT Let us begin by looking at how the large stylistic framework of a Latin period can be shaped by Greek. We may take the origin of the ‘pointed style’. This is first fully visible, among ordinary published works, in Ovid and Manilius in poetry and Seneca the Elder and Younger in prose. Its prominence overlaps with the period when Greek models are alleged to be rejected for Latin models; yet its Greek origins are palpable. This is made clear by the Elder Seneca’s collection of sententiae, which take us back as far as the Augustan period. The same work also indicates the two-way traffic at Rome between prose declamation and the style of Ovid, and indeed the connection between declamation and the style of the Younger Seneca (who is one of the Elder Seneca’s addressees, and a writer of pointed poetry as well as pointed prose). An under-exploited source suggests the prominence of the ‘pointed style’ in contemporary Greek literature beyond declamation as such. This same spectacular way of writing is displayed by many speeches in Chariton, particularly soliloquies and related amatory utterances; in this context we have more scope to see the shapes into which the sententiae are accommodated. Both these speeches and the snippets in the Elder Seneca are evidence for fashions in Greek oratory—or for the heightened deployment of those fashions in situations outside real legal cases. At all events, the diffusion of

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the ‘style’ in Greek could suggest a context beyond that of declamation as relevant to the Latin developments.1 Some examples will illustrate the characteristic moves of the ‘style’. The data of the plot (or ‘world-building’ données) are made the opportunity for ingenious twists and connections; the paradoxical extremes of the situation are brought to a height, with careful preparation for the striking utterance. The emotion and experience of the speaker are made intense; the speaker’s self-consciousness both increases and complicates the impact. In the novel, narrative irony adds to the complication.2 At Charit. 6.2.10–11 Chaereas is addressing the friend who again prevents him from suicide. x ºØ ŒÆØæe | I º# # Ø | B# I ŒÆææ #ø#, | e a w c ŒÅ. | Ng ˚ƺºØæÅ P æ#BºŁ, | P ŒÆçºÅ#Æ. | J ŒÆØF ŒÆd I #ı

æ ª Æ#· ŒæÆØ ÆØæÆ# | N ˚ƺºØæÅ# I æ K#Ø. | (‘Again, what a chance for death by abstinence you have destroyed for me, one after the trial! I saw Callirhoe but did not approach her, did not kiss her. O new and incredible situation: Chaereas is tried to see if he is Callirhoe’s husband!’) The final sentence here leads up to what for Chaereas is an astonishing paradox, marked out by the third-person name; the same preparation for paradox is seen at 3.4.2 J ŒÆØH ı øæåø· | c K#ŁBÆ ŒÆd e åæı#e çıº Æ# | Å Œºł  ı | c ŁıªÆæÆ. | (‘A new sort of tomb-robbers: they have preserved the clothing and the gold, and the only thing they have stolen is my daughter.’) It is seen too at Sen. Contr. 10.5.26 (Diocles; painting with a tortured slave as model) ¼ Ø##  æłÆ· æe# e Iæ#Œ r # | KÆ ῾  | (‘the contempt is unbelievable: w when he liked the appearance, he would shout, ‘Keep it like that!’); 1.7.2 (Latro) audite nouam captiui uocem: ‘tutus sum si pater meus nihil habet’ |; 6.7.1 audite rem nouam: | fratrem crudelem, nouercam misericordem |; 10.3.4 (Marullus) o nouum monstrum! | irato uictore uiuendum est, | exorato patre moriendum est |; [Quint.] Decl. Mai. 19.6 nouum . . . uxoris in marito | crimen audite: | silentium est de quo queritur. In poetry cf. e.g. Ov. Met. 3.468 (Narcissus) uotum in amante nouum, uellem quod amamus abesset. Less immediately distinctive in Charit. 6.2.10–11 (above) is ºØ (‘again’), which shapes the plot into a neat recurrence of woes; cf. the more obviously declamation-like 1.14.9 (Callirhoe) Øa F ‰# #ŒF# ÆæŁÅ | PŒ r Æ #Ø,  ‚ººÅ#Ø j Ææ æØ# | j ºØ ºÅØ#ÆE# | (‘for this reason I have been given over like an object to I don’t know whom: Greeks, or barbarians, or robbers again?’). Note the different patterning of the story in the preceding sentence at 6.2.10 e æ ˚ƺºØæÅ# ª  | (‘the second marriage of Callirhoe’). The language of painful repetition remains common in later novels; but that does not remove the connection with a favourite turn seen e.g. in the following, several more evidently clever than 6.2.10: Sen. Contr. 10.3.15 iterum illam nobis uir abduxit |; Ov. Fast. 3.471–2 en iterum, fluctus, similes audite querellas; Her. 20.33–4 en iterum scribo 1 For Chariton see Rohde (1900), 362–6, mainly focused on content; he mentions soliloquies and conflicts of passion, but does not delve deeper into stylistic detail. Hernandez Lara (1990) does not consider the Latin context. On the ‘style’—really the basis for a range of authorial styles—cf. Summers (1910), xv–xli, Hutchinson (1993), 77–110, and for an earlier stage esp. P. R. Hardie (2009a). 2 In what follows | denotes a rhythmic close, | an overlapping rhythmic close; see Hutchinson w (1995), and pp. 233–40 below.

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mittoque rogantia uerba! | altera fraus haec est, quodque queraris habes; Luc. 8.584 iterumne relinquor . . . ?; 9.222–3 o numquam pacate Cilix, iterumne rapinas | uadis in aequoreas? Also of interest in 6.2.10–11 (above) are the short sentences in asyndeton, and the emotional anaphora P æ#BºŁ, | P ŒÆçºÅ#Æ |; cf. e.g. Sen. Contr. 2.2.1 (Arellius Fuscus) iam, uxor, non nauigabo, | non peregrinabor.3 A similar example (5.10.4) shows us the lead into a paradox; it starts with a lesser paradox. Dionysius faces a trial as to whose wife Callirhoe will be. . . . ŒÆ, e ı åƺ æ, | PŒ r Æ ˚ƺºØæÅ Æ ŁºØ. | #f , Œ, ‰# Ææa

Åæe# Æ#ÆØ ÆŁE. | ŒÆd F ¼ ºŁ | ŒÆd ƒŒı#  bæ F Ææ#. | ŒºÆF#, ŒÆÆçºÅ#, | N b ‘ Bæ, › Æ æ ı çغE #’· | OØ#ÅØ# b Å. |  ºªØ#,

ÆØƪøª; | Pd# A# KAØ E# Æ#غØ# N#ºŁE; J ıæÆ# ØB#· | I Œºı#Ø ıƒe | æe# ÅæÆ Ææe# | lŒÆ æ#ı  |. (‘And, what is w still more painful, I do not know whom Callirhoe wants. Child, you can find this out from her, your mother. Off now, and beg for your father; cry, kiss, say, “Mother, my father loves you.” But don’t reproach her at all. What’s that you say, minder of the boy? No one will let us into the palace? Oh dreadful tyranny! They shut out the son coming as envoy for the father to the mother.’) A moment of implied stage action here brutally dissolves the imaginary drama Dionysius has been directing. For the climax cf. Sen. Contr. 9.2.7 (Albucius) o qui crudelitate | omnis superasti tyrannos! | [here Flaminius is not himself a ruler] soli tibi . . . , and also 2.6.13 (Hermagoras) J åÅ# ØB#· | ÆPa K Ø # Iºº ºØ# Kºı##H  | (‘Oh dreadful turn of fortune! While giving the same injunctions to each other we were crazed’). The stage direction to the child connects with a favoured device in declamation, as at 2.1.8 (Fuscus): surgite, surgite, miserrimi iuuenes, | et meum rogando patrem | uestrum rogare discite |. In this last example is included an elaborate play on the elaborate plot; in the passage of Chariton a neat turn precedes the imperatives (the very child Dionysius has been addressing can get the information). The comparative which goes beyond the obvious situation (e ı åƺ æ, above) is another valued twist. Comparatives which bring out paradoxes in the situation can be seen at 7.5.5 (Callirhoe) # IººæØØ, | # w  æÆæØ, | çŁF#, Ø#F#· H b Ø#ø åæ# | ƒ çغF# | (‘all are alien, all barbarians, envying me, hating me; but worse than those that hate are those that love’). The build-up makes the paradox itself both surprising and climactic; the build-up is increased by the whole speech. We see the bare paradox at Sen. Contr. 7.6.22 (Furius Saturninus), in a case involving a tyrant and a slave: ›

b Æcæ åæø ªª ıæ ı, | › b Fº# ÆF | (!ÆıF MSS, edd.) (‘the father has been worse than the tyrant, the slave worse than himself ’). In poetry cf. Sen. Phaed. 1191–2 (the stepmother Phaedra) audite, Athenae, tuque, funesta pater | peior nouerca.4 Rhetorically cognate with comparatives are superlatives. Callirhoe piles up her woes (being buried alive, being handed to pirates); but there is worse: ¼æØ e

ªØ# | H ŒÆŒH #åø· | ÆæÆ ÆØæÆ P º ø | (‘now I undergo the 3 For ºØ cf. also 8.8.15 (happy). On the paratactic accumulation of suffering from the Odyssey on, cf. Hutchinson (2008), 72–89; Whitmarsh (2011), 204–13. 4 The same change of !Æı- to Æ- is recommended by rhythm in Chariton at e.g. 1.6.1, 7.1, 2.2.6, 5.12, 3.3.15, 4.1.2, 5, 6.5.7, 7.5.15, 8.5.5.

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greatest of my misfortunes: Chaereas is here and I cannot see him’, 6.7.9). The superficial paradox ÆæÆ . . . P º ø merely adorns the deeper paradox created by the intensity of her love. Similarly surprising worsts appear at Sen. Contr. 8.1 hoc condicio humana uel pessimum habet, quod Fortuna quos miseros fecit etiam superstitiosos facit |; Sen. Phaed. 1119–20 (Theseus has just heard the narrative of his son’s being pulled apart; he weeps, but attempts to maintain a paradox created by hatred) equidem malorum maximum hunc cumulum reor, | si abominanda casus optanda efficit; Juv. 3.152–3 nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se | quam quod ridiculos homines facit. Seneca’s Phaedra brings in another aspect: in heightening the surprise of events, speakers can juxtapose the trivial or base with the extraordinary. So at 5.6.10 Dionysius says sarcastically (and with unconscious irony) Iºº ‹Æ ØåF#ÆØ ŁºÅØ ØŁæØ Å#, I#Å#Ø f# Œæ# | (‘whenever Mithridates wants to commit adultery, he raises up the dead’). This he proceeds to explain. At Sen. Phaed. 175–7 the Nurse has been urging Phaedra to remember her mother’s misfortunes with the Minotaur and not engage in the equal monstrosity of loving her stepson. The two ideas are brought together at the end of the speech. This time the base idea closes rather than begins the sentence, after enjambement; the quotiens is more pointed than the ‹Æ, but the stylistic affinity is clear. prodigia totiens orbis insueta audiet, | natura totiens legibus cedet suis, | quotiens amabit Cressa? Dionysius’ spoken extreme will soon be realized when Chaereas is shown alive, in a non-theatrical, and non-verbal, coup de théâtre. The narrator asks: E#

ØÅc# K d #ŒÅB# | Ææ  FŁ oø# N# ªÆª; | (‘what poet ever brought so strange a tale onto the stage?’, 5.8.2). The novel, whether or not itself known in Rome, illustrates how there may have been inspiration in Greek culture for the large scale of story on which paradox draws in imperial tragedies and narrative hexameter poems. This would be true even if that inspiration were provided simply by long speeches in oratory; and for declamation itself we must bear in mind what a limited impression the Elder Seneca permits us.5 After its introduction the impact of the style will not only have been maintained by the Latin authors who employed it (so, say, the impact of Ovid and the Younger Seneca on Lucan). Thus Greek rhetors could be heard in the Greek world, and continued to be present in Rome. Thus Greek and Roman rhetors alike (whether one of each or more) are given public pay by Vespasian (Suet. Vesp. 18 primus e fisco Latinis Graecisque rhetoribus annua centena constituit; GR fr. 7 Kaster (Jerome): Quintilian primus Romae publicam scholam et salarium e fisco accepit; Dio Cass. 66.12.1a (Zonar. 11.17 p. 494) ØÆ#Œ ºı# K BØ    ÅØ ŒÆd B# ¸Æø ŒÆd B#  EººÅØŒB# ÆØÆ# ŒÆ#Å#, Ø#Łe KŒ F Å #ı çæÆ#, ‘he set up teachers in Rome of both the Latins’ culture and the Greek culture; they took pay from the public treasury’). Even visits by famous rhetors made an impression: so Isaeus (Pliny, Epistles 2.3, Juv. 3.74).6

5 On knowledge of Chariton at Rome cf. Goold (1995), 4–5; but Kißel (1990), 287 n. 591 points to the difficulty of a Greek work at Pers. 1.134 after 127. See Eliot (1956), 14 for Seneca’s tragedies and ‘the verbal coup de théâtre’. 6 Jerome might suggest that at first only one rhetor, a Latin one, is given the public pay; if so, the situation is soon altered by at least one Greek rhetor. Suet. Vesp. 18 does not obviously suggest only one

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The shortage of Greek declamation in the first and even second centuries ad is a handicap for us; but suggestive are the two extant declamations of Polemon (i–ii ad). Both deal with heroes of Marathon: Cynegeirus had both his hands cut off while seizing a Persian ship, Callimachus received innumerable wounds. It is clear that these were not Polemon’s idiosyncratic invention, but a standard pair of themes. The subject-matter is from Greek history, and we can expect Greek declaimers to be especially significant here. Lucan (below) could also be influenced by reading Augustan Greek declaimers; but the written tradition may have been relatively limited. In any case, the point is not to prove but to show considerable possibilities.7 In Lucan’s sea-battle, the twin brother who loses both hands (3.603–33) is clearly modelled on Cynegeirus (even the surviving brother corresponds to Aeschylus). Cf. Val. Max. 3.2.22, Suet. Jul. 68.4 for the connection. The declamatory background has been little regarded; but the whole approach of Lucan’s narrative is close to the later Polemon in presenting strange paradox as an embodiment of extreme courage. The occurrence is included among multa . . . uarii miracula fati at 3.633–4; this conception runs through Polemon. So, with build-up eminently in the pointed style, A 11 ŁÆ ŒÆd ŁÆı Æ#e Kª, | ˚ıªØæ# b ¼ı åØæH Æı ÆåH, | ådæ b ¼ı ˚ıªæı ØŒı#Æ | (‘then something truly amazing happened: Cynegeirus fighting a sea-battle without hands, the hand in pursuit without Cynegeirus’, cf. 23, 33). The particular points in Polemon are not seen in Lucan: he indeed makes Lucan seem comparatively plain and straightforward. But the affinity of presentation is evident, not only in these passages but more widely. The dead body of Callimachus filled with weapons, which remains standing as if he were alive, is readily related to Tyrrhenus: Tyrrhenus had been struck, thought he was dead, regards himself as largely a corpse (Luc. 3.719–20, cf. Polemon B 12 t #H Æ  łıå, ‘oh body full of life!’), asks to be placed upright so as to continue helping (rectum 717, cf. Polemon B 44, 61), and urges himself by name to persist (718–21, cf. Polemon B 58). One may also compare Scaeva, unfelled and filled with weapons (6.196–206, advancing on Virg. Aen. 10.881–7), or the paradoxical standing corpses at 4.785–7 (compressum turba stetit omne cadauer). The first named casualty Catus holds a ship and is struck from back and front simultaneously so that stetit (i.e. did not move) incertus flueret quo uolnere sanguis (3.589); he has resemblances both to Cynegeirus and to Callimachus, whose body is kept standing by arrows in the ground (Polemon A 7, 27, cf. B 59, 61). The Greek intertextuality is probably important, and combines with the Greek history: for Greeks, Cynegeirus is a supreme example of Greek valour. So Crinag. XXI Gow–Page makes a Roman soldier excel him. The valour and more than Greek fidelity of the Massilians (non Graia leuitate fidem, Luc. 3.302) are seen to match the days of Marathon, despite the decline of Greece’s power (181–3 on Salamis). The Massilians are constantly referred to as Greeks, and are pointedly in each language; but Vespasian’s innovation is commonly seen as starting the Greek and Latin ‘chairs’ at Rome. Cf. pp. 51, 54. 7 On the material see Reader (1996), 39, and add especially Syrian. In Hermog. Stas. 10 p. 164 Rabe for the dispute between the fathers, and Sen. Contr. 9.1.2, Suas. 5.2 for the familiarity of Cynegeirus in Rome.

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matched with the Romans (463–4, 525–7, 610, cf. 758–9). As the catalogue earlier in the book has made clear (esp. 163–97), the Romans are not the only people with traditions.8

MO VI N G MEDEA The broad stylistic framework of a period can, then, itself involve adaptation from Greek. But, on a smaller scale, the adaptation of a Greek work or passage into a Latin work or passage can and typically does involve stylistic frameworks which do not relate to the Greek original but are connected with the Latin author and his period, and often with periods of Greek later than the original itself. Let us now compare the adaptation of passages from one work at two different periods, and see how the stylistic tendencies of each period affect the adaptation. Even here we will see how the particular approach of the author and character of the work affects the adaptation too. We will look at a series of passages from Ennius’ and Seneca’s plays about Medea; both authors adapt Euripides. The passages will offer a strong example of how styles at different periods create a different mould for the specific adaptations. Ennius and Seneca are probably very innovative writers, but their styles can still be related to the broader evolution of Latin literature, as is indicated by Naevius, Plautus, Ovid, the Elder Seneca, and others. We will also see two very different approaches to adaptation. Ennius is earlier than the times on which this book concentrates, but well brings out Seneca’s approaches and the wider argument. The opening of Ennius’ Medea Exul has often been compared with its original; Seneca will here have in mind both Euripides and Ennius’ transformation. We will concentrate here on the first two sentences. Euripides’ play begins: ¯YŁ þçº æªF# c ØÆ  #ŁÆØ #Œ ç# ˚ºåø K# Ær Æ ŒıÆÆ# Cı

ºÅª Æ#,

Å K  ÆØ#Ø —źı #E   ÅŁE#Æ ŒÅ, Å Kæ H#ÆØ åæÆ# IæH Iæ#ø, Q e ªåæı# æÆ# —ºÆØ BºŁ. P ªaæ i # Ø K  ØÆ æªı# ªB#  ºı# øºŒÆ# æøØ Łı e KŒ ºÆªE#  ##. (1–8) (Nurse) If only the ship Argo had not flown through the dark Symplegades to the land of the Colchians, and the pine had not been cut and fallen in the glens of Pelion, and their hands had not rowed, those heroes who went after the all-golden fleece for Pelias! For then my mistress Medea would not have sailed to the walls of Iolcus, struck in her heart by love for Jason.

Ennius’ play begins:

8 Crinagoras’ gesture is akin to Lucan (e.g. 6.48–54), as is the paradoxical valour. Epigram itself is less of a promising source for Lucan’s narrative, though connected with the style; more of interest would be contemporary Greek military poetry.

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Vtinam ne in nemore Pelio securibus caesa accidisset abiegna ad terram trabes, neue inde nauis inchoandi exordium cepisset, quae nunc nominatur nomine Argo, quia Argiui in ea delecti uiri uecti petebant pellem inauratam arietis Colchis, imperio regis Peliae, per dolum! nam numquam era errans mea domo efferret pedem Medea animo aegro, amore saeuo saucia. (208–16 Jocelyn) (Nurse) If only the fir trunk had not been cut with axes in the grove of Pelion and fallen to the ground, and from there a start of beginning had not been taken by the ship which is now styled with the name Argo, because picked Argive men travelled in it and sought among the Colchians the golden fleece of the ram by trickery, at the command of King Pelias! For my mistress Medea would never have taken her foot from home, astray with troubled mind, wounded with savage love.

Euripides’ opening, emotional as his openings often are, makes the nurse heap up events, out of order, in a tricolon of negative wishes. The initial image gives an impetuous speed to the sentence. Ennius reduces the impetus and rhetorical force in offering a more elaborately phrased and an ordered narrative. More emotional weight falls on Medea; an asyndetic pair of phrases intensifies the depiction (215– 16). In the passage, sound and sense are played on ostentatiously, and conceptions expanded. The initial alliteration is obvious in ad terram trabes (209), uiri | uecti (212–13), petebant pellem (213), saeuo saucia (216); fuller play appears in pellem . . . Peliae (213–14), era errans (215). Alliteration is coupled with connection of meaning in caesa accidisset (209) (contrast #E . . .  ÅŁE#Æ, 3–4). The elaborate and alliterative nominatur nomine (211) leads into the full etymology of Argo quia Argiui (212). The crucial idea of beginning is expanded and complicated in inchoandi exordium | cepisset (210–11). errans (215), the sense of which exploits the prefix and potential of KŒ ºÆªE# (8), is so placed as to link physical transgression of boundaries with mental aberration. The stylistic intricacy and virtuosity are characteristic of this period of Latin; adaptation into this framework requires perpetual acts of enrichment within the language. These tendencies are much connected with old traditions in Latin.9 Seneca flamboyantly avoids the famous opening; he advertises the alteration. His first speaker is Medea herself. She starts the play directly by invoking gods of vengeance, but soon refers to the Argo and the sea, without Euripides’ particulars: quaeque domituram freta | Tiphyn nouam frenare docuisti ratem, | et tu, profundi saeue dominator maris (2–4). Euripides’ opening is taken into the body of the play; there choral odes broaden the idea of initial events into universal regret at the making of the Argo. Especially close is the passage on the Argonauts at 607–15: quisquis audacis tetigit carinae nobiles remos nemorisque sacri Pelion densa spoliauit umbra, 9 On the passage of Ennius, see Jocelyn (1967), 350–6, Lennartz (1994), 182–7, Vogt-Spira (2000), 268–71, Rosato (2005), 48–66. Cf. Prinzen (1998), 58–71 on later use of Ennius’ prologue, and 346–61 on Seneca’s attitude to Ennius.

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quisquis intrauit scopulos uagantes et tot emensus pelagi labores barbara funem religauit ora raptor externi rediturus auri, exitu diro temerata ponti iura piauit. Whoever touched the famous oars of the bold ship, and despoiled Pelion of the thick shade of its sacred grove, whoever entered the wandering rocks and, after travelling over so much toilsome sea, tied the ship’s rope to a barbarian shore, hoping to return as the thief of foreign gold, paid with a grim death for his violation of the sea’s rights.

Seneca creates an imposing rhetorical structure, as for the first time in the ode he expands the sapphic stanza. The repeated quisquis turns the accumulated wishes of Euripides’ nurse into a sweeping general statement, which is justified in the catalogue that follows (616–67). The development after uagantes (610) does not lead away into narrative, as in Ennius, but pointedly prepares the ending; tot (611) sharpens the irony, and rediturus (613) contrasts with exitu (614). In 607–10, Seneca ingeniously produces an unchronological but different order, with Euripides’ first, second, and third actions as third, second, and first. Nouns are enriched with moralizing adjectives (audacis, 606; sacri, 608); Ennius’ per dolum (214), picked up in raptor here (613), is then extended into cosmic violation. The adjectives are frequently and artfully separated from their nouns, as often in Horace’s sapphics, and as in imperial poetry generally: so the patterns adjective– verb–noun (audacis tetigit carinae, densa spoliauit umbra, cf. externi rediturus auri), | adjective . . . noun | (| barbara . . . ora |), and the adjective preparing the climactic adonaeus (temerata ponti | iura). The emphasis on events in Å K  ÆØ#Ø —źı #E  |  ÅŁE#Æ ŒÅ (3–4) is altered so as to set the sacrilegious act in a richly nominal depiction of the thick and sacred wood, enhanced by the genitive structure nemoris umbra and the transferred densa.10 At 335–9 Seneca uses K  ÆØ#Ø —źı . . .  ÅŁE#Æ ŒÅ and Kæ H#ÆØ to produce a forceful disparity; the original causality becomes a cosmic argument. bene dissaepti foedera mundi traxit in unum Thessala pinus iussitque pati uerbera pontum partemque metus fieri nostri mare sepositum. The set limits in the world, which had been rightly disjoined, a ship of Thessalian pine drew into one; it bade the sea suffer blows, and the separated deep become part of our fears.

The finesse of the verse strengthens the argumentation (even if the dimeters were differently distributed in Seneca’s text, they are entities of phrasing). mundi | (335) is set against the comparatively slight pinus | (336), which the place-name (cf. —źı, 3) now makes more arbitrary. A further contrast to pinus comes with the element pontum | (337), put expressively next to the impious uerbera; 10 On this and the following passage of Seneca, cf. Biondi (1984), esp. 114–16, 156–62, 212–16, Hine (2000), 150–1, 170.

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Euripides’ phrase had left out the sea. Adjectives are often split from nouns; dissaepti . . . mundi (335) may be expressive, metus . . . nostri (338) emphasizes the relevance to all. The placing of mare sepositum (339) highlights the separation now undone. We see, then, the difference of style in Seneca’s period from Ennius’, but also the individual and meaningful transformations Seneca has wrought on Euripides’ lines.11 A further example is only possible, as regards Ennius. Almost at the end of the scene with Creon in Euripides, Creon tells Medea:

æı ø  #Ø, Y #  ØF#Æ ºÆ

a# ZłÆØ ŁF ŒÆd ÆEÆ# Ke# B# æ ø åŁ#, ŁÆBØ· ººŒÆØ FŁ# Iłıc# ‹. (351–4) If the coming lamp of the sun sees you and your children within the borders of this land, you will die; this utterance is no falsehood.

A phrase twice quoted by Cicero could come from this play: so the matching of Euripides’ enjambement suggests (cf. the placing of Medea and perhaps Colchis in 216, 214 Jocelyn). The quotation is si te secundo lumine hic offendero, | moriere (264–5 Vahlen; si liberos | could have preceded). If this is Ennius’ Medea, Ennius has actually turned the poetic ornament of Euripides’ conditional clause into a more directly threatening phrase. Seneca proceeds differently: capite supplicium lues, clarum priusquam Phoebus attollat diem nisi cedis Isthmo. sacra me thalami uocant, uocat precari festus Hymenaeo dies. (297–300) You will pay the penalty with your life if you do not go from the Isthmus before Phoebus raises the bright day. —The rites of the wedding chamber and the festive day call me to pray to Hymenaeus.

The strong word capite comes first, and is given Roman resonance. Euripides’ poeticism on the Sun is made less threatening, but with a point. The separation of adjective from noun across the whole line takes up the preceding | unus . . . dies | (295: you have one day to go into exile), and is taken up with a lesser separation in festus . . . dies | (300). The repetition serves in the end to highlight not Creon’s severity but his carelessness as he hurries off to the wedding. Even in 297 he ignores Medea’s offer (296–7) of a shorter deadline. The stylistic predilections of imperial poetry are deployed with point and disruptive wit—itself an imperial predilection.12

11 It is apparent from papyri that dimeters were used in the presentation of anapaests, e.g. P. Oxy. VI 852 fr. 1 col. iv 10–14 = Eur. Hyps. fr. 752h.10–14 Kannicht, P. Oxy. XVIII 2161 col. ii 23–34 = Aesch. Dict. fr. 47a.821–32 Radt (P. Köln III 125 = Aesch. fr. 273a Radt is an uncolometrized school exercise). A different distribution is unlikely in this case. Cf. further on anapaests Zwierlein (1983), 182–202. 12 The enjambement, and the idea of supplementation, are not considered by Jocelyn (1967), 349, who thinks Creon one possibility, or Lennartz (1994), 178–81, (2001), who does not; Lennartz cites Ter. Eun. 1063–5. Sen. Med. 300 is omitted in E; the dative probably goes with precari rather than festus (otherwise TLL x.1158.64–5). For the motif of festivity cutting consideration short cf. Heliod. 2.36.2.

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At Eur. Med. 502–5 Medea’s rhetoric is not a simple expression of despair but an attack on her interlocutor Jason. She precedes the lines with ‘Come; I’ll share my problems with you as a friend. What good can I expect to get from you? But still I’ll ask you: it will reveal you as more shameful’ (499–501). F E æ ø ÆØ; æÆ æe# Ææe#  ı#, R# #d æF#Æ ŒÆd æÆ IçØŒ Å; m æe# ƺÆÆ# —ºØ Æ#; ŒÆºH# ª i s ÆØ  YŒØ# z ÆæÆ ŒÆŒÆ. Now where am I to turn? To my father’s house, when I betrayed it and my fatherland for you in coming here? Or to the unhappy daughters of Pelias? A fine reception they would give me in their house when I killed their father.

Medea’s fluent and elegant rhetoric follows both possibilities with a refutation, heightened in the second case by particles and sarcasm. In Ennius’ we have: quo nunc me uortam? quod iter incipiam ingredi? domum paternamne? anne ad Peliae filias? (217–18 Jocelyn) Where am I to turn myself now? What journey’s path am I to begin entering? Shall I go to my father’s house? Or to the daughters of Pelias?

It is possible, but no more, that Cicero, who quotes the lines, has left out the refutations after paternamne and filias; but it looks in any case as if the emotion has been intensified by accumulating questions. If the context remained that of asking Jason advice, the irony of asking is made heavier. The central idea of the journey is elaborated, with alliteration (iter incipiam ingredi) and an intricate expression (cf. 210–11 above).13 Seneca’s Medea, with a turn characteristic of imperial rhetoric, claims that she is usually in exile, but this time from, not for, Jason. She expands: ad quos (sc. penates) remittis? Phasin et Colchos petam patriumque regnum quaeque fraternus cruor perfudit arua? quas peti terras iubes, quae maria monstras? Pontici fauces freti, per quas reuexi nobilem regum manum, adulterum secuta per Symplegadas? patruamne Iolcon, Thessala an Tempe petam? quascumque aperui tibi uias, clausi mihi. quo me remittis? exuli exilium imperas nec das. (451–60) To what home do you send me back? Am I to go to the Phasis and Colchis, my father’s kingdom and the lands drenched by my brother’s blood? What lands do you bid me go to, what seas do you point to? The straits of the Pontic sea, through which I brought back the famous band of kings, following my adulterer through the Symplegades? Shall I go to your uncle’s Iolcus, or Thessalian Tempe? Whatever routes I have opened for you, I have closed to myself. Where are you sending me back? You order exile to an exile, but give me no chance of it.

13 For the rhetoric cf. R. L. Fowler (1987). On Cicero’s possible abbreviation of Ennius’ text, cf. Jocelyn (1967), 356–7 (Cic. Att. 7.3.10 is his best example); Lennartz (1994), 175–8. See also on the Ennius Lefèvre (2001), 39, Rosato (2005), 113–20.

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Seneca accumulates questions at greater length (probably) than Ennius; throughout he keeps the tone of attack seen in Euripides. (Quint. Inst. 9.2.8 picks up the inuidia sought by the questions, that is the aim of making Jason look ÆN#åø (‘more shameful’, Eur. Med. 501).) Medea’s mock-intimacy and sarcasm are replaced by an ingenious and grandiose conception and structure. Jason’s return journey is retraced, sequentially; the passage reworks and contrasts with Euripides’ and Ennius’ prologues. The opening question in Euripides (F E æ ø ÆØ;) is turned into a more complicated question (ad quos remittis?); then developed into a string of petere (petam 451, quas peti terras iubes 453, petam 457); then turned into a larger question (quo me remittis? 459), after the argument has expanded from homes to all possible places (cf. 453–4). Euripides emphasizes homes ( ı# 502, YŒØ# 504); Seneca picks up on the addition of æÆ in his opening expansion from penates to regnum and arua. His relative clause quaeque fraternus cruor | perfudit arua (452–3) is much more extreme than Euripides’ R# #d æF#Æ . . . (503). It also continues a series of adjectives based on relationships, perhaps linked to Ennius’ paternam: patrium, fraternus, patruam (457 (Zwierlein: paruam MSS)). The double alliteration in 454 maria monstras . . . fauces freti underlines the extremity; but otherwise than in Ennius, extremity is accompanied by a precise refinement of structure and rhetoric. The enjambed monosyllables nec das at the close encapsulate the spectacular mastery of language. The mastery draws in part on Greek developments later than Euripides.14 These Medeas illustrate the adaptation of passages into styles which differ through period and reflect different preoccupations. They also illustrate widely different approaches to adaptation itself. In style and adaptation Seneca’s approach is partly personal; the concern with closely structured argumentation connects with philosophy as well as rhetoric. A few points may be made here on the wider contexts provided by the works. We should not put a chronological vacuum in between Euripides and the Latin authors. In transforming Euripides, both are doing what many Greek writers had done: there was a long tradition of Medea plays. But Ennius would seem principally to be adapting a single play of Euripides into a new language. Seneca, as his opening indicates, maintains a greater distance from the most famous treatment of the story; he probably also points to other treatments. His early uiuat (20)—a punishment for Jason—and Medea’s not killing one child, then killing it in Jason’s sight, seem to turn round events and arguments in other versions, to make Medea still worse. Carcinus’ Medea (relevant to 20) we now know to have been current in the second century ad (P. Louvre E. 10534); on the Apulian red-figure volutecrater Munich 3296 (J 810; attr. Underworld Painter, c.330 bc), one child escapes.15 Not even Seneca, so far as we can see, directly relates the transposition of the Greek play into Latin to Medea’s transplantation to Greece; his word for ‘Greek’ in 14 On the passage cf. Zwierlein (1977), 60–1, Hine (2000), 159–60, Rosato (2005), 115. Hine like others takes quos in 451 as a noun. 15 RVAp. ii.533.283, LIMC ‘Kreousa’ 17. For P. Louvre E. 10534 see Bélis (2004), M. L. West (2007). The comparison of Medea to a maenad at Sen. Med. 382–6 appears to recall Ovid’s tragedy (fr. 2 Ribbeck), cf. Hutchinson (2008), 179 n. 3. The use of various models is seen on a large scale in the Phoenissae (p. 22 n. 28 above); for a smaller scale, cf. e.g. Th. Gärtner (2012).

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the play, Pelasgus, does not point to the Greek language. The ethnic oppositions explored by Euripides already looked different in Ennius; his prologue brings out that the Greeks are a foreign people, while the idea of Roman public service abroad seems to complicate Medea’s speech on exile (219–20 Jocelyn). Seneca has other concerns. Medea’s importation of Colchian evil to Greece (43–5) is part of the wider disruption of the world through the defiance of cosmic divisions between land and sea (cf. 362–4); her final exit breaks down another cosmic division by removing the gods from the heavens (1026–7). Seneca’s choruses, unlike Euripides’, do not treat of Athens, or speak of traditions in Greek poetry (cf. Eur. Med. 824–65; 421–30, 1081–9 (anapaests)); the sea bulks large. Some of Seneca’s conceptions of Medea existed already in the Latin tradition (cf. Man. 5.32–5 for Medea’s transportation of evil); so did the whole idea of her as an extreme of evil (e.g. Ovid, Heroides 6, Man. 3.9–13, 5.465–7). But the shaping of such conceptions in this play reflects the author’s philosophical sensibility. The expression of that sensibility reflects the period.16

R E C RE A TI NG T H E T I M A E U S We shall now look more closely at an example of transposition into an author’s pre-existing style; we will then look further at the authorial context for the transposition, and at its relation to the author’s larger projects. We shall consider Cicero’s rendering of Plato’s Timaeus. Cicero’s style had been shaped by developments in Greek rhetoric since Plato’s time; this is particularly apparent in the Hellenistic system of rhythm which he adopts in all his published works (see further pp. 233–40 below). Let us consider a single moment, at Cic. Tim. 16–17 = Plat. Tim. 32c5–33b1, and especially the later parts of the passage. H b c  æø £ ‹º *ŒÆ# YºÅç F Œ# ı ##Æ#Ø#. KŒ ªaæ ıæe#

Æe# oÆ#  ŒÆd Iæ# ŒÆd ªB# #ı#Å# ÆPe › #ıØ# #, æ# Pb Pe# Pb Æ Ø øŁ  ºØ ,   ØÆÅŁ#, æH b ¥Æ ‹º ‹Ø ºØ#Æ ÇHØ º KŒ ºø H æH YÅ, æe# b Ø# *, – På  ººØ

ø K z ¼ºº ØF ªØ ¼, Ø b ¥  Iª æø ŒÆd ¼# qØ, ŒÆÆH ‰# #ı# øØ # ÆØ Łæ a ŒÆd łıåæa ŒÆd Ł ‹#Æ ı Ø# N#åıæa# åØ æØØ# Æ øŁ ŒÆd

æ#  Æ IŒÆæø# ºØ ŒÆd #ı# ªBæ #  K ªÆ çŁØ ØE. Øa c c ÆNÆ ŒÆd e ºªØ# e  *Æ ‹º ‹ºø K ± ø º ŒÆd Iª æø ŒÆd ¼# ÆPe KŒ Æ. The composition of the universe has taken one whole each of the four [elements]. For the one who was composing it composed it of all the fire, water, air, and earth, leaving no part or force of any outside, with these aims in mind, first, that it should be a creature whole as much as possible and perfect, made from perfect parts, and besides this should be one, in that nothing had been left behind from which another such thing could be made, and then that it should be without age and sickness: he considered that hot and cold things and everything that has strong forces, if standing

16 Lefèvre (2001) suggests political and ethnic points to Ennius’ play. Pelasgus is common in Seneca’s Troades too (and e.g. in Ovid); Varro, RR 3.1.6 (Pelasgi come from Greece to Italy) is unlikely to be relevant.

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around and falling on a compound body from outside at the wrong time, dissolve it and by bringing diseases and old age cause it to perish. Through this cause and reasoning he fashioned it one and whole, from elements all whole, and perfect, without age and sickness. earum autem quattuor rerum | quas supra dixi sic in omni mundo partes omnes conlocatae sunt | ut nulla pars huiusce generis | excederet extra, atque ut in hoc uniuerso | inessent genera illa uniuersa: | id ob eas causas, primum ut mundus animans posset ex perfectis partibus esse perfectus, | deinde ut unus esset, | nulla parte unde alter gigneretur | relicta, | postremo ne qui morbus eum posset aut senectus attingere. | omnis enim w coagmentatio corporis | ui caloris uel frigoris | uel aliqua impulsione uehementi | labefactatur et frangitur | et ad morbos senectutemque conpellitur. | hanc igitur habuit rationem effector mundi et molitor deus, | ut unum opus totum atque perfectum | ex omnibus totis atque perfectis | absolueret, | quod omni morbo et senio uacaret. | w Of the four things which I mentioned all parts have been placed in all the universe in such a way that no part of this kind should move outside, and that the latter kinds of things [the elements] should exist entire in the former [the universe], also entire; this has been done for these reasons, firstly so that the universe should be a perfect creature made from perfect parts, then so that it should be one, with no part left from which another universe could be produced, and finally so that no disease or old age could touch it. For every composition of a body is loosened and broken by the force of heat or cold or some strong impact, and driven to diseases and old age. So this was the reason of the god who fashioned and built the universe, to complete one whole and perfect work from elements that were all whole and perfect, which would be free from all disease and age.

Plato’s structure presents the main point in a short sentence, gives the reasons in a huge sentence, which runs on with flowing eloquence, and then summarizes with a sentence of potent brevity. Cicero redivides the material into a more elegant structure, with a more premeditated appearance. The action occupies a longer and internally structured unit (earum . . . uniuersa); the causes are given in an orderly sequence, primum ut . . . deinde ut . . . postremo ne, not æH b ¥ Æ with æe# b Ø# * appended, then Ø b ¥  . The explanation of the last is given by Cicero in a separate sentence, not added on to the last with a ŒÆÆH which vaguely relates to ØÆÅŁ#. Cicero’s final sentence is expanded for grandeur; it emphasizes the magnificence of the creating god, who is one of Cicero’s particular concerns, in the characteristic inserted phrase effector mundi et molitor deus.17 Cicero picks up Plato’s polyptota and pairs, vital to Plato’s argument and exalted in style, but builds on them to produce neat phrases and a neatly varied sequence, where Plato produces more reiterated phrases and imposing repetition (‹º ‹Ø ºØ#Æ ÇHØ º KŒ ºø; *Æ ‹º ‹ºø K ± ø º; the exalted Iª æø ŒÆd ¼# repeated): omni . . . omnes . . . nulla; in hoc uniuerso . . .

17 For effector cf. esp. Tusc. 1.70 possumusne dubitare quin is praesit aliquis uel effector, si haec nata sunt, ut Platoni uidetur. For such phrases in the Timaeus cf. Lambardi (1982), 105–9. Note also Ov. Met. 1.57 mundi fabricator, 59 opifex rerum, possibly influenced by Cicero’s translation. Cf. T. M. Robinson (1968) for Ovid and the Timaeus. Even coagmentatio in Cicero has artistic suggestions, cf. ND 2.119 (and 1.20), Fin. 3.74. See Johansen (2004), ch. 4 on divine craftsmanship; cf. also T. M. Robinson (1993).

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illa uniuersa; animans posset ex perfectis partibus esse perfectus; totum atque perfectum ex omnibus totis atque perfectis (here the dignity of atque + consonant is amassed to enhance solemnity); ne qui morbus eum posset aut senectus attingere . . . quod omni morbo et senio uacaret. Plato’s insistent carrying through of a stem in ##Æ#Ø# . . . #ı#Å# . . . › #ıØ# # . . . #ı# øØ is important for the argument; the last word is unusual. Cicero does not at all reproduce it (conlocatae sunt . . . coagmentatio); #ı#Å# . . . › #ıØ# # would not easily appear in Ciceronian Latin. The striking extra is not repeated like øŁ, rather to the detriment of the argument.18 The rhythm subdivides the periods into short phrases and pairs. More colourful verbs animate the short entities: so attingere (Iª æø . . . qØ); labefactatur et frangitur—a typical pair—and compellitur (ºØ ŒÆd #ı# . . . K ªÆ çŁØ

ØE). The whole passage is refined and organized; it responds to the Platonic grandeur, but with less sweep and impetus.19 Plato, then, is turned into Ciceronian; but a brief moment a little later points in a different direction. In saying that the world needed no nourishment, Plato explains I ØØ  ªaæ P, Pb æ# ØØ ÆPHØ Ł—Pb ªaæ q (33c6–7, ‘for nothing used to leave the universe, or came to it from anywhere—for that was not even possible’). Cicero renders neque enim ulla decessio fīeri poterat | neque w accessio, | nec uero erat unde (18). The final, non-rhythmic, phrase, especially at the end of the sentence, shows a compressed idiom uncharacteristic of Cicero. The character of the original, and the goal of capturing it, have caused a momentary deviation from the translating author’s stylistic norm.20 The general stylistic transformation in this passage is the more notable when rendition of the original must be one of its points. Since much of the proem is lost, we have no statement of Cicero’s aims. It seems probable that the translation was meant to impress on various grounds: an obscure Greek work was being made clear in Latin (one thinks of Lucretius, e.g. 1.933–4); a work by much the best author (longe optimus, Orat. 62) was being given a worthy incarnation in Latin; Cicero was converting Plato into his own style and in accord with his own understanding. As to the first of these points, the Timaeus was found a particularly challenging work, especially but not solely through its difficult scientific content (Fin. 2.15; cf. Ac. Pri. 123). Its austerity was no doubt increased for readers by its form: most of it is Timaeus’ continuous exposition rather than dialogue. As to the second and third, only the preface survives from Cicero’s translation (Opt. Gen. 14, 18) of Aeschines and Demosthenes on the Crown; there he makes both fidelity and freedom reasons for applause. He has kept the whole character and force of the words (genus omne uerborum uimque seruaui, Opt. Gen. 14), but not rendered

18 For Plato’s Iª æø ŒÆd ¼# cf. Pind. fr. 143 Maehler ¼#Ø ŒÆd Iª æÆØ (of gods, Plut. Superst. 167e); Plat. Phaedo 85e5 IæÆ ŒÆd I# Æ. On Cicero’s renderings of º# and on synonyms cf. Poncelet (1957), 196–205, esp. 200–1, E. Montanari (1976), 248–9. For atque + consonant, cf. Hutchinson (1995), 486–90. 19 For labefactatur et frangitur cf. Cic. Cat. 4.32 confringere et labefactare; labefactare is the first in a pair of verbs at Verr. 3.182, Rab. Perd. 3, Fin. 3.70, Fam. 5.13.2. 20 For nec uero erat unde cf. Plaut. Capt. 850 scis bene esse, si sit unde; Petr. 45.6 et habet unde. id ob eas causas is not particularly occasioned by the original; and cf. Fin. 5.46.

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word for word. That translation may have been freer than this; but the literary imitation of Plato and other philosophers is a source of appeal in his philosophical works (so Ac. Post. 10), and is likely to be so here. Scipio stresses the difficulty of rendering what Plato has brilliantly said (luculente); an adapted translation of a passage follows (Rep. 1.65.6–68.1). Timaeus apologizes that he may not achieve his goal of a speech (oratio) in its entirety consistent and dilucide et plane exornata (8; cf. Plat. Tim. 29c7 ºªı# . . . I ÅŒæØø ı#, ‘a highly finished account’). Cicero’s reader must inevitably reflect on Cicero’s own achievement of this goal; Cicero’s terms resume the ideals of oratory which he derives from Theophrastus.21 Cicero translated Plato’s Timaeus during his intensive period of producing philosophical works. The preface creates a dramatic scene, and presumably an argumentative context, for the reading out of the translation by one of the characters: Cicero’s discussion of natural philosophy with two philosophical people (Tim. 1–2). Cicero is clearly connecting the content with his own philosophical concerns; he refers back to his Academica (Tim. 1). He thus situates the work within his wider transformation of Greek philosophy into Latin. Like the rendering of Aeschines and Demosthenes, the particular work is strongly related to his current concerns. Whether or not Cicero completed the translation and surrounding dialogue, he was writing the work after the De Natura Deorum, with which it is closely connected. Balbus’ central speech in Book 2 on the divine order of the world draws much inspiration from the Timaeus. We have noticed the emphasis in Cicero’s translation on the role of the creating god; Cicero says he thought Balbus’ speech nearer to probability (ND 3.95, Div. 1.9), though it is attacked by the Academic Cotta in Book 3. Both forms, dialogue and translation, allow a means of presenting but not wholly asserting a universe produced and run by benevolent deity: a topic made hotter by Lucretius.22

21 Orat. 79 dilucide planeque dicetur . . . ornatum illud [missing in plain style] . . . , cf. De Orat. 1.144 deinde ut plane et dilucide, tum ut ornate . . . , 3.37 ut plane, ut ornate and also Inv. 1.30 dilucide et ornate, ND 1.58 iudico tamen de re obscura atque difficili a te dictum esse dilucide [cf. Fin. 4.1], . . . uerbis etiam ornatius quam solent uestri (Epicureans); Theophr. fr. 684 Fortenbaugh (commentary Fortenbaugh (2005), 266–73). Noteworthy for the stylistic conception of Cicero’s Timaeus is the frequency there of atque + consonant; De Natura Deorum 2 comes next among his philosophical books. Cf. also the translation of Plato at Div. 1.60–1. (See Hutchinson (1995), 488.) On interest in the Timaeus cf. Reydams-Schils (1997), and note Dillon (2003); contrast Hösle (2008), 169. In Opt. Gen. 14 omnium has more authority than omne, both in Cicero and in Jerome’s quotation, Epist. 57.5 CSEL liv.509; but omne is preferable, cf. Bartelink (1980), 54. If omne remains slightly strange, this reflects the nature of the claim; cf. Kå øØ ‹Ø KªªÆÆ B# ı

#Å# ª Å# at Thuc. 1.22.1. On Opt. Gen. 14 and 18, and other passages on translation in Cicero, cf. Lennartz (1994), 44–61, Rosato (2005), 17–40; Glucker (2012). For the authenticity of De Optimo Genere cf. Berry (1996). 22 Cf. Sedley (1998), 75–8, and (2002); Baltussen (2003), 56–60. Plato, Laws 10 is also a significant text for the dispute; cf. Mayhew (2008). On the translation and Cicero’s general philosophical position, cf. Gee (2001), 535; C. Lévy (2003). For the dating after ND see n. 23 below; the work certainly follows the Academica (Tim. 1) and the death of Nigidius (45, according to Jerome, Euseb. GCS vii.156). Div. 2.3 (after March 44, cf. Wardle (2006), 38–9) not only does not mention the work but says that when Cicero has written De Fato, erit abunde satis factum toti huic quaestioni (on the gods). Either he had abandoned the work, or he wrote it later, like the De Amicitia, De Gloria, De Officiis. The gap in the MSS between the prologue and the point where the translation begins makes it entirely feasible that the rest has been lost; if Cicero gave the work up, his project remains of interest. For different views on these questions cf. Giomini (1975), x–xvii; C. Lévy (2003), 96–8.

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Cicero is perhaps even advertising the connection between the works when he interpolates from his own ND 2.47 an expanded praise of the sphere which is not in Plato: Tim. 17 idque ita tornauit ut nihil efficere posset rotundius, | nihil asperitatis ut haberet, | nihil offensionis, | nihil incisum angulis, | nihil anfractibus, | nihil eminens, nihil lacunosum, | omnesque partes simillimae omnium |; cf. Plat. Tim. 33b5–6 ŒıŒºæb# ÆPe Kæ#Æ, ø ºÆ [Cicero paraphrases this phrase and then makes his insertion] › ØÆ  ÆPe !ÆıHØ #åÅ ø (‘he chiselled it to be (spherical and) like a circle, the most perfect of shapes and the most similar to itself ’). At ND 2.47 Balbus is parenthetically attacking Velleius’ attack on Plato’s view (1.24) that the sphere is the most beautiful shape: quid enim pulchrius ea figura | quae sola omnis alias figuras | complexa continet, | quaeque nihil asperitatis habere, nihil offensionis potest, | nihil incisum angulis, | nihil anfractibus, | nihil eminens, nihil lacunosum? |. The insertion manifests Cicero’s intellectual engagement in the argument. It is also parallel to Catullus’ probable insertion of 66.79–88 into Call. fr. 110 Pfeiffer = 110, 110d Harder = 213 Massimilla, and shows Cicero’s literary ambition for his translation. The content suggests a half-playful self-consciousness as he smoothly continues the Platonic contours.23 The Timaeus concerns itself with the universe, and thus encompasses Romans and Greeks alike. Cicero’s setting takes up the mixture of Greek and Italian in Plato’s own dialogue. There Socrates talks in Athens, with Hermocrates of Syracuse, Critias of Athens, and Timaeus of ‘Italian Locri, a city with most excellent laws’ (20a2). Plato’s present dialogue, one in a series, has for its main speaker Timaeus, who has reached the summit of political office and of philosophy (20a2– 5), and is an astronomer and physical philosopher (27a3–5). Cicero thought that Plato came to Italy to learn of Pythagoreanism from Timaeus and others (Rep. 1.16, Fin. 5.87). In the previous chapter, pastoral illustrated again the interest of Romans in Italian and Sicilian connections within Greek literature.24 In Cicero’s work, Cicero talks in Ephesus, with Nigidius and Cratippus; Cicero has left Rome, and Nigidius (pr. 58 bc) is returning there, both on official business. Cratippus was a Peripatetic philosopher whom Cicero admired; he obtained Roman citizenship for him after the dramatic date of the dialogue (Plut. Cic. 24.7). Nigidius has many of the characteristics of Timaeus: the Pythagoreanism and the interest in stars and physics; Cicero has his political distinction. Nigidius has revived (Cic. Tim. 1) the Greek philosophy of Pythagoreanism, which flourished in Italia Siciliaque; his action has parallels with Cicero’s translation and with his wider project of Romanizing philosophy. The Academic Cicero has affinities with both Socrates and Plato. Nigidius and Cicero had had many debates in the style of the Greek Academic Carneades, for and against positions (Carneadeo more et modo, 1). The work, and within it the translation, are continuing the interaction of Greece and Italy already seen in the original, but now with native 23 It is far less likely that ND 2.47 borrows verbatim from the translation a phrase which did not appear in Plato. Scribal interpolation into the Timaeus from ND 2.47 is not very plausible in the textual tradition of Cicero’s philosophical works. Cf. Pease (1955–8), 650. For Cicero’s linguistic handling of the terms ‘sphere, spherical’ in Latin, cf. Puelma (1980), 171–2. 24 Pp. 176–9 above, cf. pp. 47, 76, 80–1. For interest in the figure of Timaeus after Plato, cf. the work written in his name, in Doric, probably before ii ad (Marg (1972), 87–8).

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Romans as an independent philosophical force. The Latin perspective of the work is seen in the standard references to ‘the Greeks’’ technical terms, despite Cratippus’ presence (17, 23, 35, 38). Self-consciousness on cultural difference in translation is particularly apparent at 38, where Cicero hazards the rendering of Æ Æ# (‘intermediary spirits’) as Lares—si modo hoc recte conuersum uideri potest |. Without more of the preceding dialogue, we cannot know whether Cicero relates the image of Plato’s work which he is offering to the image of reality of which Timaeus’ speech is an account. cum autem ingressa est [sc. oratio] imitata et efficta simulacra | (8) might turn the reader’s mind in this direction.25 We see then rich and significant frameworks for this commerce between Greek and Latin, in the translating author’s style, in his present concerns and massive projects, and in the complex relationships that his work creates between Greek and Italian or Roman, a complexity to which it gives roots in the original itself.

25 Slaveva-Griffin (2005) interestingly pursues the mise en abyme of images in Plato’s Timaeus, but perhaps making the speech itself an image goes beyond the text; cf. 19d2–e2. Cicero’s frequent exprimo for ‘translate’ may suggest proximity to artistic portrayal; cf. e.g. Ac. Post. 10. One might wonder if in sermonem alium differendum at Tim. 30 points secondarily to Cicero’s occasion. The Greek has only Y#ø#  å i ŒÆa #åºc o#æ B# IÆ# åØ ØŪ #ø# (‘may perhaps receive a worthy exposition later, at my leisure’, 38e2–3; cf. oratio in Cicero); Cicero omits the elements of dialogue at 8, cf. Plat. Tim. 29c4, d3–5.

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9 Trunk and Branches In this chapter, we will look at more sets of Latin passages which originate from a single Greek passage. Latin stylistic frameworks will continue to be relevant, but we will be looking at resemblances as well as differences between Latin authors (the last chapter contrasted reworkings of the Medea). We will be led further in comparing Latin adaptation from Latin and from Greek; and we will see more of the large literary factors that affect adaptation. Genres, authors, periods, the scope and thought-world of works, will all have a bearing. As in an ancient work, apologies should be offered for the detail unfortunately essential to the subject: we have to scrutinize words.

T H E H O RS E’ S TE E TH Our first set of passages enables us to compare the adaptation of a Greek passage into a Latin style with the adaptation of a Latin passage into the Latin style of a different author. Greek passages, as has now been illustrated, are always adapted into an existing style. How does this differ from the adaptation of a Latin passage into an existing style? Whereas the difference between the languages is more or less firm, the extent of stylistic difference is a matter of degree. Transposition from Greek to Latin will nearly always involve a relatively drastic change in style, even when the Latin styles derive elements from Greek styles, in or outside the source passage and author (cf. p. 188 above). Not only is the interval in time typically greater than when Latin is adapted into Latin, but all Latin styles show significant differences from any known Greek style. Within Latin, there may be a relatively close stylistic relation between source and target text (as between Ovid and narrative hexameters from Lucan to Silius). Even if chronology makes a substantial difference, elements of one Latin style may seep unobtrusively into another. In the passages below, the later Latin authors probably have in mind not only at least one of their Latin predecessors but also the Greek original. Even if we do not have a pure adapation of Latin into Latin, comparisons of style can still be made, and we can see the complications of literary production. First, a small example. Theophr. HP 1.7.1 writes of roots P Æ b ŒÆŁ ŒØ

º j ‹# › XºØ# KçØŒEÆØ· e ªaæ Łæ e e ªH (‘none of them goes down further than the sun reaches; for what is hot is what gives life’; cf. CP 1.12.7). Varro, RR 1.45.2 writes neque radices longius procedunt nisi quo tepor [tempore

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MSS] uenit solis. Plin. Nat. 16.129 writes quidam non altius descendere radices quam solis calor tepefaciat, | idque < > natura loci [i.e. the soil] tenuioris crassiue dixere, | quod falsum arbitror. The philosophical and neatly compact explanation e ªaæ Łæ e e ªH is highly Aristotelian. It would not suit the character of Latin technical prose. Varro infuses its point into a more striking factual phrase. tepor catches the degree of warmth experienced by the plants; uenit offers a perspective from the ground; the split tepor . . . solis replaces the plain › XºØ#. Such imaginative writing is highly characteristic of Varro and Latin technical prose. Pliny is likely to be using Theophrastus, a basic source for this book (cf. natura loci with B# åæÆ# ç#Ø#, ‘the nature of the land’, Theophr. HP 1.7.1); but Varro’s structure and approach appeals to him. Pliny goes beyond Varro to the less basic verb tepefaciat, and makes it interact pointedly with the calor of the sun as ordinarily experienced. Emphasis on the power of the sun may help to segregate the first point (non altius etc.), which it makes more plausible, from the second, which Pliny disapproves. The Latin sentences are closer to each other in style than either is to the Greek.1 We may now look at a longer example, on horses’ teeth. Aristotle writes (Hist. An. 6.576a6–12): åØ b s OÆ# ##Ææ ŒÆ,  ººØ b f# lbm æı# ÆæÆ# æØÆŒ Å#, f# lbm  ¼øŁ f# db  Œ øŁ· K Øa db ªÅÆØ KØÆı#,  ººØ e ÆPe æ  ÆæÆ#,  lbm ¼øŁ  db Œ øŁ, jad ºØ ‹Æ ¼ºº# KØÆı# ªÅÆØ, !æı# ÆæÆ# e ÆPe æ ·  æø d KH

ÆæºŁø ŒÆd £ ÅH PŒØ  ººØ PÆ.2 The horse has forty teeth; it casts the first four when it is thirty months, two from above, two from below. When a year has passed, it casts four in the same way, two from above, two from below, and again when another year has passed, another four in the same way. When four years and six months have gone by, it does not cast any.

Varro writes at RR 2.7.2–3: aetas cognoscitur et equorum et fere omnium qui ungulas indiuisas habent et etiam cornutarum quod equus triginta mensibus primum dentes medios dicitur amittere, duo superiores, totidem inferiores. incipientes quartum agere annum itidem eiciunt et totidem eiciunt, proxumos eorum [rather eis?] quos amiserunt, et incipiunt nasci quos uocant columellares. quinto anno incipiente item eodem modo amittere binos, cum cauos habeat tum renascentes, ei sexto anno inpleri [ei Keil: eis MSS; qui sexto anno inplentur?], septumo omnes habere solet renatos et conpletos. hoc maiores qui sunt intellegi negant posse . . . 3

1

In the Pliny idque natura makes little sense as an addition, and does not well represent Theophrastus; an infinitive is called for. So I suggest a lacuna, to be filled e.g. by adfici etiam. On the passage cf. Gentilli (1903), 121. The way tepor and calor are used as subjects is not in itself distinctive of Latin, cf. e.g. Arist. GA 3.762b6–9 (though Łæ Å# is more of an entity and a technical term). 2 Cf. 575b7–8 f#  OÆ#  ººØ F# Ø #, ŒÆd PŒ IŁæı# Iºº u# æ ¥

# (‘its teeth the bull casts when it is 2 years old, not all together, but like the horse’). 3 For the last phrase cf. Arist. HA 6.575b13–14 ‹Æ b Æ# t#Ø ºÅŒ#, P Þ ØØ ªHÆØ c ºØŒÆ. eorum can hardly be partitive (TLL x.2034.70–5); how would quos amiserunt fit in? Cat. 66.94 proximus Hydrochoi might defend eorum; otherwise it is a slip of understanding for eis. In the next sentence the conjecture ei does not work well; for the suggestion cf. qui in Pliny below. quos . . . explet would not be inconceivable, cf. Veg. Mulom. 3.5.3 omnes explet.

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The age of both horses and almost all other animals with undivided hooves and even with horns is discovered because the horse is said first to lose its middle teeth, two higher, two lower, when it is thirty months. When they begin to live their fourth year, they throw out teeth in the same way and throw them out in the same number, the closest to those teeth which they have lost, and the teeth which they call ‘like little columns’ begin to be born. When the fifth year starts, the horse likewise generally loses two teeth each from top and bottom in the same fashion, although it has hollow teeth which are being reborn then, and become full in the sixth year; in the seventh year it generally has all its teeth reborn and full. They say that horses older than this cannot be assessed . . .

Columella has (RR 6.29.5): annorum notae cum corpore mutantur. nam dum bimus et sex mensum est, medii dentes superiores et inferiores cadunt. | cum quartum annum agit, iis qui canini appellantur deiectis alios adfert; intra sextum [quintum Schneider] deinde annum molares superiores et inferiores cadunt, | et ex eo [?] cauatos gerit; [et ex . . . gerit after aequaliter in MSS and imitators: transp. Schneider] | sexto anno quos primos mutauit exaequat; | septimo omnes explentur aequaliter, | nec postea quot annorum sit manifesto comprehendi potest |.4 The indications of the horse’s year change with its body. When it is two years and six months, the upper and lower middle teeth fall out. When it is living its fourth year, it casts off the teeth which are called canine and adds others; then by the sixth year the upper and lower molars fall out, and from then on it wears some teeth that are hollowed out; in the sixth year it levels out the first teeth which it changed; in the seventh year all the teeth are equal in fullness, nor can it be clearly grasped thereafter how many years old it is.

Pliny has (NH 11.168): aetas ueterinorum dentibus iudicatur; | equo sunt numero XL. amittit tricensimo mense primores | utrimque binos, | sequenti anno totidem proximos, | cum subeunt dicti columellares; quinto anno incipiente amittit binos, qui sexto anno renascuntur; | septimo omnes habet | et renatos et immutabiles.5 The age of draught-animals is judged by their teeth; the horse has forty in number. It loses two front teeth on both sides in its thirtieth month, and the same number in the following year, when the so-called ‘little-column teeth’ arise. As the fifth year begins, it loses two, which are reborn in the sixth year. In the seventh it has them all, both reborn and incapable of change.

The differences of all the Latin passages from the Greek are evident; the differences between the Latin accounts are much slighter, particularly between the two authors furthest apart in time: here historical changes in Latin style have had only a limited impact. The Greek stands out immediately in the flow and shaping bestowed by its particles, virtually essential in prose of this sort. The Latin

4 For the suggested addition cf. dentes cauatos in Pelagon. pr. 1.2, Chiron 778 (mostly transcription), and note Veg. Mul. 3.5.3, Pallad. Agr. 4.13.8. ex eo cauatos Corsetti, I now see from Rodgers’s new text. 5 Cf. Gentilli (1903), 106.

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passages deploy extensive asyndeton; this makes their numbered sequence of years a more forceful structure. The easy balance of f# lbm  ¼øŁ f# db  Œ øŁ is varied by Varro to duo superiores, totidem inferiores. In general, he finds the simple repetitions of the Greek too plain; he uses totidem, itidem eiciunt et totidem eiciunt, item eodem modo binos. He even varies his temporal phrases. Pliny follows Varro’s lead with binos . . . totidem . . . binos; Columella abandons the number of teeth. Varro and Columella vary Aristotle’s fixed term  ººØ (amittere and eicere Varro, cadere and deicere Columella); Pliny’s totidem reduces the repetition. It should be borne in mind that the passages have different purposes. Aristotle’s primary interest is in patterns of reproduction, to which the teeth are subordinate; the Latin authors are concerned with telling the horse’s age, though Pliny is not writing so practical a work as the other two. The Latin authors accordingly give more detail on the location of the teeth and more technical vocabulary; they include the state of the teeth. They make Aristotle’s pattern longer; his sequence of annual events half-way through the year of a horse’s life is changed in Varro and to some degree Pliny so that dental events and the years of life come to coincide in a strongly organized sequence (incipientes quartum agere annum, quinto anno incipiente Varro, quinto anno incipiente Pliny). This is made the more notable by Varro’s and Pliny’s use of nasci and renasci for the teeth. It seems, though precision in this area is difficult, that Aristotle’s dates are decidedly the more accurate. Varro may have been affected by the intellectual and aesthetic attractions of a striking numbered sequence. At all events, structure has an impact on content.6 Columella and Pliny adapt Varro to their rhythmic style. The changes are relatively minor, but reflect stylistic changes and stylistic personality. Both alter Varro’s elaborate first sentence; its switch between a larger group and horses may have seemed awkward. Columella’s annorum notae cum corpore mutantur is neat but not especially striking. Pliny makes dentibus iudicatur into a surprising combination. The confrontation of ueterinorum and equo is pithier than in Varro; Aristotle’s ‘forty’ is brought in so as to close with an intriguing number, in Plinian vein. Columella turns change into pleasing phrases: iis . . . deiectis alios adfert, quos primos mutauit exaequat. Pliny makes a more arresting point with his alteration of renatos et conpletos to the two-edged et renatos et inmutabiles. But his quinto anno incipiente amittit binos . . . septimo omnes habet . . . remains remarkably close to Varro; here only the shape of the part has been tautened. Columella and Pliny will have thought they were improving the style; but we can also appreciate Varro’s self-consciously quirky vitality.

6 One might just wonder too whether whole years of life have an interest for Varro; cf. Feeney (2007), 138–66, 200–1. Schwabe (1999), 12, 24 gives 2½, 3½, and 4½ years of age for the replacement of central, lateral [= intermediate], and corner incisors; http://animalscience.ag.utk.ed/AgentDownloads/ HCTraining/Aging%20%20the%Horse.pdf gives the same years for the disappearance of deciduous incisors. See the table in J. W. Evans (2000), 33. Varro’s date for the intermediates and corners is thus six months too late. The account of teeth in the Latin authors from the sixth year on, absent from Aristotle, does not seem to correspond to modern accounts (so J. W. Evans (2000), 33, 36).

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T RA N S L A TI ON F RO M T H E S T A R S A similar picture emerges when we turn from prose to poetry and from the teeth of horses to the stars of the sky. The relative kinship of the Latin versions or adaptations of Aratus may be set against their common divergence from the original; this kinship includes a taste for forceful scenes. We will see, however, that developments in Latin poetic style make some differences between Cicero and his successors; the successors will have an eye on Cicero as well as Aratus. After considering a short passage, we will proceed to explore the the wider implications of transposition from Greek in these works as entities, and the context which they provide for each other.7 Arat. 79–87 tells of Ophiuchus, Draco, and Scorpio: Iaæ åæ# P ºÆ r #ÆØ· º æÅ ªaæ BØ ŒÆd BØ K Øæ  ÆYªºÅ. Iºº 

Å# ŒIŒEÆØ K łØÆØ· P ªaæ KºÆçæÆ. I çæÆØ  , ˇçØ#   ÆÆØ, ‹# Þ  [n# ŒÆa?] ## ØØ  OçØFå· ›  K

b# s K ÆæÅæ#

##d K ØŁºØ ªÆ ŁÅæ I çæØ#Ø, "Œæ , OçŁÆº E#  ŒÆd K ŁæÅŒØ ÅŒ# OæŁ#. I æ ƒ , ˇçØ# ª ø #æçÆØ a åæ#, ØæBØ Oºª#, #ŒÆØBØ ª b łŁØ ºº#.8 But his hands are not at all equal [to his shoulders in brightness]: radiance is spread more lightly on either side. But none the less they too are visible: they are not faint. Both hands are engaged with the Snake, who twists round the Snake-holder’s middle. He, steadfastly fixed firm, crushes the great beast Scorpion with both feet; he stands upright on its eyes and chest. The Snake twists in his hands, a little of it in the right hand, much of it raised high in the left.

The citation at Cic. ND 2.109 gives only part of this passage, preceded by propter caput autem Anguitenens, ‘quem claro perhibent Ophiuchum nomine Grai’ (Arat. XIV Soubiran). hic pressu duplici palmarum continet Anguem, atque eius ipse manet religatus corpore torto; namque uirum medium serpens sub pectora cingit. ille tamen nitens grauiter uestigia ponit atque oculos urget pedibus pectusque Nepai. (XV Soubiran) With the double pressing of his hands he holds the Snake, and himself remains bound by its twisted body; for the serpent encircles the man in the middle, beneath his chest. But he as he strives puts down his feet heavily and presses with them the eye and chest of the Scorpion.

7 On Latin versions of Aratus cf. A.-M. Lewis (1986 and 1992), Zehnacker (1993), 317–24, Musso (2010). On Manilius and Aratus, Manilius and Germanicus, etc., cf. e.g. Abry (1993, 2007), Bakhouche (1997), esp. 152, 160–1, Hübner (2005), 136–9, Musso (2010). Avienus is too late for our purposes. 8 Øø/ø transitive (as in 82–3) should mean ‘causes to move in a circle’; even ‘trying to cause’ would not seem apt, and it is hard to make the verb mean ‘writhes round’ (Kidd). Perhaps one could read ŒÆ and make it intransitive, with some play on Kı ŒÆa ##ı# (Hom. Il. 18.606, Od. 4.19, cf. Il. 4.541).

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Germanicus gives: lux tenuis manibus, per quas elabitur Anguis, pressus utraque manu, medium cingens Ophiuchum. Scorpios ima pedum tangit, sed planta sinistra in tergo residet, uestigia dextera pendent. impar est manibus pondus: nam dextera paruam partem Anguis retinet, per laeuam attollitur omnis. (79–84) The hands’ light is faint; through them slides the Snake, pressed by either hand and encircling Ophiuchus in the middle. The Scorpion touches the bottom of his feet, but his left foot rests on its back, his right hangs down. The hands have an unequal weight to bear: the right holds back a small part of the Snake, the whole of the Snake is lifted up by the left.

Manilius’ first book is not a translation of Aratus, but can sometimes adapt him closely. His entire account of Draco and Ophiuchus runs: serpentem magnis Ophiuchus nomine gyris diuidit et torto cingentem corpore corpus, explicet ut nodos sinuataque terga per orbes. respicit ille tamen molli ceruice reflexus et redit elusis per laxa uolumina palmis. semper erit paribus bellum quia [quod?] uiribus aequant.9 (1.331–6) One named Ophiuchus makes the Snake into distinct parts as it encircles his body with its twisted body and its mighty coils, so that he may unfold its knots and its back curved in rings. But the Snake looks back, curving backwards with soft neck, and returns in loose folds, cheating Ophiuchus’ hands. This war will always exist because they make it even with their matched strength.

The Latin authors see a chance for Laocoon-like drama in the encounter of man and snake. Aratus’ greatest emphasis falls on the subjugation of the Scorpion. The struggle with the Snake is presented through the understatement of   ÆÆØ (cf. 758); the heroic trampling of the Scorpion is depicted with the strong K ØŁºØ. The stance receives abundant enrichment, which culminates in the magnificent enjambement of OæŁ#. For this word Aratus distorts his source (Eudox. F 22 Lasserre, Hipparch. 1.4.15). The name of the Scorpion, prepared by ªÆ ŁÅæ, falls with impressive enjambement in the line before. The name of the Snake has less force; in its second appearance it helps to enhance the multitasking Ophiuchus’ conflict with the Scorpion. I çæÆØ of the hands is taken up and trumped by ##d . . . I çæØ#Ø, again in despite of Eudoxus. Aratus

9 elusis Bentley: effusis MSS (and Housman and Goold). But ‘poured out loosely’ (‘hands slide over . . . coils’ Goold) seems doubtful for effusis and makes Ophiuchus too weak. Sen. Med. 698 pressasque tandem soluat Ophiuchus manus makes against rather than for effusis here. Housman (1937), i.32 read palmis | semper iter, but considered (i.xli) punctuating semper erit, (sc. bellum); Goold adopts this punctuation. Yet semper erit bellum looks for a reference, and the deferred subject is ungainly. quod would give bellum a reference (‘the war which they wage’) and make the syntax clearer (cf. e.g. Liv. 21.52.11 cum . . . aequassent certamen). paribus dative would make the explanation in quia feeble.

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throws the emotional weight of his account, though not its bulk, away from the eponymous action on to the less obvious.10 Cicero presents the conflict of man and snake more strongly. uirum . . . serpens sets the two species against each other; medium is mimetically interposed. hic, eius, and ipse underline the mutual attack, in two pointedly contrasting lines. The verbal continet, pressu, religatus, and cingit make the action more purposeful and graphic. Cicero does not neglect the second contest either. oculos and pedibus, pedibus and the alliterating pectus are forcefully opposed; oculos urget pedibus gives a more horrible picture than Aratus. pectora of the man and pectus of the Scorpion convey the interlocked combats more intricately. His tamen nitens makes the double effort more explicit and arduous. The strong organization and overt emphasis of the lines are seen in the later writers too. Features like Nepai and eı˘us (Plaut. Poen. 882) would come to seem archaic even in poetry.11 Germanicus is writing after the death of Augustus, and so is later than Manilius Book 1. He deliberately undoes the second conflict, climactic in Aratus. Instead of

##d . . . I çæØ#Ø, the two feet are contrasted. The point is polemical; Germanicus is here in conflict with Aratus. He versifies the objection in the scholia that only one foot is on Scorpio, the other is below it (+ Arat. 83, p. 114 Martin; differently Hipparch. 1.4.15). Instead of K ØŁºØ, the verbs residet, pendent, and even tangit are deliberately inert. The first interaction is opposed: the violent verbal pressus and cingens are taken from Cicero and compressed into a single line with clashing halves. This compression of Cicero’s already forceful organization of lines neatly embodies the evolution of Latin poetry. The active pressus and passive cingens themselves arrest the account after the apparently effortless elabitur in the preceding line. The return to Draco in the last two lines transforms Aratus’ statement about the snake into a grandiose stance for the man: in his left hand he raises the whole pondus of the snake.12 Manilius is not translating Aratus; he abandons the second conflict altogether. In place of the man’s mastery over the scorpion, he presents an equal battle between man and snake, heightened even beyond Cicero. His torto cingentem corpore corpus is inspired by Cicero; but the collision of the polyptoton gives greater density and force to the encounter, and avoids the restatement of Cicero’s third line. The verbs at the beginnings of lines form a narrative sequence: diuidit, the man’s act (with mimetic enjambement); explicet, the man’s purpose; respicit ille tamen and et redit, the snake’s comeback. The physicality of the snake is developed beyond Cicero. Aratus’ ØØ has become nodos sinuataque terga per orbes; molli ceruice and laxa uolumina give the creature a sinister feminized power. The opposition and encounter of the two species is taken up from Cicero but presented less simply. Instead of uirum . . . serpens we have serpentem . . . Ophiuchus nomine. The interaction of Greek and Latin in the line adds to the entanglement: serpentem . . . Ophiuchus . . . gyris. The strange state of unendable war forms the conceptual climax to which the whole frozen narrative has been 10 On the Vatican Laocoon (Museo Pio Clementino, Cortile Ottagono, Inv. 1059) and related images, see Muth (2009). 11 eius itself continues in Germanicus and Manilius; cf. Butterfield (2008), 152 n. 6. On Cicero’s Aratea cf. Gee (2001), Siebengartner (2012). 12 For the passage cf. Maurach (1977), Voit (1984), 140.

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building up. The imperial poet follows and outdoes the Republican poet’s extremity and drama; he increases his density and foregrounds the paradoxical idea.13 Hence the primary division comes between the Greek and the Latin passages, but the Latin passages display differences among themselves. The differences are a matter partly of personal style, partly of wider stylistic developments. The Manilius takes such developments further than the somewhat later Germanicus; the independence of Manilius’ poem, his poetic stature, and his relationship to Ovid are part of the causal context. The larger setting of these poems presents a complex interaction of Greek and Roman, divine and human, author, work, and tradition. As we have seen with pastoral, perhaps with the Argonautica, and with plays on Medea, the Latin reworkings of Aratus continue a Greek tradition of reworking. There were several verse ÆØ Æ in the third to first centuries bc, which must have covered much of Aratus’ ground (especially Hegesianax, Hermippus, Alexander of Ephesus: Arat. Vita I pp. 9–10 Martin, II pp. 12–13; SH 20–2 (including planets), 213, 465–70, 485–90, 712; Alex. Aet. fr. 19 Magnelli, perhaps erroneous; note also P. Köln X 401). Other Latin poets of the first century bc produced versions and adaptations (Varro of Atax FRP 120–1, Ovid frr. 1–2 Courtney (not covering the whole work); possibly Cinna FRP 13).14 Manilius wishes to separate his work, which after its more Aratean Book 1 is astrological, from Greek and Latin poems which only imitate and translate Aratus. He emphasizes his overall primacy already in Book 1 (4, cf. 3.1–4). In Book 2 he writes nostra loquar: nulli uatum debebimus orsa [Dulcinius: ora MSS]. | nec furtum sed opus ueniet . . . (57–9). He has scornfully depicted by contrast the astronomical and mythological tradition of Aratus and his successors, which he sets within a wider context of poetic traditions (25–38). His Greek and Roman rivals are taken together. The difference between Greek poems recasting Aratus and Latin poems translating him was smaller than we might expect. Cicero’s and Germanicus’ renditions should be seen as notionally conveying their authors’ views, that is to say as no less their own utterance than if the poems had had no Greek original. In the De Diuinatione, Cicero’s brother Quintus quotes against their author both Cicero’s Aratean Prognostica and his independent De Consulatu Suo (Div. 1.13, 17, cf. 2.45, 47). A jocular reference in a letter to Atticus implies the same convention: equidem etiam pluuias metuo, si Prognostica nostra uera sunt (Att. 15.16a)—nostra, not Arati. We see the convention again in Seneca’s appeal to Polybius: he should live up to his own lofty words and thoughts in his translations of Homer and Virgil (Polyb. 11.6). Germanicus’ frequent corrections of Aratus in the light of later discussion suggest that he does not see his own work as simply rendering Aratus’ opinions.

13 Ov. Met. 9.44–5 gives wrestling the multiple polyptoton common for fighting; single polyptoton in wrestling 6.243 pectora pectoribus, cf. also 15.89 ingesto . . . pinguescere corpore corpus, Lucr. 4.1111 et abire in corpus corpore toto. For nodos cf. Sen. Med. 696. With the interplay of Greek and Latin cf. Man. 5.389 Anguitenens . . . draconis. 14 Hegesianax seems to have given some narrative on Ophiuchus: see SH 469. Commentaries on Aratus began early: cf. Hipparch. 1.1.3. Later note P. Oxy. LXIV 4426, cf. LXVIII 4648; P. Berol. inv. 5865 (BKT v.1.54).

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In the Latin poems, the division of Greeks and Romans intrudes on Aratus’ division of gods and men, which is variously infringed. In Aratus the heavens belong to the gods, not humans. The gods use the heavens to communicate helpfully with men (so Arat. 265–7 (Jupiter is omitted in Cic. 37–41 and Germ. 266–9), 408–10, 418–19 (Night, Cic. 189–91, but omitted at 195; Natura Germ. 399–400), 426–7 (Zeus; Jupiter Germ. 410, omitted Cic. 201–2)). At the same time, the figures of the constellations are a human invention (370–82, Cic. 160–6; no inventor in Germ. 376–8). Aratus does not emphasize Greek ethnicity here; indeed, early in the work Greeks and Phoenicians alike use the stars, with different choices (37–44; Poeni at Man. 1.301). In Manilius, the gods have revealed the names of the stars (Mercury 1.32–6), but human reason has risen to heaven (caelum ascendit ratio, 95); its science has snatched away Jupiter’s thunderbolt (eripuitque Ioui fulmen, 102). On the other hand, the mythological astronomy of the Arateans is merely earth’s construction of the heaven on which in fact it depends (terraque composuit mundum quae pendet ab illo, 2.38). The passing of the terrestrial boundary is given a specifically Roman aspect in the imperial writers. Cicero began with Jupiter, like Aratus (Arat. I, presented in Leg. 2.7 as matching his own opinion). Manilius needs Caesar’s inspiration and Caesar’s world peace to help him reach the stars (1.13–15), which Caesar will himself attain, like his father (1.9, cf. 916 (rector Olympi), 926, 4.57). Germanicus explicitly diverges from Aratus to call on Caesar instead (1–4); his peace is needed for the stars to have power (5–10, 16). The relation between Caesar and author is closer than in Manilius: the author is Caesar’s son (2, 16). His predecessor Augustus has been brought to heaven (558–60).15 From a different angle, the heavens are a Greek colony: the mythical characters and Aratus’ star-names are Greek. The names in general are seen as originating in Greece: Cic. Arat. 212 Graium (gen. pl.) corresponds to Arat. 442 ææØ (‘former people’). Sometimes it is pointed out that a name is Greek (e.g. Cic. 36, Germ. 335, Man. 5.645–6). At Cic. Arat. 5–6 the Greeks’ name Deltoton is explained by the Greek letter (simili quia forma littera claret); the interplay of Greek and Latin is particularly evident here. Germanicus rather brings in the Egyptian Delta (235–6). In his later work (see below), he personally competes with Greece on triangles: fr. 6.2 quidni (Housman: cur MSS) te diuite lingua, | Graecia, praecurram, potiusque triangula dicam?; cf. Man. 2.898–9).16 The figure of the author has been seen to run through these large structures. The poems are also given a dimension within the authors’ lives. Aratus will have been made a substantial figure for Romans by biographies, his poem on his brother’s death (Vita I p. 9.19–20 Martin), and probably his supposed letters. The Phaenomena was not his first or a youthful work, according to the Lives. Cicero wrote his version of Aratus on stars when he was admodum adulescentulo (ND 2.104; for the plural carminibus ‘verses’ cf. e.g. Suet. Gal. 9.2; Ovid stopped well before the weather-signs). His Prognostica, from Aratus on signs of storms, may have been written or rewritten in 60 (Att. 2.1.11). The preceding part on stars, 15 Aratus had made no mention of his patron Antigonus Gonatas, though he suggested the poem, Roman authors will have supposed (Vita I pp. 7–8 Martin, III p. 15). On the motif of peace in Germanicus, cf. A.-M. Lewis (1986). 16 Cf. p. 158 above.

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at least, continued to circulate: a portion has survived. Both parts are also prominently used in the De Natura Deorum and De Divinatione of Cicero’s old age. He is there displaying his wide-ranging literary career. The quotations in the De Natura Deorum provide another means of associating Cicero, but not too firmly, with a Stoicizing view of the gods; the quotations in De Divinatione are made compatible with a sceptical or agnostic approach to Stoic views on divination. Germanicus’ poem is marked out as his first (doctique laboris | primitias, 3–4). The work ponders a later work, or book, which will go beyond Aratus and tackle the planets, eschewed by Aratus (444–5; patiantur fata, ‘if the fates allow’, adds to the intimation of a life-story). Germanicus actually carried out the plan (frr. ii–vi Gain). The Astronomica seems to be Manilius’ only production; he presents it as a life’s work, and hopes to live to old age and complete it, if Fortune favours the great task (magno . . . labori; 1.114–17). It looks as though the books are being published separately; in Book 2 it becomes apparent how far Manilius will go beyond Aratus. 3.1–42 portray the originality of Manilius’ poetic enterprise still more forcefully. The reader of all these works receives their transformation of Greek poetry in a rich context of national and philosophical structures and dynamic authorial patterns.17

TRANSFERRING PLAGUE We shall look finally at a group of passages which illustrates how stylistic relationships and transformations interact with the larger context and meaning of the works involved. We are now considering not so much the significance of adaptation in works as wholes, as in the poems on stars, but rather how the design, scope, and genre of the poems connect to the detailed transposition of Greek in the specific passages. These passages are all significant parts of monumental works. Thucydides’ account of the plague in Athens (2.47–54) comes early in his narrative of the Peloponnesian War itself (the first event in the second year of the war). Lucretius’ account of the same plague (6.1138–1286) ends his nonnarrative poem on nature. Ovid’s account of a plague not in Athens but on nearby Aegina (Met. 7.501–660) comes near the centre of his narrative poem on change. Lucretius’ passage follows Thucydides almost as closely as Germanicus follows Aratus; Ovid bases himself primarily on Lucretius, but does not follow his structure. Manilius presents a brief account of the Athenian plague near the end of his first book (884–91), followed by recent Roman events. He is influenced by Thucydides, Lucretius, and perhaps Ovid. The change from Greek to Latin involves a double translation: Greek prose is turned into Latin poetry. Hence, although there is as commonly a greater interval between the Greek and Latin

17 Aratus’ letters (Vita I pp. 6.5–6, 10.13–19 Martin, III pp. 15.33–16.3/4, Suda Æ 3745) were mostly accepted as genuine; Apollonides is likely to have ascribed them to a Roman (double name, at least partly corrupt).

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passages than among the Latin, we cannot now generalize from that difference. But the processes of transformation remain absorbing.18 Three moments will be considered here. Thucydides writes on how not caring and caring for the sick both increased the death-toll. ŒÆd e ºE# çŁæ F K Ø. (a) Y ªaæ c  ŁºØ Ø# Iºº ºØ#

æ#ØÆØ, I ººı KæB Ø, ŒÆd NŒÆØ ººÆd KŒŁÅ#Æ I æÆØ F ŁæÆ ##· (b) Y æ#Ø, ØçŁæ, ŒÆd ºØ#Æ ƒ IæB# Ø

Æ Ø Ø. ÆN#åÅØ ªaæ Mçı #çH ÆPH K## Ææa f# çºı#, K d ŒÆd a# Oºçæ#Ø# H I ªØª ø ºıH# ŒÆd ƒ NŒEØ KŒÆ   e F

ººF ŒÆŒF ØŒ Ø. (2.51.5) And that would produce the greatest destruction among them. (a) Whenever people did not want to go to each other out of fear, they would perish alone, and many houses were emptied for want of someone to care for the sick; (b) and whenever people went to each other, they would perish, and particularly those who had some pretensions to goodness. For out of a sense of decency they gave freely of themselves in going to see their friends, when even those friends’ family, overcome by so abundant an affliction, would finally grow weary of the very lamentations of the dying.

Lucretius writes: idque uel in primis cumulabat funere funus. (a) nam quicumque suos fugitabant uisere ad aegros, uitai nimium cupidos mortisque timentis poenibat paulo post turpi morte malaque, desertos, opis expertis, incuria mactans. (b) qui fuerant autem praesto contagibus ibant atque labore, pudor quem tum cogebat obire blandaque lassorum uox mixta uoce querelae. optimus hoc leti genus ergo quisque subibat. (6.1238–46) That most especially heaped death on death. (a) For whoever avoided visiting their sick dear ones, they, in their excessive desire for life and dread of death, would soon after be punished with a bad and shameful death by neglect which slaughtered them, deserted and without help. (b) Those who had been there helping their friends would die from infection and from the toil which they were compelled to undertake then by decency and by the pleading voice of the weary sick mixed with the sound of their lamentation. Hence all the best people underwent this form of death.

18

Some passages to compare other than those mentioned below: Thuc. 2.47.4, Lucr. 6.1179 (with 1180–2 cf. Thuc. 2.49.6), Ov. 7.561–2 (cf. Virg. G. 3.549–50, Man. 1.887); Thuc. 2.49.2–4, 7, Lucr. 6.1145–53 (for aspera cf. Cels. e.g. 2.7.4), Ov. Met. 7.554–7 (cf. Cels. 5.2.26a; Lucr. 6.1174, 1167–9); Thuc. 2.49.5, Lucr. 6.1170–6, Ov. Met. 7.555–8, 566–71; Thuc. 2.49.8, Lucr. 6.1208–11, Ov. Met. 7.604– 5 (taking up Lucretius, cf. Lucr. 6.1239). Descriptions of plague: Grimm (1965) (Thucydides 31–44, Lucretius 44–55, Ovid 64–9), Finnegan (1999). On Thucydides’ plague, cf. e.g. Page (1953), Parry (1969), Woodman (1988), 32–40, Rusten (1989), 179–94, Hornblower (1991), 316–27, Bellemore and Plant (1994), R. Thomas (2006), 92–108. On Lucretius’ plague: Commager (1957), Bright (1971), Clay (1983), 257–66, Jope (1989), esp. 32–3, Segal (1990), ch. 10, Gale (1994), 112–13, 208–9, 223–8, 231, P. G. Fowler (1996), Sedley (1998), 160–5, Stover (1999), Kenney (2007), 108–9, Schiesaro (2007), 55–8, E. Foster (2009). Some comments on Ovid, often underestimated here: Lühr (1973), Galinsky (1975), 113–26, Pechillo (1990/1), esp. 37–9; appreciative: Heerink (2011), Kenney and Chiarini (2011), 277–86. For translation between poetry and prose, cf. e.g. Sen. Polyb. 8.2, 11.5: evidently Homer and Virgil are translated into Latin and Greek prose (cf. resoluisti, quamuis structura illorum recesserit).

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Ovid gives: quo propior quisque est seruitque fidelius aegro, in partem leti citius uenit. (Met. 7.563–4) The closer each is to the sick person, and the more faithfully he ministers to him, the more quickly he comes to his share of death.

Thucydides’ emphasis, as F indicates, is on the contagion, though he creates an elegant dilemma on care. Hence the more important part of the dilemma is the second (b), on the virtuous. Iæ has been a vital word in the harmonious world of the funeral oration; and the narrative will give resonant emphasis to the fate of individuals who meet a terrible end despite their Iæ (Nicias 7.86.5, Antiphon 8.68.1–2). Here the reserved phrase ƒ IæB# Ø

Æ Ø Ø adds detachment and powerful understatement to the presentation of the ironic outcome. ÆN#åÅØ stresses moral decency, but the accompanying Mçı #çH ÆPH suggests a heroism as in war (cf. 2.43.5, Lys. 2.25). Thucydides offers no overall religious or irreligious scheme; this only enhances the integrity and austerity of his comment.19 Lucretius begins by stressing extremity: cumulabat funere funus uses poetic polyptoton and imagery to link up with the massed bodies of the description (especially 1215–16). He then builds up an ambitious and surprising scheme, which relates to his entire work. Thucydides’ apparent dilemma had rested in (a) on a characteristic equivocation between subject and object: it was those who were not visited that perished, not those who did not visit (the plural and the Iºº ºØ# obscures the shift). This does not matter for his overall picture of destruction. But Lucretius in (a) has those who do not visit punished by not being visited (for their loved ones have died): the point is underlined by the shift in the accusatives of 1239 (cupidos, timentis), which at first seem to go with aegros. The neat pattern, marked in poenibat paulo post, suggests a divine agency; the available connotations of mactans assist (cf. 1.99, 2.353, 3.52, 6.759, Cic. Cat. 1.33 (Jupiter subject)). But (b) forcibly undoes this suggestion; 1246 (optimus etc.) in a detached sentence drives the point home. In optimus quisque there is none of the Thucydidean reserve and subtlety. Upon this line presses the weight of the poem’s argument for a meaningless universe. The first part is now seen as just a savagely ironic confirmation of an Epicurean viewpoint (cf. 1240). Thucydides had enhanced the behaviour of the virtuous by showing the behaviour of families; Lucretius turns this round to create a dramatic scene in which the good are compelled, not repelled, by the voices of the sick. ibant . . . obire . . . subibat form a grim and significant chain.20 Ovid’s Aeacus makes the irony of the outcome still more emphatic, and neater: his quisque, unlike Lucretius’, is linked to a double comparative (quo propior

19 Contagion may have seemed obvious among farmed animals; cf. with Thuc. 2.51.4 Juv. 2.78–80.  e F ººF ŒÆŒF ØŒ Ø intensifies 47.4  e F ŒÆŒF ØŒ Ø near the beginning of the account; cf. also 52.3. 20 incuria as an unlikely subject for poenibat . . . mactans adds irony to the apparent suggestion of divine involvement; the implications of the language are manifold. Livy 25.26.8 creates a milder clash with curatio ipsa . . . uolgabat morbos; the whole sentence is related in structure to these passages. Cf. Simon-Mahé (2010), 89–91.

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(fidelius) . . . citius), which balances the degrees of aid and ‘reward’. The kind service is vividly displayed through the slave-like connotations of seruitque fidelius; in partem leti . . . uenit, by contrast, perverts an heir’s legacy. There is a firm, and disturbing, theological framework: this injustice is part of the cruelty of angry Juno (523–4). Jupiter will redeem it. Thucydides: ŒÆd ººd K# IÆØ#åı# Ł ŒÆ# Kæ  # Ø H K ØÅø Øa e #ıåf# XÅ

æŁ ÆØ #ç#Ø· K d ıæa# ªaæ IººæÆ# çŁ #Æ# f#  #ÆÆ# ƒ b K ØŁ# e !ÆıH Œæe çB , ƒ b ŒÆØ ı ¼ººı K Øƺ# ¼øŁ n çæØ I BØ#Æ. (2.52.4) And many turned to shameless ways of disposal of the dead through lack of the necessary material, because many in their family had already died. Some would put their own corpse on someone else’s pyre and burn it, getting in before those who had heaped it up; some, while another corpse was burning, would throw on top whichever corpse they were carrying, and go away.

Lucretius: multaque < > subita et paupertas horrida suasit. namque suos consanguineos aliena rogorum insuper extructa ingenti clamore locabant subdebantque faces, multo cum sanguine saepe rixantes potius quam corpora desererentur, inque aliis alium < > populum sepelire suorum certantes. lacrimis lassi luctuque redibant.21 (6.1282–6, 1247–8) Many sorts of misdeed were urged by sudden and horrible poverty. They placed their relatives, with immense noise, on top of other people’s heaped up pyres, and put torches underneath, often brawling with much bloodshed rather than let the bodies be abandoned, and they < > one on another < . . . >, striving to bury a whole people of their kin. Weary with tears and lamentation they returned.

Ovid: et iam reuerentia nulla est; deque rogis pugnant alienisque ignibus ardent. qui lacriment desunt, indefletaeque uagantur natorumque uirumque animae iuuenumque senumque. nec locus in tumulos nec sufficit arbor in ignes. (Met. 7.609–13) Now no respect is left: they fight for pyres, and burn in the fires of another. None are left to weep; the souls of sons and husbands, young men and old, wander unwept. The place does not suffice for the tombs, nor trees for the fires.

Manilius:

21 Bernays’s subita (which had occurred to me) is a better partner for paupertas horrida than C’s conjecture res s. Bockemüller’s transposition of 1247–51 is made attractive by Thucydides; Bright (1971), 620–3 and P. G. Fowler (1996) support it intentionally, Munro (1886), ii.399 unintentionally. But with the usual lacuna before 1247, it is hard to find a supplement that will precede inque aliis alium; a lacuna after alium would be preferable.

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funera derant mortibus et lacrimae: lassus defecerat ignis et coaceruatis ardebant corpora membris, ac tanto quondam populo uix contigit heres. (1.888–91) The deaths lacked both funerals and tears. Fire had failed in weariness, and bodies burned with many limbs heaped together; the people once so numerous had scarcely a single heir left.

Thucydides is displaying the collapse of funerary  Ø (customs), to lead into the collapse of  # (law) more generally (53). The strong and striking phrase IÆØ#åı# Ł ŒÆ# comes at the start. The elaborate  # for burying the wardead, earlier and later, is contrasted (34). The blasé I BØ#Æ, after throwing on whichever corpse they were carrying, contrasts with Æ F I æåÆØ (‘after this [burial and the funeral speech] they go away’, 34.6) and especially with the end of the funeral speech F b I ºçıæ Ø n æ# ŒØ !Œ #øØ ¼ Ø (‘and now mourn for him that belongs to each of you and go away’, 46.2). After the emphatic IººæÆ# a neat pair is developed: first and later, own and other, setting fire and already burning are opposed, with complications. The verbal and conceptual control makes the account both dry and shocking.22 Lucretius is not going to continue beyond disposal of the dead (1278); his poem ends, not with appalling indifference to funerary custom, but with a dark reductio ad absurdum of mankind’s misguided attachment to funerary custom, which springs from its misunderstanding of death (note 1250–1 and cf. 3.870–93). His extreme scene of futile competition presents ingenti clamore, multo . . . sanguine, populum . . . suorum. redibant is not matter-of-fact like I BØ#Æ: it is preceded by a sonorous phrase of needless emotion, lacrimis lassi luctuque. The extremity of Latin poetry, and archaic alliteration, are deployed destructively; the effect is complex, but less cool than Thucydides. Thucydides’ elaborate parallelisms seem to be loosened as his structure is expanded into a colourful sequence. The hyperbolic populum enhances the scale of dissolution; the bizarre funeral stands for a universal process (cf. 2.569–80).23 Ovid’s Aeacus too ends the account of the plague at this point; but it leads into his impassioned prayer to Jupiter. Lucretius’ drastic scene is taken over; his expansion is reversed into a compression which goes beyond Thucydides. The clash of the two words rogis and pugnant condenses Lucretius’ point into an epigram. Where in Thucydides IººæÆ# had connected with !ÆıH and ¼ººı, and in Lucretius suos consanguineos had been juxtaposed with aliena, Ovid lets alienis alone create a paradox in the surprising combination alienisque ignibus ardent. The mourning omitted by Thucydides’ Athenians, and too much indulged in by Lucretius’, is superseded in a triumph of extremity and shortness: qui lacriment desunt. Ovid’s last line (nec locus etc.) gives another pair of phrases, again extreme and concise. nec locus in tumulos . . . sufficit uses the same closural

22 IÆ#åı# and IÆØ#åıø (‘act shamelessly’) occur elsewhere in Thucydides only at 1.37.5 (speech), 8.45.5 (reported speech). 23 Lucretius may be inspired in this passage by Thuc. 7.85.1, as Ovid certainly is at Met. 7.571. Kenney (2007), 108–9 discusses the passage well, though he somewhat under-interprets the Thucydides. For the alliteration cf. CIL i2 (pars 2, fasc. 4) 3449g.6–7 lúćtú lacrimeisque leuáuit.

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device as his last poem (no place for a wound, Pont. 4.16.52); nec . . . arbor in ignes makes vivid Thucydides’ # Ø H K ØÅø. The epigram is preceded by a negated scene of female mourning (sons and husbands), and un-Lucretian ghosts: Ovid is concisely echoing Sophocles (OT 175–85), and annihilating this people to restore it (cf. iuuenum with the iuuentus of 514–15). The difference from Lucretius relates to stylistic evolution in Latin; but within this poem, extremity and epigram both express the extraordinary character of its fictive world.24 Manilius, going further still than Ovid, turns the moral point on customs into a purely practical one. He creates an elegant conceptual parallelism between the lack of firewood and the lack of people to mourn. lassus is separated from lacrimae, by contrast with Lucretius’ lacrimis lassi, and applied to the fire. The virtual extinction of the Athenian people achieves a witty extreme with the concrete heres; he is taking up his opening on Athens (884–5), and preparing for Roman calamity and restoration: Rome is central in the poem. funera pacis (885) contrasts with the Roman wars to come and deftly condenses into two words the large structure of Thucydides’ funeral speech and plague. His coaceruatis . . . membris turns Thucydides into compacted horror. He too is presenting a drastic world, but one which is to be received as true.25 Thucydides: . . . K HØ K ºø# ºØ#Æ ¼ºº Ø k j H ıæçø Ø· a ªaæ ZæÆ ŒÆd æ Æ ‹#Æ IŁæ ø – ÆØ ººH I çø ªØª ø j P æ# ØØ j ªı# Æ ØçŁæ. Œ æØ · H b Øø OæŁø K ºØłØ# #Æçc# Kª, ŒÆd På !øæH h ¼ººø# h æd ØF P· ƒ b Œ# Aºº ÆY#ŁÅ#Ø ÆæEå F I Æ# Øa e ıØÆØA#ŁÆØ. (2.50.1) . . . In the following way the disease particularly showed that it was something other than one of the usual illnesses: all the birds and animals which touch humans either did not approach them, though many were unburied, or tasted them and perished. And there is proof of this: there was a clear absence of such birds, and they were not seen around such an object or otherwise; the dogs enabled perception of the consequences through living with humans.

Lucretius: multaque humi cum inhumata iacerent corpora supra corporibus, tamen alituum genus atque ferarum aut procul absiliebat, ut acrem exiret odorem, aut, ubi gustarat, languebat morte propinqua. nec tamen omnino temere illis solibus ulla comparebat auis, nec tristia saecla ferarum exibant siluis: languebant pleraque morbo et moriebantur. cum primis fida canum uis strata uiis animam ponebat in omnibus aegre; extorquebat enim uitam uis morbida membris. (6.1215–24)

Cf. 648 fide . . . maiora. cesserat officium morbis (888) cannot denote undutiful behaviour simultaneous with 891 (hence the pluperfect has a point). Rather, in this packed account, the phrase relates particularly to Thuc. 2.51.5 (a) (p. 211 above). 24 25

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And although many bodies lay on top of bodies, unburied, on the ground, the race of birds and animals either leapt far back, to escape the pungent smell, or, when they had tasted the body, lay feebly with death close at hand. But scarcely any bird at all appeared in those days; nor did grim kinds of beast come forth from the woods. Most were sick with the disease and dying. Above all, the dogs, that faithful multitude, were strewn in all the streets and laying down their lives in pain. The power of the disease was extorting the life from their limbs.

Ovid: omnia languor habet: siluisque agrisque uiisque corpora foeda iacent, uitiantur odoribus aurae. mira loquar: non illa canes auidaeque uolucres, non cani tetigere lupi. dilapsa liquescunt adflatuque nocent et agunt contagia late. (Met. 7.547–51) Everything is possessed by sickness. In woods, fields, and roads foul bodies lie, the air is tainted with smells. I will say something amazing: those bodies were not touched by dogs, greedy birds, or white wolves. They fell apart and decomposed; they did harm by the air they gave off, and spread wide the infection.

Thucydides has ended his detailed account of the symptoms. He is presenting the disease as an extreme, but with an argument, itself supported by an argument. He divides the scavengers into two general categories (birds a and quadrupeds b) and presents two exhaustive possibilities (p not approaching and q fatal tasting). The absence of a shows that, for a, p or q must be the case, and the failure to see a near corpses points to p; for a subset of b, dogs, it was possible to observe q. The pairs and the complication of argument are characteristic. Sight is emphasized as a source of knowledge; but at this point vividness is not sought. At this point too the Homeric horrors of dogs, birds, and unburied corpses are not treated to emotional language. This restraint creates a memorable union of the shocking and the intellectual. Lucretius abandons the argumentative structure. a and b are elaborated in a line each; p (P æ# ØØ) is coloured in to give (p0 ) the specific procul absiliebat, ut acrem exiret odorem. Thucydides’ point in favour of either p or q for a (absence of scavenging birds) now becomes a third and more extreme option p00 (note tamen): birds in general did not appear, as opposed to showing aversion on the spot (p0 ). Lucretius leaves out the point which is in favour of q for the subset of b (dogs could be observed). That point would in any case be weakened by the new subset of b which he adds: wild animals do not live with people, and are less conspicuous in the woods. Observation, however, is not mentioned in the passage; instead the acts and sufferings of the creatures are made more vivid for the reader. The account of the dogs creates an expansive scene, and turns the argument for q into pathos and further injustice: the abstract e ıØÆØA#ŁÆØ generates the emotional fida. In his wider argument, Lucretius wishes to show the power of disease over animals as well as man (1092, 1127, 1131–2). He pursues extremity: hardly any bird, most wild animals, all streets. Thucydides’ many unburied people are turned into a heap of bodies, inspired by Thucydides’ account of cremation. The play humi . . . inhumata and the figure corpora supra | corporibus enhance the depiction with accumulated figures. humi . . . inhumata is particularly characteristic of earlier Latin poetry.

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Ovid begins his account of the plague from animals (the disease was detected strage canum primo uolucrumque . . . 536). His passage is particularly concerned to show how the plague spreads from infected animals’ carcasses. The inaction of scavengers is now not an argument but part of a causal chain; it is also a startling paradox, explicitly prepared with mira loquar. a and b are mixed (dogs, birds, wolves); the complicating q is omitted. The repeated negatives neatly present a horrifying reversal of standard epic horrors. The preceding lines similarly reverse in elegant negation the norms of wild animals (545–6). Lucretius’ extremity on space is briskly drawn together in siluisque agrisque uiisque to achieve a condensed and comprehensive extremity, before the account proceeds to the city. By contrast with Lucretius’ pleraque and nec omnino temere . . . ulla, Ovid’s omnia languor habet attains a sweeping universality. But Ovid’s structure will be reversed: instead of disease spreading from animals to man, animals will regenerate man, and the categories will become permeable. Tiny ants, described as animalia (636), will assume humanam . . . formam (642), and retain ant-like ways (654–7).26 It has been seen, then, how general aspects of Roman poetry (like its enthusiasm for extreme language and scenes) and altering features of style (like an abundance of aural figures in Lucretius and of paradox in Ovid and Manilius) intersect with the world of the individual works, and with local and larger design. The works are themselves intensely conscious of genre and literary history. Thucydides’ account is to separate itself from poetic and medical presentations of plague; while combining literary impact with accuracy and argument, it stands aside from religious and scientific frameworks. Lucretius ends a work which turns Greek prose into Latin poetry with a tour de force: he transforms, not the Hellenistic treatise of the Athenian Epicurus, but a supreme passage of classic Attic prose. Conversely, Thucydides’ literary priority was to his philosophical detriment: Lucretius’ didactic moves the plague from historical narrative into its structure of Epicurean truth. Ovid seeks to excel Lucretius in particular; the youthful beauty of the new Aeginetans (514–16) is like an image for his renewal of Lucretius in his own modern style. In structure, Lucretius’ close on death had partly balanced argumentatively his opening on birth. Ovid’s continuous narrative confronts death—as at the end of this near-central book—but generally eludes its finality in the fictitious world of metamorphosis wrought by gods. Manilius may aim to outdo Lucretius, Ovid, and the dense brevity of Thucydides; the plague is moved from ending the last book to help end the first, in a combination with the end of the First Georgic. Manilius’ poem as a whole is pointedly non-narrative, and closes with the figurative res publica of not Rome but the all-important heavens.27

26 Ovid’s paradox is coloured in at Stat. Theb. 1.624–6. The paradox on animals at Ov. Met. 7.538–9 develops Lucretius’ addition in 6.1252–3, and exploits Virg. G. 3.515–19. The repeated non (Ov. Met. 7.549–50) is not in itself alien to Lucretius, cf. e.g. Lucr. 1.774. Ovid’s siluisque (547) comes from Lucr. 6.1220. 27 The centrality of Thucydides is apparent from papyri; he is much more popular even than Herodotus (97 papyri to Herodotus’ 47 on CEDOPAL (http://promethee.philo.ulg.ac.be/cedopal/ indexsimple.asp); cf. S. R. West (2011), esp. 69–70, 77). Cicero’s argument on Thucydides’ primitive

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The relation of narrator and narrative has a particular significance for the differences between these passages; it connects with genre and the whole character of the works. Thucydides’ account is made a particularly salient instance of his own experience of, and detachment from, what he writes (own suffering and eyewitness: 2.48.3; autopsy etc.: 1.22.2, 5.26.4–5). Athens is his own city, and one of his foremost characters; he writes in Old Attic. Lucretius describes something distant in time (quondam, 1138); it happens to the city which is crucial to Book 6, a counterpart to his own, but not his own, and not Italian. His writing in Latin increases the distance. In Manilius the city is a foil to Rome. In Ovid the narrator ruled the city, and formed the centre of its suffering and redemption; but the firstperson account is a fiction. Aegina is a more distant Athens: at that time Athens’ close ally (Met. 7.484–7), later her enemy and subject (Thuc. 1.14.3, 41.2, 67.2, 105.2–4, 108.4 etc., Cic. Off. 3.46), and now the mere corpse of a city (Cic. (from Servius) Fam. 4.5.4). For everything changes. These differences in the narrator’s position make it particularly striking that Lucretius should outdo Thucydides in vividness: a final instance of his ability to bring what he has not seen before the reader’s eyes.28 From these passages on plague general conclusions cannot be drawn about Greek and Latin, or historiography and poetry: so Polyb. 2.56.3–12 (Phylarch. FGrHist 81 T 3) indicates at least that some Hellenistic historians could seek the graphic and emotive description of terrible scenes. This is a useful reminder that comparison of Greek and Latin passages often cannot lead us to universal statements about Greek and Latin literature: we are ofen comparing in the absence of relevant Greek material contemporary to the Latin, and so cannot know that the differences are between the two literatures rather than between periods.29 We have looked at various frameworks within which the transposition of Greek takes place: frameworks provided by personal style and the historical evolution of style; by the author’s plans and career and the wider bearing of transposition in the work as a whole; by the relation between adapted passages and the total work, and by conceptions in the work of literary history and of Roman culture and identity. We have actually been made to confront many of the conditions that governed the creation of literary works. Broad scope is called for in any specific discussion of transposition; equally, the precise details of language and style have much to contribute in any generalizing exploration. We have also been seeking to compare the adaptation into Latin passages of (a) Greek and (b) Latin passages. Large difference seems to be characteristic in the case of (a), much less typically so in the case of (b). Features have recurred as particularly characteristic of Roman adaptation, such as increases in extremity and in vivid and drastic scenes; we have also seen features of Greek literature which are often diminished in Roman adaptation, such as the argumentative scope and sharpness of some Greek oratory (Orat. 31), though unusually negative, compares the Athenian development of producing food and producing oratory in a way that it is interesting to compare with Lucr. 6.1–6 on Athenian production of food and of Epicurus’ solacia . . . uitae (note uictus in 9 and Orat. 31). Cicero’s passage confirms the importance of the Athenian intertext at the close of Lucretius’ book. 28 29

On quondam cf. Stover (1999), 71. On Hellenistic historians cf. J. R. Morgan (2007), 558, R. B. Rutherford (2007), 505.

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prose, and its intellectual austerity. But ignorance of later Hellenistic literature often stands in the way of big claims; and passages which adapt are bound to lose something of the argument in the original. In any case, the exploration of particular adaptations, with an interest in wider tendencies, seems at least as profitable as ambitious generalization. We should be aiming, not to wrap the subject up, but to enlarge our awareness.

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Part IV Genre

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10 The Landscape of Prose SUPER-GENRE The discussion turns to an important framework within which Latin literature uses Greek literature: the map of genre. Here we are often inclined to limit our attention, and so to consider too little whether history is a genre in the same sense as pastoral, or hexameter, or poetry. One characteristic feature of ancient divisions is the existence of subdivisions: so pastoral is a subdivision of hexameters, which is a subdivision of poetry, which is a subdivision of artistic utterance. In looking at poetry, we are too prone to concentrate on smaller entities like pastoral, and less on hexameters; but these metrical divisions are extremely frequent in ancient usage and discussion. In looking at prose, we often focus on the larger entities like history and oratory, so that the generic status of say symbouleutic oratory is underplayed. The approach adopted here attempts to follow the contours of ancient discussion, but to make the overall map more explicit. ‘Genre’ is really just a type of work; but it may help clarity if for our purposes we call the smaller entities ‘genres’, the larger ‘super-genres’. (Poetry and prose would be supersuper-genres, but we will not need the term, mercifully.) The first pair of chapters will consider and compare, as regards relations with Greek literature, three major super-genres in prose: philosophy, oratory, and history. The consideration will look at primary aspects more than at specific passages or relations between specific authors. The three chapters after that will explore in more depth one poetic super-genre, hexameters, and will confront, as regards relations with Greek literature, the various genres that make up the super-genre. Here more detail will come in. The whole ensemble should give an idea of the generic framework and how it shapes intertextuality with Greek.1 A little more may be said for now on ancient ways of referring to generic divisions. In poetry, where metre is crucial, the plural of particular lines is often used to denote a super-genre: so Ov. Rem. 395–6 tantum se nobis elegi debere fatentur | quantum Vergilio nobile debet epos. Even epos is an extension of the metrical sense epos a hexameter (cf. iambus, Ov. Rem. 377–8, and p. 276 below). On the other hand, we can find singular personifications of super-genres: 1 For ‘super-genre’ cf. Hutchinson (2013a). The term as used here denotes a hierarchically different category, like ‘sub-genre’, not mere size; ‘Metagattung’ can be used in this way. Important treatments of genre: e.g. A. Fowler (1982), Conte (1991), esp. 145–73 (concentrating on divisions below the supergenre), Harrison (2011), Martiny (2012) (note Ramazani (2012) on poetry as genre: the debates in Philodemus continue).

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so Ov. Rem. 379 blanda pharetratos Elegia cantet Amores (on a still higher level of generality cf. Aristophanes’ —Å#Ø# (frr. 466–7 Kassel–Austin)). But notable too is an emphasis on the people who do: so Ov. Rem. 375 grande sonant tragici (tragedy is perhaps a genre rather than a super-genre in our terms, but regularly spoken of on the same level as hexameter). The people are particularly important with prose super-genres. Notably, when prose super-genres are discussed, the creators of poetic super-genres often become simply ‘poets’, either because that fits the level of argument (so Arist. Poet. 1451a38 › ªaæ ƒ#æØŒe# ŒÆd › ØÅc# P HØ j 

æÆ ºªØ j ¼ æÆ ØÆçæı#Ø, ‘the historian and the poet do not differ by writing in metre or not’) or because the writer is more interested in the divisions of prose activity (so Cic. Orat. 68 seiunctus igitur orator a philosophorum eloquentia, a sophistarum ab historicorum a poetarum, explicandus est nobis qualis futurus sit, cf. e.g. Theon 1 60 Sp. p. 2.22–5 Patillon). Prose lacks the divisions of metre which organize poetic super-genre (but see below); the differing actions, outlook, and lifestyle of the creators are fundamental to separating oratory, philosophy, and history.2 Some generic division beneath this level involves elements which are different in kind: so dialogue is a genre of philosophy, in our sense, but the entity is based on literary form, and can be shared with writings outside the super-genre. Such complications are common enough in the intricate map, particularly through divisions that use different criteria; so tragedy is not defined metrically as hexameter poetry is, and its definition by performance makes it in some ways a member of the larger entity drama. But the division of prose super-genres is certainly prominent in ancient writing, and very far from being just a librarian’s formality.3

TEXTS AND TIMES We may begin with a rough quantification of extant texts (the lists will also remind us what they are, and provide a background when we look at exceptions). The book provides a convenient entity. History (broadly conceived): Caesar, De Bello Gallico 7, De Bello Ciuili 3, + De Bello Alexandrino 1, De Bello Africo 1, De Bello Hispaniensi 1, Hirtius 1, Nepos 1, Sallust, Catiline 1, Jugurtha 1, Livy 35 [Justin’s epitome of Trogus not included; nor Mela], Velleius 2, ?Valerius Maximus 9, Curtius 8, Tacitus, Histories 5, Annals 12, Agricola 1, Germania 1, Suetonius, 2 For the plural of the metre used generically cf. e.g. Plat. Ion 533e5–8 # ªaæ ¥  H K H

ØÅÆd ƒ IªÆŁd . . . ŒÆd ƒ º Ød ƒ IªÆŁd ‰#Æø# (‘all the good poets of hexameters . . . and the good lyric poets likewise’), Dion. Hal. Dem. 41 i.220.8–10 Usener–Radermacher KÇ ºø#Æ b ÆPe [Homer] K H  ººd ØÅÆd ŒÆd ºH, Ø b æƪøØÆ# ŒÆd Œø øØÆ# (‘he was imitated by many poets of hexameters and of lyric songs, and even of tragedy and comedy’). One can contrast modern approaches to modern literature: so cf. Groves (2012), 50–1, where the connection of metre and genre seems to be seen as predominantly secondary. Note that generic adjectives often connect with the people: so oratorius at Cic. Brut. 286 (Demochares) historiam . . . non tam historico quam oratorio genere perscripsit. 3 Note that Cicero conjoins his rhetorical dialogues with his philosophical through the example of Aristotle and Theophrastus, Div. 2.4. Varro’s dialogue on agriculture provides a stronger example, though he names philosophers among his predecessors, including Xenophon (RR 1.1.8).

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Caesars 9, Florus 2: maximum 101. Philosophy: Cicero, De Legibus 3, De Re Publica 6, Paradoxa Stoicorum 1, Academica 2, De Finibus 5, Tusculans 5, Timaeus 1, De Natura Deorum 3, Cato 1, De Diuinatione 2, De Fato 1, Topica 1, Laelius 1, De Officiis 3, Seneca, De Clementia 2, De Prouidentia 1, De Constantia Sapientis 1, De Ira 3, Consolatio ad Marciam 1, De Vita Beata 1, De Otio 1, De Tranquillitate Animi 1, De Breuitate Vitae 1, Consolatio ad Polybium 1, Consolatio ad Heluiam Matrem 1, De Beneficiis 7, Epistulae 20, Naturales Quaestiones 8, ?Pliny the Elder 37 [much of it similar in subject to Aristotle’s natural philosophy etc.] [Tertullian not included]: minimum 84, maximum 121. Oratory: speeches: Cicero, Pro Quinctio, Pro S. Roscio, Pro Q. Roscio Comoedo, Diuinatio in Q. Caecilium, In Verrem Actio Prima, Verrines 5, Pro Tullio, Pro Fonteio, Pro Caecina, De Lege Manilia, Pro Cluentio, De Lege Agraria 3, Pro Rabirio Perduellionis Reo, Catilinarians 4, Pro Murena, Pro Sulla, Pro Archia, Pro Flacco, Post Reditum in Senatu, Post Reditum ad Populum, De Domo, De Haruspicum Responso, Pro Sestio, In Vatinium, Pro Caelio, De Prouinciis Consularibus, Pro Balbo, In Pisonem, Pro Plancio, Pro Scauro, Pro Rabirio Postumo, Pro Milone, Pro Marcello, Pro Ligario, Pro Rege Deiotaro, Philippics 14, Pliny, Panegyricus 1, Apuleius, Florida = 1, Apologia 1: 61; declamation: Seneca, Controuersiae 10, Suasoriae 1, [Quintilian] Major Declamations 19, Minor Declamations 393 Teubner pages = roughly 10 books (5 books of the De Finibus = 203), Calpurnius Flaccus 1: 41; rhetoric (but see p. 270 below): Cicero, De Inuentione 2, De Oratore 3, Brutus, Orator, De Optimo Genere, Partitiones Oratoriae, Anon. Ad Herennium 4, Rutilius 2, Quintilian 12, Tacitus, Dialogus: 28; maximum grand total for oratory 130 [note also Asconius’ commentary on speeches of Cicero’s]. It will be noticed what a number of different authors is preserved under history. Other works of Latin prose include many books of ‘technical’ writing (Varro, Vitruvius, Celsus, Columella, Frontinus, etc.), letters, and novels. Some points may be picked out of the chronological development. The circulation of speeches in Latin begins early: as early as 280 bc and its environs, if a genuine speech of Appius Caecus reached Cicero (Cato 16, Brut. 61). Other wellattested speeches come after the conventional date for the beginning of Latin poetry (240 bc): a funeral speech in 221 by Q. Metellus cos. 206 ORF 46 F 2, and then various speeches in the last decade of the third century. Probably in the course of the Second Punic War (218–201), we see the beginnings of Roman historiography, but in Greek (the pontifical Annales may be set aside for our purposes). Book 2 of Cato’s Origines was written in or after 171 or more probably 168 bc (Book II fr. 16 Chassignet); that work seems to begin Latin historiography, and in a controversial atmosphere characteristic of both Cato and Latin prose.4 Philosophy does not begin in Latin until much later. Ennius’ free translation of Euhemerus (Var. 60–146 Vahlen, presumably with some rewriting of Ennius; FGrHist 63 T 4 (d), F 12–26), with the demythologizing narrative history of the non-gods at its core, does not resemble ordinary philosophy, though it has 4 On oratory in the third century cf. Suerbaum (1996/7). On the circulation of Appius’ speech against Pyrrhus see Humm (2005), 61–73. Note Scipio to Polybius (Polyb. 31.23.11) for forensic oratory as a central and expected activity. Val. Max. 4.1.3 is not strong evidence for the circulation of a speech by M. Rutilus Censorinus (cos. 310). See Chassignet (1986), vii–ix, xviii–xxi for the date of Cato (and on early historiography see pp. 140–1 above).

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philosophical implications. In a way, one could as well think of it as beginning historiography. Cic. Tusc. 4.5 contrasts literary production by principes around 155 bc in law, oratory, history with the absence (or near-absence) of philosophical works. He says that still nulla fere sunt aut pauca admodum Latina monumenta of the Academic philosophy (6). By mentioning Stoics too, he implies that the Epicurean C. Amafinius was the first philosophical writer in Latin: interim illis silentibus C. Amafinius exstitit dicens. It sounds as if this was after Scipio’s death (129 bc). A narrative follows in 7, of many Epicureans each writing many works post Amafinium, and their wild success; this suggests some distance between Amafinius and Cicero’s present time of writing (probably 45 bc). Varro (Cic. Ac. Post. 5) is thus speaking of Amafinius in the present as author, not as living person, and Cassius puts the recently deceased Catius in front of Amafinius without regard for chronology (Fam. 15.19.2). But putant at Tusc. 4.7, unlike putant in Ac. Post. 5, sounds as if the writers after Amafinius extend into the present. Cicero, who wishes to signal his own work, scorns Amafinius (and Rabirius) for their lack of verbal and dialectical art (cf. Ac. Post. 5); they were widely popular. The criticism suggests that they offered an independent presentation, not just a translation of Epicurus (interpretes in Cassius gives merely one aspect of Amafinius’ activity); Amafinius dealt with Epicurean physics as well as ethics (Ac. Post. 6).5 Philosophical writing by Romans in Greek, we saw, continues throughout our period; historiographical writing by Romans in Greek seems largely to have faded by the Empire. (But after our period comes Asinius Quadratus, FGrHist 97 (Iæd  ƺØÅØ, ‘an Italian’, in the citation of F 21): fifteen books of Roman history in Ionic dialect.) Cicero’s and Atticus’ works on Cicero’s consulship were in Greek, but probably for exceptional reasons; they usually wrote in Latin.6

MULTI-TASKING

(i) Philosophy and history The division of the prose super-genres is based primarily, we noted, on the activity of their producers. Let us look at the degree to which Roman writers cross these divisions, and at how far their works permit open interplay. The differences in these respects among super-genres, and genres, and the differences and resemblances between Greeks and Romans illuminate the super-genres and their relations, and the relations of the Greek and Roman literary worlds. What strikes one immediately—to begin from negativity—is how slight the links are between

5 For this work of Ennius’ cf. Winiarczyk (2002), 118–35. Cf. on Amafinius Castner (1988), 7–11; H. Jones (1989), 69–77. Lucretius’ claim to primacy in translating Epicurus (5.335–7, cf. Howe (1951), 58–9) is hardly much of an obstacle to putting Amafinius before him, as we can see from the parallel claims of Horace and of Virgil (despite Catullus 62); and note possim and the different primacy of the idiom cum primis. 6 The date and origin of Lepidus (FGrHist 838) is not known; he wrote a  I#æÆ#  ¯ Ø (Summary of History), and, if the same man, a —æd ƒæø (On Priests, at least including Romans).

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Roman philosophy and history, compared to those between oratory and philosophy, oratory and history. The most significant link is Livy, who wrote et dialogos quos non magis philosophiae adnumerare possis quam historiae et ex professo philosophiam continentis libros (Sen. Ep. 100.9; it is doubtful if the same passage justifies including Pollio, who in any case is an orator too). This connection is not apparent from his histories. Lucceius in a prologue (Cic. Fam. 5.12.3) probably to a book of his history Italici belli et ciuilis [presumably between Marius and Sulla] (5.12.2) most likely enhanced his own stance with a comparison to Xenophon’s Heracles (from Prodicus’ Horae; really ˚ÆŒÆ rather than Voluptas, but cf. Xen. Mem. 2.1.27, + Ar. Clouds 361a Holwerda). Xenophon is a historical as well as a philosophical writer, and the passage was familiar (there were even paintings, cf. Philostr. VA 6.10.5 p. 215.6–18 Kayser); but the pose is philosophical, and Lucceius’ interest in philosophy may be suggested by studia paria in Cic. Fam. 5.15.2 (cf. also 5.13.3 quae eleganter copioseque collegisti).7 Tacitus, whose historical work rarely mentions Greek writers, once brings in what praestantissimus sapientiae firmare solitus est (Ann. 6.6.2, cf. Plat. Gorg. 524e1–525a2); he probably means Socrates rather than Plato, and is avoiding reference to a text. The moment in Tacitus is memorable; but one may contrast Polybius’ explicit citations of Plato: cf. 7.13.7 (Rep. 8.565d4-e2, on tyrants, like Tacitus’ passage, and applied to an individual—Philip V—in demythologized form); 12.28.2–5 (Rep. 5.473c11-e1, familiar quote), where an analogy is created between ideal historiography and the ideal relation of philosophy to politics. One may contrast too Polybius’ explicit selection and simplification of Plato’s (and others’) ideas (cf. 6.5.1–2), and his explicit disagreement with Plato and others (6.45–7, note 47.1). Plato’s Republic is visibly a major influence on Polybius’ thought. One may also contrast the explicit references to Plato in the nonannalistic Nep. Alc. 2.2 (Plato in Symposio), Val. Max. 1.8 ext. 1, 7.2 ext. 4 (same quote as Polybius above); cf. also 4.1 ext. 3 (Plato’s letters), 5.10 ext. 2 (style), 8.7 ext. 3 (including style, and Italian travels), and Vell. 1.16.4 (general). One may further contrast the reference to Plato’s style at Tac. Dial. 31.6 (cf. 32.5: Demosthenes and Plato, to indicate the importance of the relationship between oratory and philosophy). Besides the passage at Tac. Ann. 6.6.2, there is the more generalized presentation of Epicureanism and Stoicism at 6.22.1–2; Tacitus professes his own uncertainty, as an outsider rather than an Academic.8 The start of the Catiline soon moves from a Platonizing element (1.2, cf. esp. Plat. Phaedo 79e8–80a9) to more specifically historical and historiographical issues. Pliny the Elder is a historian who also writes a work often related to the interests of philosophers. He continues Aufidius Bassus: this Aufidius Bassus is usually assumed to be the same as the Epicurean whose noble death is reported in 7 Note that Livy also writes (for general circulation?) a letter to his son on oratory, fr. rhet. 1 Jal (and 2?). For Lucceius’ proem cf. Münzer (1927), 1557. 8 The praestantissimus Sapientiae is usually taken to be Plato, cf. e.g. Koestermann (1963–8), ii.251; but is rightly taken as Socrates by Woodman (2004), 168 n. 26, Mellor (2011), 55. Cf. Cic. De Orat. 1.204 Socraten illum solitum aiunt dicere (remark not extant, but must be from a philosophical work); e.g. Quint. Inst. 2.21.4 Socrates apud Platonem dicere Gorgiae uidetur. praestantissimus sapientiae does not simply mean ‘the top philosopher’; cf. Plat. Apol. 21a3–7 . . . ÅÆ #çæ r ÆØ, and e.g. Cic. De Orat. 3.60, Tusc. 1.100. Further on the sources and significance of Polybius’ philosophizing cf. Hahm (2002) and Jost (2002).

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Seneca, Epistle 30 (it is more reasonable, though still far from certain, to think this Aufidius Bassus the same as the dedicator of CIL iii.7279). Earlier, Rutilius Rufus was a keen Stoic and a pupil of Panaetius (Cic. Brut. 114); but it is not the beliefs of authors that is so much in question here. Acilius, who wrote in Greek, had been eagerly involved in the visit of the philosophers (155 bc); but the hostility of the Elder Cato is probably of more importance for the old Roman attitudes put on by historians.9 The position in Latin history forms a notable antithesis to Greek history in the period of Roman power. Posidonius, Nicolaus, Plutarch, Arrian come immediately to mind as writing (or assembling) substantial works in both history and philosophy. Cross-fertilization is apparent in their historical works. So Posidonius, who wrote a history in continuation of Polybius’ (FGrHist 87 T 1, 12b = T 1a–b Edelstein–Kidd), assails Athenion the Peripatetic philosopher, who briefly controlled Athens (FGrHist 87 F 36 = F 253 Edelstein–Kidd), with the vigour of the philosopher Musonius attacking the corrupt philosopher Celer (Tac. Hist. 4.10, 40.3; Celer is defended by the philosopher Demetrius). The philosophical perspective of the author is clearly essential to Posidonius’ passage, for all the textual difficulties, cf. e.g. F 253.112–20 Edelstein–Kidd æÆ Æe I Æ# › çغ#ç# . . . f# b s çæFÆ# H ºØH, Ææa a æØ#ºı# ŒÆd ¨çæ #ı ª ÆÆ . . . , KŒ g PŁf# K Ø #Æ (‘the philosopher showed he was a tyrant, and . . . immediately got rid of the right-minded citizens, contrary to the doctrines of Aristotle and Theophrastus’), 158–9 K ØºÆŁ # H ª ø H F —æØ ı (‘forgetting the doctrines of the Peripatos’). Nic. Dam. FGrHist 90 F 56 on Lycurgus includes an ethical story which later appears in a philosophical essay wrongly ascribed to Plutarch (Lib. Ed. 3a–b). Nicolaus gives Lycurgus a generalizing homily absent from [Plutarch] (including Æ ªaæ IŁæ Ø# ÆŁÅa ƒ Łd #Æ, ‘for the gods have made it possible for men to learn everything’). Plutarch himself has Lycurgus E# I ÆæŒ r ÆØ c ºª Å æd e #çe Ø Ł#Ø  ºÆ  ı#Ø K ØÆ# ‹ºÅ c ºØ çغ#çF#Æ (‘having shown the whole city philosophizing to those who supposed that the “mental disposition” [cf. SVF ii no. 393, iii Chrysipp. no. 516] spoken of with regard to the wise man is unreal’, Lyc. 31.2, cf. 20.6).10 Even Arrian, who has the most doubtful claim to philosophical independence, combines in the Anabasis a philosophical and historiographical sensibility: his emphatically first-person ethical discussion and judgement matches his assessment of his sources. One may contrast Curtius’ noble moralizing as he proceeds. While Arrian has more reservations about the philosophical Callisthenes than Curtius (cf. Curt. 8.5.12–13, 20, 8.8.22, etc.), Philodemus has reservations too (P. Herc. 1675 col. v 21–32), and Arrian argues ethically with and about Callisthenes (so cf. Anab. 4.10.1–2; note the mention of Callisthenes’ teacher Aristotle, which is not in Curtius). Arrian’s views on regret differ from those of Epictetus and Curtius; but unlike Curtius he presents an individual line of thought 9

For the passage in the Catiline see Vretska (1976), i.35–6. On the passage of Posidonius and some of its problems see Bringmann (1997). Different views are taken on the extent of Arrian’s contribution in the Discourses of Epictetus and the Encheiridion, which he at the least put together, structured, and circulated. Contrast Long (2002), 39–44 with Selle (2001). 10

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about the principle: 7.29.1–2  e ªÆØÅ# . . . Å ªaæ  ت ŒE YÆ#Ø# ± ÆæÆ# › ºªE  ± ÆæÆ ŒÆd Bº r ÆØ K  ÆPHØ ƪت#ŒÆ (‘from nobility . . . for to me the only way of curing an error seems admitting that one has erred and making one’s regret for the action clear’); contrast Curtius e.g. 3.2.19 sera . . . paenitentia (Darius), 8.8.23 sera paenitentia (Alexander), Epict. 2.22.35, fr. 25.4 Schenkl.11

(ii) Oratory and philosophy, oratory and history Connections between oratory and philosophy and between oratory and history are readily illustrated among Latin writers: so for the former Cicero, Seneca, Apuleius may readily be cited, for the latter, Cato, Pollio, Tacitus. Both sorts of connection are embodied in stories of Demosthenes’ debt to Plato and to Thucydides (for the former, see Cic. De Orat. 1.89, etc.; for the latter Dion. Hal. Dem. 10 i.148.14–149.14 Usener–Radermacher, Thuc. 53 i.412.18–413.12). The three are viewed as the supreme Attic writers, cf. e.g. Longin. 14.1, [Dion. Hal.] Ars 16 ii.322.17–19. The story on Plato gains a somewhat different slant in Gell. 3.13 (Hermipp. FGrHist 1026 F 50), where Demosthenes abandons Plato for oratory.12 None the less, on the joining of oratory and philosophy we may observe differences from the Greek situation. Apuleius fits in well enough with the Second Sophistic blending of philosophy into the performances of sophists; indeed, he takes engagement with philosophy further than is common with Philostratus’ sophists, for all Philostratus’ presentation. Cicero and Seneca present something rather different from sophists and from Greek examples of the late Hellenistic and Julio-Claudian periods. These pre-eminent Roman figures are not professional teachers of philosophy with an interest in the problems of rhetoric, or teachers of rhetoric who diversify or change to philosophy, or philosophers who change into politicians or speak in embassies. (See Part II for earlier examples, such as Opillus, Metrodorus (changes from philosophy to rhetoric and politics), Philon, Menedemus, Cratippus, Pollio who takes over from Timagenes, Theon; note the Latin rhetor Crassicius Pansa (once Pasicles) who dimissa repente schola transiit ad Q. Sextii philosophi sectam, Suet. GR 18.3.) Cicero himself claims that his combination of oratory and philosophy is not paralleled among the Greeks, except perhaps Demetrius of Phaleron (Off. 1.3). Yet Greek thoughts and material run through even Cicero’s articulation of the relationship.13 11 Brunt (1977) argues against seeing philosophy (Stoicism) in the Anabasis, but is primarily concerned with doctrine; Stadter (1980), 104, sees a battle with philosophical criticism of Alexander—in other words, involvement in a debate. Cf. e.g. Stadter (1980), 223 nn. 34–5 for links with Epictetus, and Bosworth (1995), 50 for philosophical language and outlook. The uvre of Arrian’s supreme model Xenophon (cf. recently Rood (2011)) of course combines historical and philosophical writing. On the Philodemus, see Capasso (2005). 12 Cic. Orat. 15 refers to the letters of Demosthenes: the extant letters name Plato only at 5.3 (which all agree to be spurious). On the Gellius see Bollansée (1999), 405–9. For Latin oratory and history cf. also e.g. T. Labienus: magnus orator, Sen. Contr. 10 pr. 4. 13 Philon’s teaching of rhetoric, in Rome, is significant for Cicero intellectually, especially for the De Oratore (see below) and the Tusculans (cf. 2.9). Cf. Brittain (2001), ch. 7, esp. 328–43. For Crassicius cf. Lana (1990), 208–17, (1992), 117.

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Seneca started writing philosophical works before his exile in ad 41, but is most ambitious and prolific in his retirement from political life under Nero. He began his career as an orator; but he claims that the internal wish to stop preceded the external compulsion (Ep. 49.2). His oratory (probably) was admired under Caligula (Suet. Cal. 53.2). He may have had some interest in circulating speeches written for delivery by himself or Nero (Quint. Inst. 12.10.11; writing ostensibly by Nero, Quint. Inst. 8.5.18, Tac. Ann. 13.1–3, 14.11.2); but philosophy becomes his main concern as a writer.14 Cicero is as a writer chiefly occupied with his oratorical and political career until the 50s bc, when he writes De Legibus and De Re Publica, and the 40s, when retirement leads to the great series of his philosophical works (first to be finished the Consolatio, by March 45). The philosophical activity is partly contrasted with his earlier oratorical and political activity, partly seen as a parallel way of helping his fellow-citizens (cf. Fin. 1.10, Tusc. 1.1, Div. 2.1, 7). Seneca, on the other hand, can defend his otium on the grounds that no res publica merits the wise man’s participation (Ot. 8); he supports his case with Chrysippus, Socrates, and Aristotle, and negatively with Athens and Carthage (Rome is included but not named). Cicero had long been interested in philosophy, and it occasionally makes a conspicuous appearance in his speeches (e.g. Arch. 14, 26, 30, Cael. 40–1 (with comment on the Greek inability to act nobly), Marc. 8, 19; two of these speeches have an epideictic element). The relation of oratory and philosophy is discussed in De Oratore 1 and 3; an ideal fusion is envisaged, and expressed in terms of the practitioner, who could reasonably be called philosopher as well as orator (3.143, cf. 142). While the text admits a glance at Cicero himself (3.80 sin aliquis exstiterit aliquando), the fusion and its expression are highly Platonic (cf. especially Meno 99e3–100a7, noting 100a2 Ø#, and with 142–3 cf. Rep. 5.473c11–e2 on philosophers and kings).15 But there were limits on the explicit incorporation of philosophy into oratory: the conventions of Roman oratory discouraged too great a display of extraneous

14 See Griffin (1976), 397 for the Ad Marciam as pre-exilic, 53–6 for Seneca’s oratory under Caligula; at Ep. 49.2 the context suggests that even the final ‘modo’ is long ago (‘modo’ [sc. causas agere] desii posse). Seneca’s emphasis on his own wishes here and elsewhere contrasts with Cicero, who presents his retirement from politics and oratory as imposed (e.g. Tusc. 1.1 liberatus, Div. 2.7 orbati). Seneca also teaches Nero on oratory under Claudius and later (Suet. Ner. 53.2, Tac. Ann. 13.2.1); for ghost-writing after Nero, note the posited scriptor orationis for Otho at Hist. 1.90.2. A recent discussion of Seneca’s career: Ker (2009), 251–3. 15 One should thus modify the account e.g. of C. Lévy (1992), 101–11. Quintilian, who also seeks a kind of fusion, Romanum quendam . . . sapientem, does not wish the orator to be a philosopher (Inst. 12.2.6–7). For him, even philosophers working in the city have become remote a ciuilibus officiis; he uses the closed-off spaces of schools to contrast with hac luce fori (8, cf. 7 secretis disputationibus). For an interesting discussion of Cicero’s philosophical sequence and modifications in the programme, see Steinmetz (1990). For Cicero’s philosophical works and the state cf. e.g. Zimmermann (1999), 247. On Cael. 40–1, cf. Hutchinson (2005), 180–2. The more incidental use of philosophical colouring in Cicero’s speeches is underrated (note the lavish ND 1.6 orationes . . . refertae philosophorum sententiis). Cf. e.g. Cael. 11 naturali quodam bono, with Arist. EN 10.1173a4 Ø çı#ØŒe IªÆŁ (‘some natural good’), 12 tale monstrum . . . , tam ex contrariis diuersisque . . . naturae studiis cupiditatibusque conflatum, with Plat. Phaedr. 230a3–6 #Œ H . . . K Æı, Y Ø ŁÅæ k ıªå ø ıçH#

ºı ºŒæ Œº. (‘I consider . . . myself: whether I am some kind of monster more complicated than Typhon . . . ’, a passage quoted by Plutarch, Galen, and Sextus).

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erudition. The proem to the Paradoxa Stoicorum comments on Cato’s willingness to treat in the Senate themes from philosophy abhorrentes ab hoc usu forensi et publico (1); yet even he did not treat themes so daringly difficult to commend to a non-specialist audience as the Stoic paradoxes (3), which Cicero’s experimental conflation of super-genres is about to turn into imaginary parts of speeches (ad nostrum hoc oratorium transfero dicendi genus, 5).16 Stoicism, according to the proem of the Paradoxa, presented Cato with more of a challenge for his purpose than Academic philosophy, both in content and in style: the Academy peperit dicendi copiam (2). Eloquence is important in Cicero’s philosophical writings: so at the start of De Natura Deorum 2, the Epicurean Velleius professes to regret his combat with Cotta, Academico et eodem rhetore (1); Cotta’s combination of sophisticated thought and eloquent expression was only missing the audience of a real trial, corona . . . et iudices. (Cf. e.g. Ac. Pri. 64: Cicero begins his reply non minus commotus quam soleo in causis maioribus; cf. Tusc. 1.7: his practice of declamation is in his old age applied to philosophy.) Seneca’s letters 40 and 100 move between philosophical and oratorical style and live performance, starting from the Greek philosopher Sarapion’s lectures (40.2) and Fabianus’ writings (100.1). Cicero is relevant in both his oratory and his philosophy (40.11, 100.7, 9). Seneca draws on his own experience of Fabianus’ performance (100.3, 12), in philosophy (40.12), although Fabianus had earlier practised declamation with skill (Sen. Contr. 2 pr. 1–5). Though eloquence affected Fabianus’ impact, the philosopher’s primary concern was not, unlike an orator’s, with eloquence: in his writing Fabianus eloquentiam uelut umbram non hoc agens trahit (Sen. Ep. 100.10 (cf. 79.13), cf. Sen. Contr. 2 pr. 5 cum iam transfugisset, eo tempore quo eloquentiae studebat non eloquentiae causa).17 The combination of oratory and history is more closely paralleled in the Greek and Roman worlds. Polybius and Appian are historians who had practised as orators, and politicians. Polybius, in modestly third-person fashion, shows himself in oratorical action during political meetings at 29.23–4 (31.24.5: he will teach Scipio to speak—arrangement as friend, not professional rhetor, cf. 7). Appian describes his career: K# a æHÆ lŒø K BØ ÆæØ ŒÆd ŒÆØ# K   ÅØ #ıƪæ#Æ# K d H Æ#غø åæØ  #çH K Øæ Ø Mø#Æ (‘I rose to the highest rank in my country, and acted as advocate in trials in the Emperors’ presence, until they thought me fit to be their procurator’, pr. 62). The details are disputed; but at Fronto p. 168.14–16 Van den Hout he is clearly envisaged as a causidicus, and the shared studiorum usus prope cotidianus (7–8) indicates his passion for rhetoric.18 16 On the relation of the Paradoxa to Cicero’s more straightforwardly philosophical writing, cf. Orlandini (2008); perhaps, however, the phrase abhorrentes . . . publico is illegitimately used to make deductions about the readership of the work (164). Consoli (2000) sees the work as having a hidden political purpose. See for further literature G. Moretti (2012). On Cato cf. Fam. 15.4.16; see also Griffin (2001) on Piso. Fin. 4.74 comments on the Pro Murena; but not all the jury can have been imperiti. The laboriously elementary explanation in Mur. 61 (Stoici nominantur etc.) rather reveals the conventions. Note Sen. Contr. 7 pr. 1 illa intempestiua in declamationibus eius philosophia. 17 On Epistle 100, cf. Cizek (2002); he suggests that Seneca’s ‘neo-Asianist’ preferences appear, despite the ostensible argument against excessive concern with style. 18 The middle clause in the Appian could refer to his being aduocatus fisci, cf. e.g. Dig. 28.4.3 (Marcellus); but the point about causidicorum scatebra would then seem less pertinent at Fronto p. 168.14–16 Van den Hout. For Appian’s complex identity cf. Gómez Espelosín (2009), esp. 248.

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Tacitus is a distinguished orator, as Pliny brings out (e.g. Ep. 9.23.1–3 (context shows studia oratorical)); he makes speeches in prestigious circumstances (funeral speech for Verginius Rufus, delivered as consul, 2.1.6), and at important trials (prosecution of Marius Priscus ad 98–100: 2.11). The Dialogus shows his involvement with more general questions of rhetoric; but, despite the copia studiosorum who come to him (Plin. Ep. 4.13.10), he is not a teacher making a living. His public career is marked, by among other things, his consulship (cos. suff. 97) and his proconsulship in Asia (IK xxxiv.365.2 (Mylasa) [IŁı ]ø ˚æźø ÆŒø, ‘in the proconsulship of Cornelius Tacitus’). How far the oratory and the historiography coincided in time is uncertain; the orator Pliny, urged by many to write history, thinks it would be hard to combine the composition of both genres (Ep. 5.8.7–8; rescribere need not be ‘revise’ speeches delivered long ago). The Agricola and Germania both come out in ad 98, but the writing of the Histories is not apparent until c.106 (Ep. 6.16).19 Yet there is also an important tradition in which historians are detached from the public life of their own state. We will see that this can have generic implications. Thucydides mentions his exile to show his information on both sides, and his ability ŒÆŁ #ıåÆ Ø ÆPH Aºº ÆN#Ł#ŁÆØ (‘to observe a given event more quietly and calmly’, 5.26.5). Dionysius, however, sees in Thucydides not impartiality but bitterness: his approach is ÆPŁŒÆ## Ø# ŒÆd ØŒæa ŒÆd BØ ÆæØ B# çıªB# Å#،ƌF#Æ (‘blunt and bitter, and resentful towards his homeland for his exile’, Pomp. 3.15 ii.238.17–18 Usener–Radermacher). Xenophon and Polybius are relevant to this detachment too. One may contrast with Dionysius Dio Cass. 38.28.1–2 (Philiscus to Cicero): exile can produce immortal work like Xenophon’s and Thucydides’.20 Sallust stresses that withdrawal from the res publica brings impartiality, between Roman factions (mihi . . . a spe metu partibus rei publicae animus liber erat, Cat. 4.2); but by presenting the withdrawal as his own decision (mihi relicuam aetatem a re publica procul habendam decreui, 4.1; Jug. 4.3), he makes his vehemence against the corruption of Roman politics not sour grapes but the mature fruit of a moral choice. He is also, unlike say Thucydides, contributing to his state (Jug. 4.4); impartiality between Rome and Numidia is not an issue that arises. Livy, who has no part in political life, in writing of the remote past detaches himself from the recent woes of Rome (pr. 5); but his argument implies (9–12) that his work has the potential to benefit his own state as it badly needs.21

19 Tacitus’ proconsulship is dated c.112/13 by Eck (1982–3), 353. On Pliny’s use of historical material in the Panegyricus, see Henderson (2011). 20 Note also Liban. Ep. 1508.6: historiography made Thucydides’ exile light. 21 Contrast with Jug. 4 Machiavelli’s prologue to the comedy Mandragola, 45–55: his situation was not his choice (gli è stato interciso | mostrar con altre imprese altra virtue, | non sendo premio alle fatiche sue: Machiavelli was not given a role by the Medici). Comedy is for personal distraction (48–50), his exclusion is his excuse for the levity of the genre (45–8). Sallust aggrandizes his work and genre. In a devious passage (Cat. 8.2–5), Sallust hints that his own detachment from action enables him to make a contribution to Rome like that of Athenian writers to Athens (cf. 4.1–2). The praise of Athenian deeds (eorum qui fecere makes a contrast with uerbis and ingenia) comes only in 4; and it could include praise of Athens in oratory, tragedy, and even Pericles’ funeral oration. The passage does not prevent the distanced and critical aspects of Thucydides from being present in Sallust’s treatment of Rome.

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The notion of historians as detached from practical immersion in the state can accompany a contrast with orators: so for the interlocutor at Juv. 7.105–7 ‘sed [sc. historians] genus ignauum, quod lecto gaudet et umbra.’ | dic igitur quid causidicis ciuilia praestent | officia. Cicero stresses that Thucydides was never regarded as an orator (Orat. 32); though engaged in politics, he was not among those qui causas dictitarunt, and wrote his histories in exile, a re publica remotus (De Orat. 2.56). In the De Oratore, Antonius argues that among the Greeks, unlike the Romans, most eloquent men remoti a causis forensibus turn to history: so Herodotus and Thucydides (2.55). The inclusion of historiography in the discussion of rhetoric here is somewhat strained, and, Antonius indicates, was not part of the tradition in Greek rhetorical writings (2.62). Cicero is enlarging the province of the orator (36, 62); he indicates in the De Legibus, also of the 50s, that he himself has the ability to take on a task which is the most oratorius of all (1.5; 5–11). But in the 40s Cicero has Atticist opponents: he attacks orators who calls themselves Thucydidei (Orat. 30–2, Opt. Gen. 15–16). Thucydides’ narrative of wars is of no use ad forensem usum et publicum (Orat. 30), unlike the speeches of the causidicus Lysias (another Atticist idol). Even Thucydides’ speeches are obscure—a disaster in oratione ciuili—and no Greek rhetor cites them. Cassius Severus in Sen. Contr. 3 pr. 8 thinks that Sallust’s speeches are beneath the standard of his history (or Histories): they are only read in honorem historiarum. Cassius in this context separates practical oratory from declamation; Pliny goes for narrative rather than inset speeches to illustrate the apparent similarities between history and oratory (Ep. 5.8.9; p. 262 below). Quintilian warns that historians are impractical athletes, not fighting soldiers (Inst. 10.1.31–3).22 Cicero’s imperialism in annexing historiography for the orator is reversed in Sallust’s Catiline: on a small scale, the writer’s first work takes on a subject known to author and readers primarily through a set of orations, and gives it the large context of history. The first person of the orations becomes a minor, if laudable, figure in the third-person narrative; his famous opening (Cic. Cat. 1.1) is given over to his enemy (Sall. Cat. 20.9), and he is not allowed a speech even in the final debate. The relation of the super-genres need not be pacific.23

PROSE-RHYTHM

(i) Latin beginnings We turn now to a crucial aspect in the history of Latin prose. Fundamental to its development and divisions was the introduction of Hellenistic prose rhythm. The

22

Contrast with Pliny Lucian, Hist. Conscr. 58 KçEÆ #Ø  ŒÆd ÞÅæF#ÆØ [a word evoking the profession] ŒÆd K ØEÆØ c H ºªø ØÅÆ (‘you have also been allowed on these occasions to do oratory and show your skill at speeches’). On Cicero and Thucydides, cf. Binot (2010). On the discussion of history in the De Oratore see Leeman et al. (1981–2008), ii.248–52, Woodman (1988), 70– 116, perhaps underplaying Cicero’s idiosyncracy; his whole book is of great importance for the relation of rhetoric and history. For Leg. 1.5 cf. Nep. fr. 58 Marshall, also with an indication of (unrealized) movement across genres, cf. philosophiam (cf. Dyck (2004), 30–1, 71–2). 23 On Sallust’s use of Cicero’s vision and language cf. recently Krebs (2008), esp. 686.

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difference between rhythmic and unrhythmic prose, though not seen as a generic difference, is akin to the difference between verse super-genres, or between poetry and prose; it bears a significant if not straightforward relationship to the divisions that are in operation between prose super-genres, divisions based on profession and purpose. So far as we can observe, Cicero is the first Latin writer to adopt this rhythmic system; he adopts it from his earliest works. He apparently claims, to assist his self-defence, that he is not the first: he has read and heard nonnullos quorum propemodum absolute concluderetur oratio (Orat. 171). In view of his similar contentions on Greek pre-Hellenistic orators, this claim must be regarded with reserve, if it is taken as a claim about using the Hellenistic system. nonnullos and propemodum are not encouraging. We must look for ourselves.24 In more substantial works preceding or contemporary with Cicero the lack of rhythm is obvious (so Cato’s De Agri Cultura, Varro, Caesar). It is hard to be sure with fragments, especially if the author was not in fact rhythmic (‘especially’ as even fragments from rhythmic writers can suggest a strong likelihood of rhythm). But in looking for evidence of rhythm, we should beware of using Cicero himself as a reliable guide to the exact wording of earlier orators. Thus the long quote from Crassus in De Orat. 2.225–6 (ORF 4 66 F 45) has been made evidence of rhythm before Cicero; but the different versions of Brutus’ three openings to his books which Cicero gives here (224) and in Clu. 141 indicate that he is an unreliable witness for close verbal detail. (Compare the divergent versions given of the same sentence of Crassus by Pliny and by Valerius Maximus, a very unreliable witness, in F 38 and 39.) In this passage particularly, and in a dialogue, Cicero may well have retouched the original to enhance its effect; there may not even have been a written text for the Crassus. Orat. 214 and 222 show Cicero thinking hypothetically about such rearrangements, bad and good. Even so, in De Orat. 2.225–6 nobilitatis, iuri ciuili, aspicere audes give us more unrhythmic endings than we might have expected from Cicero; cf. also F 33 tabulis ueniemus . . . scribes unus. One of the few quotes from Crassus not presented by Cicero or the Ad Herennium, F 25 (Priscian), is not rhythmic. The fragments of C. Gracchus contain too ---, if we high a frequency of non-rhythmic endings (or too high a proportion of insist that that ending is rhythmic) for us to be confident that he was a rhythmic writer. The apparently rhythmic appearance of the famous F 61, quoted by Cicero in the dialogue De Oratore (3.214), should again be regarded with caution. (Quintilian will get the quote from Cicero, Julius Victor (p. 443.3–4 Halm) from Quintilian.) The deflection there of obvious word-order to lamentantem uideam et abiectam is particularly suspicious when we see so little of such deflection in the other fragments (note the high proportion of final verbs).25

24 Brut. 140 and 162, cited by Kroll (1913), 152, offer little reassurance; still less Orat. 222–3, on Crassus (cf. 226), where his main examples from Crassus are spondaic. On rhythm in Cicero (and elsewhere) see Zielinski (1904), R. G. M. Nisbet (1995), Hutchinson (1995) and (1998), 9–12, Berry (1996), Zwierlein (2002), Oberhelman (2003), Winterbottom (2011). 25 In Cicero such deflection is never purely for the rhythm (cf. Orat. 229); it remains a conspicuous feature of his writing. For the notion that F 61 is rhythmic cf. e.g. Courtney (1995), 132. For Crass. ORF4 66 F 45 cf. Norden (1918), 174–5, Mankin (2011), 283 (the present approach would remove the basis for that at Mankin (2011), 47–8). Norden’s treatment (173) of Q. Metellus Numidicus ORF4 58 F 6 and 7 (cit. Gellius) as clearly rhythmic makes ̄ ̆ ̆ ̄ ̄ ̆ rhythmic, by a slip misscans antestatis,

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Even in prose contemporary with Cicero, rhythmic writing is hard to find. The main exception is the Ad Herennium. The work is probably later than Cicero’s De Inventione, to which it is closely related: the latter is 93–91 bc, the former 86 or later, possibly 70 or later. On the usual view, both authors are making extremely extensive use of writing or teaching in Latin, probably in ignorance of each other. There is some implausibility in this ignorance and more in Cicero’s using so extensively either Latin teaching (his teachers at this stage were purely Greek, cf. Epist. fr. I Shackleton Bailey) or a Latin translation of a Greek work (he was intensely involved in Greek). It is a little unlikely that a major independent Latin work, a main source for Cicero, should nowhere be mentioned by him or others. Cicero later says of De Inventione, ex commentariolis nostris . . . exciderunt (De Orat. 1.5); this suggests the primacy of teaching as a source (cf. Quint. Inst. 3.6.59). The instruction will probably have included reading Greek works with the students (cf. Cic. Inv. 2.4). And parallel use of teaching, or of a Greek work, would not account for the resemblance between Cicero and the claim at the end of Ad Herennium 1 (27 chapters) that satis huius uoluminis magnitudo creuit, with a worrying multitudo litterarum. That author seems to be borrowing verbally, but not quite appropriately, from Cic. Inv. 1.109 (NB) huius uoluminis magnitudo longius processit and 2.178 hic liber non parum continet litterarum. More plausible than the standard view, in my opinion, is the neglected possibility that the Ad Herennium is using Cicero. If so, the work can draw on his style and rhythm as well as his content. If not, Hellenistic practice is diffused in the ambience of the rhetorical schools, perhaps in the posited Latin work and certainly in the two extant treatises; but as we have seen, it does not spread much further in this period (not even to Rutilius’ handbook). The speeches even of Cicero’s pupil Caelius seem unrhythmic; in the long extract ORF 4 162 F 17, all the imperfect verbs come ---and a final close concubinarumque at the end of clauses, producing a block of iactabatur. F 39 includes the highly un-Ciceronian atque dı˘caces. While Cicero writes rhythmical letters to all his friends except Atticus, only a couple of correspondents (Dolabella and Plancus) write largely rhythmical letters to him; it is reasonable to presume that they use rhythm under his influence.26

(ii) Greek development and spread across Latin genres What creates the sudden shift whereby after Cicero’s death most Latin prose is rhythmic? Cicero’s effect on practice could have increased after his death at the triumvirs’ hands and his (literary) canonization; but so profound and extensive a change seems unlikely. The cases of Pollio and the Younger Seneca, for instance,

and relies heavily on the formulaic Quirites; the clearly non-rhythmic F 8 (cit. Gellius) is not mentioned. In Cic. De Orat. 226 iuri (-: (in) iure rell.) is demanded by the sense. 26 Cf. Hutchinson (1998), 9–11. Cael. ORF 4 162 F 17 seems inspired by the tradition seen in Lycon (Rutil. 2.7: also extended treatment of drunkenness, though not on a specific occasion). On the dating of the treatises cf. e.g. Calboli (1993), 12–19, Corbeill (2002), 32–3, with allusion to Inv. 1.4–5; against a limit of 82 bc for the Ad Herennium, Douglas (1960), 76–7 makes decisive points. On the relation of the two treatises cf. e.g. Herbolzheimer (1926), Matthes (1958), 81–100, Adamietz (1960), Calboli (1993), 25–9, Adamik (1998), 271–7, Corbeill (2002), 31–4, Gaines (2007), 171–80.

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do not fit with adoration for Cicero (see below). Probably a vital factor at least is the practice of Greek rhetors in Rome, and of Latin rhetors who began as Greek rhetors; there appears to be a great increase in Greek rhetors staying permanently and prominently in Rome at just this period. These same rhetors clearly have much to do with the other major change in Latin prose: the introduction of the ‘pointed style’ (cf. pp. 183–8 above). The fragments of Greek rhetors in the Elder Seneca, short and often corrupt as they are, look definitely rhythmic, as those of Roman republican orators do not. The short sentences and clauses and the rhythmic style are in the Greek rhetors as in Hegesias closely connected.27 The controversy in Cicero’s last years includes rhythm as a prime object of dispute. He devotes to the subject almost a third of his self-defence the Orator (164–236, the final part (237–8 conclusion)). Cicero would seem to be replying to the objection—correct on the facts—that the Attic orators did not write rhythmic prose in the sense that he did. He polemically turns this objection into a supposed claim that to speak unrhythmically is a sufficient and necessary condition for becoming an Attic orator. He counters the claim with what he holds it would imply, that Demosthenes was Asianic: for Demosthenes wrote rhythmically (or rather used rhythm to hurl his thunderbolts, 234). Partly by using numeri broadly, Cicero takes the invention of rhythmic prose back not just to Isocrates, who does not use the Hellenistic system, but to Gorgias and especially Thrasymachus, cuius omnia nimis etiam exstant scripta numerose (175): an allegation not supported by the substantial fragment B1 Diels–Kranz.28 Cicero can present Hellenistic writers as embodying various faults in the use of rhythm, through excessive dedication to it (cf. Asiaticos . . . numero seruientes, Orat. 230). He still has praise for Hierocles and Menecles, fratres illi Asiaticorum rhetorum principes (231), whom he had known; but he can position himself as no mere follower of decadent fashion. Hegesias, regarded elsewhere as the founder of the Asianic style (FGrHist 142 T 1 = Strabo 14.1.41 648 C. iv.42.6–8 Radt) and as rhythmic in most of his writing (T 7 = Theon 2 71 Sp. p. 16.7–11 Patillon), is the source of one fault, choppy little metrical phrases (Orat. 230). He is also, as 226 indicates, a forerunner of the Roman Atticists in his mistaken aspiration to be like Lysias. This last twist is set out more extensively in Brut. 286–7. The Roman controversy has much to do with Greek literary history, though Hegesias most likely precedes 240 bc.29 27 The Latin rhetors in the Elder Seneca are all rhythmic too, as quoted by him; he can quote written unrhythmic prose outside declamation, and at the least he is rhythmic himself. Probably the Latin rhetors all adopt both rhythm and the pointed style under the influence of Greek rhetors; they as well as Greek rhetors will then influence those learning rhetoric in Rome. 28 On Isocrates cf. Usher (2010); but his last sentence is not obviously true. Brutus seemed to disapprove even of a Demosthenic ending: Quint. Inst. 9.4.64; Calvus seems to have imitated Demosthenes (Sen. Contr. 7.4.8, cf. Plin. Ep. 1.2.2, contrast Wisse (1995), 70). Cic. Orat. 168–9 exploits the ambiguity of antiqui, and its possible reference to Greece or Rome. 29 The verbatim quotations of Hegesias in Greek, some or all from his historical writing, mostly show rhythmical endings; however, the most substantial, F 5, begins with two unrhythmical endings close together (#ƪ Æ æŪE, I ÆA K ØØ, ‘was in the front (with) his contingent’, ‘confront him as he advanced’). This may be because we are at the beginnings of the practice. The complexities of the Roman scene are enhanced by the approval of Varro for Hegesias’ short units (Cic. Att. 12.6.1). The connection between Asianic orators and Epicurus found by Theon loc. cit., on a slender basis, may suggest that Theon’s aversion to rhythmic prose is in part moral.

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The controversy was Greek as well as Roman, and probably began in Greek. Greek involvement is shown not just by Dionysius and Caecilius but by the striking passage Sen. Contr. 10.5.21 (cf. p. 94 above): Craton . . . professus Asianus, qui bellum cum omnibus Atticis gerebat, etc. This also shows that the designation Asianus is now not merely an insult by the opposition (cf. also 9.1.12, 6.16). If Atticism and the designation Asianism were invented by Calvus and contemporary Romans, not only would the success of Atticism throughout the Greek world (Dion. Hal. Orat. Vet. Praef. 2 i.5.11–14 Usener–Radermacher = 2.4 Hidber) have to be explained by individual networking spread from Calvus and others in Rome. An extensive movement of Asiani would also have to have built up from orators in the rhythmic style who were humorously keen, like the Impressionists, to adopt the Roman Atticists’ insulting designation. In this context it is the more awkward that the Greeks do not use the Romans’ version of the insult. The Latin for ‘Asian’, including the Asian style, had always been Asiaticus (note Suet. Aug. 86.3), a form taken from Greek. But the Greeks use their own form #ØÆ# (first [Hipp.] Airs, Waters, Places 16.1 Jouanna, al. (-Å#), Thuc. 1.6.5, 138.5). #ØÆ# of style is used already by Strabo (and Theon, whose date is less certain); both of them treat it as a well-known label and take the movement or its inspiration back to the third century bc. This usage will be reflected in the Elder Seneca’s Asianus of orators, the first extant appearances of Asianus in Latin.30 On Atticism it should be noted that Dionysius must be exaggerating the totality of its triumph, but should have some basis for his remarks in a wide diffusion. He does not, when read carefully, indicate that that diffusion is the result of official approval for Atticism. He himself, and Caecilius, look unlikely from other material to be tame transmitters of Roman ideas, least of all on their speciality of rhetorical theory. We have no special ground even for thinking that Atticism arose among Greeks in Rome rather than in the Greek world. Where we may plausibly see Roman innovation is in the much more limited aspect of applying zeal for Thucydides’ style to oratory: Cicero claims that no Greek rhetor has used Thucydides, as the Roman Thucydidei do (Orat. 30–1). But Philod. Rhet. 4.1 col. vii 19–22 p. 151 Sudhaus raises doubt about Cicero’s claim.31 At all events, the Greek origins of the Latin rhythmic system are clear: this crucial change in Roman prose springs from contemporary Greek developments. The Hellenistic period of prose is obscure; Greek rhythmic prose could grow rarer thereafter (though most novels are rhythmic). Yet in the Hellenistic period we can see rhythmic prose widely diffused in place and type of writing: Hegesias’ history of Alexander, the hypotheses to Euripides, the geographical work of Heraclides of After him Asianus comes first in Pliny (NH 21.171), who usually has Asiaticus; then Quintilian (as rhetorical term); next Juv. 3.218 (text?), 7.14. For the idea of Roman beginnings see especially Wisse (1995), a nice paper; similarly Papanikolaou (2009), 64, Spawforth (2012), 20–1. 31 Gaines (2001), 269, more trustingly infers that Philodemus must be talking about Latin Thucydideans, cf. Wisse (2001), 278. Cic. Orat. 31 tells against Wisse’s argument ((1995), 77) that Cicero would have mentioned any Greek origins for Atticism in order to ridicule it: Greek practice here adds authority. Wisse’s argument would also make it odd that Cicero does not mention the Greeks who are part of Calvus’ network, on Wisse’s theory. But in any case it is actually not ‘Atticism’ but (again) the people, the self-named Attici, who concern Cicero: his Roman rivals and critics. Rome as place where Greeks begin Atticism: Wilamowitz (1969 [orig. 1900]), 270, not with the best of grounds. On Dion. Hal. Orat. Vet. Praef. 3 i.5.21–6.7 Usener–Radermacher = 3.1–2 Hidber see p. 94 n. 35. 30

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Crete, inscriptions of Antiochus I of Commagene and in honour of Isis (I.Thrac. Aeg. 205, Maroneia, second half of ii bc to early i bc) and of human benefactors (SIG3 783 Mantineia, after 27 bc), Greek declamations in the Elder Seneca; perhaps soon after comes the rhythmic novel of Chariton. Most of these, however, are related to rhetoric. It is only one option for writers of Hellenistic prose. So Agatharchides, who cites numerous fragments of Hegesias with disapproval (21 GGM i.119–22 Müller, fr. 21 Burstein), is not rhythmic himself; nor is Polybius or Diodorus.32 In Latin prose after Cicero, on the other hand, rhythmic writing is the norm, save for some ‘technical’ literature and for history, and for parts of archaizing authors like Gellius (often ‘technical’) and Fronto. Even writers like the Younger Seneca, whose admiration for Cicero is restrained, follow the same rhythmic system. The deviation of the technical writing (such as Vitruvius) can be explained by a wish to seem practical, even if Vitruvius’ text is actually much more complicated than mere dry exposition. The deviation of history is more surprising.33

(iii) Isolation of history Quintilian sees history as not requiring rhythm: Inst. 9.4.129 historia non tam finitos numeros quam orbem quendam contextumque desiderat. Vital here is the choice of Sallust, not long after Cicero’s death: Sallust becomes the historian others rival or imitate. (Cf. Mart. 14.191: the scholarly view is that primus Romana Crispus in historia; note of Livy Sen. Contr. 9.1.14 facilius putat posse a se Sallustium uinci si ante a Thucydide uincatur, Vell. 2.36.3 consecutus [matching] Sallustium Liuius; Stat. Silv. 4.7.55–6: Sallust and Livy implicitly supreme.) Various aspects are involved in Sallust’s choice: imitation of the Elder Cato (Suet. Aug. 86.3 = Aug. Epist. fr. 30 Malcovati, GR 10.1, 15.2, Fronto p. 56.20–1 Van den Hout); Cato’s own use of Thucydides (Plut. Cat. Mai. 2.5); Sallust’s imitation of Thucydides (cf. Quint. Inst. 10.1.101, 10.2.17 on praecisis conclusionibus of Sallust and Thucydides—a force against measured cadence, cf. Sen. Ep. 114.17 Sallustio uigente amputatae sententiae et uerba ante expectatum cadentia); Atticism and the subset of Atticism which made Thucydides a model even in oratory (Cic. Orat. 30–1, Opt. Gen. 15–16); the view even in Cicero that Thucydides is not consciously rhythmic (Orat. 219, cf. Quint. Inst. 9.4.16 on compositio); the desire in

32 For prose rhythm in the hypotheses of Euripides, see Diggle (2005). For a text of Heraclides (not rhythmic throughout), see Pfister (1951); for Antiochus, Crowther and Facella (2003), Wagner and Petzl (2003). For discussion of I.Thrac.Aeg. 205 see Papanikolaou (2009); Loukopoulou et al. (2005), 385 mention the discovery of another aretalogy of Isis. On rhythm in novels note Hunter (1983), 84–5; the novels preserved complete are all rhythmic except for Heliodorus’ (a conservative and rhetorical genre?). Polemon’s declamations are also rhythmic. In general, cf. Winterbottom (2011), 262–4; there is more to be said, especially on the imperial period. 33 Gellius seems to vary (cf. e.g. 1.25.7 aperte atque definite, where atque does not produce a rhythmic close); it is notable that his preface is largely rhythmic. Fronto’s fable of Arion is clearly not rhythmic (241–2 Van den Hout); with the Laudes Fumi et Pulueris it is harder to be sure (note the variant at the end of 6). In letters Fronto and correspondents do not seem rhythmic, unlike Pliny the Younger; this may be from informality, or from emulation of archaic prose. Apuleius, on the other hand, is rhythmic throughout.

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Sallust’s first work the Catiline, where the style begins, to distance himself from Cicero (cf. p. 233 above). Pollio’s criticism of Sallust for his general use of Cato, and Livy’s for at least one use of ‘Thucydides’ (generalized at least by Seneca the Elder), show the air of controversy surrounding the adoption of both Greek and Latin models.34 It is very striking that the one substantial fragment of Pollio’s Histories (F 5 Peter), a judiciously balanced treatment of Cicero, should be clearly rhythmical (it has not been distorted by Seneca, as is shown by the unrhythmical extracts from Livy, Suas. 6.17, 22). Seneca says Pollio was infestissimus famae Ciceronis, 6.14, cf. 6.15 (at least as a person). Pollio criticized Sallust and his archaism (Suet. GR 10.2). Livy’s and Tacitus’ historical works, including the Germania and the Agricola, are not rhythmic (the Dialogus is); nor are the biographies of Nepos. (Nepos had written other works in Cicero’s lifetime: his style may already have been formed.) Pliny’s verbatim quotations from Augustus’ De Vita Sua (hist. fr. 6 Malcovati, if from this work) and from Valerius Messalla Rufus’ De Familiis Romanis (fr. 2 Peter, if from this work) look unrhythmic. Velleius, Curtius, Suetonius, and Florus (epitome of Livy!), and Valerius Maximus and the geographer Mela, all write rhythmically, some more strenuously than others (note e.g. Vell. 2.29.2 non ea qua flos commendatur aetatis | . . . ad ultimum uitae | comitata w est diem |, Suet. Gal. 22 oratum atque seductum | cf. Jul. 22.2 if genuine, 43.2, 44.4, 67.1 etc.). The works of these rhythmic authors are not annalistic, like Livy’s and Tacitus’ main works; but Tacitus’ non-rhythmic biography and ethnography show the complications.35 The criticism of Cicero tamquam orationem ad rhythmos alliget (Quint. Inst. 9.4.53) could perfectly well go back to the Atticists. One can probably separate controversy on this question from the more general disputes that continue in oratory, with Seneca (according to Quintilian) attacking Cicero and Quintilian (according to others) attacking Seneca (Inst. 10.1.125–6), the speakers in Tacitus’ Dialogus attacking past or present, and the discussion of exuberance and restraint continuing in Pliny. We have already looked at the advent of the ‘pointed style’. Criticism of excess in this style abounds in the Elder Seneca, and his attitude to the whole genre of declamation is complicated. Quintilian wrote a single book de causis corruptae eloquentiae (Inst. 6 pr. 3), and talks of himself as trying corruptum et omnibus uitiis fractum dicendi genus reuocare ad seueriora iudicia (10.1.125). But, just as Seneca retains the Ciceronian rhythmic system as part of his foundations, so Quintilian, while urging a return to Cicero, retains the short sentences and wit of the pointed style, as does Pliny. There is endless controversy, and many differences in the handling of the elements; but the great innovations in the 34

With obscuri at Quint. Inst. 10.2.17 cf. Dion. Hal. Thuc. 52 i.412.10–12 Usener–Radermacher a# . . . K I Œ B# ººa #Å ÆØ æ ª ÆÆ ıº Æ# . . .  #Ø# (‘the expressions of thought seeking to signify many things abruptly’). Aili (1979) discusses the clausulae of Sallust and Livy, and seeks to show that they have preferences; but for our purposes neither, even Livy in the first decade, is writing rhythmical prose on the system of Cicero or Seneca. 35 It is hard to be sure about the extracts from Aufidius Bassus, Cremutius Cordus, and Bruttedius Niger at Sen. Suas. 6.18–23; probably not rhythmic (note second extract of Cremutius, 23; least from Aufidius, and hardest to be certain). Note atque in Velleius: 1.14.1 Cremona atque Placentia |, 2.43.4 consularis atque pontificis |, 66.4 factorum atque dictorum |, 69.6 acri atque prosperrimo | bello, 75.1 sepultum atque discussum est, 110.6 animum quateret atque terreret |; but some instances would have to be part of a larger rhythm (2.35.1, 53.3). 2.131.1 is a special case (prayer, cf. Hutchinson (1995), 487–8).

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history of Latin prose remain and flourish: rhythmic writing and the pointed style. Both came from contemporary Greeks.36

MATTER GREEK AND ROMAN

(i) History Now we come to how the genres relate to Greek literature and to each other. First, some points on the basic subject matter. History is principally concerned with Roman or (non-Greek) Italian affairs. The exceptions, as ever, reward exploration. Where Greek history does come in, it is either in works which explicitly oppose and compare Roman and foreign, or in chronography and universal history. Nepos’ book of foreign (mostly Greek) generals is followed with a book on Roman generals, quo facilius collatis utrorumque factis qui praeferendi sint possit iudicari (Hann. 13.3). In his prologue he wards off imagined criticism for writing about Greeks with their un-Roman customs: such narrow-minded critics are expertes litterarum Graecarum (pr. 2). The pair of books is probably part of a large De Viris Illustribus (fr. 43 Marshall). Another pair was his book on Greek historians (Dion 3.2) and that on Latin historians (frr. 58–9; title of excerpt from Cato). His Chronica included synchronisms between famous Greeks, writers among them, and Roman history (esp. frr. 4, 7, 9 Marshall); Catullus describes Nepos as unique among Italians in unfolding omne aeuum (1.5–6, fr. 2 Marshall). Nepos’ Exempla included, with Roman material (esp. fr. 10), a story about Crates the philosopher (fr. 15).37 C. Iulius Hyginus (Spanish or Alexandrian freedman of Augustus) in his Exempla included Artemisia, with a reference to Theodectes’ tragedy (fr. 1 Peter). Valerius Maximus’ completely preserved work explicitly combines Roman and foreign examples of deeds and sayings; it normally puts two ethnically divided sections under each heading (there is not always a foreign section). His patterning combines patriotism with fairness—which itself enhances Roman credit; so the transition 4.7 ext. 1 haeret animus in domesticis, sed aliena quoque bene facta referre Romanae urbis candor hortatur. Velleius’ brief universal history deals briskly with Greek history in some of his short first part (not much can be missing at the start).38 36 Whether ‘archaism’ came from contemporary Atticism is a less certain question; the innovation is also less profound. It remains an interesting possibility that turning back to old Roman writers is itself inspired by contemporary Greeks turning back, far more radically, to the classic Athenians. Cf. Holford-Strevens (2003), 354–63. 37 Preface: Schenk (2004), Borgo (2008). The latter like others takes expertes rather too factually (so 473); cf. e.g. Heraclides Creticus fr. III.1 Pfister: potential critics ¼ ØæØ B# H æƪ ø Z# IºÅŁÆ# (‘unacquainted with the truth in these matters’). For the problems on the place of the Greeks in Nepos’ conception of his work in general, cf. Anselm (2004), 32–5, 43–6. 38 Velleius’ was probably a single book in two parts, cf. 1.14.1, 2.131.1: see Rich (2011), 73–80. The ethnic structuring of Valerius plays relatively little part in scholarly discussion, as in the important treatment by Bloomer (1992), 17–58. Catulus’ Communis Historia or Communes Historiae (in Serv. Dan. Aen. 9.707 = fr. 8 Peter a lacuna with book-number should be marked) would appear to have been

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Two truly exceptional works are Pompeius Trogus’ histories, in forty-two books, and known from brief summaries and the longer epitome of Justin, and Curtius Rufus’ life of Alexander, originally in ten books and preserved from Book 3 on. Trogus’ work concentrates primarily on Hellenistic history; it was probably conceived as a complement to Livy’s, and so in a sense makes itself part of a pair. Roman arms come in where relevant to Greeks and others (pro-Roman notes e.g. at Just. 31.6.9, 8.8–9); but the author reaches the origin of Rome only in his penultimate book: ueluti post longam peregrinationem domum reuertitur [sc. Trogus], ingrati ciuis officium existimans si . . . de sola patria taceat (43.1.1). (Rome is the patria, not say Vasio (?) in Gaul, from which region Trogus’ family originates, 43.11–12; note 43.4.2: Gaul seemed to be in Graeciam translata.) Trogus’ self-consciousness on an unusual strategy was apparent.39 Curtius at the end of his work professes to be drawn from the Macedonians’ civil wars to the contrasting peace brought by the princeps (10.9.1–7); the eventual Roman defeat of the Macedonians and the peace of the Roman empire are touched on (8.6.6; 4.4.21). Alexander is a foreign subject especially attractive to Romans (cf. e.g. Val. Max. 5.1 ext. 1 morum Alexandri praeconium facere cogor, cuius . . . praecipuum amorem clementia meruit; Livy’s digression on Alexander, 9.17–19). Furthermore, Alexander (and the Diadochoi) are the one substantial historical subject of more than 200 years ago dealt with separately by Greek historians themselves (notably Arrian). Generically, however, it is notable how close we are to the territory of declamation. Not only is Alexander the subject of two out of Seneca’s five suasoriae on Greek themes (cf. also Cic. Inv. 1.93, Ad Her. 4.31, and e.g. P. Vindob. G. 26747 + 29747 (Oellacher (1939), 49–50) = Cribiore (1996) no. 347 (i ad), speech during Alexander’s expedition); but Curtius’ work often seems to exist in a thought-world, and sound with a cadence, closer than most history to those suasoriae and to the declamations in general. So e.g. the speech at 7.8.12–30 (with 12 orbis te non caperet . . . sic quoque concupiscis quae non capis cf. Sen. Suas. 1.2 concupisco quod nescio . . . , 5 (comment) orbis illum suus non capit); 10.5.13 bella deinde ciuilia . . . mentibus augurabantur; iterum non de regno Asiae sed de rege ipsis sanguinem esse fundendum, nouis uulneribus ueteres rumpendas cicatrices; 22 quem enim puellarum acturum esse curam? quem alium futurum Alexandrum? iterum esse se captas, iterum excidisse regnum. The rhythm adds to the closeness. Greek history was not of much interest to Latin hexameter poets either; but in declamation, as we shall see, it held a prominent place.40 focused on Italy (and Rome?), with an interest in foundation and cult. (Cf. on the work Schanz–Hosius (1927), 207.) The vocalism in Musagetes (Prob. G. 3.293 = fr. 6 Peter) is not significant, cf. e.g. IG ii2.1358 (iv bc) col. i 45 ˝ı çƪØ, xii.5.46.3–4 (Naxos) ı#|ƪÅØ. 39 On Trogus as complementing Livy see Yardley and Heckel (1997), 16; note the explicit criticism of Livy at Just. 38.3.11—competition is not excluded. It seems less plausible to think that Rome is not central in Trogus’ work because of his origins (the implication of Alonso-Núñez (2004), 713). On Trogus generally see Seel (1972). There are some interesting speeches on Romans and others: for Mithridates’ see p. 272 n. 49; on the Aetolians and their unexpected self-presentation in 28.2.1–13 cf. Rzepka (2008), esp. 225. See K. Clarke (1999), comparing Trogus with Diodorus and Strabo. 40 The examples cited are also important in the total structure: cf. Hutchinson (1993), 87–8 etc. for wit in large works. It is not implied that all wit and neatness suggest declamation; contrast with 10.5.22 Tac. Ann. 1.65.4 inrumpere Germanos iubet, clamitans ‘en Varus eodemque iterum fato uinctae

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The lack of Roman interest in composing Greek history contrasts greatly with the contemporary Greek interest in writing on Roman history. It is true that, among others, Polybius, Posidonius, Diodorus, Nicolaus (144 books; but also a life of Augustus) are writing universal history (cf. e.g. Polyb. 1.4.2 BØ H ŒÆŁºı

æƪ ø #ı Ø, ‘writing about events in general’, 8.2.6 B# ŒÆŁºı H

æ ø ƒ#æÆ#, ‘the history of actions in general’ (see all of 8.2)). Plutarch is producing comparative pairs (but also lives of the Caesars), Dionysius is writing partly to show that the Romans are Greeks. But the engagement of all these writers with Roman history goes deep; and Appian writes a massive work on the wars of the Romans. Shortly after our period comes the still more massive Roman history of Dio. There are also, for example, Caecilius on Servile Wars (FGrHist 183 F 1) and Pompey’s historian and friend Theophanes (FGrHist 188). As has been mentioned, Greek historians of Roman times do not themselves write separate non-local works on Greek history before Alexander; but in say Plutarch or Diodorus that history receives extensive treatment. (Plutarch’s Greek lives run up to 182 bc with Philopoemen; his Roman, apart from Galba, Otho, and lost Caesars, to 30 bc with Antony.) The central works of Roman historiography, though they include, often sympathetically, peoples fought with by the Romans, have a delimited choice of subject-matter and perspective by contrast with the work of contemporary Greek historians. The increasing isolation of their unrhythmic system from other Roman prose enhances the appearance of adopting old Roman poses and masks.41

(ii) Oratory Roman oratory has as its core speeches delivered by Roman orators on occasions arranged by magistrates. The speeches are predominantly legal or political; funeral orations, however, are often spoken by magistrates, as Quintilian points out (3.7.2), keen to give epideictic oratory practical connections in the case of Romans (mos Romanus). This core of speeches concerns itself predominantly with decisions of the Roman senate or with defending or attacking Roman citizens (at least alleged Roman citizens, like Archias). Foreign royalty like Deiotarus or (Quint. Inst. 4.1.19) Berenice formed an exception, as did foreign cities and regions (cf. e.g. Tiberius F 12 Balbo (Suet. Tib. 8.1): Tiberius defended regem Archelaum, Trallianos et Thessalos . . . Augusto cognoscente).42 legiones!’ Note, however, neat remarks like Clitarch. FGrHist 137 F 40 (fr. dub.), cf. Jacoby (1926–30) C.497–8. On Curtius and declamation cf. Berti (2007), 340–52, esp. 345, 350; note also Pianezzola (1984), 198. Enthusiasm for Curtius’ transforming artistry: Holzberg (1988). Multinationalism in Curtius, and Trogus: cf. Carmona Centeno (2009), 15–24. Ethnicity: Moore (1995), 227–300 (271–5 on Scythian’s speech). 41 For Greek history after Philip note also Arrian’s a a ºÆæ (Events after Alexander), ten books, going up to 320 bc (fragments FGrHist 156 F 1–11, Roos (2002), ii.253–86 (including a palimpsest)). On the place of the pair Philopoemen and Flaminius in Plutarch’s series, and its special nature, see Pelling and Melandri (1997), 87–94. 42 See Balbo (2007), i.106–9. Note that in Greek the epideictic division of oratory can be called

ÆŪıæØŒ, cf. e.g. Philod. Rhet. 2 col. liv 17–22, Dion. Hal. Lys. 16 i.26.20–27.1 Usener–Radermacher (e ŒÆº  K Ø،،e j ÆŪıæØŒ, ‘the type they call “epideictic” or “festival”’).

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However, competitions in Rome and elsewhere brought in less practical epideictic, such as the praise of Hercules (3.7.6, cf. 3 laudes deorum uirorumque quos priora tempora tulerunt). Thus Greek subjects enter in. The extracts of epideictic speeches in Apuleius’ Florida show him performing like Greek sophists; it is hard to see the overall subject for most of the speeches, but there is plenty of Greek material, more than we would expect in a Ciceronian speech. For example, 15 moves from Samos to a statue of Bathyllus there, to Pythagoras, to Plato, to Apuleius himself and (wittily) his own skill in silence; the speech is addressed to a Roman magistrate (proconsul of Africa).43 The forerunners of Apuleius’ Greek contemporaries are the Latin and Greek rhetors whom we already see as established and well-known figures in the Rome of the Elder Seneca. We often encounter in ancient writers the view that declamation is hierarchically inferior to oratory proper (with the suggestion that more enthusiastic views exist); but we see in the Elder Seneca that orators often give performances of declamation, and that the qualities of an orator can and should be found in one who teaches declamation but does not speak in court. So e.g. Sen. Contr. 1 pr. 21: Porcius Latro had omnes oratoriae uirtutes. Orators who declaim include Pollio, Messalla, Passienus temporis sui primus orator, Gallio, Haterius, Scaurus (Contr. 2.5.17, 3 pr. 14, 4 pr. 2, 7 pr. 6, 7.1.20, 10 pr. 3). Seneca thinks Pollio thought declamation inferius . . . ingenio suo; hence his IŒæ #Ø# (‘performances’) were not open to the public (4 pr. 2). On the other hand, Albucius was pleased to have withdrawn from legal cases: quid habeo quare in foro dicam, cum plures me domi audiant quam quemquam in foro? (7 pr. 8). In any case, the activities are evidently akin, and any conception of the super-genre must take declamation into account. Themes are commonly shared between Greek and Latin rhetors; some will originate with Greek rhetors, some with Latin (for the latter sort, cf. e.g. Sen. Contr. 1.3 (law) incesta saxo deiciatur, 1.3.12 contribution from Diocles; cf. 9.2.28 et ad hanc controuersiam Graeci porrexerunt manum). The material that is most obviously set among Greeks is mythological or historical: so Sen. Contr. 8.2 (Phidias), 9.1 (Cimon), 10.5 (the painter Parrhasius), Suasoriae 1 and 4 (Alexander), 2 (Thermopylae), 3 (Agamemnon), 5 (Athenians and Xerxes), [Quint.] Decl. Min. 339 (Demosthenes). Cicero’s De Inuentione and the Ad Herennium already talk of declamation on such material, although they are not firm evidence for its use in Latin schools (cf. Cic. Inv. 1.55 in hac causa quae apud Graecos est peruagata, cum Epaminondas . . . ); so Cic. Inv. 2.144 (Alexander tyrant of Pherae), Ad Her. 1.17 (Orestes; cf. Libanius, Declamation 6), 2.28–30 (death of Ajax). Such material abounds in the Greek declamatory tradition: so P. Hibeh I 15 (iii bc; Athenians), BKT vii.4–13 (iii bc; Leptines), P. Yale II 105 (i bc–i ad [written in small cursive]; Arginusae), P. Oxy. II 216 (i ad first half; against Philip), XXIV 2400 (iii ad; Cleon, Euripides, Demades against Alexander), LXXI 4810 (iii ad; speech of Corcyreans, as if in narrative; paragraphos then heading ˚æŒı[æÆ]ø), Polemon on Cynegeirus and Callimachus, Aelius Aristides 11–15 _ 16 (to Achilles).44 (after _Leuctra), 43

See Harrison (2000), 114–16. Material from Greek myth and history: Van Mal-Maeder (2007), 4, 9. In Greek see Russell (1983), 3–5 and ch. 6, Cribiore (2001), 231–8 (232 slightly understates the role of myth and history in Roman controuersiae, but makes a reasonable contrast with the Greek tradition), Lupi (2010), 29, cf. Oudot 44

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The Greek and Latin declamations notably diverge from contemporary Greek historiography: in the declamations the Greek history stops with Alexander, while the period before him is not separately treated in the historians (but note e.g. the fifth-century debate in Diod. Sic. 13.20–7). The reasons for treating and not treating are related. First, the declamations are much interested in the rhetorical classics, oratorical and historical, notably Herodotus, Thucydides, and Demosthenes (so P. Oxy. VI 858 (ii–iii ad) against Demosthenes, XV 1799 (ii ad) for him, XLV 3235–6 (iii ad) in his voice). Seneca the Elder wrongly but significantly thinks of Herodotus at Suas. 2.11. The historians may well be wary of simply redoing Herodotus and Thucydides. Second, it is precisely the familiarity and resonance of famous events in Greek history that makes them suitable for strong rhetorical posturing and ingenious rhetorical variation. Some unspecific controuersiae seem to be given a setting among Greeks. So in particular those involving tyrants. The city is obviously not Rome, or Italian: cf. e.g. [Quint.] Decl. Min. 293 theme tyrannidem uictae ciuitatis, 352 theme quaedam ciuitas, Calp. Flacc. 45 tyrannus finitimae ciuitatis. The tyrant is always visualized as occupying and inhabiting the arx of the city (e.g. Sen. Contr. 2.5.6, 9.4.2, 4, [Quint.] Decl. Min. 267.3 haec mihi omnia arx fecit, 274.5 arcem expugnabit optimus quisque, Mai. 16.4, Calp. Flacc. 13). The conception goes back to Greek history (e.g. Cylon, Hdt. 5.71.1, Thuc. 1.126.4–5), and is seen e.g. in the role of the IŒæ ºØ# (‘acropolis’) in [Libanius], Declamation 43 (e.g. 2, 10–11 (account of capture), 26, and 40.55). The wife of the tyrant who kills her husband, as in [Libanius] 43, is the subject of Calpurnius Flaccus 1, cf. also Theon 6 106 p. 62.14–15 Patillon j  bæ ªıÆØŒe# ıæÆŒı (‘or in defence of a woman [or wife] who has killed a tyrant’).45 Despite mentioning arci nostrae, Calpurnius Flaccus 6 brings in the example of Manlius (not that his sedition involved the Capitol he had preserved): the speaker is not made a Greek. On the other hand, when Votienus Montanus gives two examples, one the Saguntines, one the Romans after Cannae, and refers to the Romans as Romanos not nos (Sen. Contr. 9.4.5), that suggests that the speaker is not imagined as Roman. Conversely again, the reference to a gladiator in [Quint.] Decl. Min. 382.2 (on a tyrannicide and his father) sounds Roman: tamquam si conduxisses ut gladiator . . . essem; the Forum in 274 (on a tyrant’s burial) at least sounds in 9 like the Roman Forum. The degree to which the Greek conception is carried through appears to vary; the Romanization is more likely to be patriotic than unconscious. As with other Greek material, Roman significance could be hinted; so one might wonder if Pollio’s miserrimum me diem egisse memini quo seruire coepit res publica (Sen. Contr. 7.6.12) has a political edge. Roman historical themes are not

(2010). For Euripides note P. Oxy. LXXVI 5093 (i ad) col. iii–iv (problems of Euripides, as part of speech on tragedy and comedy). 45 The law on cutting off the hands of a son who strikes his father is in Sen. Contr. 9.4 (a tyrannicide accused) part of the Greek context, like the law on the nurture of parents at 1.7.1; see Bonner (1949), 95–7, who mentions Heraclit. Hom. All. 18.7, and add P. Oxy. LXXII 4855 col. i 7–8 (iii ad) [ æ ]|[]Ø # _ _if_  N åØ æŒ ÅŁ #ÆØ Œi qØ IæØ #  [f# j] |  ı æ Æ Œ# (‘actions: if he will have his hand cut off even _ _ is_ a war hero or a tyrant-killer’). __ _ _ _ _ _Gunderson (2003), 73–5. Bonner (1949), 104 somewhat he See also sophistically tries to bring in Julius Caesar’s killers for a law on rewarding tyrannicides.

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unknown; even in the Elder Seneca we have Flamininus (Contr. 9.2; note the emphatic historical references in 9.2.9), and Cicero is substituted for Demosthenes in the last two suasoriae (note also Contr. 7.2). Occasionally the basic subjectmatter is plainly Roman, as in [Quintilian] Declamatio Maior 9 Gladiator. Most often, legal or other features can point us in a Roman direction (besides the premises, cf. also e.g. Sen. Contr. 7.1.5 culleum), but the Roman setting is not strongly emphasized. Hence a substantial part of the oratorical super-genre can freely deploy Greek myth, history, and situations. It can move between different ethnic worlds. The close interaction of declamation with Greek practice and Greek practitioners is plainly relevant.

(iii) Philosophy Philosophy offers a different position again. We will come to speakers and so forth in the next chapter; but the basic ideas are general, and so applicable to Greeks and Romans alike. A formal exception occurs at Cic. Fin. 2.68: sed tamen est aliquid quod nobis non liceat, liceat illis (i.e. Graecis; cf. Off. 1.112–13 for the thought of obligations differing by character). But the context is playful, and follows a contrast between the paucity of Greek examples for uirtus (62) and the abundance of Roman, and between other philosophers and Epicureans, who can speak only of people like Themista (67–8; cf. Epicur. [1] 5, 25, 50–1 Arrighetti, P. Herc. 1589). This sentence and the preceding clauses urbanely assert and retract: sint ista Graecorum—quamquam ab iis philosophiam et omnes ingenuas disciplinas habemus. sed tamen est aliquid etc. There follows the fundamental division of Stoics and Peripatetics (though they fight with each other) from Epicureans. Romans have more actual experience and intrinsic sense of uirtus; but the essential ideas are universal, and thought of by Greeks. (The speaker Cicero is also trying to win over the nobly born Torquatus.)46 Cicero’s earliest philosophical works, the De Legibus and De Re Publica from the 50s, are particularly focused on the Roman state, but in the light of universal ideas devised by Greeks. Selected Roman practice, or a perfected version of it, makes a contribution to the general questions: the Roman constitution is best (Rep. 1.70), Cicero’s brother thinks Cicero will legislate cum populis tum etiam singulis (Leg. 1.57). The tensions between practicality and theory and between specific states, imaginary cities, and cities in general go back to Plato’s Republic and Laws, and can be diversely seen in Aristotle’s Politics and Polybius Book 6. They acquire further complication through Cicero’s relationship with his country and his models; but generality and Greek thinkers and states remain conspicuous. In Leg. 1.57 Cicero is replacing Lycurgus, Solon, Charondas, Zaleucus, and the Twelve Tables. His generalizing (theological) preamble loosely follows Plato (Leg. 2.14, 16–17; Plat. Laws 10.884a1–907d3 is more important for Cic. Leg. 2.15–16 than 17 suggests, note 887a2–3, b8–c2, 907d4). Plato was following Zaleucus and Charondas, who were writing laws for their states non studi et delectationis sed rei publicae causa, and he too had a persuasive aim (cf. Rep. 1.3, Cicero on himself). 46

For Themista and P. Herc. 1589 (new fragments) see del Mastro (2008), 224–6.

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Zaleucus legislated for an Italian city, Cicero’s clientes (Leg. 2.15), Charondas for Sicilian and Italian cities; they recur in Greek discussion, and have disputed philosophical connections.47 Scipio criticizes the practices of Sparta and other Greek cities: a means of avoiding conflict with his beloved Plato, says Laelius (quam cum tuo Platone luctari, Rep. 4.2a Powell). At Leg. 3.12 Quintus remarks that Cicero’s law on magistrates is paene nostrae ciuitatis; Cicero says he is broadly following Roman tradition, but proceeds to a philosophical justification, starting from the Greek theorists—and Demetrius of Phaleron, with his practical experience (13–14). Even these works, then, are prominently grounded in Greek thought and general ideas; the rich interaction of Greek and Roman is remote from a tightly Roman outlook. For the most part, Latin writers on philosophy are broadly presenting or following the ideas of ethnically Greek writers who lived before their own day; the degree of independence varies, as we shall see. Cornelius Celsus could be an exception: according to Quintilian scripsit non parum multa . . . , Sextios secutus, non sine cultu ac nitore (Inst. 10.1.125). But the views ascribed to Cornelio Celso at August. Soliloquia 1.12.21 CSEL lxxxix 33.2–15 (including summum . . . malum [sc. esse] dolorem corporis) make one wonder if Sextios secutus could refer not to doctrine but to sequence.48 It would be useful to know if or how far Fabianus followed his teacher, one of the Sextii (Sen. Contr. 2 pr. 4 aliquando cum Sextium audiret nihilominus declamitabat); he wrote more philosophical books than Cicero (Sen. Ep. 100.9), and his writing is much admired by Seneca, stylistically and otherwise (on style 58.6, 100.9, al.). Fabianus also serves as a reminder how much philosophical Romans, despite modern allegations of their practicality, wrote on nature: an area of subject-matter not primarily to do with any human peoples, and again extensively researched by Greeks (cf. Plin. Nat. 18.276 causa alia quam redditur a Fabiano Graecisque auctoribus, 28.54 Aristoteles et Fabianus . . . tradunt). Pliny calls Fabianus naturae rerum peritissimus (36.125). Fabianus wrote at least three books (Diomed. GLK i.375.22–3) on causes in nature (Charis. 135.19–136.1 Barwick (cur sal . . . ? quia sal . . . ; cf. for the form [Arist.] Probl. 902a1–3 Øa   › –º# . . . ; j ‹Ø › –º# . . . ; ‘why does salt . . . ? Is it because salt . . . ?’); note Sen. Nat. 3.27.3–4). He wrote a work in more than one book on animals (Charis. 134.13–14). Besides Fabianus, and Lucretius, one may think of Seneca’s Natural Questions, and of Amafinius (p. 226 above), Catius (Porph. Hor. Sat. 2.4.1 scripsit quattuor libros de

47 Arist. Pol. 2.1274a22–31; Diod. Sic. 12. 11.3–21.3 (note 21); Theophrastus is mentioned for Zaleucus at Leg. 2.15, cf. Att. 6.1.18 (Theophr. fr. 598B Fortenbaugh), no doubt in his political works, cf. Div. 2.3 (fr. 592), etc.; cf. also Sen. Ep. 90.6 (links with Pythagoras; Sicily and South Italy), Val. Max. 6.5 ext. 3–4. On the formal goals of the De Legibus cf. e.g. Pittia (2008); 30–7 for the date. On general and particular in the De Re Publica cf. Zetzel (1995), 15–17, 27–9, cf. (2001), 95–7. Asmis (2005) concentrates on the pragmatic aspects; at 396 she discusses 2.21–2 (note utrumque), which talk of Plato and others. For both works cf. Powell (2001), Ferrary (2012); note also Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 227–8. 48 Less probably to art; for sequence cf. e.g. Quint. Inst. 3.1.8, 19. Probably a different work is that of quidam Celsus described by August. De Haeresibus 5 CCSL xlvi 288.71–80: six books giving the views of all philosophers without any refutation. Nor would the agnosticism and structure match the work on medicine, if that six-book work were part of Celsus’ Artes. (Otherwise Lana (1992), 122.) Cf. Madec (1994), Puech (1994).

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rerum natura, et de summo bono < > (lacuna for number Hutchinson, cf. Porph. Hor. Sat. 2.1.1)), and indeed the Elder Pliny. Pliny is without declared philosophical allegiances, but follows the interests of Aristotle and other philosophers.49 Already on this basic level the super-genres have a very different relation among themselves to Roman, Greek, and other non-Roman subject-matter.

49 On Fabianus cf. Lana (1990), 199–207, (1992), 117–22. He also wrote a work on politics in more than one book, Sen. Ep. 100.1.

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11 The Grounds of Prose We now proceed from the basic material to what we may call the grounds of the super-genres. Here a term is borrowed from cognitive grammar. The ground of an utterance is the situation and setting: the speaker, the addressee, the time, place, and so forth. (In a literary context, we can add the narratological or nonnarratological set-up.) For instance, a difference is immediately evident between the primary ground of history and that of oratory: in history a narrator presents an account to no addressee (or no explicit addressee, if we insist that all narrative has a narratee really); the orator speaks to a second-person audience. But all is, of course, more complicated.1

PHILOSOPHY

(i) Addressed treatise Let us start from philosophy. Since the material is general, as we have seen, authors could present it in an almost entirely impersonal form, such as we find in most of the works of Aristotle that we have. (Note the second-person plural used to the audience, ø  H [j] H MŒæÆ ø, ‘all you who have listened’, at the (playful?) end of the Sophistici Elenchi, 184b3–8; Aristotle often uses first-person plurals to refer to himself, but not clearly to himself and the audience—so not even at Met. Z 1038b1–2 ºØ K ƺŁø , ‘let us return again’, cf. 8.) It is the form of Cicero’s early rhetorical De Inventione (with abundant first-person singulars), but not of his other theoretical works.2 What we find in the last philosophical work of Cicero and most philosophical works of Seneca is a less impersonal version: generalized exposition, but addressed at the beginning, and in many works later too, to a particular individual. The address is treated as significant, not just as inessential flattery of the recipient: works are referred to as written to the addressee. We may illustrate this from 1 ‘Ground’ so used is particularly a conception of Langacker: so Langacker (2002), 7, ‘the speech event, its participants, and its immediate circumstances’, (2008), 78 ‘ . . . their immediate circumstances (e.g. the time and place of speaking)’, cf. (2009), 61. For some exploitation of the term cf. Hutchinson (2010), esp. 98. De Jong (2004b), 4 states explicitly that ‘every narrator presupposes an addressee, or narratee’; but it is a standard assumption. 2 On the nature of Aristotle’s extant works, see Burnyeat (2001), 115 n. 60, Netz (2001), esp. 227–8.

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works in various super-genres: like dialogue, the type of ground is widely used. So Cic. Tusc. 5.1 ex eo libro quem ad me accuratissime scripsisti (Brutus), Quint. Inst. ep. Tryph. 1 libros quos ad Marcellum meum de institutione oratoria scripseram, Plin. Nat. 33.21 L. Fufidium illum ad quem Scaurus de uita sua scripsit. The presence of other readers is sometimes explained or acknowledged: so Cic. Top. 72 quoniam haec ita ad te scribuntur ut etiam in aliorum manus sint uentura; Fin. 1.7 ego autem quem timeam lectorem, cum ad te ne Graecis quidem cedentem in philosophia audeam scribere?3 The texts can go some way in giving the addressee solidity as a person, in physicality, action, character, biography. So in Sen. Ben. 6.5.1–7.1 uideris mihi dicere ‘perdis operam . . . ’. quae proposuisti, mi Liberalis, exempla . . . uultus tuus, cui regendum me tradidi, colligit rugas et trahit frontem, quasi longius exeam. uideris mihi dicere . . . ; 42.1 soleo, mi Liberalis, notare hunc in te adfectum et quasi manu prendere uerentis et aestuantis ne in ullo officio sis tardior. The opening of Naturales Quaestiones 4a replies to a letter of Lucilius’ (the work was written before the Epistulae Morales), locates him in Sicily, where he is procurator, remarks on the spatial interval between them (pr. 20), exhorts him, and tells him—in a stylization of intimacy for the reader—about his moral testing of Seneca’s brother Gallio (pr. 10–12).4 The addressees are always Roman in origin, not Greek, with the exception of Seneca’s consolation Ad Polybium. Consolations are more personal in content, since they formally aim throughout at changing the feelings of a specific individual. (The consolations Ad Helviam Matrem and Ad Marciam are likewise unusual in addressing a woman.) Polybius is a freedman (imperial), and so a Roman citizen. His literary translations between Latin and Greek receive mention (Polyb. 8.2, 11.5–6), as do his fables, evidently in Latin (8.3); it is implied that he is included among Romanis ingeniis.5 If the virtual absence of Greeks as addressees were an isolated phenomenon, one could explain it by the awkwardness of instructing a Greek on philosophy (but see the remark to Brutus in Cic. Fin. 1.7 above), or by the oddity of using Latin (but see Quintilian’s preliminary address to the bookseller Trypho). None the less, there is a striking contrast with philosophical works in Greek, which are often addressed to Romans: so Clitomachus (ethnically Carthaginian, but head of Academy) to Lucilius (Cic. Ac. Pri. 102), Panaetius to Q. Tubero (Fin. 4.23), Philodemus to a variety of Romans (a quartet are addressed in P. Herc. Paris 2 frr. 278b and 279a), Plutarch to Cornelius Pulcher (De Cap. ex Inim. 86b).6 The form itself is Greek: so Aristotle’s Protrepticus to King Themison (A1 Düring), or some of Epicurus’ works ([1] 28 Arrighetti) and many of Chrysippus’

3 For the introduction of the addressee, see e.g. Jansen (1964), which surveys Latin prefaces; for a close discussion of one particular example, cf. Morello (2011). 4 On Aebutius Liberalis cf. Griffin (1976), 253–4, 319 n. 5, 455–6; his place of origin only emerges in Ep. 91.1. Nat. 4a might be second, or last, in the original order of books: see Hine (1981), 2–23 and (2009–10), 28–31, Gross (1989), 306–20. 5 Varro probably means to surprise in addressing De Rebus Rusticis 1 to his wife (1.1.1–4, 7, cf. 2.1.6 (play on her name Fundania underlined), 3.1.9). Cf. Griffin (1976), 319 n. 5 for suitable names. 6 For the Philodemian four see Gigante and Capasso (1989).

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(fr. 13 Casewitz) in Diogenes’ lists, or say the non-philosophical work of Diocles, a æe# —º#Ææå ὙªØØ (‘Questions of Health to Pleistarchus’, fr. 176 van der Eijk). An early and important non-philosophical example is Isocrates, who addresses various works to individuals, and is seen as notionally writing to them (cf. later the hypothesis to the perhaps spurious Ad Demonicum; Cicero refers to the Philippus as eo libro quem ad Philippum Macedonem scripsit (Orat. 176; cf. Athen. Mech. 6 p. 46.6–11 Whitehead–Blyth)). At Att. 15.13a.2 and 16.11.4 Cicero uses the Greek term to indicate his address to his son in the De Officiis:

æ#çøF que Ciceroni, æ#çøH autem Ciceroni filio (‘I address’; cf. e.g. Hypsicles, Eucl. 14 pr. (v.1 p. 1.15–2.5 Heiberg–Stamatis) æ#çøB#Æ #Ø, ‘to address you’, to the addressee his brother Protarchus). The Latin versions of the form present Romans talking to Romans; they give the Greek material a Roman ground.7 This is a matter of identity, and rarely of place: the Natural Questions (above) are unusual in indicating and exploiting the place of speaker and addressee. In Book 4a these are contrasted with the subject-matter, which is also unusually specific in place: the Nile. The Campanian earthquake of Book 6 is only heard of, not experienced, by Seneca (1.1); but the location of the writer in Italy is important for the deployment of the event in the book. We might think the same for Lucilius’ origin, most likely from Pompeii itself (Ep. 49.1, 70.1); but this would only become apparent to readers from the Epistulae.8 Cicero’s De Officiis shows us a Roman writing to his son in Athens; the opening handles modestly the relation of the Latin work to the son’s philosophical instruction in Athens by Cratippus (1.1–2, cf. 3.6 suscepisti onus . . . graue et Athenarum et Cratippi, 121). The third book, separated by a small interval in time of composition from the first and second (Att. 16.11.4), begins with the author compelled by force to leave his city and roam the country, often in solitude (Off. 3.1–4). It ends with him unable to come to Athens as planned, and following the call of his patria Rome to return (3.121): an exemplification of the honestum. The work deploys a mixture of Greek and Roman examples, as Roman philosophical works tend to: this is a means of making the material partly Roman, partly Greek, but is not our immediate subject. Here, though, the basic ground gives the confrontation of Athens and Rome thematic force: so 1.86 hinc apud Athenienses magnae discordiae, in nostra re publica . . . pestifera bella ciuilia, 3.49 melius hi [the Athenians] quam nos. (For the connection with the ground cf. e.g. Leg. 2.67 haec igitur Athenienses tui.)9

7 The first part of the hypothesis (iv ad or later) to the Ad Demonicum, with XŁº ‰# æe# ÆPf# ªæ çØ (‘he wanted to write as if to them’) etc., can be found e.g. in Benseler and Blass (1889–98), i.liii; Mandilaras (2003), 228, prints the abbreviated version. For ‘discorsi in forma epistolare’ cf. Nicolai (2004), 118–27. Address to a ruler connects Seneca’s De Clementia particularly to Aristotle’s Protrepticus and some works of Isocrates; cf. Braund (2009), 16–23. 8 Lucilius, however, is one of the elements which encourage seeing the two works, published close together, as a pair. 9 On Cicero’s treatment of his son and his own situation cf. Griffin and Atkins (1991), xii–xviii, Frings (1993), esp. 170–8, Dyck (1996), esp. 8–16, 496–7, 653–4, H. A. Gärtner (2003), 251, 255, R. K. Gibson and Morrison (2007), 9–13.

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(ii) Letter Seneca’s Letters, his last work, heighten the emphasis on communication between individuals. The addressed treatise already has something of the letter about it. It can treat a problem raised by an individual with particular regard to himself (so De Ira 1.1.1, note nec inmerito mihi uideris hunc praecipue adfectum pertimuisse); it can, as in consolations, be focused on his or her particular spiritual condition. Philosophical treatises and philosophical letters are both actually meant to have general significance and interest a wider readership. Lectures performed by their creator or by later readers can be felt by the individual listener as addressed to him or her; this illuminates the way that Seneca’s ethical writing is intended to affect the reader.10 Among the differences of Letters from treatises are that they offer a development in time, so that one can see Lucilius’ progress. They also bring in more of the author’s experience and failings. The experience relates the general and spiritual to the specific and physical; the failings allow the sense of communication between individuals to be enriched by elements of intimacy and relaxed self-awareness. The content is still more deeply embedded in the conversation of Roman individuals.11 The addressee’s, and especially the author’s, place increases in significance: Lucilius for the earlier part of the collection at work in Sicily and considering stopping, Seneca in Italy, often South Italy and other places outside Rome. This is Lucilius’ home region, and even evokes memories of their parting (49.1). Letter 51 begins by opposing Lucilius’ Etna to Seneca’s Baiae, which he has just left (but Etna too is cut down to size). The decision to leave is justified through the dangers of Roman luxury at Baiae; Rome’s arch-enemy Hannibal and famous figures of the late Republic are brought into the discussion. Letter 79 starts from Lucilius and Sicily, especially Etna. Climbing Etna (2) becomes an image of spiritual progress (8); Etna is contrasted with virtue (10); Etna as a subject for a Latin poem by Lucilius (4–7) leads on to present obscurity and future glory (13–18).12 At this point in the letter, there enter the letters of Epicurus, the prime model for Seneca’s form (15–17, with a letter of Metrodorus too). Elsewhere, for example, a graphic letter of Epicurus on his shipwreck is humorously converted into a seasick trip for Seneca from Lucilius’ beloved Naples (Parthenope tua, Ep. 53.1) to Puteoli. In general, the Greek model enhances the Roman identity of the pair, and complicates their relationship (Seneca is a Stoic, but uses the founder of Lucilius’ Epicureanism respectfully and strategically). Letter 21, the last of Book 2, creates a parallel between Epicurus’ letters to Idomeneus and Seneca’s own to Lucilius, and develops one sentence from Epicurus’ letters (with discussion of Seneca’s use of Epicurus, especially at 9). But mention of the pair Cicero and

10

See p. 92 above. Some important recent writing on the Letters: M. Wilson (2001), Armisen-Marchetti (2004), Henderson (2006), Inwood (2007), Schafer (2011). The last stresses the value of a ‘dramatic’ reading; it seems to be particularly narrative elements that his approach brings out. In general on letters, cf. Morello and Morrison (2007). 12 On Letter 51 cf. Gowers (2011), 187. 11

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Atticus (4) and use of Virgil (5) and senatorial procedure (9) keep the Roman ground and the Latin medium in view.13

(iii) Dialogue The last form for us to consider was the first we can see being exploited in Latin philosophy: dialogue. This form requires a longer discussion. Here the embedding of the general and Greek material in a Roman ground is in many ways taken to its furthest point. The form was not confined to philosophy, as we have seen; Cicero’s first use of it in the 50s is in a dialogue on oratory. Iunius Brutus (RE Iunius 49; p. 24 Bremer) used it in a dialogue de iure ciuili (Cic. Clu. 141, De Orat. 2.223–4). However, it is particularly associated with philosophy, in its invention and its use; the De Oratore itself is written Aristotelio more, says Cicero (Fam. 1.9.23). The invention was ascribed to Plato, or to another writer of Socratic dialogues, or to Zeno of Elea (Arist. On Poets fr. 44a–e Janko, including P. Oxy. XLV 3219 fr. 1). It was in any case thought evident that Plato was the supreme writer of dialogues (a æøEÆ . . . F Œ ººı# (would rightly get) ‘first prize for beauty’, Diog. Laert. 3.48; Plato’s artistic care e.g. Dion. Hal. Comp. 25 ii.192.11–18 Usener–Radermacher); the first flowering of the genre extends the dialectical methods of Socrates.14 Great numbers of philosophical dialogues are attested by Diogenes Laertius, predominantly the work of Academic and Peripatetic philosophers (subject matter in his definition of dialogue: æ Ø# H çغ#çı ø ŒÆd ºØØŒH, ‘on one of the philosophical or political questions’, 3.48; dialogues not by Academics or Peripatetics: 2.112, 6.80 (Diogenes the Cynic), 2.120 (Stilpo the Megarian; so following on from Socrates), 7.166 (Erillus; Socratic elements in thought), 177 (Sphaerus; Stoic)). Epicurus, Chrysippus, Philodemus, and others certainly do not make much if any use of the form. We do not know a great deal about the forms used by Academics contemporary with Cicero (Philon’s ‘Roman books’ were not a dialogue). The vitality of dialogue in the third century is seen in one by a Peripatetic on a surprising subject, Satyrus on the life of Euripides. The work is full of lively conversational exchange, e.g. fr. 39 col. xviii 16–19 Schorn Œ ł[æ]Æ | çÆ[Ø] [Ø] ºªØ X [æ] | IºÅŁØæÆ (‘your remarks seem to _ _ clever than true’). _ _ In the imperial period, the form is extensively used by me more the Platonist Plutarch, and the less serious but partly philosophical Lucian; it

13

For Epicurus’ letter, cf. Diog. Oen. fr. 72 Smith, Plut. Non Posse Suaviter 1090e, 1101b, and note P. Oxy. LXXVI 5077 col. i 7–18. See Clay (1998), Obbink and Schorn (2011), 48. For Lucilius’ Epicureanism cf. esp. Ep. 23.9 Epicuri tui. 14 On P. Oxy. XLV 3219 etc. see Haslam (1972), Janko (2011), 509–12. Aristotle and Theophrastus are grouped with Plato by Cicero artistically, cf. Ac. Post. 10, Fin. 1.14 (Plato and Aristotle 1.7); but at Att. 4.16.3 Plato is deus ille noster, cf. Brut. 121 (reported): Plato speaks as Zeus would do—whence Plut. Cic. 24.5; note Cic. Leg. 3.1 diuinum illum uirum. For Aristotle cf. Ac. Pri. 119. Dialogue in Cicero, including De Oratore: e.g. Arweiler (2003), 23–38, Fantham (2004), esp. 49–77, Gorman (2005), Schofield (2008), Krebs (2009). History of form: Hirzel (1895), Goldhill (2008). Dialogue in Varro and elsewhere: Föllinger (2005), Diederich (2007), 172–209. Note the historical dialogues on the situation after Alexander in P. Freib. 2 (ii ad; school exercises?).

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spreads even to Christian writers, first Justin (d. c.165); later cf. e.g. P. Oxy. XVII 2070 (late iii ad; author’s manuscript?) and in Latin Minucius (early iii?).15 In his correspondence, Cicero refers to Greek models in justifying and classifying his various choices: Plato, Heraclides, Aristotle, for issues including the exit of a character, the use of authorial proems, inclusion of the author as a non-speaking part or as the principal character, setting in the past or present. (Att. 4.16.2: Aristotle and proems, 3: Plato and exit; 13.19.3–5: Heraclides and Aristotle for silent and central role of author, cf. QF 3.5.1; references to  HæÆŒºØ aliquid vel sim.: Att. 15.4.2, 13.3, 27.2, etc.; the same term used of a work of Varro’s: 16.12 (Cicero amused).)16 We can also see him choosing between possibilities available in the Greek tradition and commented on: notably the division of Plato’s dialogues into narrative or dramatic (Plut. Quaest. Conv. 7.8 711b–c, Diog. Laert. 3.50: others ºªı#Ø . . . ÆPH f# b æÆ ÆØŒ#, f# b ØŪŠÆØŒ#, f# b ØŒ#, ‘say some of them are dramatic, some narrative, some mixed’ —perhaps what P. Oxy. XLV 3219 fr. 1 means by æÆ ÆØŒf# | [Øƺ]ª[ı#, ‘dramatic dialogues’, _ speeches are placed in a 9–10, cf. 4–5). The division is according to whether the narrative (with ‘he said’ etc.), or stand free as in a drama (probably with paragraphoi to denote change of speaker). For the former outside Plato, cf. e.g. Aeschin. Alcib. CPF 8 fr. A 6, D 9, 21–2, E–G col. i 8 (first-person narrative; ‘he said’ etc. not inserted every time), Heraclid. (?) CPF 56 fr. B col. i 2, 7, etc. (firstperson narrative), P. Oxy. LIII 3699 col. iii 3, 7, 8 (with paragraphoi). The former is usually preferred by Cicero; he uses the latter for De Legibus, Cato, Laelius, Tusculans (note 1.8 quo commodius disputationes nostrae explicentur, sic eas exponam quasi agatur res, non quasi narretur). Cicero’s philosophical works begin with two connected dialogues modelled directly on two connected Platonic dialogues, the Republic and the Laws. His original plan was a nine-book work on the best state and citizen, but a friend’s suggestion led eventually to his devising a separate dialogue as sequel, different in time and narratological form: see QF 3.5.1–2. The final plan is ostentatiously Platonic (though in the event De Legibus was probably not circulated generally). Several of the later dialogues exploit the structure for an Academic purpose: rival schools or speakers set up theories, which are then attacked (De Finibus, De Divinatione, De Natura Deorum (although Cicero open-mindedly inclines to the Stoic’s view, 3.95, Div. 1.8)). The De Officiis, which adapts and extends a Stoic

15 On Satyrus (edited Schorn (2004)) cf. Knöbl (2010), Hägg (2012), 77–84; for Justin, see Bobichon (2003). Dialogue in the imperial period: e.g. König (2008). 16 Plato’s proems, and the detached proems of Heraclides and Theophrastus: Procl. Parm. 658.23– 659.17 i.46–7 Steel (Heraclid. fr. 23 Wehrli, Theophr. fr. 44 Fortenbaugh), cf. Procl. Rep. 349 i.5.6–25 Kroll. Note that the non-speaking author adds to the credibility of the dialogue as a supposed historical record—in some sense. Cf. Cic. QF 3.5.1: a problem that quae tam antiquis hominibus attribuerem, ea uisum iri ficta esse; Panaet. T 145 Alesse: the Socratic dialogues of only Plato and three others IºÅŁE# (‘true’). Compare the idea in Idomen. FGrHist 338 F 17a–b that Plato transferred to Crito, rather than inventing, what is said in favour of flight; Athen. 13.611d–e (F 17c) implies a different conception. Two different conceptions appear (at least formally) in Cic. Fam. 9.8.1: Varro will be surprised nos id locutos esse inter nos quod numquam locuti sumus; sed nosti morem dialogorum. Generally, in the impact of his dialogues, the plausible and the possible may be more important to Cicero than the actual. Cf. e.g. Cato 4 tribuimus, facimus; but he deals suavely with objections that Cato would not have been so learned.

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work, does not use dialogue form at all. The Tusculans do not demolish rival theories in the same way, and have a more lightweight, unnamed interlocutor or interlocutors; they display themselves as Socratic (1.8), but also as a presentation of Cicero’s own performances (7), and akin to declamation. The form of the live Greek lecture has a significant influence on the large speeches of Cicero’s dialogues; Socrates in Plato would be averse to such big chunks of utterance. These speeches are often applauded by the other speakers as if they were a performance (e.g. Fin. 4.1); but they are not a Greek performance: this is Roman conversation.17 All the interaction with Greek tradition makes it very notable that the figures involved in the basic grounds are nearly always Roman. The dialogues are usually preceded by a prologue, often substantial, which speaks of this work and often Cicero’s philosophical writing more generally; in many cases, it is addressed, to Brutus, Atticus, or Quintus. (To Quintus: De Re Publica (1.13; one cannot tell if prologue to 3 addressed; 5 perhaps not, if 5 fr. 1 Powell from very beginning); to Brutus: De Finibus (including prologues to Books 3 and 5), De Natura Deorum, Tusculans (including prologues to Books 2, 3, 4, and 5); to Atticus: Cato and Laelius; not addressed: Academica Posteriora and Priora, Timaeus, De Divinatione; no authorial prologue: De Legibus.) Most often the prologue continues into a narrative framework for the conversation. This, then, is the most primary ground; the conversations of the speakers form the next most basic ground. Addressees and speakers are Roman, except that Cratippus is present in the Timaeus (at the least, it was not a normal dialogue, with so large a piece of translation; it seems to be pursuing a more involved relation of Greek and Roman). Cicero considers changing his speakers anxiously and often, but never to Greeks.18 Lectures of Antiochus are explicitly used in the Academica (Ac. Post. 14 ex Antiocho iam pridem audita recordari, Ac. Pri. 12); but they are used by Varro and Lucullus, who are expressing their own opinions. In general, Cicero is not merely avoiding the appearance of a lecture: the general and Greek material is deeply embedded in a Roman culture, where Romans are seriously immersed in philosophical issues. Between and inside the speeches, their interaction shows the urbane sophistication of Socrates and some of his interlocutors, but in the idioms of conversational Latin. So in De Finibus 5, there is play on Piso stealing L. Cicero as a pupil from Cicero (75, 86), ending with the more ardent ‘atqui iste locus est, Piso, tibi etiam atque etiam confirmandus’ inquam; ‘quem si tenueris, non modo meum Ciceronem sed etiam me ipsum abducas licebit’ (95). This has connections with the play in the Cratylus on who is to teach whom, and the final exhortation to keep thinking on this unresolved question (427d3–428c8; 428b4–5 (Socrates) Ka s ºªÅØ# Ø Œ ººØ, *Æ H ÆŁÅH æd OæŁÅ# O ø ŒÆd K b ªæ çı, ‘if you say something better than me, register me too as one of your pupils on the 17 On the evolution of De Re Publica and De Legibus cf. P. L. Schmidt (2001), Dyck (2004), 7–12. Note that the completed two books of the incipient De Re Publica are read out to Cicero audiente Sallustio: the author seems to be trying out the effect of work on him and his friend through a read performance. The different possibilities in interpreting dialogues are seen in the debate on whether Plato ª ÆÇØ (‘presents his own views’; cf. Diog. Laert. 3.51). 18 On Cicero’s Timaeus see pp. 198–9 above. Honnacker (2002) lays emphasis on extrafiktionale Ebene in his discussion of Italian Renaissance dialogues.

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rightness of names’; 440c1–e7; 440d3–4 #Œ E#ŁÆØ s åæc Iæø#  ŒÆd s, ‘we must consider bravely and well’).19 The discussions held by Cicero’s speakers belong to the portions of their lives which are detached from city politics: the setting is normally in Italian villas. (At the start of Academica Posteriora, Cicero asks about Roman political news and Atticus suggests shelving something so unwelcome (2).) One may contrast the bulk of Plato’s dialogues, set in Athens, where Socrates belongs. (The Phaedrus and Parmenides are set outside the city walls; the Republic is set in the Piraeus, the Laws on Crete.)20 Cicero’s Timaeus is again an exception; so too is the last book of the De Finibus. It climactically moves the discussion to the Academy outside Athens, as the last Eclogue climactically takes us to Arcadia. But as in the Eclogues, the climax is in some ways an anticlimax, and even the position of the ‘Old’ Academy cannot be a final answer; it is criticized and modified, and Cicero himself left attracted but not yet convinced. In some ways, the Academic approach receives its ultimate embodiment.21 Cicero often heightens the Italian, or with De Finibus 5 the non-Italian, setting through the evocation of place. The scene-setting of Plato’s exceptional Phaedrus (and Laws) is especially relevant here; but these places are usually Roman homes—and indeed can include evidence of the speakers’ dedication to Greek philosophy (De Divinatione in Cicero’s Lyceum, 1.8, 2.8 (includes library); Fin. 3.7: Cato in young Lucullus’ library, multis circumfusum Stoicorum libris). The elaborate beginning of the De Legibus recalls Cicero’s origins in Arpinum (Book 1: grove, tree as in Plat. Phaedr. 229a8–b3, but cf. also the tall trees of Plato’s Laws, 1.625b1–c2; Book 2: near Arpinum, 2.4 father’s villa). Often the beginnings and endings show the speakers’ friendships and social lives, and their busy movements between Rome and country, and between villa and villa (e.g. Ac. Post. 1, Ac. Pri. 9, 148; Fin. 1.14: the young men come ad me in Cumanum salutandi causa).22 Authors after Cicero, as we have seen, usually find other ways to embed their philosophy in a Roman world; but we may notice Livy’s dialogues, partly historical, but evidently purporting to be philosophical. Seneca’s De Tranquillitate Vitae 19 The start of the actual dialogue in the Laelius mid-conversation (6) resembles the start of the Cratylus, 383a1–2, but also the start of the Philebus. 20 For the setting in villas cf. Wallace-Hadrill (2008), 171–5. At Rep. 1.13, we are told that the conversation was reported to Cicero and his brother at Smyrna; but it happened in Scipio’s gardens, outside the pomerium (ND 2.11; Coarelli (1996)). The place of Cato and Laelius is not indicated, but obviously in Italy. It is not revealed whether the De Natura Deorum is set in a house in Rome or a villa outside it (1.15). Iunius Brutus’ dialogues on civil law were set outside Rome, at least one book and probably all of them on estates (De iure civili frr. 1–3 Bremer). The outer frame of the Phaedo is set not in Athens but at Phlius, 57a6–b3; the main conversation of the Parmenides happens Ææa HØ —ıŁæøØ KŒe# åı# K ˚æÆ ØŒHØ (‘in Pythodorus’ house, outside the wall, in the Kerameikos’, 127b6–c1). (The Charmides is set inside the walls, cf. Travlos (1971), 332–3.) Note too that Socrates is accustomed to frequent the Lyceum (just outside the city): Euthyphr. 2a1–2, cf. Euthyd. 271a1. Heraclid. (?) CPF 56 looks as if set in Athens, fr. A col. i 15, 39–40 (fictitious first-person introduction, perhaps preceded by authorial proem). 21 For De Finibus 5, cf. recently Irwin (2012), Tsouni (2012). 22 For the Laws cf. also 4.722c7–9. The Hellenized names for bits of houses in Cicero’s dialogues are notable, exedra in ND (1.15), xystus in Ac. Pri. 9; cf. ı## of the public gymnasium at Justin, Tryph. 1.1, 9.3.

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begins with a question from Serenus, in dramatic, not narrative, pattern; it lasts for four pages (1.1–17). Seneca’s reply occupies the rest of the work. The work is more like an extension of Seneca’s treatises addressed to an individual than a resumption of the Ciceronian form. In philosophy, then, the forms complicate the essential material to produce a striking combination of Greek and Roman.

H I S T O RY

(i) Non-Address and identity History has fewer sorts of basic ground. It is unusual for histories to be addressed to anyone: more impersonal communication is preferred. This contrasts with philosophy: nearly all Seneca’s philosophical works and over half of Cicero’s are addressed to a friend. The two most notable exceptions in historiography are, first, L. Coelius Antipater (late ii or early i bc), who addressed his history of the Second Punic War to L. Aelius, learned in Greek, in Latin, and in Roman history (Cic. Brut. 205): see fr. 2 Chassignet (proem of whole work: a L. Aelio, ad quem scripsit, cui se purgat, ueniam petit), 27 (proem of second book) in priore libro has res ad te scriptas, Luci, misimus, Aeli. Second, there is Velleius. His prologue is missing, but it must have addressed M. Vinicius (cos. ad 30, 45; PIR1 V 445), who is addressed frequently in what follows. This universal history anchors itself with a particular communication between Romans. Vinicius’ consulship in 30 is made a recurring chronological point of reference (1.8.1, 12.6, etc.); Vinicius’ and Velleius’ paternal lines receive mention (2.96.2, 101.3, 103.1, 104.2; 2.16.2); Velleius addresses Vinicius in writing emotionally about the princeps (2.113.1, 130.4) or in judging ignorance of Greek art more pro re publica than the present expertise (1.13.3). Valerius, again in a work combining Roman and non-Roman, addresses Caesar in the preface to the whole work; but this is close to a prayer (cf. 6.1 pr., Livy pr. 13 (declared poetic)). Hirtius should be mentioned too. He (it is probably he) writes a prefatory letter to his continuation of Caesar’s De Bello Gallico (8 pr.); he addresses Balbus, who had asked him to write the work. The awkwardness of the action required special measures (it looks as though the letter is meant for readers).23 Biographies, collections of lives as well as autobiographies, probably form a class on their own (Nepos marks out his collecting numerous lives into one book, Epam. 4.6). Nepos begins at least part of his collection of biographies with an address to Atticus (pr. 1), whom he cites as a historian at the end of the book (Hann. 13.1; note also Cato 3.5: separate biography of Cato written at Atticus’ 23 Claudius Quadrigarius appears to address someone at the beginning of Book 18 (fr. 80 Chassignet); it is unlikely to be literally the beginning unless a name is missing, but a speech would require too many preliminaries in view of Gellius’ principium libri sic scriptum. See on dedications Marincola (1997), 52–7. For Coelius Antipater’s opening cf. Hermann (1979), 17–18, 54–5. On Hirtius’ preface and the problems connected with it see recently M. Mayer (2011), 211–20. Impersonal second persons singular (e.g. Livy 39.40.5–6, Tac. Ann. 3.1.4) are not relevant here.

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request). Atticus is an especially suitable person to introduce a warning not to despise his work through applying Roman mores to Greek culture. Suetonius addressed his Lives of the Caesars (or possibly some of them) to Septicius (probably Septicius Clarus, PIR2 S 411): Lyd. Mag. 2.6.4 f# H ˚ÆØ# æø Bı# K ªæ

Æ#Ø I ø " ØŒøØ (‘addressing the lives of the Caesars in writing to Septicius’). Plutarch is relatively unusual among Greek narrators of historical events: he dedicates lives, including what seems the first in the series, to an individual, Q. Sosius Senecio (cos. ad 99, 107; PIR2 S 777): Thes. 1.1, Dem. 1.1 and 31.7 (end), Dio 1.1. Sosius is also the recipient of the Quaestiones Convivales; his eminence in Rome and his enthusiasm for Greek culture make him a suitable person to join the Lives together.24 The proem remains a device in historiography, derived from Greek practice and discussed in Greek theory, for establishing the basic ground of the intelligent author speaking (the reader is not addressed). The Roman identity of the writer is not emphasized by stating the author’s name and city, as is a common convention in Greek historical proems (note Dio Prus. 53.9–10: examples from history, contrast with Homer): e.g.  EŒÆÆE# غ #Ø# (‘Hecataeus of Miletus’, Hecataeus fr. 1 Fowler: first words),  Hæı AºØŒÆæÅ### (‘Herodotus of Halicarnassus’, Hdt. 1 pr.; quoted with ¨ıæı, ‘of Thurii’), ¨ıŒıÅ# ŁÅÆE# (‘Thucydides the Athenian’, Thuc. 1.1.1, cf. 5.26.1), ˜Ø#Ø# N Ø º æı AºØŒÆæÆ## (‘I am Dionysius of Halicarnassus, son of Alexandros’, Dion. Hal. Ant. 1.8.4), #Æç#æ  N E, 

ØÆe# ºÆæ# (‘to say it more clearly, Appian of Alexandria’, App. pr. 62; end of proem); not e.g. Xenophon, Hellenica (continuation) or Anabasis (appears as third-person character), Polybius, Diodorus; Arrian explicitly withholds name and Ææ# and IæåÆ (‘land of origin’ and ‘offices’, Anab. 1.12.5). Since the use of Latin implies a Roman identity, it might have seemed strange to state explicitly that the author was Roman; none the less, how identity is actually indicated through the ground continues to affect the impact of the text.25

24 On Suetonius cf. also R. K. Gibson (2011). I ø has been much suspected, cf. Schamp (2006), 8 and 146; note Modern Greek Æ ø  ºª . Œ Ø (‘I address someone’). For Sosius cf. p. 96 above. The relation of biography to history is problematic: ancient distinctions between them show their proximity, particularly marked when the subject is a political or military figure. Clitarchus’ account of Alexander was called ƃ æd ºÆæ ƒ#æÆØ (‘the histories about Alexander’, F 1, 17, 30) and he is classed as a historian by Quintilian and others (Inst. 10.1.74 = T 6; cf. T 8 (Curtius), 13 (Cicero; Sisenna’s model), F 35); similarly Callisthenes. E.g. Charon of Carthage (FGrHist 1077), who wrote æÆØ . . . (Tyrants . . . ; collection?) and Bı# Kø IæH (Lives of Famous Men) and Bı# ªıÆØŒH (Lives of Women), is called ƒ#æØŒ# (‘historian’) by the Suda (T 1). See among other works Pelling (2006) and (2011), 13–25, 32–3, Whitmarsh (2006), Stadter (2007), Valcárcel Martínez (2009), and especially on the genre in practice Hägg (2012); for problems of the genre of history more generally, Marincola (1999), Pelling (1999). 25 On openings cf. R. L. Fowler (1996), 69–70 (Greek); Ogilvie (1965), 23 (‘more intimate ego’); Price (2005), 136*–137*. Discussion of the changes in Latin usually notes the absence of the name, but ignores that of the city. There is no city (but the father’s name) in Antiochus of Syracuse’s —æd  ƺÆ# (On Italy), FGrHist 555 F 2. For references to readers, in and outside proems, with the third-person plural see Polyb. 4.8.12 f# IƪØ#ŒÆ# (‘my readers’, cf. 1.3.10 (¥ Æ) KŒ ø H ºø . . . Bº qØ E# Kıªå ı#Ø, ‘(so that) from these books . . . it may be clear to readers’), Livy 1 pr. 4 legentium plerisque, Arr. Anab. 1.5.3; Tac. Hist. 2.50.2.

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Tacitus slips in his career in Rome (Hist. 1.1.3), and, not in a proem, his priesthood and praetorship (Ann. 11.11.1: non iactantia refero); Sallust mentions his magistratus (Jug. 4.4), while indicating his withdrawal from a public career in Rome (cf. Cat. 3.3–4.1). Trogus talked in his last book about how his father and grandfather had received the Roman citizenship and held military positions (Just. 43.5.12; cf. Velleius p. 257 above), and talked of himself as a ciuis of Rome at the beginning of the penultimate book (43.1.1, p. 241 above). The prologues of Livy and of Sallust’s Jugurtha join author and reader in a Roman identity by means of the first-person plural. At Livy pr. 9 haec tempora, quibus nec uitia nostra nec remedia pati possumus the indication of the state is implied by remedia, and the context; but it is subtle, and the shared identity is partly chronological (cf. 5 nostra . . . aetas). Sallust’s ciuitatis nostrae is more direct (Jug. 4.5). However, Sallust is about to use, and Livy has used, the populus Romanus common in historiographical openings (Jug. 5.1, Livy pr. 1; cf. Cato Orig. fr. 1 Chassignet, Sall. Hist. 1 fr. 1 Maurenbrecher (cf. Cat. 4.2), Tac. Hist. 1.1.1 (other writers), Ann. 1.1.2 (other writers), cf. Ann. 1.1.1 Vrbem Romam, Val. Max. 1 pr. Vrbis Romae exterarumque gentium (Sall. Cat. 6.1); Asell. fr. 1 Chassignet res gestas a Romanis (other writers; note fr. 2 ad rem publicam defendundam)). More elusive is Tac. Hist. 1.3.2, where populi Romani leads to non esse curae deis securitatem nostram, esse ultionem: the ‘we’ could be seen as Romans or as mortals. The phrase populus Romanus, though full of Roman flavour and much used by Romans, has too a distancing and third-person quality. In the historians, Romani is the most frequent way of referring to the Romans; ‘we’ or ‘our’ is rare in Livy, less rare in Tacitus (e.g. Hist. 4.13.1; but populo Romano 2), commonplace in Sallust’s Jugurtha (e.g. 8.1. exercitu nostro; but 7.4 Romanis imperator erat) or Velleius (e.g. 1.12.6 maiores nostri, but Romani imperii in the same sentence). The third-person approach is a Greek device; indeed, one cannot imagine Thucydides referring to the Athenians as ‘us’, nor Herodotus to the Greeks.26 The approach and the devices of the Roman historians are illuminated by comparison with Josephus. The prologue to the Jewish War mostly refers to the Jews as  ıÆEØ. But at 11 Josephus asks pardon Ææa e B# ƒ#æÆ#   (‘contrary to the law of history’) for his feeling when he speaks accusingly of the Jewish ‘tyrants’, as he groans at the misfortunes of his country ( Ææ#): ‘our city’ ( ºØ . . . c æÆ) had an extreme fall from prosperity to disaster.

æÆ probably does not mean K  (‘mine’; cf. AJ 20.52–3); but it does not include his readers, predominantly Greek and Roman (cf. BJ 1.6). In the work as a whole, the first-person plural is not often used in reference to the Jews; it is much more often so used in the later Jewish Antiquities. Josephus presents himself as  #Å # ÆŁı ÆE# [ªØ  EæÆE#] K  Iæ#º ø ƒæ# (‘Josephus son of Matthias [Hebrew by race], from Jerusalem, priest’, BJ 1.3; ª.  E. om. P and Euseb.

26 Third-person reference to Romans in imperial Greek historians: Pitcher (2012), 229. Contrast Lucian, Hist. Conscr. 14: he promised at the end of the proem K d EÇ b ÆYæØ a æÆ, f# Ææ æı# b ŒÆÆ º #Ø ŒÆd ÆP# (‘to raise to loftier greatness what we had done, and to vanquish the barbarians himself ’; æÆ, of the inhabitants of the Roman empire, is probably in Lucian’s voice—cf. e æ ¼æåÆ, ‘our ruler’, above—but still striking). Tolstoy often uses ‘our’ of the Russian side, despite his hostility to war: so Война и мир i.2.18 «нашего правого фланга» (‘our right wing’), iv.3.3 «нашим правительством» (‘our government’; more complex).

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Eccl. Hist. 3.9.1 GCS ii.1.222;  EæÆE# is very rarely used in the singular by Josephus). He is Iººçıº# . . .  ‚ººÅ#  ŒÆd  ø ÆØ# (‘foreign to both Greeks and Romans’, 16). He has translated his work into Greek from a version in his native language written for ‘barbarians’ in Asia (3, 6; cf. AJ 1.5).27 We see in Josephus means used and means rejected by the Romans; his identity is much more clamorously and passionately proclaimed. Identity does not in Josephus unite readers and author; the communication will be fuelled by their interest in the truth about these great events, and perhaps their sympathy. A tension is felt, and powerfully exploited, between the author’s emotion and historiography. The Roman writers underline their identity more quietly; sometimes they show their own relation to the state, sometimes they join complicitly with the reader. They indicate the problem of bias primarily inside the Roman state (Josephus is concerned with his possible bias both inside and outside his people). The tension articulated by Josephus throws light on the ostensible detachment of the third-person convention which both he and the Romans employ in referring to their own people. Thus while philosophy brings general and Greek content into a Roman ground, and so produces a complex amalgam, history goes just a little way in the opposite direction: while Roman content is drawn into a Roman ground, the Roman character of the ground is conveyed with some subtlety, and there are elements of distance. These last are not merely vestigial and superficial: the interaction of Romans and other peoples will be presented with that justice which is (for Romans) an archetypally Roman characteristic. If Hannibal admits in Carthage that he is beaten (fassus Livy 30.35.11), even Scipio admits (confessione etiam Scipionis, 5) that Hannibal drew up his lines at Zama singulari arte. The praise (cf. laudem) is supported by the author, who brings in omnium . . . peritorum militiae (5), and movingly registers this uelut ultimo uirtutis opere (10); it is the end to Hannibal’s absence from Carthage since his boyhood. Hannibal’s perception of space and time is understood by the Roman historian. The peritorum militiae are Polybius and other writers, blended into the narrative (cf. Polyb. 15.15.3–16.6). But the Greek historian’s own praise of the Carthaginian (15.15.3, 6, 16.1) does not offer us natural resistance nobly overcome. Polybius ends with an urbane #ıªª Å  (‘we must forgive him’) and a proverb (16.6).28

(ii) Spatial organization The handling of place in Roman historiography has already been discussed (pp. 166–7). While philosophical works take us especially to Italian places outside Rome and to Romans off-duty, much historiography takes us to places outside Italy, but because Romans with official imperium are campaigning there. Each 27

On this prologue, cf. Price (2005), Yvonneau (2010). Tränkle (1977), 238–41 does not think Livy is using Polybius here; but the use of Polybius had been accepted by Walbank (1957–79), ii.464, and seems hard to escape, provided Livy is not confined to one source, any more than Silius. (Tränkle (1977), 241 sees the difficulty in making Polybius derivative; this should apply too to Polybius’ analysis of Hannibal’s tactics.) Cf. on this passage Levene (2010), 286–7. 28

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work has its own spatial structure, as does each work of Greek historiography. Tacitus’ si quando ad interna praeuerterent on history about earlier Rome (Ann. 4.32.1), though disingenuous about that history and his own, suggests readers’ consciousness of different spatial shapings, and the attractions of foreign locations and enemies (cf. 33.3). Spatial strategy and orientation from a Roman perspective are further and interacting concerns in the establishment of grounds: grounds here extend from the set-up of communication to the subject-matter of the narrative. World-building is to have a Roman centre.29 Caesar’s De Bello Gallico begins in Gaul, but lingua . . . nostra (1.1.1) and the determining of national character by separation from the Roman province (1.3 prouinciae, cf. 2.3 prouinciam nostram) already indicate the spatial perspective (this is not to say that the differences of the Belgae and Helvetii are only portrayed negatively). The date planned by the Helvetii for crossing is given with Roman calendar and consuls (6.4) and there follows at once: Caesari cum id nuntiatum esset, eos per prouinciam nostram iter facere conari, maturat ab urbe proficisci, et quam maximis potest itineribus in Galliam Vlteriorem contendit (7.1). The layering Rome–nearer province–further province–outer barbarians is brought out not only by nostram but by the idiom urbe: ‘the city’ for ‘Rome’ is a Romecentred conception.30 A similar layering, and the same idiom, is seen when Tacitus sets his scene before beginning the narrative of the Histories: repetendum uidetur qualis status urbis, quae mens exercituum, quis habitus prouinciarum, quid in toto orbe terrarum orbe ualidum, quid aegrum fuerit (1.4.1). His emphasis is on causes, but the sentence and the following survey (4.2–11.3) unobtrusively fix the spatial orientation (cf. 8.1 et hic quidem Romae . . . habitus animorum fuit. e prouinciis . . . ). The narrative begins paucis post kalendas Ianuarias diebus . . . e Belgica litterae adferuntur (12.1): Rome is as it were the deictic centre.31 Book 2 begins: Struebat iam Fortuna in diuersa parte terrarum initia causasque imperio quod uaria sorte laetum rei publicae aut atrox, ipsis principibus prosperum uel exitio fuit. The end of Book 1 has reinforced the fundamental premise that Rome must be seen as the centre of the res publica, however degenerate the city, and however remote some sources of military power (so 1.90.1 commendata patribus re publica). The shift in space at 2.1.1 has the organizational neatness 29 For world-building see Werth (1999), esp. 180–90, Gavins (2007), esp. 35–52; it forms a part of text world theory (cf. Hutchinson (2013b: forthcoming) for discussion). The literary process is analogous to more primary procedures in constructing and speaking about the world; cf. e.g. Mix, Smith, and Gasser (2010). On space in Roman historiography see Riggsby (2009); in Greek historiography Purves (2010), 118–95, De Jong (2012). 30 For the consuls cf. the difference in spatial perspective between Polyb. 21.3.2 c hØÆ . . . m

Ææ#åÅÆØ   ø ÆØ# › Æ#غf# K HØ æe# å º øØ (‘the good will . . . which the king had shown to the Romans in the war against Antiochus’) and Livy 36.35.14 bellum quod cum Antiocho rege in Graecia gestum est a M’. Acilio consule hunc finem habuit (comparison of 36.35.11–14 with Polyb. 21.3.1–4 is rewarding; Livy is using Polybius in this passage, as Briscoe (1981), 273 rightly says). On space in the De Bello Gallico: Riggsby (2006), esp. 28–45 (28–32 on 1.1). nostri in the De Bello Civili is used of Caesar’s side: a challenging development for readers. 31 ‘Deictic centre’ is used in the sense of origo, the point from which deixis is organized (most commonly the self). Cf. K. Bühler (1934), 102–48, and e.g. Lenz (1997), 46–57, Fricke (2003). For centre and its complications in the Histories see Pomeroy (2003): a valuable discussion. For the emphasis on causes, cf. Asell. fr. 1 (and 2) Chassignet.

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of, say, Diod. Sic. 20.37.7 E# b غźıŁ# a ŒÆa c #Æ ŒÆd c  Eºº Æ

ÆØ #  e ºª K d a ¼ººÆ æÅ B# NŒı Å# (‘I, now I have reported events in Asia and Greece [20.37.1–6], will move my account to the other parts of the world’), and the interconnectedness of, say, Polyb. 1.4.1 ŒÆŁ æ åÅ #åe – ÆÆ a B# NŒı Å# æ ª ÆÆ æe# £ ŒºØ æ# . . . oø# ŒÆd Øa B# ƒ#æÆ#  e Æ #łØ IªÆªE E# Kıªå ı#Ø e åØæØ# e B# åÅ# (‘just as Fortune was making almost all the events of the world incline towards one part . . . so through the writing of history the manipulations of Fortune must be brought under one simultaneous view for readers’). But the Tacitus is not only more sombre than the Polybius; the reader has been made to see the events spatially from Rome. This sense of a centre is seen again when at 2.9.2 the severed head finally arrives at Rome, and when in 2.10.1 we hear about the state of that ciuitas which most concerns us: in ciuitate discordi etc., without separate specification (cf. e.g. Ann. 6.27.1). The surprise of the movement in 2.1.1 has something of the quality of Thuc. 1.24.1: after disclosing the truest cause of the war between Athenians and Peloponnesians, for the alleged ÆNÆØ (‘grounds justifying war’) the exposition moves abruptly to the distant Epidamnus (cf. the discussion in Dion. Hal. Thuc. 10 i.338.4–339.24 Usener–Radermacher). But Thucydides so far has established Greece and the Greek world as the area of concern, not one city: careful balance has emphasized Sparta and Athens alike.32

(iii) Speeches One further type of ground must be considered, although it is not basic. In a Ciceronian philosophical dialogue, the prologue, where there is one, establishes the primary communication, that between writer and addressee. But even where there is one, the speeches of the participants form the ground or grounds which take up most of the work. In history, the historian’s narrative takes up most of the work. We have noted that Pliny, in finding apparent similarities between history and oratory, starts narrat illa [oratory], narrat haec [history], rather than going for the speeches (Ep. 5.8.9). None the less, Sallust, Livy, and Tacitus, in choosing to have frequent and substantial speeches, are following one Greek tradition; this tradition brings into the work non-Roman perspectives, and also exposes the multiplicity of Roman viewpoints. It displays conflicts like those we see in philosophical dialogues. But the narrative of dialogues is insignificant; the narrative of history, though by convention more restrained than speeches, shapes the reader’s response.33 Just. 38.3.11 shows that the choice of the historians was a choice, and one open to controversy from rival conceptions of the genre: orationem . . . ; quam obliquam [i.e. in reported speech] Pompeius Trogus exposuit, quoniam in Liuio et in 32 With Tac. Hist. 2.1.1 cf. 1.11.3 annum sibi [the consuls] ultimum, rei publicae prope supremum (quo in Heubner’s Teubner at 2.1.1 is a misprint). For the res publica cf. e.g. 3.72.1 rei publicae populi Romani, on the burning of the Capitol. In 2.10.1 the change of topic indicates that ciuitate does not depend on Romam for its reference. 33 Non-Roman angles: R. B. Rutherford (2010), Adler (2011). Speeches in general: Marincola (2007a), Pitcher (2009), 103–11.

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Sallustio reprehendit quod contiones directas pro sua oratione [i.e. instead of speaking in their own voices; but Wölfflin proposed ratione] operi suo inserendo historiae modum excesserint. Justin’s specimen speech from Trogus in oratio obliqua lasts six pages (38.4.1–7.10). Cf. P. Oxy. LXXI 4808 col. i 28–9?, and Polybius and Diodorus below. Lucian, Hist. Conscr. 58 j   ŒÆd ºªı# KæF ØÆ  #ÅØ N# ªØ (‘if you ever have to bring someone on to make a speech’) does not sound enthusiastic; but eloquence is permitted (KçEÆØ, ‘it has been allowed’). The practice of Roman historians shows their own experimentation. Caesar’s De Bello Gallico has no direct speech at all until Book 4, but orations in indirect speech (e.g. 1.31.3–16); the longest direct speech is near the end of the last Caesarian book, a Gallic speech proposing cannibalism (7.77.3–16; 2 non praetereunda oratio Critognati uidetur propter eius singularem et nefariam crudelitatem). The De Bello Civili starts direct speech in Book 2, with connected speeches by Curio (31–2), two and a half pages together.34 Livy has no speeches of any length until the massive speech of Camillus at the end of the first pentad (5.51–4, over six pages). At the end of the first book, by contrast (59.8–11), Livy had summarized Brutus’ speech, suggesting the limits for writers’ re-creations ((alia) haudquaquam relatu scriptoribus facilia 11); Dionysius gives him a speech of over seven pages (Ant. 4.77–83). After the first pentad, the next speech of two pages or more is that of the Campanian envoys, 7.30.1–23 (three pages); this has been noted to evoke the Corcyrean debate—the first speeches in Thucydides. Next comes 10.7.9 (following oratio obliqua)–8.12 (Decius Mus; three pages including the oratio obliqua—but the apparatus in the OCT is bulky). There is only one other speech of at least one page in the first decade, 9.4.8–16 (Lentulus). The next preserved decade has five speeches of two pages or more; with a notable change, four of these are in pairs of matching speeches, the latter two in an actual debate: 21.40–1 (Scipio, over two pages [now Teubner]), 43–4 (Hannibal, over 2 pages), 28.27–9 (Scipio, over three pages), 28.40.3–42.22 (Fabius, over four pages), 43.2–44.18 (Scipio, over three pages). There are three more speeches in this decade of at least one page: 21.10.4–13, 23.42.2–13, 26.31.1–11. The following decade offers a more extended debate in Rome (Cato and Valerius, 34.2–7, over eleven pages), and a further development, the three-speech confrontation of Philip and his sons (40.8.2–15.16, over sixteen pages). In this confrontation, we seem to have slipped into the world of Hellenistic monarchy, but Rome determines the alignment of sympathies. The decade also offers a Roman speaker (L. Furius Purpureo, 31.31.1–2, over two pages) and various non-Roman speakers (Hannibal (36.7.2–21, three pages), Eumenes (37.53.1–28, over three pages), the Rhodians (54.4–28, three pages), Lycortas (39.36.6–37.17, over three pages)). There is one other speech of at least one page (31.29.4–16, the Macedonian speech in the same debate as Purpureo’s). The last pentad offers a Greek debate (Callicrates and Archo, 41.23.5–24.19, over five pages), answering speeches between Roman and Macedonian (Marcius and Perseus, 42.40.1–42.9,

34 ‘Pages’ not, say ‘words’, are used as a unit, despite the manifold imprecision: they make the approximate quantity obvious to the reader.

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almost six pages), the plain man Sp. Ligustinus (42.34.2–15, over two pages), Aemilius Paullus (44.22.2–16, over two pages), the Rhodians (45.22–4, over seven pages, incomplete), Servilius (45.37–9, over seven pages, incomplete; 39.17 narrative), and M. Antonius (45.41, over two pages). There is one other speech of at least one page: 42.13.1–12 (after almost three pages of indirect speech: Eumenes). The extant books of Livy show continued change and invention. Tacitus’ Agricola gives a speech of over two pages, the Briton Calgacus’ (30–2, matched by Agricola’s, 33.2–34.3, over one page); thereafter, none of his speeches reaches two pages. Of almost two pages: Hist. 1.15.1–16.4 (Galba); one or somewhat over: Hist. 1.29.2–30.3 (Piso), 83.2–84.4 (Otho), 2.76–7 (Mucianus), 4.58 (Vocula), 73–4 (Cerialis), Ann. 1.42–3 (Germanicus), 4.34.2–35.3 (Cremutius Cordus), 14.43–4 (C. Cassius), 14.53–4 (Seneca), 55.1–56.2 (Nero). The proportion of relatively long speeches is lower in the Annales. in hunc modum and the like are used with increasing frequency (sic ferme: Ann. 14.55.1; contrast ita: Agr. 33.1, Hist. 1.83.1, 2.76.1, 4.73.1, Ann. 1.41.3, 14.53.1). Changes are not so obvious in Sallust’s speeches, but the lengths make an interesting point of comparison with Livy and with Tacitus. Over two pages: Cat. 51 (over four pages, Caesar), 52 (over three pages, Cato), Jug. 14 (four pages, Jugurtha), 31 (over three pages, Memmius), 85 (over five pages, Marius), Hist. 1 fr. 55 Maurenbrecher (over three pages, Lepidus), 77 (over three pages, Philippus), 3 fr. 48 (over three pages, Macer); one page or a bit over: Cat. 58 (Catiline), Hist. 2 fr. 77 Maurenbrecher (Cotta). Curtius has, for his eight books, a considerable number of speeches of two pages or more: 4.14.9–26 (Darius; almost 3), 6.10.1–35 (Philotas; over four), 7.1.19–40 (Amyntas; over three), 7.8.12–30 (Scythian; almost three), 8.8.1–19 (Alexander; almost three), 10.2.15–29 (18 narrative; Alexander; over two). Nepos, Velleius, Florus, present short utterances (Nepos’ longest is in the last life, Hann. 2.3–6).35 All this indicates the interest of Roman historians in the possibilities for speeches, and the looseness of any convention; but it also indicates their distance, not only from philosophy, but from Thucydides, here their chief Greek model (note e.g. the allusion, with names, at Livy 45.23.15 Atheniensium populum fama est celerem et supra uires audacem esse ad conandum, Lacedaemoniorum cunctatorem et uix in ea quibus fidit ingredientem, cf. Thuc. 1.70.2 OE# (‘quick’), KØŒ#ŁÆØ (lit. ‘reach’, cf. ingredientem), 3 Ææa Æ Ø º ÅÆ (‘daring beyond their power’), B#  ª Å# Åb E# ÆØ# Ø#F#ÆØ (‘of your thoughts not to trust even what is secure’), 4 ººÅ # (‘delayers’)). Thucydides contains much indirect speech, and two books with no direct speeches of length (he too experiments); but other books give a much more prominent place to substantial speeches than do the Romans’ books: so 1.32.1–36.3 (over three pages, Corcyreans), 37–43 (over three pages, Corinthians), 68–71 (over three pages; Corinthians), 73–8 (over three pages; Athenians), 80–6 (over four pages; Archidamus), 120–4 (over three pages; Corinthians), 140–4 (over four pages; Pericles); 3.10–14 (over three pages; Mytileneans), 37–40 (over three pages; Cleon), 42–8 (almost 35 Cato included his speech for the Rhodians in his Origines; we do not know if he included other speeches. Cicero refers (Leg. 1.7) to Licinius Macer’s speeches, it seems in his histories. Sulla fr. 3 Peter looks as if it comes from a speech. On the relation of speeches in Curtius to the tradition, cf. Moore (1995), 31–57.

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five pages; Diodotus), 53–9 (over three pages; Plataeans), 63–6 (over three pages; Plataeans); 6.9–14 (over three pages; Nicias), 16–18 (over three pages; Alcibiades), 20–3 (two pages; Nicias), 33–4 (almost three pages; Hermocrates), 36–41 (almost three pages; Athenagoras), 76–80 (over three pages; Hermocrates), 82–7 (over three pages; Euphemus), 89–92 (over three pages; Alcibiades).36 Hellenistic and then imperial Greek historians provided a stimulus to the Roman use of Thucydides; the extant examples also offer points of comparison, and more experiment. Polybius has long stretches without speeches. So there is none in Polybius’ completely extant Books 1–5; Polyb. 36.1 explains the absence of speeches at one point, and accuses other historians’ speeches of discursiveness and rhetorical display (evidence for expectations), cf. 12.25a3–b4, i3–9 (with special reference to Timaeus; note i9 on brevity). Speeches in Diodorus are rare (20.1.1 on excessive length and frequency of others’ speeches). Polybius’ and Diodorus’ speeches can be long (cf. e.g. Polyb. 9.28.1–31.6 (debate in Sparta; almost five pages), 32.3–40 (almost ten pages); Diod. Sic. 13.20–7 (debate in Syracuse; over ten pages), 28.2–32.6 (over seven pages), contrast 52.3–8 (over one page; said (52.2) to be concise and Laconic: the reason for inclusion)).37 For speeches in imperial historians, cf. e.g. Dion. Hal. Ant. 3.11 (almost four pages); 6.72.3–80.4 (almost fourteen pages), 7.40–4 (over seven pages), 10.51 (over two pages), Jos. AJ 4.177–93 (over three pages), BJ 2.345–401 (nine pages), 4.240– 69 (over three pages; 238–9 in reported speech), 7.341–88 (almost six pages; interrupted, and following 323–36—almost two pages—by same speaker), Arr. Anab. 4.11.2–9 (over two pages), 5.25.3–26.8 (three pages), 27.2–9 (over two pages), 7.9–10 (over four pages), App. Lib. 215–28 (over two pages), Mithr. 230–9 (two pages), Civ. 2.570–91 (slight narrative in 581; almost five pages), 3.222–48 (six pages), Dio Cass. 52.2–13 (over eight large pages, with last part lost), 14–40 (over twenty-two pages, with first part lost), 53.3–12 (over five pages), 62.3–6 (Xiph.; narrative 6.1; over three pages).38

ORATORY

(i) Reality In oratory, the fundamental point has already been emphasized (p. 242): the obvious and visible ground for published orations is a specific Roman official

36

Livy 45.23.15 is not mentioned in Simon-Mahé (2010), though her conclusions are positive. The relation of Tacitus and Thucydides is too complicated a question to consider here; in my opinion, it illustrates the development of a Greek author’s thoughts and vision together with an evasion of extended verbal proximity (cf. e.g. Thuc. 8.66.2 with Tac. Ann. 4.60.2, 8.66.3 with Ann. 4.74.4). 37 Diodorus’ debate in Syracuse derives ultimately from Thucydides’ Mytilenean debate. It is disputable how far Diodorus’ speeches here replay Timaeus’ (cf. FGrHist 566 F 100; recent discussion: Ambaglio (2008), 39–40); in any case their unusual size represents a deliberate choice by Diodorus for his own work. Readers would not fail to see the affinity with Thucydides’ debate, here or in Sallust’s debate on the conspirators, published not long before. Polybius’ relation to Thucydides is more uncertain (Foulon (2010)). Speeches in Polybius, with a survey backwards: Walbank (1985); for Polybius’ difficult remarks see Nicolai (1999). 38 For Dionysius, in whose work speeches bulk particularly large, see Hogg (2008); for Dionysius and Thucydides M. Lévy (2010).

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occasion. This point may be reinforced and refined by looking further at the shape of the super-genre in Roman eyes. We have seen that before the time of Apuleius declamation is often regarded as inferior to oratory proper; one reason frequently given is that as practised it is not real, and not close to reality (so Quint. Inst. 5.12.17 olim iam ab illa uera imagine orandi recesserunt atque ad solam compositae uoluptatem neruis carent; Petr. 1.1–2.1). The low view of declamation is very different from that of the Second Sophistic; nor does the dissatisfaction with palpable unreality fit well with the classic period of Greek oratory, where Gorgias, Isocrates, and others write pieces on themes mythological, paradoxical, or both. (Greek views in between those two periods are harder to ascertain; but the terminological divide between orator and rhetor is a Latin one.)39 While declamation thrives and is criticized, epideictic, a recognized form of oratory, is less prominent in Latin before Apuleius’ time. It is treated with some reserve as removed from the pressures of reality in courts, and, once declamation is practised, as akin to declamation; it allows artistry to be displayed, in unpractical profusion. Cf. Cic. Orat. 37–8 (epideictic) quasi ad inspiciendum delectationis causa comparatum est; he contrasts ueritate causarum, and mentions Isocrates’ Panathenaicus, written non . . . ad iudiciorum certamen sed uoluptatem aurium. Quint. Inst. 2.10.11–12 makes declamation in some degree kindred to epideictic, but closer to ueritas. The treatment of Isocrates’ unpracticality, and his writing auditoriis, non iudiciis (Inst. 10.1.79), draws on Greek debate. For Dionysius, however, these aspects do not preclude Isocrates a straightforward place as one of the three æ#æØ (‘older orators’) in his six best Ancient Orators (Orat. Vet. Praef. 4, i.7.16–17 Usener–Radermacher = 4.5 Hidber): Isocrates is passionate and persuasive.40 Now the Roman emphasis on reality in their conception of the super-genre is not simply a question of whether orations were actually delivered. Some of the most famous masterpieces of Roman oratory were not delivered as they purport, such as the second actio of the Verrines, the Second Philippic, our version of the Pro Milone. The real could prompt the unreal: so the Second Philippic is a reply to an actual speech; Cestius later wrote answers to Cicero’s speeches (Sen. Contr. 3 pr. 15, Quint. Inst. 10.5.20). Cic. QF 3.1.11 declines the idea of ‘writing back’ to Piso’s speech replying to his speech—which itself was no doubt massively elaborated from Cicero’s actual remarks in the Senate. Brutus produced a speech in defence of Milo which was fictitious (ORF 4 158 F 18–20; Quint. Inst. 3.6.93, 10.1.23 exercitationis gratia, 10.5.20 decretoriis [real weapons] exerceatur, ut fecisse Brutum diximus pro Milone; Brutus published it quasi egisset (Ascon. Mil. p. 41.11 Clark): Celsus was deceived, Quint. Inst. 10.1.23). The crucial division, 39

For criticism of declamation cf. e.g. Berti (2007), 219–47. Quint. Inst. 10.1.79 will draw on Dion. Hal. Imit. 31.5.2 ii.212.1–4 Usener–Radermacher

ÆŪıæØŒæ# K#Ø Aºº j ØŒÆØŒæ# . . . P c IªøØ#ØŒ# (‘his style is more epideictic than forensic . . . ; it is not suited to debate’). Isocrates’ own avoidance of public speaking: Cic. De Orat. 2.10, Brut. 48 (Arist. fr. 137 Rose), Quint. Inst. 12.10.49, [Plut.] Vit. Dec. Orat. 837a–b; speeches unsuitable for assemblies and court: Hieron. Rhod. fr. 52 a–b Wehrli, Dion. Hal. Isocr. 2 i.57.15–18 Usener–Radermacher (suitable for performance K ÆE# ÆŪæ#Ø, ‘at festivals’); Isocrates lacks Iº ŁØÆ (‘truth’): Hermog. Id. 2 p. 397.16 Rabe; dispute whether Isocrates wrote any speeches for courts: Dion. Hal. Isocr. 18 i.85–6 Usener–Radermacher (Arist. fr. 140 Rose). Ancient and Byzantine references to Isocrates are collected by Mandilaras (2003), i.187–422. 40

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then, is not between orations delivered and not delivered, but between speeches which were and which were not about present Roman situations concerning present Roman individuals. Declamations on unnamed fictional characters or named figures from the past do not possess the same status; epideictic speeches written for pleasure and removed from practical conflict are separated from the centre of oratorical activity. The primacy of the single Roman ground is underlined.41

(ii) Other audiences But the fundamental point (the ground a Roman occasion) should now be complicated. First, the orations which we have were circulated to please a different audience from their original listeners: everyone, posterity, the reader, experts, Roman youth (Plin. Ep. 7.17.5 et semper et omnibus; Quint. Inst. 12.10.49 posteritati, cf. 10.7.30 (notes seem written in memoriam posteritatis); Plin. Ep. 3.13.2 lectorem; Cic. Brut. 92 existimantium; Cic. Att. 4.2.2 itaque oratio iuuentuti nostrae deberi non potest, cf. 2.1.3 ea quae nos scribimus adulescentulorum studiis excitati, QF 3.1.11 pueri). It is at the least clear that changes were often made in writing up or writing down (i.e. elaborating from a draft or from notes; cf. for writing down Tusc. 4.55 cum iam rebus transactis et praeteritis orationes scribimus). Hence what we see is not exactly the version for the original recipients. But in any case, there is an outer ground in the publication which encloses the original or ostensible ground: the author is communicating with readers. This outer ground, like that of a friend who is shown the speech or of an audience which hears a recited version, can evoke in the author thoughts of the fame and applause achieved by Greek orators (Cic. Att. 2.1.3: intended fame with public, especially youth, from general circulation; Demosthenes; Ad Brut. 2.4.2: applause from Brutus; Demosthenes (cf. 2.3.4); Plin. Ep. 4.5.1–3: applause from select audience; Aeschines and Demosthenes). The purpose, and the pretension, can be accentuated by collection of various speeches into a whole, like Cicero’s collection (he uses the Greek word #H Æ, ‘corpus’) of consular speeches, which he likens to Demosthenes’ Philippics (he means more than the speeches called Philippics by us).42 But in oratory proper, unlike philosophy, the outer ground is not commonly made an explicit part of the text through an introduction or preface. There are no instances in what we have. Pliny’s Panegyricus is transmitted with other panegyrics; but we have no positive reason to think a preface has been omitted, and Ep. 3.13 makes it seem unlikely (the letter itself serves as a long-distance preface, not circulated with the work). Ep. 5.12.3 quem (the book of the speech) iam nunc oportet ita consuescere ut sine praefatione intellegatur is at least compatible with the supposition that prefaces to speeches, unlike some other libri, were abnormal. 41

On Pro Milone Hutchinson (2010), 104, 106, with literature; add Melchior (2008). Cf. Dion. Hal. Amm. (1) 10 i.268–71 Usener–Radermacher, where ƃ غØ

ØŒÆd ŠŪæÆØ (‘the Philippic speeches in the assembly’) number twelve. Speeches can also be organized into groups (mostly pairs) from the same occasion. Cicero does this for his reader by his translation with preface of Aeschines and Demosthenes on the Crown; in Quint. Inst. 10.1.23–4 readers are to do this for themselves. 42

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If Pliny explained it to the correspondent, that would be a kind of praefatio, cf. 4.5.3 librum, cuius amplitudo non sinit me longiore epistula praeloqui (i.e. to the correspondent). The absence of framing preface is characteristic of classical Greek oratory too, except for the less pragmatic Isocrates (so in particular the frame to his Helen).43 Declamations, on the other hand, typically reach the reader as part of a structure. Seneca the Elder addresses his work to his sons, eager students of declamation, and offers them remembered sententiae from performances, together with memories of the performers; there is thus a primary ground which pervades the work, and implies communication with other readers. The work is structured by case, by side of the case, and by language, Latin or Greek. [Quintilian’s] Minor Declamations (perhaps not good enough to be Quintilian’s) are interlarded with comments from the teacher (cf. Sen. Contr. 1 pr. 21); there is again a ground within which the ground of the declamation is set. Occasionally we get both sides of the case. The general irregularity of the patterning and size of the comments must have been compatible with the plans of whoever circulated the work, whether teacher, pupils, or others; a further ground of communication is implied with the reader, who will likewise be instructed. Even the Major Declamations of [Quintilian] and the declamations of Calpurnius Flaccus, which have no author or teacher to comment, use the structure seen in Seneca and the Minor Declamations: the case is commonly preceded by the law and the story. (The law is often omitted, least often in Seneca; scribes could play a part in the omission.) The ground of each declamation—of the speech to the judges or individual to be persuaded—is thus enclosed within a form which shows us the nature of the exercise.44 This form, and the form of preliminary comment, are also found in Greek collections. Although the Greek collections are later, they indicate that the Latin collections are following a Greek pattern for the publication of declamations. Thus some of Libanius’, or [Libanius’], declamations have a æŁøæÆ (‘preliminary dicussion’: 3, 4, 6, 12, 24, 25, 34, 40, 43, 45, 46, 49); Choricius’ have a ŁøæÆ (‘discussion’). The setting out of cases in Libanius, Sopater, and Choricius, with or without the law, resembles that in the Latin texts, with asyndeton and short clauses. So e.g. Liban. 46 vii.550 Foerster (cf. with K ƺŁg IƪŒ ÇÆØ  e F Ææe# ªÆ E ŒÆd c ıº # I ŒÅæ##ÆØ, ‘when he returns his father tries to force him to marry; he refuses and is disinherited’, [Quint.] Decl. Min. 376 pr . . . . a naturali patre receptus, quia non uult orbam diuitem ducere uxorem abdicatur), Sopat. Rh. viii.229.18–23 Walz. For the common initial  # (‘law’, with dependent clause) cf. Quint. Inst. 5.10.97 lex: qui parentes non aluerit uinciatur. There is then a difference between oratory proper and declamation, as there is between oratory proper and philosophy or indeed history, in the degree to which the work explicitly goes beyond a particular ground and occasion.45

43 On 5.12.3 Sherwin-White (1966), 339 is somewhat misguided. For the collection of Panegyrici Latini see Rees (2011). 44 On the character and authorship of the Minor Declamations cf. Winterbottom (1984), esp. xi–xvi. 45 ŁøæÆØ in Choricius: Penella (2009), 15–16, Lupi (2010), 21, 126, 130, 135. Hypotheses of actual Greek speeches, which superficially look like the story at the start of a declamation, were originally in a

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(iii) Rhetoric The second complication of the basic point (ground a Roman occasion) is connected. Behind the strongly defined ground of a speaker seeking to persuade a specific audience on a particular practical occasion lies an elaborate background of rhetorical teaching and theorizing. There results an implicit communication with readers, and a different aspect of communication with some of the specific listeners as experts. The usual tendency of Latin oratory proper is to minimize the overt introduction of Greek culture and of extraneous areas of knowledge; rhetorical theory is included. But for rhetorically minded readers, and for rhetorically informed members of the audience, the ground, structure, and moves of the speech will be seen in the context of close and extensive discussion, particularly in Greek. Two examples: Pro Caelio begins Si quis, iudices, forte nunc adsit ignarus legum iudiciorum consuetudinisque nostrae, miretur profecto . . . nec dubitet quin tanti facinoris reus arguatur ut eo neglecto ciuitas stare non possit. The speaker is on the primary level establishing his ground and the tone of his communication with the audience; they are to share in amusement at the exaggerated application of the Lex Plotia de ui, on a holiday, and to be intrigued by the defamiliarization of the scene. This approach, however, will strike readers and expert listeners as deploying the possibility of humour in a situation where the jury may feel wearied (cf. quibus otiosis ne in communi quidem otio liceat esse); cf. Inv. 25 (Ad Her. 10): if fatigue has turned the audience from the case it is worth beginning from re noua aut ridicula. Opening from a subjunctive condition recalls the opening from a condition with ¼ in the main clause which Greek orators sometimes use: so Andoc. 2.1 ¯N , t ¼æ#, K !æøØ øØ æ ª ÆØ ƒ ÆæØ# c c ÆPc ª Å å# # KçÆ, Pb i ŁÆı Æ#e K ØÇ (‘if, Athenians, in some different matter those who came to speak did not all clearly hold the same opinion, I would not think it at all surprising’, a related use of thought-experiment, but milder, and doing less with place), Lys. 2.1, 5.1, 16.1, Dem. Phil. 1.1, 27.1, 29.1, cf. e.g. Cic. Vat. 1. (These are present and past unfulfilled conditions, but the structure of the ancient languages may be more important than our categories, and the condition at Cael. 1 in fact relates to the present.) For all the connections with Greek theory and practice, the city of Rome and its institutions immediately establish themselves (cf. e.g. Caecin. 1, Flac. 1, Sest. 1); they are only made more vivid by the intelligent outsider (who sounds rather Greek in what follows).46

separate book, cf. e.g. P. Oxy. XXXI 2537 (Lysias); those in medieval manuscripts are often visibly excerpted from elsewhere. Cf. on hypotheses in general Van Rossum-Steenbeek (1998). 46 The rhetorical could also see by Cael. 2 si attendere diligenter atque existimare uere . . . uolueritis a pointed contrast with Arist. Rhet. 3.1415a35–6 ººd N# ªºøÆ ØæHÆØ æ ªØ (‘many try to move (the listener) to laughter’)—in order to divert from attention; in any case si attendere etc. will certainly evoke rhetorical theory for the rhetorical. Cf. Quint. Inst. 4.1.38–9 and elsewhere for rhetorical analysis of this start. On the opening of Pro Caelio more widely see Stroh (1975), 249–50, Loutsch (1994), 336–48, Leigh (2004), 301–2. For the Lex Plautia or Plotia and the speech cf. Labruna (1975), 82–114.

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Near the start of Pro Milone, in what affects to be a digression, Cicero asks an est quisquam qui hoc ignoret, cum de homine occiso quaeratur, aut negari solere omnino esse factum aut recte et iure factum esse defendi? (8). He is here in fact introducing stasis-theory, particularly associated with Hermagoras: cf. e.g. Inv. 1.10 ‘fecisti’—‘non feci’ aut ‘iure feci’, 16 (naming Hermagoras), Quint. Inst. 3.6.56 (all parts of Hermag. fr. 13 Matthes); Cic. Part. 102 status . . . tertius quod id recte factum esse defendat. This is confirmed by the allusion to Orestes in what follows: cf. Inv. 18–19 . . . rectumne fuerit ab Oreste matrem occidi cum illa Orestis patrem occidisset, Ad Her. 1.25–6, Quint. Inst. 3.5.11, 11.1–6, 11–12 (in 7.4.8 qualis est defensio Orestis Horati Milonis Quintilian picks up Cicero’s categorization; Horatius comes from Cic. Mil. 7).47 However, while the ignorance of which Cicero accuses the opposition might covertly be of rhetorical theory, it is overtly of Roman history. This takes up 7 in qua tandem urbe hoc homines stultissimi disputant? Rome, in place and in time, is made to dominate. Thus the perspective of rhetorical theory, still principally Greek, is important for sophisticated readers and listeners, but firmly subordinated within the primary ground to the Roman occasion. Here we should briefly consider a further question: whether works on rhetoric should themselves be taken as part of the super-genre of oratory. These would chiefly be Cicero’s De Inventione, De Oratore, Brutus, Orator, the Ad Herennium, Quintilian’s Institutio, Tacitus’ Dialogus. The writers, apart from the author of Ad Herennium, all delivered real speeches; the works mostly suppose an intimate relation between theory and practice: cf. e.g. Cic. De Orat. 1.5 (something needs to be written worthy of hoc usu; artibus eloquentiam contineri), 1.20. But Quintilian, for example, does not talk of rhetorical works when enumerating orators, or bring in Cicero’s theoretical contribution as a point to favour him against Demosthenes. Cf. Inst. 10.1.105–12 on Demosthenes and Cicero, where he mentions letters and dialogues alike as forms in which there is no contest on Demosthenes’ part; 3.1.20 probably does not intend to suggest that the rhetorical works in themselves exemplify orandi . . . artes (note praeceptis). Nor does Tacitus’ Aper, for example, include Cicero’s rhetorical writings when assessing him as an orator (Dial. 22.1– 23.1; note 22.2 postquam magis profecerat usuque et experimentis didicerat quod optimum dicendi genus esset). It is probably, then, most faithful to ancient conceptions to separate the rhetorical works as productions from the supergenre of oratory, though we might well wish to include them in a larger vision of the rhetorical conglomerate. The relation of rhetorical theory to the texts of oratory is far more detailed and intricate than that of historical theory (as in Polybius) to the texts of history.

(iv) Space We come, or return, to the question of place. While philosophy takes place largely in villas on holidays, oratory proper largely takes place in official spaces of the city 47 Cf. Heath (1994) and (1995), 18–24. For the use of stasis-theory in the Pro Milone, see Wisse (2007). The doctissimi homines in 8 are Greek tragedians, not rhetoricians; they, like Orestes, are not named.

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on occasions supervised by the state. Apuleius’ world is different; the speeches, however, are delivered in cities, mostly Carthage, and sometimes a magistrate is clearly present and central (so Flor. 9.30–40). Even, say, Florida 18, a preliminary to the performance of other pieces on what does not seem to be an official occasion, immediately dwells on Carthage and its culture and buildings, including the place of performance (1–10). But here we shall look mainly at Cicero. We saw that in history, the Greek super-genre for the most part extends its ground of communication beyond the single city; in essence, the Latin version of history discreetly transfers to one city both the communication and the spatial centre from which the action is viewed. In oratory proper, the Athenian version of the super-genre, of which we know most, already has its ground and spatial centre in one city; Latin oratory proper transfers this to another single city. In both cases, the city is not only the place of the principal ground, vivified even for the audience by specific detail in the speeches: the place is given its meaning by history and institutions, and is the source of the systems and values through which the speaker hopes to persuade his hearers. It is much less apparent than in the case of philosophy how far in specific moments listeners and even orators are conscious of the transference between cities. Oratory has a longer Roman tradition by the time of Cicero, and Roman material is less liable than philosophical conceptions to invite thoughts of Greek. But let us take a clear instance of transference. At the end of the Sixth Philippic, delivered to the people, Cicero says populum Romanum seruire fas non est, quem di immortales omnibus gentibus imperare uoluerunt. res in extremum est adducta discrimen; de libertate decernitur . . . . aliae nationes seruitutem pati possunt; populi Romani est propria libertas (19). Demosthenic intertexts are generally present for readers of Philippics 3–14 and for cultivated listeners; particularly pertinent here is Phil. 3.70 ŒÆd ªaæ i – Æ#  ı ıºØ #ıªåøæ #ø#Ø ƒ ¼ººØ, E ª  bæ B# KºıŁæÆ# IªøØ# (‘for even if everyone else agrees to be slaves, we must fight for freedom’; note the un-Demosthenic asyndeton in Cicero’s transformation). Cf. also [Dem.] 11.22 ŁÅÆı# , x # æØ K#Ø

Åe# IŒØ (‘the Athenians, whose ancestral tradition is to obey no one’). The highly Roman phrase populus Romanus, which comes three times in the passage, here has pointed links with Athenian democracy: cf. especially Thuc. 8.68.4 åƺ e ªaæ q e ŁÅÆø B  K  Ø !ŒÆ#HØ ºØ#Æ K Øc ƒ æÆØ ŒÆºŁÅ#Æ KºıŁæÆ# ÆF#ÆØ, ŒÆd P  c  Œ ZÆ Iººa ŒÆd  bæ X Ø#ı F åæı ı ÆPe ¼ººø ¼æåØ NøŁÆ (‘it was no easy thing to end the freedom of the Athenian people in about the hundredth year after the downfall of the tyrants, when it had not only not been subjected but for over half that time had been accustomed to rule others itself ’). For one role of the intertexts is precisely to show that the Athenians did not sustain their ideals: aliae nationes seruitutem pati possunt (cf. e.g. Fam. 9.16.6 uel Athenis uel Syracusis, . . . seruientibus . . . ciuitatibus). The Romans as it were conquer the Greeks in this passage; libertas is the final word. Most important, however, for the immediate popular audience, not present at the preceding Senatorial debate, is the self-contained Roman quality of the utterance.48 48

[Dem.] 11.22 is cited by Manuwald (2007a), ii.818. With uenit tempus (19) cf. Dem. Ol. 1.9 ıd c ŒÆØæe# lŒØ Ø# (‘now a crucial moment has come’), and also 3.6. On Demosthenes and Cicero’s

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While Rome is the deictic centre of most Roman oratory proper as Athens is of Attic oratory, its relation to the rest of the world differs from that of Athens, and from that of Rome in some historiography. In the period of our texts, Rome is rarely under threat from any external force; the world has rarely to be seen through the eyes of anyone who is not Roman or subject to Rome. In the period of the Attic orators, especially after Antiphon’s speeches and Andocides’ De Reditu Athens is not a supreme power. So in Demosthenes, the mind and plans of Philip, and his view and handling of space, have to be persuasively constructed for the inert Athenians (cf. e.g. Olynth. 1.12–13, Phil. 2.17; retrospectively e.g. Cor. 27). Philip’s imperialistic purpose is crucial to the political speeches (cf. e.g. Phil. 3.27), as is his political ideology and his restless love of glory (cf. e.g. Olynth. 2.15 (compare already 23.111–12); Phil. 2.25). The closest Cicero comes is the depiction of Mithridates in the Pro Lege Manilia. But, although Mithridates’ tactics are analysed at particular points (9, 22), and the listeners are told imminent duo reges toti Asiae non solum uobis inimicissimi sed etiam uestris sociis atque amicis (12) and hear of his annihilation of Roman citizens in Asia (7), they do not discover why, or learn what makes him tick. Historians, on the other hand, give him a letter (Sall. Hist. 4 fr. 69 Mauerbrecher) or a reported speech (Trogus: Just. 38.4–7); this implanted oratory for another voice reveals the pride and geographical perspective of a king in Asia, and his construction of the Romans’ sinister imperialism.49 Throughout Cicero’s speech the world is arranged from the viewpoint of an imperial populus, that cares about its allies, but still more about itself and its uectigalia. So we see the structuring of space when piracy threatened this state of affairs, and was stopped: fuit hoc quondam, fuit proprium populi Romani longe a domo bellare et propugnaculis imperi sociorum fortunas, non sua tecta defendere. sociis ego uestris mare per hosce annos clausum fuisse dicam, cum exercitus uestri numquam Brundisio nisi hieme summa transmiserint? (32) . . . ut uos, qui modo ante ostium Tiberinum classem hostium uidebatis, ei nunc nullam intra Oceani ostium praedonum nauem esse audiatis (33). In 32 Cicero is dramatizing a temporary state of affairs; in Demosthenes, unbroken victory, empire, and altruistic enterprise belong only (hitherto) in the past: cf. Dem. Phil. 3.36 q Ø  , q, t ¼æ# ŁÅÆEØ . . . (‘there was, there was something then, Athenians’; evoked in this passage); Olynth. 3.23–8 . . . KŒEØ . . . H  Eºº ø qæÆ !Œø (‘the Greeks were happy to be ruled by them’); Olynth. 2.24 KŒE ŁÆı Çø, N ¸ÆŒÆØ Ø#   . . .  bæ H  EººÅØŒH ØŒÆø I æÆ [probably Corinthian War] . . . ıd  . . . f# b ¼ººı# ##ŒÆ ºº ŒØ# Æ# . . . a   æ ÆPH I ºøºŒ# Œ ŁÅ#Ł (‘what I am amazed at is you in the past withstanding the Spartans for the sake of the Greeks’ rights . . . but now . . . you Philippics see p. 39 n. 28. For Cicero’s earlier use of Aeschines’ speech against Ctesiphon and of other Attic oratory cf. Tempest (2007). Generally on Cicero and Demosthenes see Weische (1972), 137–40, 166–94 (193–4 on Philippics). Demosthenes is important for Pliny’s oratory too, in a somewhat different way: see Hutchinson (2011), 126–9. 49 Trogus draws and expands on Sallust, cf. e.g. Just. 38.6.7 illos omnibus regibus legem odiorum dixisse with Sall. 4 fr. 69.15 morem suom omnia regna subuortundi, and Just. 38.7.1 illa coluuie conuenarum with Sall. 4 fr. 69.17 conuenas olim. On the speech from Trogus cf. Ballesteros Pastor (2006), Adler (2011), 37–58.

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have often saved everyone else . . . you have lost what is your own and just sit idle’).50 Cicero’s speech begins using the space of the present occasion, the rostra (hic . . . locus, 1, cf. 1 cum antea nondum huius auctoritatem loci attingere auderem, 2 neque hic locus uacuus fuit umquam ab eis . . . , 3 in hac insolita mihi ex hoc loco ratione dicendi). Through this space he establishes his relationship with the Roman people, in the context of his career. Now they have elected him praetor, first in all the centuriae (2); now he can address them, with his perfected eloquence (1). His implied delight now at the sight of them in a multitude (1) exploits the present scene to show his affection (which is reciprocated). Thrasym. B 1 Diels– Kranz (young man addressing the people) and Antiphon 6.1 (young man without experience of trials) and Isocr. Archid. 1 (younger man, Archidamus son of king, addresses Spartans) have much less sense of place than either this passage or Cic. S. Rosc. 1. The official shaping of the speaker’s career in the cursus honorum is distinctively Roman. The transformation of Attic into Roman oratory, though one city is the centre in both, calls for no less change than there is between the cities themselves.51

50

Verr. 5.45, Cat. 1.3 confirm the Demosthenic resonance of the phrasing in fuit hoc quondam, fuit proprium populi Romani. The link is verbally closer than that of Man. 33 with Dem. Phil. 1.34, discussed by Weische (1972), 55–6; the same structuring of space emerges in Man. 33. The emphasis on tradition (enriched for listeners through the tradition of Demosthenes and Demosthenes on tradition) is striking in the light of the innovation sought by the speech; cf. Millar (1998), 85–6 (enriched through hindsight). 51 On young men cf. Lys. fr. 50 Carey, with Dion. Hal. Isae. 11 i.106.5–15 Usener–Radermacher; on Cic. S. Rosc. 1 and Isocr. Archid. 1 (cf. 2–10) see Weische (1972), 21–2, Loutsch (1994), 167–71, Dyck (2010), 58. On Cic. Man. 1–3 see Loutsch (1994), 197–214, Steel (2001), 173–6.

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12 The Grounds of Hexameter Poetry THE SUPER-GENRE We now take a closer look inside one super-genre, and consider its relations with the Greek version of that super-genre. We will follow a procedure parallel to that deployed in the chapters on prose, but with more particulars on textual connections, and more exploration of intertextual tendencies within genres. This will give us a framework for viewing intertextual relationships in this and other supergenres; as an incidental result, various new and specific links will force themselves on our notice. Continuous hexameters form much the largest super-genre in extant Latin poetry, and probably in non-extant Latin poetry too. Surviving books of our period (some incomplete) could be counted as Lucretius, De Rerum Natura 6, Virgil, Eclogues 1, Georgics 4, Aeneid 12, Horace, Satires 2, Epistles 2, Grattius, Cynegetica 1 (the incipit in A suggests there was at least one more book), Ovid, Metamorphoses 15, Manilius, Astronomica 5, [Ovid], Halieutica 1, Germanicus, Aratea 1, Lucan, De Bello Civili 10, Persius, Satires 1, Calpurnius, Bucolica 1, Ilias Latina 1, Valerius, Argonautica 8, Statius, Thebaid 12, Achilleid 2, Silvae 5, Silius, Punica 17, Juvenal, Satires 5 = 112. Catullus 62 and 64, the Ciris, Culex, Aetna and the Panegyricus Messallae and Laus Pisonis add 2546 lines, the equivalent of over 3 books of 800 lines (some other bits and pieces are ignored). Elegiacs, with Catullus counted as 1, ‘Tibullus’ as 4, Propertius as 5, and the predominantly elegiac Martial as 15, offer 54 (if we exclude bits and pieces like the Epicedion Drusi). There are 36 plays in Latin up to ad 200; 4 books of lyric.1 Extant books of Greek hexameter up to ad 200 are hard to reckon, as the Theocritean corpus and the Homeric Hymns indicate (Theocritean corpus 2614 (including incomplete lines, excluding elegiacs); other bucolic names 577 (official fragments excluded in both cases); Homeric Hymns 1–7 2013 lines). These would add over 6 books of 800 lines to Homer, Iliad 24, Odyssey 24, Hesiod, Works and Days 1, Theogony 1, Aratus, Phaenomena 1, Callimachus, Hymns 1, Apollonius, Argonautica 4, Nicander, Theriaca 1, Alexipharmaca 1, Batrachomyomachia 1, Oppian, Halieutica 5, [Oppian], Cynegetica 4, Dionysius, Periegesis 1; before the addition these are 69. Of course, there are very substantial fragments of other poems, and far more Greek hexameter poems than Latin are known of.

1 On the MSS of Grattius see Formicola (1988), 31–42. For A’s ITEM INCIPIT GRATTI CYNEGETICON LIBI (Formicola (1988), 55), cf. e.g. P at the end of Statius, Thebaid 1 (Klotz (1973), 37).

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The massive body of hexameter poetry was seen as cohering generically. Heroic narrative, didactic, and pastoral (bucolic) poets are combined by Dion. Hal. Imit. Epit. 2.1–4 ii.204.8–19 Usener–Radermacher, Man. 2.1–52, Quint. Inst. 10.1.46– 56, 85–92. Nicander presents himself as both Hesiodic and Homeric (Ther. 10–12, 957  ˇ ÅæØ . . . ˝ØŒ æØ, ‘Homeric Nicander’). Statius sees the hexameters of his Silvae and of Lucan’s and his own epics as generically associated, so that he fears to write in his hexameters about Lucan (Silv. 2 pr.). At Stat. Silv. 5.3.150–1, despite the standard view, we have exemplars of three branches of hexameter poetry, Maeonides and Ascraeus Siculusque senex; the last is Theocritus. The three are also those poets explicitly identified in the proem of Manilius 2, Theocritus with the phrase Sicula . . . tellure creatus (40).2 Aristotle, who daringly excises metre from his conception of poetry, acknowledges that most people group K  Ø together; in his own view, Homer and Empedocles have nothing in common—except their metre (Poet. 1447b3–20). Diogenes still talks of Empedocles’ K  ØÆ (Xenoph. A5 Diels–Kranz, Emped. A1); so too the Suda of Empedocles and Epimenides, Athenaeus of the poets who have written Halieutica (1.136b), of Nicander before a quote from the Georgica, 3.126b. (Note the connection of the hexameter and K  ØÆ at the incomplete Philod. Poem. 1 col. cli 11–17 Janko.) We have already seen (pp. 224–5) how epos is the singular ‘hexameter’, extended to a name for the super-genre. Hor. Sat. 1.10.43–9 are commonly misunderstood: forte epos acer | ut nemo Varius ducit, molle atque facetum | Vergilio adnuerunt gaudentes rure Camenae: | hoc erat . . . melius quod scribere possem, | inuentore minor . . . Here forte, molle atque facetum, and hoc all agree with epos, and indicate different kinds of hexameter poetry. In context, epos at Ov. Rem. 395–6 (tantum se nobis elegi debere fatentur | quantum Vergilio nobile debet epos) suggests Virgil’s range, like Ovid’s in elegi (cf. Am. 2.18, and Am. 1.15.25 Tityrus et segetes Aeneiaque arma legentur . . . ). epos is not just the Aeneid; if nobile does primarily means ‘grand’ here, that is because in this contrast with elegy the whole super-genre can take on the qualities of Homer, its most celebrated, or narrative, its most numerous, part (cf. 381–4; Priap. 68.17?).3

2 We have only to see play in the Statius between the financial and aesthetic suggestions of quantum . . . pios ditarit agrestes. The play exploits the pastoral idea of song as a valued commodity: Virg. Ecl. 5.81 quae tibi, quae tali reddam pro carmine dona?, Theocr. 1.23–5, 60–1. As is shown by the group of lyric poets which follows this trio, Epicharmus would be entirely out of place (B. Gibson (2006), 322 expresses caution). senex is used simply because both poets wrote long ago. On the passages of Quintilian etc. see Hutchinson (2013a), 20–1; on the Manilius see also Volk (2009), 201–8, (2010a). The main focus of recent discussion in hexameter poetry has been didactic; there are different views on its proximity to ‘epic’, but even views that make them close see didactic as one form of ‘epic’, rather than ‘epic’ and didactic as hexameters (cf. next note). Cf. for diverse views Toohey (1996), 5–7, Volk (2002), 25–43, Schindler (2005), 204–5, Gale (2005), 181–9, Harder (2007), 25–9 (including Aetia). King (2012), for example, while marking shifts in the content of ‘epic’, does not agonize unduly over the basic category; similarly Beye (1993) (but cf. e.g. Beye (1993), 195). The view of ‘epos’ taken by Van Sickle, e.g. (2011a), 27, seems relatively close to the conception of hexameter poetry expounded here. 3 In favour of ‘grand’ rather than ‘famous’ cf. Stat. Silv. 1.2.250–1, 2.7.114 (for ‘famous’ cf. Ov. AA 3.413 quis nosset Homerum?, Prop. 3.1.33–4; Ov. Rem. 389 nomen). ‘Heroic’ can be used of the metre but in such a way as to include Theocritus or Lucilius: cf. Gell. 4.17.3 (Lucilius), Frag. Bob. GLK vi.623.13–18 (Theocritus). In a less fossilized manner, Cic. Orat. 191 talks generally of hexametrorum magniloquentiae (cf. Arist. Poet. 1459b34–5). Such generalized description of the super-genre is an alternative to differences of ethos in different areas of hexameter, when the constituent genres are

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The only problem comes with satire: Quint. Inst. 10.1.94 separates it from the rest of hexameter poetry by two sentences on elegiacs. Lucilius’ earlier books, and prosimetric satire, may justify the separation, though it may also be motivated by the wish to give Roman literature sole ownership. But narrative hexameter’s embarrassing relation will not forget its antagonistic kinship, which the logic of metre so helps to reinforce. The book of Lucilius later thought to be his first in hexameters (cf. Varro, LL 5.17 suorum unius et uiginti librorum initium fecit hoc (1 Marx = I 1 Charpin)) presents a council of the gods. The end of Juvenal’s first poem sets his poetry in opposition to the Aeneid, the Iliad, and Apollonius and Theocritus (162–4: Aeneas, Achilles, Hylas), before showing the founder of satire as a heroic warrior (165–6 ense uelut stricto . . . ). The opening of Persius’ first hexameter poem toys with the Iliads of Homer and Attius Labeo (1.4–5, cf. 50–1, 121–3). The poem, since it is in hexameters, can incorporate and set against poetry in the satirical tradition (114–17)—and the Aeneid (96–7)—hexameter lines and phrases of effete mythologizing, neotericizing, narrative (93–5, 98–102).4 Even Horace’s first poem on the genre, while affecting to claim that he and Lucilius are not poets (Sat. 1.4.38–62) and turning to Greek Old Comedy in despite of metre (1–7; New Comedy 45–53), incorporates lines of Ennius (60–1) as Lucilius had incorporated phrases and lines of Homer and Ennius: the intimacy of the relationship is to be seen through the opposition. (And satire stands to narrative epic as comedy stands to tragedy.) Lucilius’ mockery of Ennius is explicitly recalled in the continuation at 1.10.54–5. As we have seen, the sequence 1.10.43–9 naturally suggests that hoc (sc. epos), Horace’s genre, is a subset of the same super-genre as Varius’ and Virgil’s. Just before this, Horace pointedly opposes his poem to Bibaculus’ historical (and mythic?) hexameter narrative (36–7). The second poem of the first book of Epistles (the first after the curtainraiser) engages explicitly with Homer, now along ethical lines.5 considered in more detail, as in the Horace; it does not really amount to a view of say pastoral as epic. The usual understanding of the Horace, followed even by Gowers (2012), 327, takes molle atque facetum as nouns. Cf. Kühner–Stegmann (1912), ii.1.228–9 for adjectives as nouns; but this is not an obvious example, particularly when there is a noun for the adjectives to agree with, and forte and molle atque facetum and hoc are positioned to contrast. Quint. Inst. 6.3.20 in context does not give evidence for facetum as a noun; facetum carminis genus of this passage suggests Quintilian took it as an adjective (for the syntactically incomplete quotation cf. e.g. 1.5.25). The lines in Horace are set against 40–3 (cf. 38–9) on drama, ending pede ter percusso (a full stop should follow): epos refers to the metre in general (regum | facta connects in elevation with forte). The opinion in the Poetics on Empedocles contrasts with Aristotle’s own —æd ØÅH (On Poets) fr. 70 Rose = fr. 73 Janko (Janko (2011), 482), where Empedocles is Homeric; cf. P. R. Hardie (1995), 207. Theophrastus (?) fr. 708 (Fortenbaugh) is unusual. It defines or describes epos through subject-matter, in an all-inclusive formulation:  # K#d æØåc Łø  ŒÆd æøœŒH ŒÆd IŁæø ø æƪ ø (‘hexameter encompasses both divine and heroic and human matters’; for K#d æØå ‘encompasses, contains’, cf. æØåø ‘containing’ at the end of fr. 708). IŁæø ø possibly extends the category beyond heroic narrative (contrast æøœŒB# åÅ# (‘the fortune of heroes’) on tragedy). On the fragment or fragments cf. Koster (1970), 85–9, Fortenbaugh (2005), 353–9 (cautious on attribution of this phrase to Theophrastus; takes æØå as ‘story’). 4 Book 30 of Lucilius is thought to be actually earlier than 1, though argument from 1009 Marx = XXX 6 Charpin is not strong in itself. Cf. e.g. Charpin (1978–91), i.28–35 for the intricate issues. For Juvenal, note Homer and Virgil being read out at his dinner (11.179–82). On narrative hexameters and satire see recently Connors (2005). 5 Note also Sat. 1.7.8–19, where the Iliad’s most momentous conflict enhances the mocking grandeur of the encounter in Horace. Mart. 11.10 contulit ad saturas ingentia pectora Turnus. | cur

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As for Statius’ occasional poetry, the preface to the first book indicates that it stands to the Thebaid as the Culex to the Aeneid and the Batrachomyomachia to the Iliad. The title Silvae suggests the poems stand as the Eclogues to the Aeneid. It will be profitable to treat all hexameter poetry, including say oracles and riddles, as genres within one super-genre.6 A rough view of the terrain will show already a remarkable diversity in the use of Greek literature. Narrative hexameter poems draw on the greatest Greek poet, who makes available a vast range of things to imitate and develop: from short recurring phrases to similes to types of scene to plot structures to a divine world. Didactic hexameter poems do not have in Hesiod so broad and generalizable a resource. Whereas battle scenes, scenes in heaven, katabaseis, ekphraseis, etc., are within the scope of most narrative hexameter poems, in didactic the wide range of subject-matter and the restriction of fantasy make the inventions of Hesiod more limited in applicability—a sequence of seasons, say. Didactic poems tend to have a much more specific relationship with one or more sources for content, most often in prose. Pastoral poetry, though less elevated than didactic, is more like narrative hexameter poetry in the closeness of its relationship to a Greek poet, Theocritus: both world and style derive from him, and he produces fundamental types of utterance and of structures for poems. But in comparison to heroic narrative, everything in this genre is miniaturized and confined; yet the narrow proximity of the relationship with the models forms the starting-point for loss, escape, and transformation.7 Satire claims to be modelling itself essentially on Latin exemplars; the Greek analogies it professes are only indirect. We will later see a more complicated picture. Occasional poems have a primary connection, not with great authors of the past, but with contemporary sorts of Greek poem less specifically associated with particular authors, and comparable to prose speeches. This is intimated in the Greek designations often given to poems by Statius’ prefaces, e.g. epicedion (Silv. 2 pr., cf. Arat. SH 104–5, Euphor. fr. 21 Powell, Parthenius frr. 6 and 17 Lightfoot, I. Métr. Égypte 42.11 (c.5 bc; K ØŒ Ø#)), or by the more disputed headings to Statius’ poems in M (and L for 2.7), e.g. propempticon (Silv. 3.2 tit., cf. Parthenius fr. 26 Lightfoot). Hexameter inscriptions are primarily connected with Greek inscriptions in verse; generally there is not, as with elegiacs, a rich tradition of book-epigram in hexameters. But, as we shall see, they too are part of the hexameter super-genre.8 non ad Memoris carmina [tragedy]? frater erat, which plays on Virg. Aen. 12.297 ingens . . . Turnus (cf. Kay (1985), 88), suggests that Turnus’ choice is surprising in view of his ingentia pectora, but also that the ingentia pectora are visible in satire. (Mart. 12.44.4 actually confirms, cf. 7–8.) The poem gains force if hexameter poetry is seen as an entity with contrasting parts. For this view of ‘Silvae’ see A. Hardie (1983), 76 (cautiously). On seasons cf. Man. 3.618–65, not in order (Lucretius is a more patent influence on the specifics of spring, 652–7; but 662–5 (autumn) follows the outline of Hes. WD 609–17). The seasons are scattered over Virg. G. 1.43–350. Ideas of human evolution appear in some version in Lucretius, Virgil, Grattius, Manilius; but since these ideas themselves evolve, the passages bear less close a relation in form to Hesiod’s catalogue of ages. 8 On the designations in the Silvae cf. B.-J. Schröder (1999), 180–9. A more complicated example is the Panegyricus Messallae ([Tib.] 3.7), so called by F but not A; the Greek term would be KªŒ Ø (‘encomium’), cf. e.g. Theocr. 17 (some MSS and probably the Antinoe papyrus), Parthenius T 1 6 7

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GROUNDS

(i) Narrative In proceeding to a more detailed inspection, let us first dwell on the grounds of these poems (see p. 249 for the term ‘ground’). This issue connects with, and gives significance to, their differing use of Greek models. Latin hexameter poetry for the most part derives from Greek hexameter poetry its basic grounds and the system of grounds within the super-genre. Specific adaptation should be seen within this framework. We will sometimes consider in detail features which lie at the edge of particular grounds, with special reference to first and second persons. On the most primary level, hexameter narrative is statement about a past which normally does not include the speaker or hearer as characters. (Cicero’s poems on his own deeds are something of an exception, like his self-consolation in prose; but even he may well have had a separate narrator, cf. fr. 9 Courtney.) This layer of discourse is strongly contrasted with the very frequent speech of characters; they are immersed in their own time. Where they have emotion, the speaker, later in time, has knowledge; his character most often comes through in grim irony. They make much mention of themselves and their addressees; the narrator rarely talks about himself, and virtually never talks about his addressees—to such a point that one may wonder if we should import ‘narratees’ to satisfy a narratological schema. The difference of these layers will be telling in performance; one may compare the formal separation of dialogue and song in Greek tragedy (or Plautine comedy).9 This endlessly rewarding structure for discourse is taken from Homer, and is largely adopted by Latin narrative poets. None leaves the boundaries intact (Homer himself had not). Lucan often seems resolved, on the surface and for the moment, to obliterate the gap between the discourse of narrator and the discourse of characters. Such breaches of the structure will be particularly striking in performance, and will affect the private reading of those familiar with performance. But the direction of these breaches is notable: what we get is not overt communication between the narrator and his listeners, but address to the unchanging gods by the poet, or monologue, or an attempt by the narrator to communicate with the characters, impossibly, since they are in the past. The ground is formally changed; but the essential structure is only underlined.10

Lightfoot, IG vii.420.11 = Manieri (2009) Oro. 20 (80–50 bc) KªŒ Ø K ØŒ (‘encomium in hexameters’). But the type of poem is in any case Greek. 9 For speakers present at events cf. Ennius at Ambracia. As for narratees in hexameter narrative, what seem impersonal second persons singular form a dubious exception; analogies in, say, Latin historiography recommend caution (e.g. Tac. Hist. 5.6.3). Cf. e.g. Hom. Il. 4.223, 5.85; compare 14.58– 60 (Nestor speaking; second person not Agamemnon), followed by E#  (‘as for us’, 61). The plural would be more suitable for designating an audience. Cf. the more hopeful account of De Jong (2004a), 53–60. In any case this type is not elaborately extended in Latin poets. 10 For one further example of performance in this super-genre note the extempore performances of hexameters by Antipater of Sidon, Cic. De Orat. 3.194; but reading to another person is also performance. (Attention is drawn in these chapters to some performative aspects, with no wish to play down reading to oneself; cf. p. 131 above.) For apostrophe in Lucan and other poets see Leigh (1997), 307–10, Georgacopoulou (2005), D’Alessandro Behr (2007), Hutchinson (2010). Faber (2005), 341–3 well notes the combination of erasing time and asserting knowledge.

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A few examples, with some points in square brackets, will illustrate these ruptures: Hom. Il. 2.484–90 #  F Ø, F#ÆØ . . .  E# ªaæ ŁÆ K# . . .

E# b Œº# r IŒ , P Ø Y  . . . ºÅŁf  PŒ i Kªg ıŁ # ÆØ . . . P Y Ø ŒÆ b ªºH##ÆØ . . . . å ºŒ  Ø qæ KÅ (‘tell me now, Muses . . . for you are goddesses . . . we hear only a report and know nothing . . . I could not speak of the multitude . . . not even if I had ten tongues . . . and a heart of bronze were inside me’ [distance in time]); 16.692–3 ŁÆ Æ æH, Æ  o#Æ K æØÆ#, | —Æ挺Ø#, ‹  # Łd Ł Æ KŒ º##Æ; (‘then whom did you slay first, whom last, Patroclus, when the gods called you to your death?’ [irony of circumstance through divergent perspective; contact at imminent death]); 787 Ł ¼æÆ Ø, — 挺, ç Å ØØ ºı (‘then, Patroclus, the end of your life appeared to you’ [contact at death; the past is crucial in all these Homeric examples]); Ap. Rh. 4.445–8 #åºØ  0Eæø#, ªÆ B Æ . . . IŁæ Ø#Ø, | KŒ #Ł . . . æØ# . . . ı# ø K d ÆØ#d Œæ##, ÆE , IæŁ# | x # ÅÅØ . . . çæ#d  ƺ# ¼Å (‘ruthless Eros, great pain . . . to mortals, from you come quarrels . . . rise up and arm yourself, you god, against the offspring of my enemies in the way that you put madness into Medea’s mind’ [speaker extends narrative, through god addressed, to own world]); 1381–90 ı# ø ‹

FŁ#, Kªg   ÆŒıe# Iø | —Øæø, ŒÆd   ÆÆæŒb# Œºı O ç , |  Æ#, t æØ c ªÆ çæÆØ ıx # I Œø, | wØ ÅØ, wØ IæBØ . . . ¼ª#Ł . . . (‘this is the Muses’ tale; I who sing listen obediently to the Muses. I heard this report, in all truth, that you, O far the best of the sons of gods, by your own strength, your own excellence, carried’ (sc. the Argo) [intensity of speech to characters, but they are emphatically in the past]); 1673–7 ZF æ, q ªÆ  Ø Kd çæ#d Ł # ¼ÅÆØ | N . . . Ø# I  æŁ ¼

 åƺ Ø, | ‰# ‹ª . . . (‘Father Zeus, great is the amazement which sweeps about in my mind that someone can injure us from afar, as happened to this man’ [speaker’s wonder at own story-line, through address to god: own world and mythical world governed by same rules]); 1773–6 ¥ºÆ IæØ#B#,

ÆŒ æø ª#· Æ¥  IØÆ | N# # K # ªºıŒææÆØ r  IØ | IŁæ Ø#. XÅ ªaæ K d Œºıa æÆŁ ƒŒ ø |  æø ŒÆ ø (‘be gracious, heroes, sons of the gods! May these songs be sweeter for mortals to sing as year follows year! Now I come to the famous end of your labours’ [addressees as if divine; past, present, future distinguished; recipients third-person]).11 Cat. 64.22–30 o nimis optato saeclorum tempore nati [distance in time] | heroes, saluete, deum genus! . . . uos ego saepe meo, uos carmine compellabo [intensity] . . . tene suam Tethys concessit ducere neptem, | Oceanusque, mari totum qui amplectitur orbem? [amazement]; Virg. Aen. 4.408–15 quis tibi tum [past], Dido, cernenti talia sensus, . . . improbe Amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis! [includes own world] | ire iterum in lacrimas . . . cogitur . . . ne quid inexpertum frustra moritura relinquat [narrator’s perspective in time]; 7.641–6 pandite nunc Helicona, deae, cantusque mouete . . . quibus Itala iam tum | floruerit terra alma uiris, quibus arserit armis . . . . meministis enim, diuae . . . ad nos uix tenuis famae perlabitur aura [separation in time, but also continuity (iam tum); narrator’s notional body actually avoided; nos 11 At Hom. Il. 2.484–6 the  E# shows the E# is not an address to listeners in contrast with the gods; present in E# are humans (cf. Ap. Rh. 4.1165–6), and bards (cf. Brügger, Stoevesandt, Visser (2003), 142), and the pronoun also functions as a plural for singular (cf. Wackernagel (2009), 134–5). There is thus only a very faint inclusion of the audience, and not in the ground.

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primarily authorial, not readers]; 11.664–5 quem telo primum, quem postremum, aspera uirgo, | deicis? [historic presents; but aspera distances: not natural address to person unless enemy]; Ov. Met. 3.432–6 credule, quid frustra simulacra fugacia captas? | quod petis, est nusquam . . . ista repercussae, quam cernis, imaginis umbra est . . . tecum discedet—si tu discedere possis! [as if immersed in character’s time; but irony of circumstance through narrator’s knowledge, character’s lack of knowledge].12 Luc. 4.799–813 quid nunc rostra tibi prosunt turbata forumque . . . ? | ante iaces quam dira duces Pharsalia confert . . . at tibi nos . . . digna damus, iuuenis, meritae praeconia uitae. . . . [as if at time of action, but knowledge; a kind of sympathy at death, going beyond Homer in form, cf. Virg. Aen. 9.446–9]; Stat. Theb. 11.574–9 ite truces animae funestaque Tartara leto | polluite et cunctas Erebi consumite poenas! | uosque malis hominum, Stygiae, iam parcite, diuae . . . monstrumque infame futuris | excidat, et soli memorent haec proelia reges [condemnation at death; speaker attempts to separate world of poem from own world, even spatially, at cost of poem being unknown—though address to goddesses indicates the connection; as if from time of narrative]; Sil. 12.387–92 non equidem innumeras caedes . . . sperarim tanto digne pro nomine rerum | pandere nec dictis bellantum aequare calorem [speaker cannot attain emotion of characters]. | sed uos, Calliope, nostro donate labori | nota parum magni longo tradantur ut aeuo | facta uiri . . . [Muse now helping future not present knowledge, by contrast with Homer and Virgil; threefold division of humans in time.] All these instances, though they violate the norms of hexameter narrative, indicate its nature.13

(ii) Didactic The primary level of didactic is completely different. Here the narrator directly speaks to an addressee, usually singular and masculine, and either urges him to do things or informs him about some aspect of the world which (in principle) is true through most human time and thus obtains at the present. Instruction always includes information, and information always leads, at least implicitly, to instruction.14

12 The topos on tongues omitted at Aen. 7.641–6 is deployed elsewhere in Virgil: G. 2.43–4 (didactic); Aen. 6.625–7 (character). In narrative hexameters cf. Enn. Ann. 469–70 Skutsch, Hostius fr. 3 Courtney, Ov. Met. 8.533–5, Sil. 4.525–8 (but physicality toned down), Val. Fl. 6.36–7. With the address aspera uirgo contrast the character’s o decus Italiae uirgo at Virg. Aen. 11.508; aspera uirgo is used in the third person at Stat. Theb. 9.166. For address to an enemy cf. Virg. Aen. 10.900 hostis amare. 13 On Lucan’s treatment of Curio cf. Esposito (2000). His ‘invettiva’ used of the final section (51, heading and text) seems too strong; the section is more fully characterized by Asso (2010), 284, 288, cf. 289. On the passage of Statius, cf. Bessone (2006). 14 Schiesaro, Mitsis, Strauss Clay (1993) contains many valuable articles on the addressee in didactic; see also R. K. Gibson (1997), Hine (2011). Oppian’s Halieutica seems to depart from the system; one may contrast [Oppian’s] Cynegetica. Oppian addresses M. Aurelius (and Commodus) in frames, as we will see; but it looks as though there is no anonymous addressee, if one sets aside impersonal second persons, as at 2.301–4, 5.487–9. 2.675  E  `N ÅØ#Ø (‘you descendants of Aeneas’) is probably an extension of the Emperor(s); Hermes is addressed at 3.26–8, and the ‘hymn’ to Eros in 4.11–39 plainly recalls Ap. Rh. 4.445–8 (p. 280 above) at the start, #åºØ  0Eæø#.

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Occasionally the pupil makes a brief objection (Lucr. 1.803–8, 897–900, 3.356, 6.673; Man. 4.387–9 (869–71 third-person interlocutor); note also Hes. WD 503: speech for addressee to give; 453–4: brief phrases in a generalized situation relevant to the addressee). There is no speech from further characters, except in mythical and other excursions. Outside the excursions and the drama of enlightenment, there are in effect no characters; Oppian’s Halieutica, by contrast, offers speeches by men fishing and sailing and by fish (4.232–8, 5.336–49; 2.305–7, 5.560–4; cf. e.g. [Opp.] Cyn. 3.219–36 (wild ass)). The finale of Lucretius 3 gives speeches to mourners (894–9, 904–8), revellers (914–15), Nature (933–49, 954– 62), followed by a speech for the addressee to make to himself (1025–52). Gratt. 430–60 includes ritual utterances in a Sicilian ceremony. The mythological excursus at the end of the Georgics is full of characters’ speech, much of it imitating instruction. Manilius’ mythical excursus includes no speech, but second-person engagement with the main character that recalls narrative hexameters and pastoral: 5.558–64 (cf. Virg. Aen. 7.759–60), 587–92 (infelix uirgo 587: cf. uirgo infelix in Calvus FRP 20 and also Virg. Ecl. 6.47, 52). Aratus’ excursus included a momentous speech by Justice (123–6). Hesiod gives a speech from Zeus to Prometheus (WD 54–8), and from the hawk to the nightingale (207–11), both in what could later be seen as narrative excursions.15 The basic form of discourse stands in radical contrast to that of the narrator in narrative hexameter; but it is also different from that of characters in hexameter narrative. The situations tend to have a more general appearance. Like the epic narrator, the didactic teacher has knowledge. But his involvement with the teaching and the subject are highly characterizing; this characterization is more important than the pupils themselves. Hesiod and his Greek successors offer not so much a whole wealth of devices as characteristic tones of voice. The effectiveness in performance of even the basic ground is suggested by the supplement of nudus ara, sere nudus with habebis frigore febrem (Donat. Vit. Verg. 43): a third person would not be nearly so amusing. But the poets also formally break out of the basic ground. We may survey the range of addressees: Hesiod (that is, the ‘Hesiod’ in the poem) lectures his brother Perses, harangues the Æ#غB# who form part of the situation (WD 248–9, 263–4; cf. 202), and at the start prays to the Muses and Zeus. Empedocles invokes the gods, a Muse, Calliope (frr. 9–10 Inwood). In the poem —æd ç#ø# (On Nature) he strives to make Pausanias (cf. fr. 13) believe the truth. ‘Beginning the ˚ÆŁÆæ ’ (Purifications, Diog. Laert. 8.54) he addresses a plural audience of Acragantines (frr. 1–2; this would be odd if the ˚ÆŁÆæ  were not a different poem from —æd ç#ø#). He also somewhere apostrophizes the mortal race (fr. 118; but first-person plural in Porphyry (cf. Diels–Kranz on their B 124)). Aratus hails Zeus, the gods, and the Muses (18–20), and then guides an anonymous pupil. Nicander addresses the Theriaca to his relation Hermesianax, and the Alexipharmaca to Protagoras. He stresses his separation from Protagoras in space (actually only the distance from Clarus to Cyzicus); both addressees are treated within the fiction as doctors.16 15

On Manilius’ account of Andromeda see Hübner (2010), ii.323–6, Uden (2010). On Perses in Hesiod see R. P. Martin (2004). For Arat. 16 see Kidd (1997), 172–3 (Hera, cf. Hom. Il. 4.58–61, Pind. Pyth. 4.136, Cic. ND 2.66, would be more difficult). Rashed (2008) seeks to reconstruct the proem of Empedocles’ ˚ÆŁÆæ . On Empedocles’ poems cf. Hutchinson (2008), 229 n. 3. 16

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The proem to Lucretius’ first book calls on Venus, that to the sixth on Calliope (92–5), that to the third, in a striking development, on his Greek source and inspiration Epicurus (3 o Graiae gentis decus). His poem addresses the aristocratic Memmius, not yet a friend, and flatters him and urges him to belief. Virgil’s Georgics go much further in temporarily altering the formal ground. A clover and a vine are spoken to as if they were characters (1.215–16, 2.101–2); likewise places: Italy and Italian lakes and rivers (2.173–6; 146–8, 159–60; similarly Dionys. Perieg. 1181–7). Gods are often addressed, not just at the start; these include the future god Octavian (1.25–42, 530–5, 2.170–2; Oppian addresses Marcus Aurelius at the start of most books, and at the end of the poem). The poem is ostensibly addressed to Maecenas; but he blends into an anonymous farmer (with occasional plurals, as 1.267, 2.35–6).17 Grattius enthusiastically apostrophizes not only the Boeotian who first produced a breed of dog (249–52), but the first such dog, Glympicus (214–15). Addresses to Lydia and Greece (315–19) show moralizing intensity. Diana is the chief divinity Grattius invokes; his anonymous addressee is talked into action. The fragment of Halieutica treats the addressee as a fisherman (82–5; 1–48 show the scope for didactic without the pupil, as in Oppian). The pompilus is addressed and linked to humans (100–1). The Aetna contends argumentatively with its anonymous addressee; its address to mythological characters (74–86, 583–8) evokes the false mythological poetry which this poem eschews. The speaker also upbraids the money-minded (629–30). Manilius freely speaks to signs of the Zodiac as if they were figures in a narrative; his particular fondness for Capricorne recalls Homer’s repeated apostrophes of certain characters, like ‘Eumaeus the swineherd’. The play with the discourse of narrative hexameters is heightened by addresses to mythological and historical personages. But the poem has, besides Caesar and other gods, an anonymous addressee. (Note the reader, legentem, at 3.158–60.) Manilius apostrophizes the human race like Empedocles (4.12–13). A few quotations will exemplify the usual second-person discourse, and links between Greek and Latin; the tensions of exhortation and encouragement, of vividness and dubiety, are evident. They are arranged in connected groups, separated by semi-colons. Hes. WD 382 æª K  æªøØ Kæª Ç#ŁÆØ (‘work work upon work’), Arat. 758–62 HØ Œø  Å# . . . åŁ#   Oºª# [learning signs of storms] . . . (‘so take trouble with the stars . . . it is not much toil’), Virg. G. 2.61 scilicet omnibus [trees etc.] est labor impendendus [note spondaic ending, as in Hesiod], 4.106–7 nec magnus prohibere labor: tu regibus alas | eripe, Gratt. 337 ergo [cross-language play?] in opus uigila (cf. Hes. WD 20: the good Eris K d æª KªæØ, ‘wakes [even the feckless] for work’); Hes. WD 106 N  KŁºØ#, *æ Ø Kªg ºª KŒŒæıç#ø (‘if you wish, I will briskly present another story for you’), Archestr. fr. 36.2–4 Olson–Sens  #Ø   ıŁºªø; . . . N  KŁºØ# ŒÆd F Æ ÆØ . . . (‘why do I tell you all this? . . . if you want to learn this too . . . ’), Man. 1.648 (alter 1.633) alterius fines si uis cognoscere gyri . . . ; Arat. 1154–5 (end of poem) H ¼ ıØ# ø K#Œ

# . . . P  #åø# Œ K  ÆNŁæØ Œ æÆØ (‘if you observed all these things together . . . , you would never make

17 It seems from our particular perspective misleading to see Athens as the addressee of a hymn at the start of Lucretius 6 (so Farrell (2008), 6).

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off-hand judgements on the basis of the sky’), Virg. G. 1.424–6 si uero solem ad rapidum lunasque sequentis | ordine respicies, numquam te crastina fallet | hora . . . ; Arat. 735 På ›æ ÆØ#; (‘Do you not see?’), Lucr. 2.196 etc. nonne uides . . . ?; Emped. fr. 2 Inwood t çºØ . . . ºÆ  IæªÆºÅ ª ıŒÆØ | . . . K d çæÆ #Ø# ›æ (‘my friends, . . . the rush of belief to the mind is extremely difficult to accomplish’), fr. 109 PŒ #Ø º #Æ#ŁÆØ K OçŁÆº E#Ø KçØŒ |

æØ# j åæ#d ºÆE, wØ æ  ª#Å | ØŁF# IŁæ Ø#Ø I ÆØe# N# çæÆ  Ø (‘it is not possible to bring it close in reach of our eyes, or for us to grasp it with our hands, which is persuasion’s largest road descending into the minds of men’), Lucr. 5.97–103 (whole passage 91–109 emphatically addressed to Memmius) nec me animi fallit . . . quam difficile id mihi sit peruincere dictis, | ut fit ubi insolitam rem adportes [impersonal] auribus ante | nec tamen hanc possis oculorum subdere uisu, | nec iacere inde manus, uia qua munita fidei | proxima fert humanum in pectus templaque mentis.18

(iii) Pastoral The ground of pastoral is again radically different, both from that of didactic and from that of narrative hexameters. In the Latin authors, the three main forms are (i) dramatic—speeches or songs from characters with no narrative interspersed; (ii) dramatic—speeches or songs mostly without narrative indication of who utters each, but with brief introductory and sometimes closing narrative; (iii) long song or speech (or long songs or speeches) with brief introductory, and sometimes closing and intervening narrative. The narrator in (ii) and (iii) is sometimes [a] a voice not explicitly located in the pastoral world, sometimes [b] another character from the pastoral world. We may class the poems. (i): Virgil, Eclogues 1, 3, 5, 9, Calpurnius 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, Bucolica Einsidlensia 1, 2 (Catullus 62 follows this pattern, though not set explicitly in a pastoral world (pastoral imagery 39–58); the poem is linked to Theocritus through Theocritus 18); (ii) Virgil, Eclogue 7 [b], Calpurnius 2 [a]; (iii) Virgil, Eclogue 2 [a], 6 (mythological but set in country; song not presented in direct speech) [b] (poet presented as Tityrus), 8 [a] (poet), 10 [a] (poet), Calpurnius 5 [a]. ‘Poet’, added where explicitly indicated in the text, shows the presence of a literary world with real patrons and authors. Eclogue 4 could be classed as a mixture of (i) and (iii): a long song with no narrative (cf. canamus 1, canimus 3; 53–9: more song in the future and a hypothetical singing-contest with Pan). The introduction (1–3) indicates the poet in the sense above (has a real patron with a consulship). Virgil, Eclogue 5, Calpurnius 1, 3, and 7, and Bucolica Einsidlensia 1 somewhat mingle (i) and (iii): no narrative but long songs or speeches. It will be noticed that in this genre the role of the narrator is drastically reduced in comparison even with narrative hexameters. Didactic was virtually all in the main speaker’s voice, though the utterance was given a more ‘dramatic’ ground 18 For auribus cf. Emped. Phys. 1.291 Primavesi # F]  ‹ ø# c F I hÆÆ [ FŁ# ¥ ŒÅÆØ] _ Rosenfeld-Löffler (2006), 94–7. For fidei, (‘strive that my words do not just reach your ears’), with closer to #Ø#, cf. Aetna 144–5, 177–9. On the clear connection of Lucr. 5.97–103 with fr. 109 Inwood cf. e.g. Garani (2007), 20–1.

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than in narrative hexameters, where there was usually no addressee for the narrator. The reduction is taken even further in Calpurnius, where there is narrative in only two poems. The scheme is a simplification of Theocritus and other Greek bucolic, which may be classified somewhat as follows: (i) 1, 4, 5, [9]; (ii) [8] [a], including quoted speech, [21] [a] (poet; substantial), [27] [b] (beginning missing; ending plays with Homeric hymn); (iii) 6 [a] (poet), 11 [a] (poet; substantial), 18 [a] (poem mythological, not set in country), [23] [a] (substantial; brief speech at end of closing narrative; poem not marked as in country), Moschus 1 [a] (poem mythological, not marked as in country), [4] [a] (mythological, not marked as in country), and cf. also Theocritus 7, though with long narrative on either side and quoted speeches (poem includes a real literary world; probably seen by Romans as presenting poet in pastoral disguise; cf. + 7.21a, [Theocr.] Syr. 12). (i) and (iii) mixed (somewhat so with 1): 2 (not in country; no narrative, but one song with introductory speech), 3 (song with speech at beginning, middle, and end), 10 (rustic but not bucolic; dramatic but with two sizeable songs), ?12 (not explicitly bucolic, but country imagery; love-song or speech with no narrative), 14 (in country—inset narrative located on farm; dramatic but with long narrative speech), 15 (not in country; dramatic but with a long song in most of last third), [20] (speech with no narrative, but itself with narrative elements and quoted speech), [Moschus] 3 (song with no narrative: poet), Bion 1 (mythological, with country elements; utterance hovers between song and narrative), [Bion] 2 (dialogue introduces narrative (which introduced song?); incomplete).19 Different from these categories: Theocritus 13 (narrative; mythological, country setting; one line of quoted speech in simile, one word implied (ὝºÆ, ‘Hylas’, 58)), 16 and 17 (not enough to mark as single song or speech; neither poem set in country, but country given more textual space than cities in 16.89–97), 22 (not bucolic; country elements marked in setting of first story; narrative hymn, but with dramatic section 55–72), 24 (narrative which turns into hymn, including one long prophetic speech), 26 (narrative; mythological, country elements; two halflines of speech), [19] (short narrative; not explicitly in country), [25] (narrative; mythological, some country elements; much speech, some long speeches), Moschus 2 (narrative; mythological, some country elements; some speeches).20 The most obviously bucolic Theocritean and pseudo-Theocritean poems in general display the essential feature of cutting down on extradiegetic narrative, in comparison to Homer or Apollonius; Virgil and Calpurnius have derived but formalized the basic structures. With one exception, no poems of Virgil or Calpurnius have just one voice; the element of dramatic exchange has increased; narratives are rarely substantial (Virg. Ecl. 6.13–26, Calp. Sic. 1.1–27). The poems are mostly set in the approximate present (hence unlike narrative hexameters, and unlike the more general didactic); the pastoral world is one of invented characters (hence unlike the truth of didactic and the mythology of some narrative 19 See Bernsdorff (1999) for P. Vindob. Rainer 29801 (takes as Hellenistic): (iii) [a?] (speech, substantial narrative; mythological, country). 20 For Theocritus 24 see Bernsdorff (2011). On the relation of bucolic and other poems in Theocritus cf. e.g. Hutchinson (1988), 143–6, Gutzwiller (1991) (note 3–9), (2006), Reed (1997), 4–6, Hunter (1999), 1–12, Payne (2007).

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hexameter poetry). The pastoral world is set against another world, one of real élite Romans and their writing, city, and politics. The disjunction itself resembles that between the narrator’s and characters’ worlds in narrative hexameter poems; but Latin pastoral blends them, taking inspiration especially from Greek commentaries on Theocritus 7. Even in a narrative frame, the real poet can be turned into a pastoral fiction, while keeping his real friends (Virg. Ecl. 6.1–12).21 The ground varies in specificity: the dramatic exchanges have clear addressees and situations, the pieces of narrative mostly do not, the songs very often do not. The pieces of narrative are not given expression sharply distinct, as in say Homer, from the characters’ speech and song, the ground of which is often more defined. They thus particularly illustrate a world in which—until that world is broken out of or transformed—everything is confined to the country, including imagery (contrast most Iliadic similes on, but not from, the world of war). The style of these passages as of the rest is dense with artistry and heightened emotion; the phrases are short. Some parts of Latin narrative or other introductory passages are given below; they are preceded by related passages from Greek, narrative and non-narrative. Bold is used to mark the numerous connections; bold underlined in the Latin indicates connections with the phrasing which the Greek passages exemplify rather than with the specific passages themselves. Theocr. 1.82–5 ±  ı ŒæÆ [a nymph in most versions] | p‹#a# Ia Œæ Æ#, p‹mt’ ¼º#Æ possd çæEÆØ . . . ÇÆE# (‘the girl rushes around all springs and all groves with her feet, looking for you’), 7.77 j @Łø j   od¸pam (‘Athos or Rhodope), [8].3 ˝lvy ª X#Å ıæææåø, ˝lvy Im‹by (‘they were both red-haired, both not yet youths’), 28–9 åN b paEde# [cf. 81] ¼ß#Æ . . . åN b paEde# I, ›  ÆN º# XŁº jqßmeim (‘the boys shouted . . . the boys wanted to sing, the goatherd to judge’), 41–3 pamtAi Ææ, pamtAi b  , pamtAi b ª ºÆŒ# | hŁÆÆ ØH#Ø . . . ŁÆ ŒÆºa NaU# K Ø##ÆØ (‘everywhere there is spring, everywhere there are pastures, everywhere the udders flow with milk . . . where the fair Naiad goes’), [9].34–5 h lekß##ai# [sc. ªºıŒææÆ] | ˝mhea· t¸##om K d E#ÆØ çºÆØ (‘nor are flowers sweeter to bees; so dear are the Muses to me’). Virg. Ecl. 7.4 ambo florentes aetatibus, Arcades ambo, Calp. Sic. 2.1–2 puer Astacus et puer Idas . . . formosus uterque nec impar | uoce sonans [anaphora from [Theocritus] here shifted to puer], 9–14 . . . sub iudice Thyrsi. | affuit omne genus pecudum, genus omne ferarum . . . affuerunt sicco Dryades pede, Naides udo, 19– 20 illis etiam certantibus ausa est | daedala nectareos apis intermittere flores [comparison has become narrative]; Virg. Ecl. 6.9–11 si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis | captus amore leget, te nostrae, Vare, myricae, | te nemus omne canet [world of poems now melded with literary world of poetry; cf. 7.59 Phyllidis aduentu . . . nemus omne uirebit], 30 nec tantum Rhodope miratur et Ismarus Orphea [a country myth].22

21 Genette’s ‘extradiégétique’ for narrators not themselves part of the story is less confusing (though longer) than De Jong’s ‘external’ (2004a), 33, (2012), 1–2. On bucolic fiction cf. Payne (2007). 22 On Virg. Ecl. 7.4–5 cf. Petrovitz (2002–3), 264–5. The figure with ‘all’ is found also at Virg. Ecl. 3.56, 9.57–8.

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(iv) Satire The grounds of satire are different again. In this self-consciously messy genre, there is no such fixed set-up as for the other hexameter genres; individual poets, and books, develop the possibilities. The most notable general feature is the presence of a first-person speaker. He is formally identified with the poet, as in other genres, but he is given more existence beyond the business of composing and communicating, more biographical density. Even this is less true of Juvenal. The characters of the poems are most often invented, as in pastoral; but the usual world of the poems is supposed to be not only present but the actual environment of the addressees and the first person: there is no temporal or spatial separation (ethical separation may be another matter).23 The basic grounds, not necessarily sustained through a poem, may be roughly described. (i) main speaker of the book (i.e. ‘poet’, ‘satirist’) addresses friend or acquaintance, whether or not real; (ii) main speaker addresses anonymous ‘you’ (singular or plural), who can sometimes be reader; (iii) main speaker addresses no one (brief apostrophes and second persons which could be thought impersonal are not counted); (iv) someone else’s speech is given, with narrative frame; (v) someone else speaks the entire poem; (vi) dialogue (no narrative framing), including main speaker; (vii) dialogue, not including main speaker. The fluidity of address is a significant feature: grounds shift startlingly, and the reader is to wonder whether he himself (or she herself) is being addressed. We can also note some aspects of ground which relate to form and time: narrative and advice.24 The poems could be grouped as follows: (i) Lucilius Book 3 (cf. 98–9 Marx = III 1 Charpin: narrative of journey), Book 5 (complaint), Horace, Satires 1.1 (some of poem is (ii)), 6 (including narrative of speaker’s past), Persius 2 (start; birthday poem), 6 (start; moves on to (vi)), Juvenal 11 (becomes apparent after first section), 12, 13 (mock-consolation), 14 (start at least), 15 (start at least; includes mock-heroic narrative of recent past in Egypt), 16 (start; incomplete); (ii) Horace, Satires 1.2 (especially in later part), 3, 4 (including narrative of speaker’s past; some (vi)), 10, Persius 4 (in second part; poem begins with (vii), introduced (Socrates and Alcibiades)), Juvenal 1 (some (vi) at end), 2 (with (iv) inset; secondperson attack on named person 65–87), 5 (address to addressee’s patronus, 107– 13), 6 (gives advice), 8 (includes advice), 10 (gives advice); either (i) or (ii): some of Lucilius Book 9, on poetry (cf. 338–9, 349–50 = IX 2.1–2, 1 Charpin); (iii) Horace, Satires 1.5 (narrative of main speaker’s recent past: journey), 7 (narrative of recent past witnessed by main speaker), 9 (narrative of main speaker’s recent past; much is (vi)), 2.6 (but opening addresses to Mercury and Janus; (iv) (a narrative) inset), Juvenal 4 (narrative of recent political past), 7 (but with touches of (ii)); (iv) Horace, Satires 2.2 (with (ii) in frame; some complications in mode of report), Juvenal 3; (v) Horace, Satires 1.8 (statue speaking); (vi) Horace, Satires 2.1, 3 (with (iv) inset), 4 (with (iv) inset), 7, 8 (with (iv) (a narrative: dinner) inset), Persius 1

23

On speakers, address, and communication in Horace’s Satires see Sharland (2010). For reservations on referring to the main speaker as a separate ‘satirist’ see Iddeng (2000); his position would not affect the discussion here. 24

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(some with reader), 3, 5 (start; moves on to (i) and then (ii)), Juvenal 9; (vii) Horace, Satires 2.5, cf. also Persius 4 (under (ii)). Even in this schematic rendering, one can see the mobility and complexity of poems, and changing preferences, between and within poets. The earlier discussion of satire invites us to consider how far there is a relation with other types of hexameter poetry, both Greek and Latin. We will see more of this question when we think more about space and time in later chapters; but even on this more formal level there are links with Greek poetry to be made, links which are strengthened by specific points on content. Connections will be found especially with the least dignified hexameter poetry: with pastoral, with Theocritus in general, with parodic and occasional poems. The connections are not close relationships within a genre, but rather show the super-generic relationships that appear once we look around, as satire actually invites us to, within hexameter poetry.25 In a general way, the filling out of the first-person speaker is particularly noticeable in Theocritus 16, where the poet’s economic situation is elaborated on. The poem in various other ways connects with satire, as we shall see: so in form with the snippets of speech at 19–21 (῾I øæø j ªı Œ Æ , | ῾ÆPHØ  Ø ªØ Œº. (‘“the shin is further away than the knee”, “may I get something myself”’ etc.), cf. Hor. Sat. 1.2.120 illam ‘post paulo’, ‘sed pluris’, ‘si exierit uir’). Theocritus 7, with no addressee (cf. (iii) for satire), tells in the first person of a (small) journey, by the poet himself, so some thought (+ 7 arg. a and b and 21 a and b, and probably so Virgil; cf. Lucilius Book 3, Horace, Satires 1.5; ›#, ‘journey’, Theocr. 7.31). It also ends with an account of a country banquet (cf. the narrative by another speaker in Horace, Satires 2.8, and the future country banquet promised by the main speaker in Juvenal 11). Theocritus makes the wine at his banquet excel that which caused B e Ø Æ . . . —ºçÆ  . . . ##d åæF#ÆØ (‘that shepherd, Polyphemus, . . . to dance with his feet’, 151–3); Horace’s dinner, during his journey, at Cocceius’ villa, offers an updated and degraded distortion of this humour: Messius jocularly asks the scarred and tall Sarmentus pastorem saltaret uti Cyclopa (Hor. Sat. 1.5.63).26 25 The broad connections of satire and pastoral are emphasized by Gransden (1970). Cf., on a smaller scale, Henderson (1998), 169–71. 26 The passage also parodies a duel from narrative hexameters (parody itself is a hexameter tradition), and recalls pastoral in its verbal contest and symmetrical abuse, and its comparison with a farm animal’s horn (contrast rinoceros in Lucil. 117–18 Marx = III 13 Charpin). On narrative hexameter poetry and the passage cf. e.g. Schlegel (2005), 70–1; Welch (2008) brings out the connections of Satires 1.5 with Virgilian pastoral; Hunter (1999), 144–5 mentions Satires 1.5 and 9 as a general point of comparison with Theocritus 7. Horace adds the Cyclops to the monstrosity in Lucilius, if fr. 119 Marx = III 15 Charpin is the corresponding insult (but cf. Gowers (2011), 181–2). Readers are to catch the reworking of this passage at Horace’s own expense in Epist. 2.2.124–5. If there were actual pantomimes on this subject, presumably performed with an accompanying text, that would not at all interfere with the distortion of Theocritus here. For salto cf. AÉ 1968 no. 74.14 ] . . . cidas saltaui. tragicis connects with the type of pantomime, cf. Athen. 1.20d–e. On symposia in Theocritus 7 cf. Fantuzzi (2008), 583–6; he sees a generic significance in them. Billault (2008) argues that Theocritus 7 draws on Plato’s Symposium. On the literary resonances and the humour in Theocritus’ use of Polyphemus cf. Frazier (2005), 258. In Theocr. 16.19–21 the asyndeton recommends a new speech at the start of 19 (contrast the asyndeton after a question in 20); but the general point on speeches in any case subsists.

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The addressing of friends ((i)) is found in many types of Latin literature; in hexameters, didactic and Theocritus come especially to the reader’s mind. The opening of Persius 6, where Persius in Liguria addresses the poet Bassus in the Sabine country, has a kinship with the opening of Nicander’s Alexipharmaca, where poet and addressee are in different places; but it more notably resembles Theocritus 11 (the exchange continues in SH 566 and Theocritus 13). Theocritus in Sicily addresses his fellow-poet (11.6) Nicias in Miletus (the place will be known to Roman readers; cf. + 11 arg. b and d, and Theocritus 28 and Ep. 8). Theocritus talks about his local Polyphemus (› Ææ ± E, 7), sitting on a high rock and looking on to the sea; Polyphemus is careless of his flock (11–13), because of his love for Galatea, which he soothes with song. The poem relates him to Theocritus, and to Nicias. Persius depicts meum mare, qua latus ingens | dant scopuli (6.6–7), and tells how he is here in Luna, securus . . . quid praeparet Auster | infelix pecori (11–12). His detachment, and ease, have more philosophical reasons than Polyphemus’. Other poems addressed to friends play with the traditions of occasional hexameter poetry: so the mock-consolation of Juvenal 13 (cf. esp. Statius, Silvae 2.6, 3.3).27 More distinctive formally are the patterns of inset speeches and of dialogue. The shape of Juvenal 3 (for example) with narrative introduction and no narrative coda is very similar to that of Virgil, Eclogue 2 (its ending is quoted from at Juv. 9.102) or Theocritus 18. In content the poem has some connection with pastoral: thus the city is rejected for a country life (though with a garden, 225–31); the anticlimactic lizard (231) has a memorable place in the pastoral genre (Virg. Ecl. 2.9, Theocr. 7.22). Umbricius is heading for a Greek foundation in South Italy, Cumae (2–3); the South Italian cities in Theocritus 4 and 5 may be remembered, though more south and east. Furthermore, the Cumaean Sibyl at the start (Juv. 3.2–3) recalls the Cumaei . . . carminis at the start of Eclogue 4 (4).28 Ofellus, particularly in the marked off narrative and speech at Hor. Sat. 2.2.111–36, is a more plainly pastoral figure. He has his pecus (114–15); he has suffered from land-confiscations, like the characters in Eclogues 1 and 9, but bears his lot with philosophical resignation. The worship of Ceres at the previous hospitable feast—et uenerata Ceres, ita culmo surgeret alto (124)—recalls the hospitable feast for Demeter on Cos and Theocr. 7.31–4, and distorts the ending 155–7 ø HØ aæ ˜ Ææ# . . . L b ªº ##ÆØ | æ ª ÆÆ . . . K I çæÆØ#Ø åØ#Æ (‘by the altar of Demeter . . . may she smile, holding sheaves in both hands’). The inset party tale in Hor. Sat. 2.6.79–117 again has a pastoral opposition of city and country (cf. [Theocr.] 20, Virgil, Eclogue 2, etc.); feris . . . siluis at 92 near the start and silua . . . tenui solabitur eruo at the end use the generic keyword silua and recall Virg. Ecl. 5.28 montesque feri siluaeque and 3.100 quam pingui macer est mihi taurus in eruo!29

27 For other aspects and intertexts at the opening of Persius 6 cf. Freudenburg (2001), 195–9; Theocritus complicates still further the treatment of hexameter genres in Persius’ lines. 28 For other connections with pastoral, cf. Braund (1996), 235–6. LaFleur (1976), 430 sees pastoral umbra as perhaps the explanation for the choice of the name Umbricius; the link is plausible, but the name suggests many meanings, cf. Staley (2000), 87–9. 29 Sharland (2010), 222 sees the connection of Satires 2.2 with Virgilian pastoral.

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Dialogue is a striking form in hexameters; Theocritus exploits it partly because of connections with mime, partly because the exchanges of short songs could not comfortably be interrupted by narrative indications of speaker. Anyone who thought at all about form in hexameter poetry would have to be struck by these strategies, exploited in both pastoral and satire. This would be the more noticeable in the book of satire which uses dialogue most, Horace, Satires 2; the book extensively develops a concern with the countryside, and comes only a few years after the first book of Latin pastoral the Eclogues. Some of the subjects of dialogue have links with pastoral poems: so Horace’s discussion of his poetry with another writer in Satires 2.1 connects in a general way with what was taken to be Theocritus’ discussion of his own poetry with another poet in poem 7 (note e.g. the pastoral turn in Hor. Sat. 2.1.52 dente lupus, cornu taurus petit (parallel to speaker’s action); cf. e.g. Theocr. 10.30 ± ÆD a ŒØ#, › ºŒ# a Ær ªÆ ØŒØ . . . Kªg  K d d  Å ÆØ (‘the goat pursues the clover, the wolf the goat . . . and I am crazy about you’),Virg. Ecl. 2.63–4). Discussion between speakers on poetry is not found in much other hexameter poetry outside pastoral. (The later [Opp.] Cyn. 1.19–40 is more distantly related: at the start of the poem, Artemis tells the poet, in dialogue, to sing of hunting.) The dialogue on Naevolus’ sex-life in Juvenal 9 connects in a general way with the dialogue on Bucaeus’ love-life in Theocritus 10. Compare the openings ¯ æªÆÆ BıŒÆE,  F, TØÇıæ,  ŁØ#; (‘Worker Bucaeus, what have you had happen to you now, you unhappy wretch?’) and Scire uelim quare totiens mihi, Naeuole, tristis | occurras. There are many country and pastoral elements in Juvenal’s poem, most strikingly the quote at 102 o Corydon, Corydon (Virg. Ecl. 2.69 a Corydon, Corydon; Juv. 9.102 perhaps takes up Juv. 9.92 alium bipedem sibi quaerit asellum, cf. Virg. Ecl. 2.73 inuenies alium si te hic fastidit Alexin). Dialogue can of course evoke other connections for the reader too; but this does not abolish the links within the super-genre. So Hor. Sat. 2.4.1 Vnde et quo Catius? recalls Plat. Prot. 309a1 —Ł, t "ŒæÆ#, çÆÅØ; (‘Where have you turned up from, Socrates?’) and Phaedr. 227a1   çº ÆEæ, E c ŒÆd Ł; (‘Phaedrus, my friend, where are you going? Where have you come from?’, cf. Hor. Sat. 2.4.3, and also Cic. fr. 1 Garbarino (translation) Quid tu? unde tamen appares, o Socrate?; note too Hor. Sat. 1.9.62–3). But even here Virg. Ecl. 9.1 Quo te, Moeri, pedes? contributes too (quo is the more important question in Horace; for the thirdperson Catius cf. perhaps Theocr. 15.1  0EØ —æÆØÆ; ‘Is Praxinoa in?’). The near-dialogue at the start of Persius 4 between Socrates and Alcibiades primarily recalls [Plato], Alcibiades I; but from a hexametric perspective it is notable that there should exist a conversation in hexameters between Socrates and Aspasia on Alcibiades, parodying Plato (SH 495).30

(v) Occasional poetry In occasional poetry, the subject-matter is present, and actual; but the world of the divine is often brought in, as part of the extravagant treatment. The first person is

30 Lloyd-Jones and Parsons (1983), 248 question the attribution to Herodicus. The relation between Juv. 9.1 and Theocr. 10.1–2 is not to be explained simply by Juvenal’s playing (as he is) with poems on the revelation of love: one can see this from the other examples of such poems (cf. Cairns (1970)).

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often freely involved, whether because of the circumstances or because of passionate praise. Often the object of praise is addressed; a wider readership is envisaged, but rarely drawn into the explicit ground. Not much can be said on the relation of the grounds to those in Greek occasional poetry, of which relatively little survives; but some connections may be illustrated. Silvae 5.3 mourns Statius’ own father. Near the end the poet mentions (besides other restorations of the dead) Orpheus’ passage into the underworld with his lyre. He asks cur nihil exoret, genitor, chelys aut tua manes | aut mea? (273–4); they should embrace, et lex quaecumque sequatur (he alludes to Eurydice). Within Latin hexameter the link with Georgics 4 is evident; but there is intertextuality too with a Greek occasional poem. At the end of the lament for Bion ([Moschus] 3), the poet, Bion’s pupil (95–6), says he would go down to the underworld like Orpheus (and others); Bion should sing to Persephone: PŒ IªæÆ## | K##EŁ ±

º , åT#  Oæçœ æ#Ł øŒ | ±Æ çæ ØÇØ Æº##ı ¯PæıŒØÆ, | ŒÆd #, Bø,  łØ E# þæ#Ø. N  Ø ŒMª | #ıæ#ø ı Æ, Ææa —ºıœ Œ ÆPe# ¼Ø (‘your song will not go unrewarded: just as Persephone previously gave Orpheus with his sweet lyre-playing Eurydice, who was to return, so she will send you back to the hills, Bion. If I had any power in playing the syrinx, I would sing in Pluto’s house myself ’, 122–6). Imaginative fantasy expresses first-person emotion.31 A verbally less precise connection: the last part of the Laus Pisonis seems to match and reprove the argument of Theocritus 16. The Latin poet will write more poetry about Piso if Piso is his patron (216–18); though poor, he is driven by true love, not diuitis auri | imperiosa fames (219–20; the Virgilian language is pointed). This sounds like an assault on Theocritus’ more open wish for gold (åæı##, 22); Theocritus describes his poverty more graphically, though with allegory (5–12). Theocritus will sing of Hieron II, if Hieron will give him patronage. The Latin poet uses the example of Maecenas, who enabled Virgil, Homer’s rival, to become famous (incidentally Maecenas gained lasting fame, as Piso will; cf. 243 in totum . . . aeuum and 249 aeternae of Maecenas’ and Piso’s fame). Theocritus uses the example of the Scopadae, who became famous themselves by patronizing Simonides (16.45 echoes Simonides on Homer giving heroes fame); he also uses the example of the Trojans and others made lastingly famous by Homer (51–4 P  Oı#f# . . . ÅÆØe Œº# #å, ‘nor would Odysseus . . . . have had glory for long’). In Theocritus, the patrons are more overtly the beneficiaries of fame. His wish is: łÅºe . . .  IæøØ Œº# çæØ IØ (98, ‘may bards carry glory aloft 31 exoret is perhaps a subjunctive of hope rather than protest. On [Mosch.] 3.115–26, cf. Di Nino (2009), 101–4. Reed (1997), 59–60 thinks the poet in [Moschus] 3 is not to be seen as Bion’s pupil; but the ostensible time of the poem and bucolic conventions indicate he is to be seen as his pupil within the fiction of the poem. As for the actual date of the poem, 102–4 need not be earlier than Catullus if both draw on similar topoi. Acél (2007) argues that the Orpheus of the Epitaphios influences both Virgil and Ovid; he brings Bion’s own work into the discussion. Cf. Reed (1997), 27, 152. Paschalis (1995) argues for a relation between the Epitaphios and Eclogue 6. For the text of Stat. Silv. 5.3.271–5 see B. Gibson (2006), 367–8. With Statius’ passage cf. CIL iii.7436.8–9 = ILBulg 145 = CLEMoes 26 qualis enim fuerit . . . si possem effari cithara suadere(m) ego Manes; Gerov (1989), 69 gives the date as ad 198–208. The inscription could be drawing on Statius, though if so less closely than Statius on [Moschus]; Cugusi and Sblendorio Cugusi (2008), 68 connect the passage of the inscription with Virg. Aen. 6.119–20. Cf. also for Statius Hor. Carm. 1.24.13–18; the use of Orpheus at Stat. Silv. 5.1.20–9 is quite different.

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for Hieron’ to remote parts of the world). In the Laus Pisonis the poet states sublimior ibo, | si famae mihi pandis iter (223–4; cf. also Pind. Ol. 1.115–17). More generally, the possibility of talking about one’s age, family background, and aspiration for patronage fits this particular area of hexameter poetry; cf. [Tib.] Pan. Mess. 181–91, where the impecunious poet is driven solely by passionate devotion (note Homer at 200). The passion is again the (ostensible) point.32

(vi) Inscriptions Inscribed hexameters present an unusual situation: in the Empire they seem as common as elegiacs (though the difficulties of dating create complications); in Greek, elegiacs are much commoner. It is not clear what criteria recommend the adoption of hexameters in a given inscription; but sometimes differences from elegiacs are suggested: so in CIL viii.212–13 = ML 199A (Tunisia, ii ad) the massive main hexameter poem, on the massive monument, is followed by a brief and partly playful appendix in elegiacs on the sculpted cockerel. At all events, it is clear how closely these poems are related to Greek inscribed poems, whether in elegiacs or not; this relation naturally includes the grounds. We can see the traditions interacting before our eyes in an inscription like CIL xiii.7661 (IG xiv.2562) = ML 160: a Greek in Germany puts closely similar poems round the four sides of a base. # Æ# K ŒÆ Ø# | ªæE# łıåB# 

Ø#Ø | c]orporis adque animi dirós | sufferre labóres || ¼åæØ Æźª# ŁÆ |ı ıåØŒ#  Œ ø | dum nequeo mortis pro|pe limina saepe uagando || P # ¸ øØ [local god equated with Mars] æçı|ªE åƺ  ¼ºªÆ #ø | seruátus Tychicus diuino | Martis amore || @æÅœ ŒæÆæHØ Hæ |  ŁBŒ #ÆøŁ# | hoc múnus paruom pr[o] | magna dedico cúra. ([Greek:] ‘Tychicus, once ill to the point of painful death, with wretched pains of the body and suffering of the mind, prayed to Lenos to escape the harsh pains of disease; he was saved, and has dedicated this gift to mighty Ares’.) The same inscription well illustrates the close relation with published hexameter poetry, now adapted to a different ground: cf. (1) Lucr. 2.946 corporis atque animi, 3.999 etc. durum sufferre laborem; (2) Hom. Il. 8.70 etc. Æźª# ŁÆ Ø (Æźªø#, ‘lamentably’, used less Homerically in the elegiac MAMA i.100.3), Lucr. 2.960 (same paragraph as 946) leti iam limine ab ipso | ad uitam . . . reuerti; (3) Hom. Od. 22.325 PŒ i Ł Æ ª ı#źªÆ æçªØ#ŁÆ (‘you will not, I think, escape pitiless death’), 22.177 etc. åƺ  ¼ºªÆ (only here in inscriptions), Virg. Aen. 8.373 diuinum . . . amorem (sense changed); (4) Hom. Il. 2.515 @æÅœ ŒæÆæHØ, 15.503 etc. #ÆøŁ-, Ap. Rh. 3.786 #ÆøŁ# |.33 The poem exemplifies one type of ground in inscriptions: it evokes intense and actual first-person experience in the recent past. Though the god is meant to overhear, the account is implicitly addressed to the reader. The account is often 32 Newlands (1987), 230 n. 33 implies an affinity between the Laus Pisonis and Theocritus 16, without asserting intertextuality. For the use of Virgil at 219–20 cf. Di Brazzano (2004), 365. 33 #Æø#-, #ÆøŁ- usually come in hexameter not elegiac inscriptions; the only exception I have noticed is Aristides SGO 06/02/16/11. s. laborem is suggested by Skutsch (1985), 565 at Enn. Ann. 401 Skutsch.

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addressed to the reader, implicitly or explicitly, when the dead person is the speaker in sepulchral inscriptions (sepulchral inscriptions are overwhelmingly the commonest type in Latin verse, much more so than in Greek). When the dead person is the addressee, an intimate form of communication is overheard by the reader. So in IK lix.91.9–10 (Thyateira, early ii ad) spreuisti patrem matremque, miserrime nate, | Elysios campos habitans et prata ueatum (cf. Virg. Aen. 2.519 miserrime coniunx, 4.677–8 comitemne sororem | spreuisti moriens?). The exhibition of reproachful love is combined with praise (Elysium). The family and the prose heading are Greek, but the family had a connection with a Latin grammaticus, also commemorated. We see similar emotion in the Greek elegiac SGO 11/03/02 (Nea Claudiupolis), for a wife with a Latin-looking name: Iæe#  I ºÅ#Æ# . . .  Hºı#Ø# | K Øæ , #E#  ¼æ !ÆæØ# | º Æ# ŒÆd Łæ |ı# Œ ººØ # | Iœı# (‘you did not care about your husband . . . enjoy the Elysian fields; you have left your friends endless grief and lament’). The genre deploys a wide range of grounds and moods; but actuality is essential to the impact (by contrast with the published genre of epigram). When the reader is explicitly addressed, the experience of reading itself is given notable presence (it is so used by Martial in published epigram, but jocularly). This turn too is derived from Greek inscriptions.34

34 In some monuments the dead person and others are made vivid to the reader by a sculpted image: the reader is not just a reader.

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13 Space and Intertextuality in Hexameters NARRATIVE The space and time of the grounds can now be looked at further, to consider how close the basic grounds will seem to the worlds of Greek literature; this connects with differing degrees of closeness in Latin poems to the main Greek models and sources. Narrative hexameter poetry is divided in subject-matter. The two basic types are Greek mythology and Roman history; the division already implies a different relation to at any rate the most famous Greek narrative hexameter poems. Greek history is of little interest to Latin hexameter poetry; so too, as a rule, is Roman mythology, if we can distinguish say the story of Pomona (Met. 14.622–771) from the sort of thing Livy might write about. It will be seen that two of the most famous epics, the Aeneid and the Metamorphoses, combine the two basic types in an unusual way. The Metamorphoses treats Greek mythology for most of its length, but in its climactic last books embraces Roman history and mythology. The Aeneid may seem in its chronologically earlier parts (particularly books 2–3) to be offering us a version of Greek mythology, but comes closer to Roman history as it proceeds. (Gods appear in Silius as in Virgil; Lucan’s virtual exclusion of divine scenes was controversial.)1 The Latin poems on Greek mythology are set mostly in mainland Greece, and on the coast of Asia Minor (Valerius goes further east); they rarely reach Italy. In time they rarely go beyond the aftermath of the Trojan War (the most obvious last stage for the heroic period). In so far as the Aeneid and Metamorphoses are seen as mythological, both poems form a striking exception in place; the Metamorphoses is exceptional in its overall chronological scope (the Greek mythology perhaps ends chronologically with Ulysses’ and Diomedes’ companions). The historical poems can begin before the foundation of the city—so Ennius’ Annales and indeed the Aeneid—and a considerable number deal with events of the last few years. In space, the historical poems are often set outside Italy, entirely or in part; but the foreign locations are being conquered by Romans, or are at any rate the scene of Roman arms; spatial range and distance are expressive of empire.2 1 Wiseman (2004) offers an animated new look at Roman mythology and its relation to the stories of history. 2 Of course, on a different level, the mythological war between brothers in Statius can interact potently with recent strife, particularly through the figure by which civil war is brotherly war. The passage Theb. 1.142–65 both links and contrasts the time of narrated and narrator: they are utterly different in wealth and the spatial expansion of power, but implicitly akin in conflict. The passage

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We should start with an approximate list of poems. On Roman history: Ennius’ Annales [starts with Aeneas, if not before, reaches 179 bc by Book 16 of 18; Ennius himself is present at the siege of Ambracia (Book 15); the action spreads out from Italy to Spain (302 Skutsch), Africa (309), Greece, Gaul (324), and elsewhere; Greece is especially important], Hostius’ Bellum Histricum or Annales [Dalmatian coast; war 178–177 or 129 bc?], Accius’ Annales (note also e.g. Cic. Man. 25 sicut poetae solent qui res Romanas scribunt), Cicero’s De Consulatu Suo [in Italy], De Temporibus Suis [presumably much in Italy], Marius [written after 57?], Varro of Atax’s Bellum Sequanicum [Caesar’s campaign], Volusius’ Annales, Furius Bibaculus’ Annales or Annales Belli Gallici (FRP 81) [probably the singular Belli suggests Caesar’s war], Cornelius Severus’ Res Romanae, and poetry on kings and on Cicero [either but not both could be part of Res Romanae?], and Bellum Siculum [war with Sex. Pompeius], ?Sextilius Ena [poetry including Cicero?], Rabirius’ poem including Antony, Albinovanus Pedo’s poem including Germanicus [FRP 228 set in North Sea; Pedo may have been present], ?Alfius Flavus, Bellum Carthaginiense (Fest. p. 150.14–36 Lindsay) [much will have been set on Sicily], De Bello Actiaco [extant portion set in Egypt], Lucan’s De Bello Ciuili [moves away from Italy at 3.169; Greece important], Petronius’ De Bello Civili [not complete poem], Statius’ De Bello Germanico [Domitian], Silius’ Punica [books 4–13 mostly in Italy; 14 in Sicily] (maximum number of poems 22).3 On Greek mythology: the hexameter version of Livius’ Odyssia, Cn. Matius’ Iliad [quoted by Varro; latest poet he quotes seems to be Porcius Licinius (late ii bc?); celerissimus (5 Courtney) etc. suggest not in 50s], Ninnius Crassus’ Iliad [language suggests relatively early], Naevius’ Cypria Iliad (?) [date obscure], ?Cicero, Alcyone/es, ?Cato, Diana, Catullus’ Marriage of Peleus, Calvus’ Io [probably extended in place, cf. FRP 20–1, 23], Cinna’s Smyrna [probably extended in place], Varro of Atax’s Argonautae/ica [extended in place], Gallus’ Gryneian Apollo [coast of Asia Minor], Aemilius Macer’s Ornithogonia [included Roman mythology, FRP 50], Domitius Marsus’ Amazonis [evidently in several books], ?Ponticus’ Thebaid, Albinovanus Pedo’s Theseid, Antonius Iullus’ Diomediad [twelve books], Largus’ poem on Antenor, Camerinus’ Posthomerica, Carus’ Heracleia [extended in place?], Macer’s Antehomerica and perhaps Posthomerica [could be one poem], ‘Trinacrius’’ Perseid [extended in place? more likely to be about Perseus than about Persia], Tuticanus’ Phaeacis [seems to be a translation: Ov. Pont. 4.16.27 Maeoniam Phaeacida uertit], ?Arbonius Silo [version of Iliad?], Ilias Latina [note appearance of Italy and Caesars at 900–2], Labeo’s Iliad and Odyssey, Lucan’s Orpheus and Iliaca (and Catachthonia?), Nero’s Troica, Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica [extended in place, but with more on the Greek mainland

draws on Lucan’s opposition between fraternal conflict at the beginning of Roman history and in the time of his poem (1.84–97, again with a contrast in spatial range). 3 Hostius as well as Ennius could have treated the war of 178–177: note Fulvius’ plural poetae in Ambracia (Cato ORF4 8 F 149). On Alfius Flavus cf. Cichorius (1922), 58–67, Syme (1978), 110–11. As for the De Bello Actiaco, Hollis (2007), 419 on FRP 262 dub. armatum cane, Musa, ducem etc. (Renaissance idea of suitability) is confirmed by the later beginning of Tasso’s Gerusalemme Liberata: ‘Canto l’arme pietose e ’l capitano . . . ’.

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than Apollonius], Statius’ Thebaid and Achilleid [Thebaid set in Greece, including Lemnos; note the appearance of the Itala . . . iuuentus in the final paragraph (contrast Thebai), and of Italy, Rome, and barbarian lands in the first], Barcelona Alcestis [date?] (maximum 33 poems).4 Unknown category: Sueius [warfare; at least five books; first half of i bc]. Mixed: Virgil, Aeneid [moves to Italy], Ovid, Metamorphoses [moves to Italy]. Chronologically our scanty information suggests that, by contrast with tragedy on Greek myth, narrative hexameter poetry on Greek myth begins to flower relatively late. Apart from translations, the first attested mythological poems do not appear until the first half of the first century bc. They are on a deliberately small scale; Aemilius Macer (if the Ornithogonia is pre-Augustan) offers the first attested poem in more than one book. As for the settings of poems, although perhaps only Cicero’s De Consulatu Suo and Severus’ regal poetry were set entirely in Italy, the opposition between Italy and elsewhere is important in Ennius, Lucan, Silius—and Virgil and Ovid. Time and space contribute to the distance between readers and some of the characters (there will on some level be non-Roman people in most of the poems); the historical poems, and the Metamorphoses, include Romans as characters, the poems on more recent subjects living Romans. The Aeneid is again ambivalent: Aeneas and his Trojans are not yet Romans, but have many Roman qualities. The distance between the world of the events and the world of the narrator is apparent in Silius, and in Lucan.5 In such respects, the poems on Greek myth are for the Latin reader closer to Greek poetry than the poems on Roman events; the division is thus fundamental for the degree of proximity to Greek hexameter narrative. But the question of proximity is more intricate within each group; let us start with mythical poems. Some are more or less translations. Needless to say, poetic translations in particular involve creation and may include insertions; but we may still make a distinction between Varro of Atax’s handling of Apollonius and Valerius Flaccus’ (Quintilian presents Varro as interpres operis alieni (Inst. 10.1.87); contrast Valerius at 90). So in FRP 123 Varro’s catalogue gives Nauplius’ family tree along much the same lines as Ap. Rh. 1.133–6, whereas Valerius’ brings in a different Nauplius, and looks forward grimly to his deeds against the Greeks after the Trojan war (1.371–2: Danaos makes a pointed contrast with Apollonius’ ˜ÆÆ# and Varro’s Danai). Valerius does not get as far as Varro FRP 132 tum te flagranti deiectum fulmine, Phaethon, cf. Ap. Rh. 4.597–8 ŁÆ  ÆNŁÆºØ ı d# æe# #æÆ ŒæÆıHØ | ØÆc# ÆŁø Œº. (‘where once Phaethon, halfburned up, struck in the chest by the blazing thunderbolt’ etc.). Varro has here omitted some detail and at the least heightened the text with address. Valerius proleptically changes the scene in Apollonius where the Argonauts hear the sisters of Phaethon lamenting and smell the effects of the fall into the river (Ap. Rh. 4.620–6) to a scene where they see depicted in Colchis the lamentation and the fall

4 On Cicero’s Alcyone/es cf. Knox (2011), at 195–6. For a text of the Alcestis see (among other versions) Parsons, Nisbet, Hutchinson (1983); Hall (2008) argues the work is the libretto for a pantomime. 5 In Silius note beside 10.657–8 15.124–7. On Trojans and Romans in the Aeneid cf. Reed (2007), esp. 72–128.

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into the river (Val. Fl. 5.429–30); the mythological connections with the Sun are strengthened by the move.6 There is thus a difference of proximity to the Greek source in itself. But the very idea of closely following a text, particularly that of the Iliad, has surprising parallels in Greek: so Timolaus’ Troica (SH 849) adds a hexameter after each line of the Iliad, as does Idaeus to both poems, thus ‘doubling the poetry of Homer’ (SH 502). One may compare the Ilias Latina, which does the opposite, and condenses the Iliad into one or two books. Nestor produced a version of the Iliad (as did Tryphiodorus later of the Odyssey) in which the first book had no alpha, and so forth (Suda  261). Valerius’ freer reworking of Apollonius itself follows in a Greek tradition, as one can see from a papyrus of a poem probably later than Apollonius (P. Oxy. LXIX 4712); that poem itself is probably used by Valerius. Frr. 1–2 deal with Medea’s dream. Both Valerius and the second Greek poet have put the dream in a different place from Apollonius, both after a monologue (fr. 1.6–11 are similar to Val. Fl. 7.141–3); but Valerius ostentatiously reduces the dream to a minimum (7.143–4). The competition between Greek and Latin works complicates and intensifies.7 One may also distinguish between works like Valerius’, where the basic design and general outline follow a Greek model or models on that specific subject, and works which do not, so far as is known. Statius’ Thebaid certainly has predecessors on the same subject: so Menelaus’ Thebaid, in 11 books (SH 551–5). Antimachus’ Thebaid, the most famous, seems, for example, to have narrated the funeral games at length (fr. 31 Matthews); it evidently did so after the fifth book, where Adrastus gives a banquet at his palace (frr. 19–24 Matthews, and perhaps other fragments). There was also the Thebaid of the Epic Cycle; its treatment of Oedipus’ curse is different from Statius’. The Achilleid, on the other hand, has no known direct model for its total shape; a large part of it, however, if completed would have overlapped with the Iliad. Statius hints at this obvious challenge (p. 31 above). The Cypria and Aethiopis offered hexameter material for other parts; cf. also [Bion] 2.8 The Trojan Cycle would have provided models, in conception too, for Macer’s and Camerinus’ sequels and preliminaries. Carus’ poem on Heracles (Ov. Pont. 4.13.11–12, 16.7–8) has models in the Heracleias of Pisander (two books?), Panyassis (fourteen books), Rhianus (frr. 2–3 (+ 4–10?) Powell, FGr Hist 265 T1, SH 715; four or fourteen books?), Diotimus (SH 393 (+ 394?)), and Phaedimus

6 On Val. Fl. 1.370–2 see Zissos (2002), 83, (2008), 252–3. In FRP 132 one wonders what the verb was; if the subject was the sisters, there was considerable rewriting. 7 By contrast with Idaeus’ procedure, Pigres’ conversion of Homer into elegiacs is evidently seen as more of a deflation, to judge from the ascription to him of Margites and Batrachomyomachia. On the Ilias Latina and the Iliad see e.g. Stroia (2007). For Valerius’ use of the poem in P. Oxy. LXIX 4712 see D’Alessio (2005), 78. Cf. also on Argonautic material SH 339A: a comparison of Apollonius’ with a wordier treatment (Cleon’s?). P. Oxy. LIII 3698 (seemingly first-person narrative) may not be from an entire Argonautica, cf. XXX 2513. 8 See now for Statius’ use of Antimachus Meliadò (2006); papyrus evidence adds to the probability (and to the probability of a reader recalling Antimachus in reading Statius). See also p. 38 n. 24. An earlier and agnostic discussion: Vessey (1970). The Thebaid of the Cycle differed from Statius, like other sources, in its treatment of Adrastus’ flight on Arion; cf. Venini (1970), 118. (Ponticus’ Thebaid, if actual, would have had the same models, and would have been a Latin competitor for Statius.)

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(SH 669; at least two books). Pedo’s Theseid will have had one and probably numerous models (Theseis frr. 1–2 West; Arist. Poet. 1451a19–20 # . . . ‹#Ø H ØÅH  HæÆŒºÅ Æ ¨Å#ÅÆ ŒÆd a ØÆFÆ  Ø ŒÆ#Ø, ‘all those poets who have composed a Heracleid, Theseid, and the like’). a ØÆFÆ might include a Diomedeia to serve as a model for Iullus’; but ˜Ø ØÆ at Choerob. Orth., Anecd. Gr. Oxon. ii.196.33 Cramer could be an alternative name for Iliad 5. Some Hellenistic hexameter narrative related to Diomedes appears in BKT v.1.67–74, Epic. Adesp. 2 Powell. As for the Perseid (Ov. Pont. 4.16.25), Ctesias of Ephesus’ (not Cnidus’) Perseid included Perseus; but as the killing of Medusa came in the first book, the work could have been relatively short or could have gone on to Persia ([Plut.] Fluv. 18.6; not an appealing source). Musaeus of Ephesus’ Perseid in ten books could have been on either subject (SH 560, FGrHist 455 T1), as could Agathonymus’ ([Plut.] Fluv. 18.10 (—æ#Å Ø Müller: —æ#Ø MS); FHG iv. 292); Choerilus’ Persica is once called his ‘Perseid’ (SH 323). Marsus’ Amazonis could be on Amazons rather than just Penthesilea. Possis’ Amazonis had at least three books (SH 710). We do not know of a Greek Aeneid, nor is one particularly likely.9 It is hard to find even analogies for Calvus’ Io and Cinna’s Smyrna (and Cicero’s Alcyone, if so titled). These look like poems on the life-stories of women, like but unlike the poems on the deeds of men. Callimachus’ Hecale does include Hecale’s whole life, though the main narrative focuses on a particular stage. [Moschus’] Megara presents a particular moment, Moschus’ Europa a particular event. Catullus’ Wedding of Peleus (so to call it) probably has at least an elegiac predecessor in Agamestor’s ¨Ø# ’¯ ØŁÆº Ø# (Epithalamium of Thetis), which included narrative (SH 14) like [Bion’s] hexameter ’¯ ØŁÆº Ø# åغºø# ŒÆd ˜ÅœÆ Æ# (Epithalamium of Achilles and Deidameia). [Hesiod’s] Wedding of Ceyx can be compared more broadly. (Catullus’ inset can be seen as either the story of another wedding or the treatment of Ariadne’s life.) Cato’s Diana could possibly be compared to Moero’s Mnemosyne (fr. 1 Powell).10 Thematic poems may have diverged considerably in the stories they contained. Aemilius Macer’s Ornithogonia had a model in Boeus’ or Boeo’s Ornithogonia; the story of Picumnus (FRP 50) is unlikely to have appeared in the Greek poem. Ovid’s Metamorphoses was almost certainly far longer than Nicander’s hexameter Heteroeumena, and certainly contained stories he did not; different too was Ovid’s chronological structure (as much like Annales as universal history?). There were also metamorphosis poems by Antigonus (SH 50), Didymarchus (SH 378A–B; at least three books), Theodorus (SH 749–50, with treatment of Smyrna and alcyones), Parthenius (fr. 24 Lightfoot); at least some will have been in hexameters, as is probable for Nestor later, though we are not actually told the metre of any (note the elegiac P. Oxy. LXIX 4711). Ovid’s reader will have been aware that the 9 ˜Ø ØÆ appears in Choeroboscus without the context created by Lentz at ‘Herodian’ i.249.9– 11, ii.451.19–21 from Anecd. Gr. Oxon. ii.189.7–8 Cramer and (anonymous work) 299.26–8. Knaack (1903) thinks Agathonymus’ Perseid an invention by [Plutarch]; the title sounds like that of a poem not a history. For Amazonia as an alternative to Aethiopis, see M. L. West (2003), 13, Hollis (2007), 306. Possis’ Amazonis sounds like a poem from its title, despite Jacoby (1955), 384; on the other hand, Onasus’ demythologizing Amazonica (FGrHist 41) looks like prose. 10 Aspects of time in the Hecale and Europa are rewardingly discussed by Sistakou (2009). On Hecale and Theseus in the poem see recently Skempis (2010). Dr G. Trimble’s commentary on Catullus 64 is eagerly awaited.

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type of poem was popular. In mythological hexameter poetry, then, we see very different degrees of relation to a single Greek model.11 Specific sets of events in Roman history will have been less cultivated by Greek poets than specific segments of myth. But Greek poets could certainly write on contemporary wars for the benefit of generals: so Archias writes on Marius’ defeat of the Cimbri (SH 194), and at length on ‘the Mithridatic War’, no doubt in hexameters (195). Boethus wrote on Philippi, in hexameters (230; cf. 751, Theodorus in hexameters on Cleopatra); Caninius Rufus planned to write a Greek poem on Trajan’s Dacian Wars (p. 143 above). Archias’ poem will have been a source for only part of Cicero’s Marius, if that. But Latin poets writing on recent campaigns could well have found themselves in competition with Greek ones. Cicero had had hopes of at least two Greek poets writing about him (Att. 1.16.15; cf. Pro Archia and Att. 2.1.2 on prose).12 In any case, Greek poems on Roman matter furnish more general models or rivals. P. Oxy. L 3535 seems to be an example of such poetry (cf. col. ii 31–2). In addition, Greek poems on Greek history form a significant general model for Roman poems on Roman history. These Greek poems include works which deal with individual wars of an earlier time, and poems which cover a wide range in the history of a particular city or region. The former are of special interest for Lucan and Silius, the latter for Ennius, and both for Virgil; for Virgil poems on foundation are important too (such as Apollonius’, frr. 4–11 (+ 12?) Powell). So Hegemo wrote a hexameter account (SH 463) of the war between Sparta and Thebes culminating in Leuctra (371 bc); he came from Alexandria Troas (so named 302 or later). Rhianus’ hexameter Messeniaca, in at least six books (FGrHist 265 F 38–46; Castelli (1998)) dealt with part of a particular war long ago, in which the Messenian leader played, according to Pausanias (F 42 = fr. 8 Castelli), as prominent a role as Achilles in the Iliad (Pb . . . IçÆ#æ#). SH 946–7 = fr. 16 Castelli could come from this poem (if not, from another poem on Spartan history); it contains a rousing speech and shows Iliadic shaping to the narrative. Manilius alludes to the poem, but with a perspective opposed to its author’s: 3.14 non annosa canam Messanae bella nocentis. Rhianus’ hexameter Thessalica, on the other hand, in at least sixteen books, included the original naming of Thessaly, though briskly (F 30); e.g. F 20 and 25 show that it contained much narrative. Demosthenes’ hexameter Bithyniaca was in at least ten books; it included the foundation of cities (FGrHist 699 F 9; he also wrote a ˚#Ø#) and effectively combined detail of place and narrative (F 5). Propertius uses the poem (1.8.25–6).13 Much of this poetry will have involved warfare (cf. e.g. SH 913–21; note say the Iliadic 915.2–4 ]æ ıæ # [ | ] øغø [ | ]  K ŒÅØ#Ø[, ‘ . . . spear . . . _ _ Iliad is an important direct _ _ Ιn its_ treatment wounds . . . in the dust’). of warfare the or ultimate model for these poems, and for Roman historical poems, and for mythical poems when they present fighting (cf. e.g. Bib. FRP 75 pressatur pede pes, 11

On the tradition behind Ovid’s poem, cf. Hutchinson (2008), 200–24. For Archias cf. Pack (1993), 763–7. 13 Choerilus was a young man at time of the Persian Wars, SH 315. For the ktistic tradition cf. Fraser (1972), i.775–6, Jackson (1995), 60–1. Propertius’ deployment of a line from the Bithyniaca is shown by Cairns (2011). For Rhianus SH 946–7 = fr. 16 Castelli see Castelli (1998), 40–7. 12

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mucro mucrone, uiro uir). There will be prose sources, too, for the particular historical events; some will have been in Greek, and for Ennius more or less all will.14

DIDACTIC Didactic poems too show a notable range in degrees of proximity, actual and perceived. To start with, a list: Ennius’ Hedyphagetica, Cicero’s Aratea, ?his Limon, Q. Cicero on stars, Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura, Sallustius’ Empedoclea, Egnatius’ De Rerum Natura, Aemilius Macer’s Theriaca, Virgil’s Georgics, Varius Rufus’ De Morte, Grattius’ Cynegetica, Ovid’s Phaenomena, Dorcatius’ (or another’s) poem De Pilis, [Ovid’s] Halieutica, Manilius’ Astronomica, the Aetna, ?Sex. Paconianus (fragment on winds), ?Gaetulicus (fragment on stars), Columella’s De Re Rustica Book 10. A much wider range of didactic poems on frivolous subjects appears in Ov. Trist. 2.471–92, including dice, various board-games, swimming, hoops, cups, and jars for wine.15 In principle, by contrast with narrative, the material belongs to no particular time or place (the Aetna is an exception in place: the volcano is on a Greek island very close to Italy). It remains relevant to readers in Rome now, as it was relevant to readers of Greek poets earlier; through its named or unnamed addressees the genre draws much closer than narrative hexameters to emphatic communication with the reader in the present. The poems in some ways come between the two types of narrative hexameters, mythological and historical, one with Greek matter, one with Roman; their subjects in themselves certainly do not have the appearance of distancing them from Greek models. But the picture is more complicated. The different types of subject-matter admit different degrees of localization: so Columella’s poem can highlight gardening in Italy, while the heavens as a space remain largely the same for Greeks and for Romans. But all the poems provide a mixture: they often highlight their Roman placing and time (notably in excursuses); they include the past and Greece; sometimes the material is ostentatiously Greek in language (so Greek names of objects); the more terrestrial poems exult in the range of places, including Italy, from which come the objects and animals they write of. The prologues of some poems partly serve the function of localizing the universal for the reader. Lucretius’ poem begins Aeneadum and, in my view, evokes a specific time. Virgil’s calls on Caesar to take pity on the farmers mecum (G. 1.41–2), thus making them Italian; the end of the first book likewise evokes a specific time and place of crisis, and the end of the poem establishes the date. The opening of Manilius’ first book calls on Caesar, patriae princepsque 14 On hexameter poetry of war see Kerkhecker (2001), 54–63 (against Cameron (1995), 263–302). For FRP 75 see Skutsch (1985), 724–6, and Spaltenstein (1986–90), 296; note also Val. Fl. 6.182–3. 15 On early didactic poetry see Kruschwitz and Schumacher (2005) (with Kruschwitz (2005)). These include further possibilities; so Kruschwitz and Schumacher (2005), 85–96, Kruschwitz (2005), 122 for Q. Soranus. Ingleheart (2010), 358–9, 367 explains why Ov. Trist. 2.471–92 should be taken to refer to poems.

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paterque (1.7; pater patriae even indicates a date after 2 bc); the end of the book tells of Varus (ad 9), from a Roman spatial perspective (896–903). Germanicus’ opening not only portrays Caesar’s peace, but shows the author as Caesar’s loving son (2–16).16 But not all such obtrusions are so straightforward in their direction. Even at the end of the Georgics, the author turns out to have written the poem in dulcis . . . Parthenope (4.562–3), a largely Greek city in Italy. His spiritually exemplary gardener, whom he has seen himself (4.125–7), is not an Italian farmer but an old man from a Greek city in Cilicia, who has come to the Greek city of Tarentum, founded by Spartans (note Oebaliae, 125). Columella, in a list of lettuces (RR 10.181–8), gives the first two as named after a Caecilius Metellus, the fourth and fifth as Cappadocian and Cyprian, the third as mea quam generat Tartesi litore Gadis (185). The author himself, though utterly Roman, comes from Spain.17 Particularly striking, for our purposes, is the relation between the Roman setting of teacher and pupil and the Greek origin of material, poetry, or ideas (sources in the amplest sense). After Lucretius’ opening, with Aeneadum, Romanis, patriai, Memmiadae nostro, Memmi clara propago, we proceed to humana . . . uita (1.62) and the Graius homo (66); at the start of Book 3, the author follows the Graiae gentis decus (3), and calls him father, and the source of patria . . . praecepta (9–10). It is as if ethnicity is transcended for the poet. Virgil, with a hymnic invocation to Italy, says Ascraeumque cano Romana per oppida carmen (G. 2.176): the expression is highly spatial, and adds a twist to the section here closed. res antiquae laudis et artem (174) includes in context the distance in time from Hesiod, as does sanctos ausus recludere fontis (so read by Colum. RR 10.435–6 qui primus ueteres ausus recludere fontis | Ascraeum cecinit Romana per oppida carmen). The final discovery which the poem presents was made by the Arcadii . . . magistri (and pupil) Aristaeus (4.283–4), and practised in Egypt (287–94); the story starts in Thessaly (317).18 Grattius hails as a god or almost (deus ille an proxima diuos | mens fuit . . . ?, 96–7) the Epicurus-like Arcadium . . . senem Dercylus, who made crucial

16 Greek didactic eventually introduces Caesars too. On the start of Lucretius, cf. Hutchinson (2001); against, Volk (2010b). The latter makes some good and some interesting points, but from my perspective does not realize the historical problems of supposing a threat of civil war felt clearly in the mid-50s (Hutchinson (2001), 151, Volk (2010b), 130, 131); and in this general period only civil war will make sense of the passage—Memmius would not have to fight in Gaul, say. A date between the second half of 50 and early 49 would meet the objections on plot; but the deity’s granting of the prayer may be thought unwelcome too. Notable for the general role of Italy in the Georgics is the reworking of Theocritus’ praise of Egypt discussed by Hunter (2008b). 17 Corycius of Virgil’s old man is perfectly plausible historically: note the Corycians at Puteoli (IG xiv.840–1, 854: two with Roman links). For further meanings, the provenance is calculatedly enigmatic; I would see especially a play on the wallet of the Cynics, cf. Antiphanes’ ˚æıŒ# (The Wallet), frr. 132–4 Kassel–Austin (note esp. fr. 133, and cf. fr. 158). Cf. on the passage Harrison (2004). The text of Colum. RR 10.185 follows Goodyear (1992). Cf. 8.16.9 in nostro Gadium municipio (with the Greek name that ‘we’ give a fish, prisca consuetudine). 10.189–93 gives a Zodiacal date for sowing the Caecilian types, a Roman date for sowing the rest (note the clash of names in 192 tuque tuis, Mauors, Tartesida pange Kalendis). 18 hominum 316 gives universality to nobis in 315; 362–72, in the midst of the excursion, draw together foreign and Italian rivers (including pater Tiberinus). Cf. Ap. Rh. 4.1132–3: Aristaeus

ºØ##ø | æªÆ . . . IæÆ; + 2.498–527b: he did so on Ceos.

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innovations in hunting; he is emphatically localized in the Peloponnese (100–3). Quasi-authorial language is used of him (106–7 auctoremque operi dignata inscribere magno etc.). Boeotius Hagnon is lauded with no less ardour (214–16, 249–51); he will exist as long as poems remain (251). In both cases, the gods are the ultimate source (105–7, 250). Later Grattius portrays Greece’s decline and Rome’s ascent (318–25; the story of Lycurgus and Sparta may be the inspiration for the connection with puppies, cf. Nic. Dam. FGrHist 90 F 56.3). Manilius, after invoking Caesar and showing the two sanctuaries of his work, poetry and subjectmatter (1.20–4), reveals the inventors of astrology: not the Roman princeps, qui regis augustis parentem legibus orbem (8), but kings in the east, qui domuere feras gentes Oriente sub ipso (40–3, 45). Then came eastern priests; the ultimate source is the gods (Cyllenie, 30–1, 34–7; 48–50). Germanicus explicitly names Aratus in his first line, but makes his imperial father, not Jupiter, his maximus auctor; the earth, and, through Jupiter’s approval, the cosmos, take on a Roman flavour. Germanicus’ Latiis . . . Musis (15) have a local point in context; but in a few lines we meet a Greek term, axem | quem Grai dixere polon (21–2).19 As some of these passages indicate, there is in this genre a potential division between the poetic model and the source for the subject-matter. This ties in with the question of the relation and the proximity to the hexameter model or models. We may first note that, except for the Aetna and for poems on particularly frivolous subjects, the Latin poems usually have Greek poetic predecessors in at least the general area.20 Poems on the constellations have to use and compete with not only the first part of Aratus but many Greek poems called Phaenomena (cf. p. 208 above). Their multitude is a theme: see Ptolemy SH 712 (presumably just poetry; Aratus is the king, like Ptolemy, and like Homer in Lucretius), Vita Arati I 9.23–10.1 Martin (SH 465) and II 12.18–13.5 (neither separates prose from poetry); cf. Man. 2.25– 38. Not only Aratus’ text but prose comment on Aratus is used by Germanicus (p. 207 above). Manilius, as we have seen (p. 208), contrasts with astronomical poems after Aratus the originality of his own enterprise, astrological from the second book; however, there are numerous astrological poems in Greek after him, and it is entirely possible that some existed before him. His numerous Greek terms, some explicitly signalled as such, indicate clearly enough for the reader the existence of prose sources in Greek; but overtly these are the usages of Greeks in general: 2.289 inter Graias horoscopos editur urbes, 4.298 quam partem Graiae dixere decanica gentes. By contrast, 1.446 quae notia antiqui dixerunt sidera uates points clearly to Aratus (cf. Arat. 319–21, and e.g. 388, and Hipparch. 1.2.17). Fish and fishing are another popular theme in Greek; Athenaeus lists hexameter treatments (by K  Ø), and less numerous prose treatments, at 1.13b–c, cf. Suda

19 Cf. further p. 209 above. On the address to Hagnon see Henderson (2001), 14–15. Gratt. 251 carmina without a nostra is likely to be general (cf. siluarum dotes), but it implies the immortality of Grattius’ poem. So Formicola (1988), 103 ‘la poesia’; otherwise Verdière (1964), 129, Henderson (2001), 15. 20 Varius Rufus’ De Morte, if Epicurean, has only prose forerunners for its title, notably Philodemus’ prose —æd ŁÆ ı (On Death, now re-edited: Henry (2009)), but also Xenocrates (in at least two books: Diog. Laert. 4.12), Diogenes (Diog. Laert. 6.80), Sphaerus (7.178). It does not look like a poetic title. There were many poems involving the underworld.

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Œ 1596. Of the poets Numenius at least is earlier than the Latin Halieutica: + Nic. Ther. 237a says that Nicander has adapted lines from him ( Æ  ÅŒ). Sostratus’ ˚ıŪØŒ (On Hunting) in two or more books (SH 735) pre-dates Grattius’; Xenophon’s work was a famous treatment in prose. (Philo, Abrah. 266 ƒ ŒıŪØŒ, ‘experts on hunting’, might refer to writers.) Ennius’ Hedyphagetica has an obvious model in Archestratus’ Hedypatheia (there were many other titles for this work too). So too Aemilius Macer’s Theriaca has an obvious model in Nicander’s; Macer’s had two books (FRP 54(b)). Nicander himself, however, has a predecessor in Numenius, whom at some points at least he follows closely (SH 590–1 = frr. 1–2 Jacques); cf. also Petrichus’  OçØÆŒ (On Snakes, frr. 1–4 Jacques). In prose Apollodorus’ —æd ŁÅæø (On Venomous Creatures) was a significant source for Nicander (cf. also Andreas’ —æd ÆŒH, On Creatures that Bite).21 Virgil’s Georgics have predecessors in Hesiod and in Menecrates (SH 543–50; mentioned by Varro, RR 1.1.9;  0EæªÆ, Works, in more than one book). Nicander’s ˆøæªØŒ (On Farming), evidently read by Cicero (De Orat. 1.69), provides a forerunner for the title, and his ºØ##ıæªØŒ (On Bee-Keeping), cited by Colum. RR 9.2.4, sounds relevant. The latter poem mentioned thyme (fr. 92 Schneider), like Virgil (G. 4.112, 169, etc.), but this shows little; the extant fragments of the Georgica, all ascribed to the second of the two books or to neither, show no clear link with Virgil, and only loose connections with Columella (so mention of Proserpina’s gathering flowers, 10.268–74, cf. Nic. fr. 74.60–1 Schneider). There were plentiful sources in Greek prose, as Varro indicates (1.1.7–11; magna . . . turba Colum. RR 1.1.7), and some writers in Latin, including Varro (Colum. 1.1.12).22 Sallustius’ poem sounds like a translation, cf. Aratea; the style of the poem rather than its content would have demanded inhuman uirtus of Quintus (Cic. QF 2.10.3). Egnatius’ and Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura had Empedocles’ —æd ç#ø# or ı#ØŒ (On Nature or Matters of Nature) as a predecessor in title; but in Lucretius’ title Epicurus’ —æd ç#ø# is at least equally resonant. Egnatius’ metonymy Mulciber ipse (FRP 43.1) might connect with Empedocles’ metonymy  „çÆØ## (‘Hephaestus, fire’, frr. 62.4, 98.2 Inwood; not used by Lucretius; cf. also 67.5). Empedocles is clearly an important model for Lucretius, and appears with much fanfare in 1.716–33, evidently in part because of his poetry. Lucretius’ language is here itself too elaborately poetic to specify much; but physical theories alone would hardly have won this accolade, and the treatment of Heraclitus (cf. 635–44) invites us to include expression, as does Book 1 in general. Empedocles is located with great emphasis in Sicily (1.716–30); but the prose-writer Epicurus, 21 Note also Marcellus of Side, later than our poem, on the medical uses of fish, GDK no. 63. On Nicander’s own date and handling of other poets cf. Magnelli (2006b); for his sources, Jacques (2002– 7), ii.xx–lxi, 269–309. One wonders if Pancrates’ ¨Æº ##ØÆ æªÆ (Sea Tasks, SH 598–601) might be an early title. For Sostratus’ date cf. O’Hara (1996), 202–5, Lightfoot (1999), 412 n. 103, 428–9. 22 There remain various resemblances in approach between Nicander and Columella; note e.g. in 10.103–9 the neat parallelism of function (cf. Nic. fr. 74.62–5), and the robustly sexual language (cf. Nic. fr. 74.29–30). In 178 ueniat quamuis oculis inimica corambe, just before lettuce, may play on the ugly type of Œæ Å (‘cabbage’) graphically described at Nic. fr. 85.6–7; at least the interest in ugliness suggests Nicander. In general, Nicander proceeds by plants, not time, and is far more detailed. On his poem, cf. recently Harrison (2004); for Nicander and Latin poetry note Hollis (1998).

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located with equal emphasis in Athens (6.1–8), is Lucretius’ most fundamental source.23 The relevance of both poetry and prose to this genre and the nature of the subject-matter affect the question of proximity, especially to Greek hexameter poetry. If we are looking from a reader’s point of view, we must recollect that some sources and models will be much better known than others. Aratus’ and Empedocles’ poems, Xenophon’s and Epicurus’ treatises, will be much more familiar than some relatively recondite works, and proximity more easily assessed. But in any case, clear differences in proximity within the work are built into the poems themselves: obvious variation in closeness to Greek models is one of the features of the genre, and crucial for the relation of more evidently Roman and excursive passages to their surroundings.24 Astronomy is an area where there is particular proximity; a previous chapter looked both at examples and at the wider works (pp. 205–10). Aratus’ Phaenomena is after the Iliad the work most translated and closely adapted into Latin. For Manilius, as was mentioned, proximity and originality form an important issue. Even that part of the first book which particularly interacts with Aratus follows a different order, is shorter overall, and despite points of close connection stands at a much greater distance from Aratus than does Cicero or Germanicus. But the circumscribed subject-matter in that part of Book 1 creates a general likeness; the reason for Manilius’ departure after Book 1 is his astrology, that is to say, his prose sources. In Book 1 itself he follows his account of the fixed stars with theological (Stoicizing) conclusions, 478–531; in this his use resembles Cicero’s of his own Aratea in De Natura Deorum 2. Even Germanicus goes beyond Aratus, whether or not in the same poem, and most notably includes the planets (frr. ii–iv Gain, cf. i.444–5); so does Alexander of Ephesus (SH 21; cf. also Hegesianax SH 466–7). Germanicus adorns and adds to Aratus more elaborately than Cicero.25 As Manilius diverges from Aratus after his first book, so too does Virgil’s Georgics from Hesiod. The reason is connected (on at least one level) with his prose and perhaps his post-Hesiodic poetic sources: like his sources, he embraces a much wider view of farming than Hesiod, who scarcely mentions even viticulture (WD 22, 570–2, 609–14). The emancipation is marked, somewhat as in Manilius, within the first book itself; here it is a progression in literary and historical time. Virgil moves in 351 to Aratus, alludes as well to the contemporary Greek Parthenius in 437, and then proceeds at 466 to recent events in Rome, and brings the book back to overlap with its beginnings (24–42 on Octavian, cf. esp. 503–4, 506–8). Proximity to Hesiod in the book has been self-consciously varied and fitful: Hesiod’s neat mini-structures, as of the seasons, are gestured to (spring, 42–6; summer and winter, 100–2), dropped, resumed (winter, 302–8; all seasons, 311–15). Moments of close pastiche, as of the Days in 276–86, compress and exaggerate the Hesiodic mixture of cosmic and mundane (the Gigantomachy of 278–83 is partly fuelled by the Theogony; the final nona fugae melior, contraria 23 See Sedley (1998), chs. 4–5 for detailed discussion of Lucretius and Epicurus. For Empedocles and Lucretius cf. Garani (2007). The past in FRP 43A.2 is unexpected; presumably a perfect rather than a unique event in the history of the cosmos (cf. e.g. Emped. fr. 40 Inwood). 24 On the reception of Aratus see Hübner (2005), on that of Empedocles P. R. Hardie (1995). 25 For Manilius and Aratus, including their relation after the first book, see Abry (2007).

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furtis is hyper-Hesiodic, contrast WD 810–13 and cf. 320–6). This is a different sort of relationship from that of any poet of stars to Aratus.26 Lucretius has a different sort of relation again with Empedocles, as one can see from the Strasburg papyrus. There seems to be little shared structure or prolonged reworking. The subject-matter is intrinsically far less circumscribed than that of astronomy, and Lucretius’ philosophy, that is his prose source, takes him in a quite different direction. We may see the same pattern of branching out from the prime poetic model as in Virgil and Manilius, but it begins much more quickly. There is no evidence to suggest that Empedocles’ —æd ç#ø# started with a hymn to Aphrodite, and some indications against (fr. 9 Inwood looks as if it comes from early in the poem (after fr. 8); fr. 25.21–6 = 1.252–7 Primavesi look as if they are introducing Aphrodite). But we may certainly allow that the opening will strike the reader as containing many Empedoclean elements, particularly from —æd ç#ø# Book 1; so hominum diuumque uoluptas, | alma Venus, cf. fr. 25.24 = 1.255 Primavesi ˆÅŁ#Å ŒÆº# K ı  M çæÅ (‘calling it Delight by name, and Aphrodite’), cf. also fr. 61.13 M Øçæø غÅ# . . . ›æ (‘the kindly onset of Love’) and Lucr. 1.12–13. What follows Aeneadum . . . Venus gives some hints which could be linked with her action among the four elements (247–9, 256–7), and the generation of all living things (269–71). But Lucretius’ opening soon proves to be misleading. Neither Pythagoras (cf. Emped. fr. 6 Inwood) nor Empedocles himself is the Graius homo. Nor are beings transformed into other beings (note fr. 124.5–7, including the tears (Lucr. 1.125–6 of Homer in Ennius)). After its proem Lucretius’ work will take up many features of Empedoclean phrasing and imagination (for the former cf. e.g. 2.1114–15 . . . terreno corpore terra | crescit et ignem ignes producunt aetheraque with fr. 44 (Arist. Gen. Corr. 333b1 (paraphrasing) ıæd ªaæ ÆhØ e [ÆhÆØ W] Fæ, ‘fire increases with fire’) ÆhØ b åŁg b #çæ  Æ#, ÆNŁæÆ  ÆNŁ æ, ‘and the earth increases its own body, and aether increases aether’). But it is Epicurus’ total structure and argument that he will more or less follow closely, in creating his own poetic structure.27 The differing degrees and modes of closeness in this genre do not relate so directly to spatial setting and spatial meaning as in the case of narrative poems. 26 On Hesiod and Aratus in Georgics 1, see Farrell (1991), 131–68. In 1.277–8 quintam fuge: pallidus Orcus | Eumenidesque satae, Hesiod’s K 

ÅØ ª æ çÆ#Ø  EæØÆ# I çØ ºØ |  OæŒ ªØ , e  0EæØ# Œ B  K ØæŒØ# (‘on the fifth day they say the Erinyes attend Horkos (Oath) who was born then, whom Strife bore as a pain to perjurors’, WD 803–4) is boldly made more chthonic with a crosslanguage pun. 27 On which cf. Farrell (2008), esp. 2. For the Strasburg papyrus see esp. A. Martin and Primavesi (1999), Janko (2004), Primavesi (2008). On Lucretius’ proem and Empedocles cf. Sedley (1998), 15–34; against him on Lucretius’ address to Venus, Schwabl (2004), 215–16. Empedocles’ phrasing is more important to Lucretius than Hesiod’s, but Lucretius’ generalized claim to sweetness (1.413 lingua . . . suauis, 945–6 suauiloquenti | carmine Pierio, cf. 947 musaeo dulci . . . melle; note AP 9.190.2 on Erinna’s hexameters, cf. 8) may well emulate similar claims about Hesiod, cf. Dion. Hal. Imit. 31.2 ii.204.14–15 Usener–Radermacher  H## . . . KçæØ# B# Øa O ø ºØÅ# . . . (‘Hesiod was concerned to produce pleasure through the smoothness of words’, cf. Jos. Apion 2.209), cf. Dem. 40 i.214.21–217.15 O ø . . . a ºØÆÆ ŒÆd ƺƌÆÆ . . . ŁÅæø Å . . . e  . . .  H# (‘the smoothest and softest of words . . . hunting . . . for sweetness . . . [example] Hesiod’), Comp. 23 ii.114.1– 7, Vell. 1.7.1 mollissima dulcedine carminum. This is relevant to the interpretation of Callimachus, Epigram 27 Pfeiffer.

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This is because the discourse and subject-matter are of another kind from those of narrative. But space is involved in internal differences and tensions between Roman setting and Greek sources within a work; they are in turn connected with internal differences and tensions in proximity to sources. An aspect of time also comes into these latter: in Lucretius the later prose source supersedes the earlier poetic source in thought, in Virgil the later sources greatly expand the earlier in content and knowledge, in Manilius the later prose sources expand and supersede the earlier poetic source, but with the twist that they go back to older wisdom (and, spatially, to the heavens).

P A S TO R A L Pastoral offers us yet another situation. Specific stories are not often taken over from the Greek models complete with the names and identities of the protagonists, like myths or historical events in narrative hexameters. The myth of Daphnis is applied to the Roman poet Gallus, the myth of Polyphemus to the Sicilian rustic Corydon; Silenus comes in Greek bucolic (P. Vindob. Rainer 29801), but is more of a storyteller than a story in Virgil. The tale of Simaetha is transferred to a nameless woman; her beloved Delphis takes the name Daphnis, evocative of myth. Many of the Greek and Latin poems do not have what one could quite call a story: too little changes.28 We do find a wholesale appropriation of Greek names, even when the poems are set in Italy: not ordinary Greek names, but names that evoke the genre. The names of some rustic characters already proceed from Theocritus to his Greek successors: thus Daphnis, Lycidas, Thyrsis, Amyntichus (= Amyntas), along with fresh inventions, create a generic world without being fixed to single characters (somewhat like the names in New Comedy). In taking them over, and adding to them, Virgil and Calpurnius can form a Greek world which can be transferred to different places, including contemporary Italy, even in the north. This transference adds to the process of mysterious translation into pastoral terms, or to the expansion of the pastoral world. The new names mostly take inspiration from the old.29 In Virgil, the songs and narratives, if we exclude living Romans and the mythical figures of Eclogue 4 and of Silenus’ song, have by my reckoning sixteen names taken from Greek bucolic, seventeen not visibly so taken. Some of the seventeen are closely modelled on Theocritean names, so Alphesiboeus from Alphesiboea (the mythical name in Theocr. 3.45), and the dog Lycisca from Lycus and Cynisca (the ex-pair in the non-bucolic Theocritus 14). Some of the living Romans correspond to living Greeks in Theocritus or pseudo-Theocritus (Cinna and Varius to ‘Sicelidas’ and Philetas, the addressee Varus to Nicias and 28 What is happening to Daphnis in Theocritus 1 is much disputed; a recent proposal in Anagnostou-Laoutides and Konstan (2008). Galatea is an ordinary woman in Virg. Ecl. 1.30–1, 3.64, 72, the nymph in 7.37 and 9.39. 29 The Latin names ending in -as respect the Doric, cf. e.g. Cic. Verr. 3.129 Archonidas Helorinus; but Doric -ā is not kept in female names, like Alcippe.

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Diophantus). Calpurnius, if we exclude the living Roman Nero, has ten names which appear in Theocritus, twenty which do not. Some of the ten do not also appear in Virgil: Idas from the non-bucolic Theocritus 22, Alcippe and Micon from Theocr. 5.112 and 132. Some of the twenty are close to names in Theocritus: Lycotas to Lycopas, Lādon to Lācon, Crocale to Crocylus (again, all in Theocritus 5); cf. also Acanthida 6.47 with acanthida 6.7 and Theocr. 7.141 ŒæıØ ŒÆd IŒÆŁ# (larks and another singing bird). Caesar, as we shall see, corresponds in one poem to Arsinoe. Calpurnius ostentatiously reduces the overall proximity to Theocritus’ world of names, but also ostentatiously establishes a connection independent of Virgil, through the most coarsely rustic of Theocritus’ poems. None of the few names in the Einsiedeln Eclogues comes in Theocritus, but Lādas is close to Lābas in Theocr. 14.24; Glyceranus displays a patently Roman ending. The Roman poets were not driven to other resources by a paucity of names in the Theocritean corpus: there are plenty they do not use.30 Both Virgil and Calpurnius seem keen to incorporate non-Theocritean names straight away (Meliboeus Virg. Ecl. 1.6, Ornytus Calp. Sic. 1.4). Virgil’s Meliboeus perhaps evokes the city in Greece from which Philoctetes fled in exile to found Petelia in Italy (Strabo 6.1.3 254 C. ii.132.7–8 Radt çıª# c ºØÆ ŒÆa # #Ø (cf. 10–14 = Apollod. FGrHist 244 F 167); cf. Ecl. 1.4 nos patriam fugimus, 71–2 en quo discordia ciuis | produxit). Ornytus is the alternative name of a mythical Arcadian; the story, and quite possibly the name, came in Call. SH 276 (fr. 110 Massimilla = 190a Harder), cf. Polemon æŒÆØŒ (On Arcadia) FHG fr. 24 iii. 122, Paus. 8.24.4–6; Arcadia is important in the Callimachus. But we promptly find Ornytus talking of Faunus, the Italian parallel to the Arcadian Pan (often identified, but distinct in Calp. Sic. 4.132–3); as against Virgil, Calpurnius increases the role of Faunus (Virg. Ecl. 6.27 Faunos) and diminishes that of Pan. Calpurnius’ non-Theocritean name Astylus (Calp. Sic. 6.7) is given to a lovesick singer, who does not get round to competing by the end of the poem. The name is that of an athlete from Croton in South Italy who claimed to come from Syracuse, to the indignation of his people (Paus. 6.13.1). Simonides wrote him an epinician (fr. 10 Poltera); from  ºØ#Ø (‘leaves’) in what is probably its first line comes the name of Astylus’ beloved Petale in Calpurnius. The athlete Astylus, however, abstained from sex (Plat. Laws 8.840a1–6). The seemingly new names in these poets underline the blending and clashing of Greek material and Greek or Italian location.31 Some relation can be seen between place and the differing degrees of proximity. We can now build on our earlier discussion of place in pastoral (pp. 176–80) with this question in mind. Thus there is clearly a relation between Calpurnius’ wholesale move to Italy and the establishment of Virgil as primary point of 30 On Theocritus’ own choice (and invention) of names see Hatzikosta (2008). Most of the apparently new names in Latin poets could in principle have appeared in lost non-Theocritean Greek bucolic (as is observed for Meliboeus by Hunter (2006b), 118); it looks unlikely that they all did, and the pointedness of Meliboeus’ name, if the suggestion below is right, might suggest that that particular instance did not. 31 It is less likely that the name Meliboeus recalls the rustic who found Oedipus. This would lend a tragic resonance; but the appellation is first attested late: Ioh. Mal. 2.17 p. 36 Thurn, Suda Ø 34 iv.616 Adler (Ioh. Antioch. FHG iv fr. 8 is not genuine, cf. Mariev (2008), 25*–26*). On Faunus and Pan cf. M. Robinson (2011), 208–11.

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reference. Within the Eclogues, proximity to Greek bucolic is bound up with place; but this connection grows more complicated and presents more surprises as the book unfolds. The differences in proximity between Eclogues 1 and 2 are clearly linked with place. Eclogue 1 is set in Italy, and in a shockingly contemporary situation; it stands at a considerable distance from Theocritus. (The names Tityrus and Amaryllis connect with Theocritus 3, where the wooer of Amaryllis is the colleague of Tityrus: Tityrus in Eclogue 1 retains the pastoral world.) With a twist, the contrasting extremities of the empire in 58–60 to which Meliboeus will go recall and diverge from Theocr. 7.111–15 (potential curse on Pan): note sitientis (implied in Theocr. 7.113–14) and ı Ø#Ø (‘last, furthermost’, cf. Virg. Ecl. 1.66 penitus toto diuisos orbe and ultimos of the same people in Cat. 11.11–12). Eclogue 2 is located in Sicily, in a timeless past, and is filled with small-scale renderings of different Theocritean poems, within a general evocation of Theocritus 11. So 2.9 etiam . . . lacertos, cf. Theocr. 7.22 ŒÆd #ÆFæ# (‘even the lizard’); 10–11 Thestylis . . . contundit, cf. Theocr. 2.59 ¨#ıºØ . . .   Æ (‘Thestylis, knead up . . . ’); 18 alba ligustra cadunt, uaccinia nigra leguntur [cross-language play, cf. Priap. 68.2], cf. Theocr. 10.28–9 ŒÆd e Y ºÆ K#, ŒÆd ± ªæÆ a  ŒØŁ#· | Iºº 

Æ# K E# #ç Ø# a æAÆ k›comtai (‘the violet and the inscribed hyacinthus are black; but yet in garlands they are said to be the first in rank’), etc. a Corydon, Corydon, quae te dementia cepit! . . . inuenies alium si te hic fastidit Alexin (69, 73) through the names evokes, and marks the changes from, Theocr. 11.72, 76 t ˚Œºøł, ˚Œºøł, AØ a# çæÆ# KŒ  Æ#ÆØ; . . . æÅ#E# ˆÆº ØÆ Y#ø# ŒÆd ŒÆºº ¼ººÆ (‘O Cyclops, Cyclops, where have you flown to in your mind? . . . You’ll find another Galatea, perhaps even more beautiful’).32 Eclogue 4 begins with Sicilian Muses and ends with the hyper-Theocritean Arcadia in mainland Greece; but it moves at once from the Sicilian Muses to a Roman consul, and then to the Sibyl of Cumae in South Italy making prophecies about a child born now. Eclogue 6 moves from Syracusan verse and from the poet turned into Tityrus to Varus and recent wars—and also to Callimachus. Both Eclogues 4 and 6 emphasize their links with Theocritus through place and then forcefully move into a Roman context and away from Theocritus, but bring in complications. As wholes, both poems stand at a particular distance from Theocritus’ bucolic. (4 has connections with the non-bucolic Theocritus 16 and 24, but in a much more oblique fashion than in 2; 6.42–3 join up with the non-bucolic Theocritus 13; Silenus is, as we saw (p. 307), from post-Theocritean bucolic.) Eclogue 7, by contrast with 6, is closely bound to Theocritus and to one particular supposedly Theocritean poem, [8]. At its beginning Eclogue 7 stresses, while loudly echoing [8.]3–4, the Arcadian origin of the singers (cf. also 25–6; Eruc. I.1–2 Gow–Page). They turn out, however, to be singing by the river of Mantua (12–13); it is Virgil’s Italian equivalent to Theocritus’ Arethusa (cf. 1.117, 16.102–3; [Mosch.] 3.10–12).33

32 Cf. 11.75–6 with Archil. fr. 5.3–4 West (shield) . . . KÆFØ# Œ # ÆØ P ŒÆŒø. More on the relation between Calpurnius and Virgil pp. 178–80 above, 326 below. For the relation between Eclogue 2 and Theocritus 11 see Du Quesnay (1979), and, more broadly, Kantzios (2004). 33 On Eclogue 4 see recently Courtney (2010) and Van Sickle (2011b), on 6 R. B. Rutherford (1989a), Breed (2000), and Harrison (2011), 36–59 on both poems; for the relation of 4 to Theocritus

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Eclogue 9 brings us back to the contemporary Italian setting of 1; the relation of rustic characters to real ones has become more complex (Menalcas sounds like Virgil in 27–9). Not Rome but Mantua and Cremona are named (27–9). The poem embodies the extremes of closeness to and distance from Theocritus: 21–5 present Tityrus and Amaryllis from Theocritus 3, and follow 3.3–5 with near echoes (cf. Gell. 9.9.7–11): pasce capellas |, cf. #Œ a# Ær ªÆ# | (‘feed the shegoats’); occursare capro—cornu ferit ille—caueto, cf. ŒÆd e KæåÆ . . . çıº ##

ı ŒæłÅØ (‘watch the uncastrated billy doesn’t butt you’). Lines 39–43 allow in the usually excluded Polyphemus; 32–6 mimic Theocr. 7.38–41, but replace Sicelidas (said to be Asclepiades) and Philetas with living poets from the Roman literary world. Lines 27–31 show the problems of the present, with names of patron and places, but with Theocritean repetition; 46–50 tell Daphnis to ignore old stars and look at Caesar’s, but with a hint of the Ptolemies and their poets (antiquos signorum . . . ortus? | ecce Dionaei processit Caesaris astrum, cf. Ptolemy I in Theocritus 17 and Berenice in 15 and 17: 15.106–7 ˚ æØ ˜ØøÆÆ, ‘Aphrodite, daughter of Dione’, you have made Berenice a goddess, cf. 17.36–7 ˜ØÆ#

ØÆ ŒæÆ, ‘the lady daughter of Dione’; Call. fr. 110.64 Pfeiffer, Harder = 213 Massimilla ˚ æØ]# K IæåÆØ# ¼#æ  [ŁÅŒ , ‘Aphrodite made me a new _ star among the old ones’, cf. Cat. 66.64). The opening of the last poem elaborately uses place to talk of Theocritus, but interfuses this with the untransformed name of Gallus and the elegiac disguise Lycoris. The poem then interacts closely at first with Theocritus 1 (10.9–30 cf. Theocr. 1.66–98); but it is about the real poet Gallus, and will imitate his elegiacs. And yet it is set in Arcadia. We find, after the opening poems, not a neat if expressive association of more and less Theocritean poems with more and less Theocritean settings, but an insistence on surprises and intricacy. The fluctuations in the relationship with Greek hexameter poetry, and the shocks of transformation and of likeness, are kept fresh and unsettling.34 Calpurnius stands at a further distance from Theocritus than those poems of Virgil which closely interact with him. (Theocritus, we have seen, is not forgotten; one may note that Gellius had Theocritus’ and Virgil’s Bucolica read out together at dinner, 9.9.4–11.) Since the book as a whole is placed in Italy, there is not the same kind of relation between intertextuality and place. We find in Calpurnius, however, a more significant opposition than in Virgil between Rome as a locale and the countryside (Rome is important but offstage in Virgil). Calpurnius makes noteworthy use in passages set at Rome of non-bucolic poems of Theocritus relatively little exploited by Virgil.35 With some lead from Virgil, Calpurnius has Nero in his poems correspond to Hieron and the Ptolemaic house in Theocritus’. In 1.33–88 Ornytus (with the Arcadian name) delivers the oracle of Faunus about Nero. The oracle becomes a description of Rome’s happy state, but it begins from a description of the security of animals from thieves and an end to war (36–50). The passage decidedly 24, with new work on the Antinoë papyrus, see Bernsdorff (2011). In Eclogue 7.21–68 the elegiac quatrains of [Theocr.] 8.33–60 are turned into quatrains of hexameters: a prelude to Eclogue 10? 34 On Eclogue 9 cf. Henderson (1998), on 10 Conte (1986), 100–29, Hunter (2006b), 132–40, Harrison (2011), 59–74. Lycoris as reader in Ecl. 10.2 is not connected with Gall. FRP 145.8–9: cf. Gagliardi (2011), 89–92. 35 On Gell. 9.9.4–11 see Johnson (2010), 128.

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connects, though it avoids verbal closeness, with Theocr. 16.88–97; there Theocritus wishes that, as a result of Hieron’s imminent triumphs, animals may abound, ravaged cities be inhabited, and the very name of war cease to exist. Calp. Sic. 1.37–9 licet omne uagetur | securo custode pecus nocturnaque pastor | claudere fraxinea nolit praesepia crate (37–9) perhaps join for the reader with Theocr. 16.92–3 #  Icekgdem K# askim | Kqw¸lemai #jmivaEom K Ø# Ø ›Æ [note possibly uiator in 28] (‘may the cows going in a herd to the stall spur on the traveller at twilight [or “dark”]’). The following lines, wishing glory to Hieron beyond the Scythian sea and Babylon (16.99–100), are connected with Calp. Sic. 1.74–6, where peoples in North, South, East, West, and on the Equator are bidden to rejoice at Nero’s new age.36 Corydon’s awed description of Nero’s amphitheatre in poem 7 probably connects with Theocritus 15, where the women marvel at Arsinoe’s display in the palace, and a singer raptly describes the tableau. For a reader properly equipped with the generic context it is a natural link to make. Again verbal closeness is eschewed. A relatively detailed point of contact would be 7.57 uidi genus omne ferarum, cf. Theocr. 15.118  ÆPHØ Åa ŒÆd !æ a E æ#Ø (‘all flying and walking creatures are here for him’). Arsinoe is  EºÆØ NŒıEÆ (‘like Helen’, Theocr. 15.110), and her mother immortal (106–8); as for Nero, in uno | et Martis uultus et Apollinis esse putatur (83–4 (end of poem); also relevant is the youthful Adonis, who closes Theocritus’ poem and whose image is admired by the women, cf. 15.85–6, 129, 148). One could perhaps compare 7.50–6 ebur . . . auro . . . dentibus [elephant tusks] . . . with Theocr. 15.123 J # [note sound?], J åæı##, J KŒ ºıŒH KºçÆ# . . . (‘Oh ebony, oh gold, oh (eagles) from white ivory’; cf. Calp. Sic. 36 sic undique fulgor | percussit). Without specific connection, the crowding and clothes in both poems conjoin, especially in Gorgo’s description at the beginning of Theocritus 15 (5–7, of the city on this festival day), and the beginning of Corydon’s description in Calpurnius 7 (26–9); cf. perhaps 6 ÆAØ åºÆ ıÅçæØ ¼æ# (‘everywhere there are men wearing the chlamys [Macedonian national dress?]’) with 29 niuei loca densauere tribuni [sc. aerarii]. More generally and structurally we have in both poems the simple-minded perspective on the ruler’s show. The old man from the city who scornfully addresses the rustic in 7.40–4 corresponds to the stranger at Theocr. 15.87–8 who interrupts the women with protest at their chatter and their accent.37 Outside these passages, poem 3 turns into a more definitely pastoral form Theocritus 14, set in the country but not clearly among rustics, and ending with Ptolemy. In Calpurnius the name of the spurned and violent lover is the pastoral 36

On the prophecy of Faunus, and its Latin intertexts, cf. Esposito (2009), and Fucecchi (2009), 46–63, the latter with some points of Greek erudition in Calpurnius. 37 It is not implied that Theocr. 15.118 has to be seen as causing Calpurnius’ phrase at 7.57: cf. Calp. Sic. 2.10 (p. 286 above), and Suet. Tit. 7.3 (games of Titus) quinque milia omne genus ferarum (where ferarum is governed by milia; the passage is adduced by A. T. Fear (1994), 272). But the reader who relates the passages on wider grounds will see the verbal link (even if the animals in Theocritus are to be eaten).  stands out as the culmination of a sequence in Theocr. 15.110–18 with A# (‘all’), ‹## (‘as many as’), and ÆE# (‘of every kind’); this will strike the reader, whatever the cultic background (cf. Reed (2000), 330–2). On the still more striking 15.123 cf. J. A. Foster (2006), 144–6. For 15.6 see Gow (1952), ii.260, 268. The connection between Calpurnius 7 and Theocritus 15 is seen by Newlands (1987), 228–9, cf. Monella (2009), 83–5.

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Lycidas; it plays on the name of his rival in Theocritus, Lycus (much play had been made in Theocritus on that name itself). The storyline is clearly the same. A man admits to his friend that he is not himself: he is pining for love of a woman who has now left him. He saw that she was in love with someone else and hit her; she left, and remains in love with the other man. Then the poems diverge: in Theocritus service with Ptolemy ensues, in Calpurnius a poem to win the woman back; Calpurnius here skirts and does not transform the Alexandrian politics. Close similarity of language between the poems is avoided: it is imitation on a large not a small scale (unlike much of Virgil’s imitation of Theocritus). Aeschines is Tåæ# (‘pale’; cf. 6), Lycidas pallidus (45); but other language swaps significantly around. Theocritus’ woman | ŒºÆ (‘started to weep’, 32) and | K纪 · P Ææø# Œ I  ÆPA# ŒÆd ºå płÆ# (‘started to burn [i.e. blush]; you could even have lit a lamp from her, easily’, 23); Calpurnius’ man | flet (47) and inwardly burns: sic intimus arsi | ut nihil ulterius tulerim (28–9; cf. 7–8 uror . . . | uror, et immodice, and note [Theocr.] 20.15–16: the man burns inwardly and outwardly). When the blow is struck in Theocritus the man speaks angrily; in Calpurnius the woman does (31–2).38

SATIRE Since there is no Greek hexameter satire, as an acknowledged category, it may be thought that Latin satire has no relation to Greek models except through higher genres that are parodied. But there is also a horizontal relation to less grandiose types of hexameter poetry, many of them cheeky or disreputable. Satire stands less alone than Horace, Persius, and Juvenal suggest, and is part of a tangled undergrowth within the super-genre. Satire presents a different type of interaction with Greek models from other hexameter genres, but the interaction is not quite a zerograde. We have already seen a relationship with pastoral poetry and other Theocritus (pp. 288–90); we can now find a rationale in the relative lack of elevation in much of that poetry, and also to the relative brevity of the poems (itself part of being less elevated). Place may seem to present a paradox here, since satire may be thought of as located in contemporary Rome, pastoral in the country. We will return to this point; we can at least say that the genre of satire is more located in Rome than other hexameter genres, and that some particularly striking poems establish the city as a focus of our attention. But we have just seen even the pastoral poet Calpurnius embracing Theocritus’ non-bucolic poems among his generic models (and cf. e.g. Virgil, Eclogue 8 and Theocritus 2). The poem of Theocritus most engaged with the city is 15, used by Calpurnius. Pragmatically, Theocritus’ poem has its goal in the praise of the Queen’s display, which forms the last third. Panegyric is imaginatively approached from a mime-like indoor scene which 38 Many scholars see the general link between the poems; so cf. Magnelli (2004), 3. Vinchesi (1991), 259 grants that Theocritus 14 is present, but is reluctant to see a direct relation with Calpurnius, at least in some places. For thoughts on the structure of Theocritus 14, see Burton (1992), Hunter (1996), 111–16.

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bursts outdoors into the crowded city of Alexandria. The crowds reflect enthusiasm for the festival, as well as depicting the Ptolemies’ urban achievement; but the unforgettable depiction of individuals in a mass of people is closely akin to the satirists’ less cheerful canvases of life in Rome. It could be thought that the kinship rests purely on the real similarity between Alexandria and Rome; but, apart from the question of what aspects of reality poets choose to portray, a reader who brings an awareness of the super-genre is likely to see the link.39 Theocritus’ poem undergoes much transformation from the satirists, and detailed connection is often hard to demonstrate, especially since the material could lie to hand in actuality. But Juvenal’s nobis properantibus obstat | unda prior (3.243–4) closely resembles Theocritus’ # ø #· Zåº# ºf# ¼

Ø K ØææE (59; cf. also æA#ÆØ, 44); nobis, now emphatically placed, adds a social twist (a contrast with privileged lecticae). The tearing of clothes in the crowd (really a common occurrence?) is expressed with a similar-sounding word in the same point of the line: Juv. 3.254 | scinduntur tunicae, Theocr. 15.69–70 åÆ Ø e Łæ#æØ XÅ | #åØ#ÆØ (‘my wrap has been torn apart now’).’40 Janus’ urge to Horace indoors (Sat. 2.6.24, cf. 25–6) connects with Praxinoa’s Œı  (‘get a move on’, 29) to her slave indoors, and, in the practical application of urge among a crowd, with her Ø Çı (76, ‘push’; cf. eia, . . . urge | with ¼ª . . . Ø Çı | ‘come on, push’, and note # ø #, ‘let’s hurry’, 59). For the application, compare the stranger’s quas res improbus urges [Lambinus: urget MSS] . . . ? tu pulses omne quod obstat? (29–30; 28 luctandum in turba matches Theocritus’ picture of the Zåº#, ‘crowd’, 73). Horace is struggling to the house of his patron, Maecenas, who here corresponds to Theocritus’ patron Arsinoe. Theocritus’ characters meet an old woman who tells them obliquely they will make it into the palace: ˆˇ. åæÅ# g# ± æ#FØ# I Øå Ł# Æ#Æ. | —. Æ ªıÆEŒ# Y#ÆØ, ŒÆd ‰# Zf# Iª ªŁ  „æÆ (‘Gorg. They were oracles the old woman was delivering; she’s gone now. Prax. Women know everything, including how Zeus married Hera’, 63–4). Someone later asks them to stop chattering (ŒøººØ#ÆØ, 87): KŒŒÆØ#FØ (‘they’ll be the death of me’; the scholiast’s Id F ØÆçŁæF#Ø, ‘i.e. “they’ll kill me”’, shows how readers may have been guided). Horace combines the two in an alleged fatum from an anus, delivered to the chatterbox who hangs on to him through the busy city: garrulus hunc quando consumet cumque (Sat. 1.9.33). Praxinoa’s comment on women may well be taken up in Juvenal’s poem on women: 6.400 haec eadem nouit quid toto fiat in orbe, of a woman who

39

On Rome in satire cf. e.g. Bond (2001). The words are cognate, though there is no evidence that this was perceived. With less proximity, the death at the end of the passage, and the scene of domesticity the man never reaches (3.261–7), can be seen to literalize and reverse Gorgo’s ‘rescue’ from the crowds and chariots to a domestic scene with Praxinoa: ºØ# h

Ø K#ŁÅ . . . ººH b Zåºø, ººH b Łæ

ø (‘I’ve only just made it here; I was saved from such a big crowd and so many chariots’, 4–5). Juvenal could be thought to move 6

ÆAØ ŒæÅ E# [+: ºªØ b f# K BØ ºØ #æÆØÆ#], ÆAØ åºÆ ıÅçæØ ¼æ# (‘everywhere there are hob-nailed boots [scholiast: ‘she means the soldiers in the city’], everywhere there are men in chlamydes’) explicitly outside the city: it is even more dangerous than for Gorgo offendere tot caligas, tot | milia clauorum (16.24–5; Plin. Nat. 36.127 clauis crepidarum) when you are in the camp, tam procul . . . ab urbe (16.25), and the soldiers wish to use their boots against you. 40

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like the pair themselves talks a lot (412), and goes around the whole city on her own, though at high speed (398–400).41 Lucilius’ a mani ad noctem, festo atque profesto | totus item pariterque die populusque patresque | iactare indu foro se omnes, decedere nusquam (1228–30 Marx = H 41.1–3 Charpin) could be seen to contrast directly with Theocritus’ poem, with its festival crowds and its characters’ departure at noon (147–8). The Roman crowds are bent on mutual trickery as if they were all hostes to each other. They behave more as the thieving Egyptians previously did to the Greeks in Alexandria. The Egyptians are K I Æ# ŒŒæÅ Ø ¼æ# (‘men manufactured from trickery’, 49, cf. dolose 5), Iºº ºØ# › ƺ . . . # IæÆEØ (‘just like each other . . . all accursed’, 50, cf. omnes 4 and 7; cf. arti 4 with  ÆØ# 49, ‘used to play tricks’); they used to injure people in the street for gain (ƺEÆØ, 48, cf. pugnare, 5, insidias facere, 7). Perhaps Horace, with a comic turn, makes Praxinoa’s pigs (TŁFŁ u# æ o#, ‘they’re pushing like pigs’, 73) literal and singular: even when the streets are clear (Epist. 2.2.71), there is lots of noisy activity, culminating with: hac lutulenta ruit sus (75). Another non-bucolic Theocritean poem interacts with Juvenal 7: Theocritus 16, by the end concerned with Sicily and the ruler of Syracuse. In Theocritus, Hieron II is seen as the answer to the general lack of interest in patronizing poets, and an answer not just for Theocritus (101–3). Calpurnius had already made equivalences between Theocritus’ monarchs and Caesar; Juvenal makes Caesar the only answer for poets (and studia in general). Theocritus reaches Hieron in the last part of his poem, after painful argument, travel, and searching; Juvenal begins at once with Caesar, before turning to gloom. Closer inspection confirms the affinity.42 Juvenal’s treatment of the Muses at the start of his poem as suffering poverty themselves unmistakably recalls Theocritus’ Graces at the start of his; later in Theocritus’ poem the Muses too accompany Theocritus in his travels (68–9, 106–7). Juvenal’s Muses are tristes (2), Theocritus’ Graces sit in an attitude of sorrow, heads on knees (10). Their knees are cold (11), their feet bare (8), they sit in an empty chest (10); Juvenal’s Clio is esuriens (7). Clio like the Graces has travelled with the poets in search of money, cum . . . migraret in atria (auctionhalls; 6–7). She has left Aganippe: she travels with poets, who are envisaged as having their natural habitat in Helicon or Pieria (8–9 si Pieria quadrans tibi nullus in umbra | ostendatur, 58–62). Whereas Theocritus’ poem is not especially located in country or cities (both 88–96), Juvenal connects the mythological homes of the Muses with the pastoral siluarum (58); poets are forced to practise in Rome especially, where they recite and try to make money (e.g. 81–92). A dichotomy with pastoral is worked into the adaptation of Theocritus. The poem diverges increasingly, and moves on to other artes; but the opening of poem and third book ostentatiously engage with the Greek poet—as befits the philhellenic Hadrian.43

41 Conceivably in Hor. Sat. 1.9 mater 26 and the identical Aæ at Theocr. 15.60 form part of the network. Henderson stresses the ‘epic’ side of Horace’s old woman, (1999), 217. 42 Gutzwiller (1983), 236 argues for a relation between Theocritus 16 and Augustan recusatio, partly at least through Call. fr. 1. More recent discussion includes Hunter (1996), 77–109, and Kyriakou (2004), who brings in P. Oxy. LIX 3965 (Simonides). 43 The end of the poem does intriguingly exhibit a Sicilian king who gives wine to Aeneas’ Trojans (235–6). Gow (1952), 309 mentions Hor. Sat. 2.7.59–60, where Theocritus’ image in 9–10 is comically

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Actual pastoral elements and Greek bucolic poems are also significant for satire, as we have already seen (pp. 288–90). We can now touch further, briefly, on the basis for this significance in the places of satire. Rome is particularly associated with the behaviour that satirists reprove; many poems are located in Rome, or contain scenes set in Rome. But there is also a vigorous and contrasting engagement with the Italian countryside. Horace’s second book of Satires is much concerned with the country, as was noted, and the poet himself is transported there (3, 6). This transference and conflict, and their ethical significance, are extended in the Epistles, where Horace’s sermones are mixed with the more overtly meditated utterance of the epistolary genre (sermones of Epistles: probably Epist. 1.4.1, 2.1.250, cf. 2.1.4; note the epistolary character of Lucil. 181–8 Marx = V 1 Charpin (Gell. 18.8.2)). In a related movement, Persius’ book begins with the folly of Rome, but ends with the poet in Liguria. Juvenal has a friend move to the country instead of himself (3); he remains, though ultimately detached from the tumult (11.193–204 (games), ending effugiatque [subject: my skin] togam).44 However, numerous other types of less elevated hexameter poetry are also exploited by satire. So Horace’s second book of Satires offers various examples of a Greek model deployed in a particular poem. Poem 4 presents an instance of a clear but general relationship, which eschews closeness (there is lots of the original to compare). The poem adapts and abbreviates Archestratus’ mock-didactic hexameter poem on food (it is hard to separate didactic from mock-didactic, but the hyperboles of Archestratus’ poem make its playfulness apparent). The original and not just Ennius’ version is to be borne in mind, in view of the philosophical significance attached to the nouis praeceptis (2) by Catius and less seriously by Horace (88–95), and attached mockingly to Archestratus’ poem by Chrysippus (SVF iii no. 709: the origin, the Åæ ºØ#, of Epicurus’ philosophy). But the unanswered questions about the teacher, nomen, . . . Romanus an hospes (10), point us, like nouis, to the triangle of texts, Horace’s, Ennius’, and Archestratus’. The questions heighten the tension between Greek, Italian, and Roman in the poem: is it a Roman that will surpass Pythagoras, Socrates, and Plato (2–3)?45 In 32–4 murex Baianus melior, Lucrina peloris; [so Snapius; murice Baiano MSS; line deleted by Clausen] | ostrea Circeis, Miseno oriuntur echini; | pectinibus patulis iactat se molle Tarentum Horace stands at a greater distance than Ennius from Archestratus (but note ostrea next to the place-name in Horace as in Archestratus). He furthers the stress on Italy seen in Ennius’ following lines (Var. 37–9 Vahlen), and characteristic of Horace’s poem. Cf. Archestr. fr. 7.1–4 Olson–Sens f# F# `r # åØ ª ºı#, Z#æØÆ  @ı#, | a# ¼æŒı# — æØ, f# b ŒÆ# ıغ Å, | º#ı#   æƌŠÆæåØ ŒÆd ¼ ºÆÆ

adapted to mime-like escapades of adultery: turpi clausus in arca | . . . | contractum genibus tangas caput; note the similar placing of åźF | (‘chest’) and ª ##Ø (‘knees’, at caesura; similar word (cognate), seen as origin of genu by Prisc. GLK ii.26.16–20). 44 Few poems are set outside Italy: Horace, Satires 1.7 (Clazomenae), Juvenal 15 (Egypt). Juvenal 10 embraces the world (cf. 1–4): Greek, Trojan, Carthaginian, Roman; it also embraces the historical and mythical past. Some discussion of Persius’ book: Hooley (2004), 220–3. 45 On the poem cf. Gowers (1993), 135–61. The res tenuis and tenui sermone of line 9, Callimacheanism apart, compare with Columella’s straighter didactic at RR 10.40 Pierides tenui deducite carmine Musae.

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 ÆPH |< > (‘the mussels Aenus has are big, as are Abydus’ oysters, Parion’s bear-crabs, Mytilene’s scallops; the largest number of scallops are supplied by Ambracia, and with them countless . . . ’), Enn. 35–6 mures sunt Aeni, aspra ostrea plurima Abydi; | . . . Mytilenae | est pecten {Caradrumque apud Ambraciae finis{. But Horace’s Italian places have various Greek connections; molle Tarentum, and iactat se, particularly invite us to compare and contrast with Rome, where the conversation is naturally supposed to occur (cf. Romanus an hospes and the chance meeting). We find some links with Archestratus’ phrasing, as at 42 nam Laurens malus est, again with an Italian focus; cf. Archestr. fr. 53 ŒÆŒe# . . . P

 K#Łº# (‘bad, never good’). But Horace is connecting himself with a parodic poem, not closely following it. The degree and manner of adaptation, especially the spatial aspect, are full of point.46 Poem 8 of the book gives, framed, an account of a feast by a guest. In hexameter poetry, the reader will think especially of Matro’s ØŒe E  (The Attic Banquet, SH 534). Note ut Attica uirgo at 13, of a swarthy and effeminate slave, who procedit . . . Caecuba uina ferens (13–14); he perhaps distorts the ‰æÆE# ÆE# (‘good-looking boy’, 106) at the other end of Matro’s poem, who qºŁ çæø æ (‘came bringing perfume’). Matro’s opening setting of the poem at Athens (SH 534.2) and what was most likely its usual title (above) highlight the separation from Horace in place: Horace’s poem is set at Rome (or else an Italian villa), and in part brings in Horace’s actual literary world (Maecenas and Varius appear). Horace’s piece is mostly diverse in detail; but once the reader makes the hexameter connection, Horace’s poem can be seen to pervert Matro’s parodic picture of diners as Homeric warriors: Horace’s host like Matro’s resembles a general (Sat. 2.8.73, SH 534.7), but the guests are in mortal conflict with their host (Sat. 2.8.34, 93). Even the belly is a Homeric hero (Sat. 2.8.4–5, SH 534.93–4). The end of Satires 2.8 turns the temporary resistance of Matro’s narrator (115–20) into an actual abdication by the guests, which destroys the laudatory conception of Matro’s poem (cf. SH 534.115 H  Kªg Pe# q#Ł ± ºH#, ‘I was eating none at all of these’, Hor. Sat. 2.8.93–4 nos . . . ut nihil omnino gustaremus). Horace’s poem turns round not just exalted hexameter narrative but even hexameter parody.47 Poem 6 adapts a fable, so a lowly prose genre; but if the reader thinks about hexameters, the parodic poems about the wars of mice come immediately to mind: Batracho(myo)machia, supposed to be late Hellenistic; SSH 1190 (papyrus ii–i bc), a war between mice and weasels. The former was hugely popular. The relation with Horace’s text is in some ways closer than in poem 8. Near the beginning of the Batrachomyomachia the king of the mice contrasts his diet with that of the frog king, and the frog proposes a visit. The mouse’s list of scorned frog vegetables (53–5) and adored human cuisine (33–41) interacts intriguingly with the sequence of rustic food provided by the country mouse to the contemptuous 46 On Archestratus and fish cf. O. Montanari (1999). For the text of the Ennius see Butler and Owen (1914), 94–5, and Kruschwitz (1998), 266, Schade (1998). Schade’s after est comes in the wrong clause. Butler’s Caradrique apud Ambraciai finis ends an Ennian spondeiazon with a disyllable, as he is aware; one would have to have e.g. Caradrique, in finibus Ambraciai. 47 Other elements of interaction with Apollonius and Virgil in Satires 2.8 are suggested by Lowe (2010).

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urbanite (Sat. 2.6.83–7, cf. 88–9). The semesa . . . lardi | frusta (85–6), which are at least cooked food, form an unattractive equivalent of the  # KŒ æÅ# (‘slice from a ham’, 37). The Batrachomyomachia ends with a sudden invasion of fearsome crabs who put the mice to flight (294–303); here Horace diverges from the other versions of his fable (Babrius 108, Aesop 314, Aphthonius 26, Phaedr. Fab. Nov. 9) and introduces animals: Molossian hounds. Horace’s narrative avoids as in poem 8 the wholesale parody of narrative hexameter poetry seen in the Greek poems. He has a description of night which faintly recalls narrative hexameters (Sat. 2.6.100–1; the mice’s battle ends with the day, Batr. 302–3); and he has a speech which recalls Sarpedon’s in the Iliad: F  

Å# ªaæ ŒBæ# Kç#A#Ø ŁÆ Ø | ıæÆØ, L# PŒ #Ø çıªE æe P  ƺÆØ, | Y  (‘but as it is, since there stand near us innumerable spirits of death, whom a mortal cannot flee or escape, let us go’, 12.326–8), carpe uiam . . . comes. terrestria quando | mortales animas uiuunt sortita neque ulla est | aut magno aut paruo leti fuga . . . (Sat. 2.6.93–5; but here the final advice is to live pleasantly). Ironically, speaker and listener will flee (113; cf. currere . . . pauidi with Batr. 301 f# c  Ø#Æ . . . K# b çıªc Kæ , ‘they took fright at them . . . and turned to flight’). The papyrus poem is set in Greece; the luxurious detail in Hor. Sat. 2.6.102–3 suggests that the city in this poem is Rome.48

OCCASIONAL POETRY Occasional hexameter poems are largely set in Rome or Italy; to some degree this separates them from Greek models, not set in Italy. One may contrast Catullus 62, which turns the occasional or fictive genre of the epithalamium into a placeless and nameless Theocritean singing-contest. The wedding practices in 62 may roughly suggest a Greek setting (but note 21–2). The spatial separation of Greek and Latin occasional poetry is complicated by Parthenius fr. 26 Lightfoot. Parthenius’ Propempticon for someone visiting Cilicia may well have been written in Italy for a Roman going to Asia; it may have served as a model for Latin poems on Romans visiting Greece (Cinna FRP 2–6) or Egypt and Syria (Statius, Silvae 3.2). Even so, the poet’s Greek identity and Asian origin (Nicaea, far north of Cilicia), and the Greek language of the poem, will have given a different perspective to the Greek poem from Cinna on the wonders of Delphi (FRP 6), or Statius on those of Egypt (Silv. 3.2.101–20).49

48 For the Batrachomyomachia and its relation to hexameter genres, cf. recently Sens (2006), Scodel (2008), 227–34. æÅ# in 37 is a loan from Latin perna, already seen in Strabo 3.4.11 p. 414 C. i.414.3 Radt, cf. Wackernagel (1916), 196–7. The poem is thought to be by Homer already in Mart. 14.183 and (with suggestion of debate?) Stat. Silv. 1 pr.; this suggests at least the previous century. Glei (1997) assigns the poem to the late Hellenistic period, despite more radical thoughts on the two parts in Glei (1984), 34–6. For the mice and weasels, see Schibli (1983). 49 The supposition that Cinna’s poem is written for a Pollio’s visit to the proconsul in Cilicia (Cic. Fam. 1.6.1) does not make an ideal fit (cf. Syme (1979b), 519–20, Lightfoot (1999), 169, Hollis (2007), 21); the detail on Greece would then have to be comparable to that on Egypt in Statius. For M. Maecius Celer in Statius, Silvae 3.2, see PIR2 M 51.

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The two Latin poems show the range in place the occasional genre can encompass. But Statius’ poem brings out how the speaker is not sharing the journey; so at e.g. 90–100. In that passage a further element comes in: a comparison with the Iliad displays the immobile and unheroic character of the speaker. But strikingly, at the end, where Celer on his return will tell of his travels in Asia, Statius will tell not of Rome or Italy but of his literary ‘actions’ in Greece: his burial of the Argive champions and his Amphion-like labours on Thebes (142–3, cf. 40–1). His activity and relocation as poet in mythological narrative hexameters show the difference of that type in spatial centre. The same happens in Silvae 4.4, where the narrative hexameter Thebaid has been sailing (88–9; Sidonios emensa labores hints at metaphorical travel from Thebes), and has been sacrificing in Greece. The poet of the Achilleid is attacking Troy, though the subject of Domitian’s campaigns summons him to a still more formidable journey (95–100). But the poet of this poem sends his letter by land from Naples to the outskirts of Rome (1–9). The Silvae evoke both the urban and the rural life of the élite. The first group, Books 1–3, starts with the statue of Domitian in the Roman forum; Book 4 begins with rejoicing in Rome at Domitian’s seventeenth consulship. But villas and life in villas are of the greatest importance in the books, and the group 1–3 ends with the poet retiring from Rome to his native Naples. Naples is given at least a Greek aspect (note 3.5.95; Euboicos 12, cf. Chalcidicis used of Naples in 4.4.78); but it is not a journey by sea (3.5.18). The noise and strife of Rome are contrasted with the peace of Naples (85–8, cf. 15–16; even the clamosi . . . theatri is implicitly different from Naples’ two theatres, 91). The antithesis of the cities is a development of the antithesis in the poems between Rome and the country.50 The Italian perspective of the poems is seen again in 3.4, which offers a rewarding comparison with a Greek work. The poem is entitled Capilli Flaui Earini (roughly) in the manuscript; the plural in particular immediately calls to mind Menophilus of Damascus’ —ºŒÆ E# (Locks, SH 558). In that poem the narrator says ¯Pæ Å ¸ØÅ  ŒÆd #Æ A#Æ I łÆ# | ŁÆ Æ#Æ ıæÆ ŒÆº . . . Iºº h ø ØF Y #ºÆ#, P K  Oº

øØ | ÆPf# IŁÆ ı# < æ> O ÆØ r # N#ŁÆØ (‘I have traversed Europe, Africa, and all Asia, and have marvelled at innumerable things of beauty . . . but I have never yet seen such radiance, nor do I think that on Olympus the very gods have beheld the like’), compared to the radiance of his beloved’s hair (1–6). The narrator had been wandering miserably, trying to reach home (1, 9; home in Greece?); when he saw the hair, I º . . .  Eººa# – Æ#Æ | KŒ #ÅŁø (‘all Greece vanished from my breast’, 8–9). Statius’ poem transfers the moment of vision to Venus: en route from Sicily to Cyprus via Pergamum, she sees puerum egregiae praeclarum sidere formae (26; with sidere cf. #ºÆ#; cf. also 56 dat radios ignemque suum). She miratur puerile decus (31) and says nil ego, nil, fateor, toto tam dulce sub orbe | aut uidi aut genui [i.e. Earinus surpasses the divine Cupids] (38–9).51

50

On Silvae 3.5 cf. Henderson (2007), Newlands (2009), 396–404. Note also the journey of Aphrodite in what looks like an occasional poem in hexameters on the apotheosis of Poppaea, P. Oxy. LXXVII 5105; it is not clear why its preservation should be thought problematic, cf. P. Schubert (2011), 63–4 (implies a low view of such poems in Greek?). On Silvae 3.4 cf. e.g. Henriksén (1997). 51

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The Statian narrator could have no such travels as Menophilus’; in the next poem the ## (‘return home’) which he desires is within Italy (3.5.12–13, cf. SH 558.9–10). Venus’ travels in 3.4 may have been suggested, not only by Menophilus’ narrator, but by Menophilus’ comparison of the beloved to the Graces going from the Acidalian spring to Olympus (14–15); cf. Idalios 3.4.21 with ŒØ ̄ƺÅ#, an epithet which since Virg. Aen. 1.720 poets associated with Venus. (In any case, Menophilus’ Graces can connect to the Grace who with Venus tends the lock at Stat. Silv. 3.4.82–3.) Menophilus’ comparison would be elaborated into an extended narrative which evokes narrative hexameter poetry.52 While place is abolished in the Greek poet’s amorous experience, Venus’ speech begins tune Ausonias . . . ibis ad arces | neglectus Veneri? (32–3; her role as mother of the Romans is hinted at). He is owed to a Palatino . . . amori (38, with play on Clodia?; honori Rothstein). The poem has a strongly defined geography (contrast perhaps SH 558.13: the ºæH, ‘bath’, is not located yet, any more than the experience in 5–11); it has too a firmly Italian orientation. Earinus comes from Pergamum to Rome; the hairs he dedicates go from Rome to Pergamum, and the poem begins as a propempticon for the hairs. (Aesculapius’ travel from Pergamum to Rome (65–71) may recall his travel from Epidaurus to Rome in Ovid, Metamorphoses 15.) At the end of the poem, though Domitian is the concern of the cosmos (102–3), he lives on the Palatine, and has built on the Palatine and the Capitol (104–5); the Asclepieion near Pergamum stands in contrast (106). The Latin language of the poem underlines the Italian spatial viewpoint when Pergamum is addressed and told misisti Latio . . . ministrum (17) for the Iuppiter Ausonius and the Romana . . . Iuno. (Their harmony over Earinus is contrasted with the discord of the pair in heaven over Ganymede.)

INSCRIPTIONS Epigraphic hexameter poetry is written to be read in a single place; this is part of its basic ground. The reader’s and writer’s and speaker’s place is highly relevant to the relation with Greek poetry. It is in Italy, and especially Rome, that we find large quantities both of Greek and of Latin inscribed poetry, and that we most often find individual inscriptions with both Greek and Latin poems (IK lix.85 (elegiacs) is the only example in Asia) or with a poem in one language and nonpoetic material in the other (usually Greek and Latin respectively). There will in Rome be a particularly significant bilingual readership; we can see both traditions influencing each other in this deeply mixed community. A neat example of influence from the Latin tradition to the Greek (not our subject) is the far greater

52 IØŁÆºÆ# ºŒÆ EÆ# (‘ever-blooming locks’, 12) is applied to Apollo in Stat. Silv. 3.4.10 comae numquam labentis. Menophilus’ comparison with the Graces draws on Hom. Il. 17.51, Hector’s hair Ææ##Ø › EÆØ (lit. ‘like the Graces’).

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abundance in Italy than elsewhere of ¨E# ŒÆÆåŁØ# (‘Gods beneath the earth’) etc. as an equivalent of Dis manibus. Many of the primary conventions in Latin epigraphic poetry everywhere derive from the Greek tradition; but we can see more developed connections in, for example, CIL vi.25063.19–24 = ML 187 (marble tablet). Here the poem changes and ascends from elegiacs to a more elevated hexameter lament for son (and wife). cum te, nate, fleo, planctus dabet Attica aédó | et comes ad lachrimas ueniet pro coniuge Siren, | semper et Alcyone flebit te uoce suprema | et tristis mecum resonabet carmen et Écho, | Óebaliusque dabit mecum tibi murmura cycnus. This resembles IG xii.8.445 (Thasos; hexameters, but probably with a pentameter in 5), where owl, nightingale, Sirens, kingfishers, and some other birds will lament the dead woman ( . . . # ]çŁª IÅ#Ø ŁæB . . . "ØæB# . . . Łæź ºØ [ŁæÅºÆºØ edd.] æƺØ IºŒı[ . . . , ‘lament sung with the nightin_ kingfishers . . . ’). The conception gales . . . Sirens . . . speaking laments by the _sea, belongs to Greek poetry (cf. [Mosch.] 3.9–18 (nightingales, swans), 37–44 ("Øæ  | . . . IÅ |, ‘Siren . . . nightingale’, Ceyx, etc.); Eur. Hel. 167–72). These passages advance on the idea, common in Greek epitaphs, that those bereft will mourn like or more than nightingale, kingfisher, swan, or Siren (cf. e.g. SGO 05/ 01/44 (Smyrna; ii bc; elegiacs; bereaved mother in centre of relief), 09/01/ 03.7–8 (Kios; iii–ii bc?; iambics), IG xii Suppl. 240.2–3 (Syros, elegiacs), Inscr. Cret. 3.IV.39B.9–10 (c. i bc)). In the Latin lines, Greek place-names, proper names, and vocabulary enhance the effect; the Greek words are often placed at the end of lines, their long vowels are often marked out for readers by ‘accents’. As for the linguistic environment, the speaker’s wife has a Greek name (Athenaidis, 12).53 The other Latin inscription to use the bird-name aedon, occasionally found in Latin poetry, is put up by a man called Hermes, who uses the Greek word ia for violets (CIL vi.9118.12 = ML 177 Marathonis cantet aedon, cf. IGUR iii.1303 (f).5). The man who says to his daughter cantu Sirenas Pa[nd]i[o]|nidasque sorores . . . superasti (AÉ 1908 no. 15.15–17 = ML 189, Ammaedara; hexameters except for elegiac couplet at end; iii ad?) proclaims climactically that she was born Graiu|geno . . . Heroe | parente (19–21); if heroe is not a name, he is equating himself with the hero whose name he shares. These comparisons too spring from the Greek tradition (IGUR iii.1250 front 7–9 (i ad; elegiacs) ºf "Øæ ø ºØªıæøæÅ . . . ºÆºÅ çÆæÅ  åºØ#, ‘the one far more clearvoiced than the Sirens . . . the chattering, cheerful swallow’ (of the dead woman; cf. also 1305.5 (ii ad): nightingale as Siren), 1342.1 (hexameters) c ı#ø åÆæ##Æ IÅÆ, c ºªÅæı | `hŒÆ, ‘the graceful nightingale of the Muses, the honey-voiced Aucta’). We here see interaction happening not in Rome but in Numidia. In earlier Greek poetry we could compare Alcm. fr. 1.96– 8 Davies, Pind. Parth. 2.13–20; Latin poetry comes no closer than Juv. 14.19–20 nullam Sirena flagellis | comparat; cf. also Bib. FRP 86.1 Latina Siren (cf. Cert.

53 In CIL vi.25063.19–24 the mason still indents alternate lines. Courtney (1995), 388 mentions GVI 923 = IG xii.8.445, where Wilamowitz compares [Moschus] 3.

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Hom. B38 Allen, of Homer). The form Pandionis particularly recalls Greek poetry: Hes. WD 568 —ÆØd# . . . åºØ (‘the swallow, daughter of Pandion’), Sapph. fr. 135 Voigt —ÆØ# . . . åºø. In Latin there is only Laus Pis. 77 Pandionis ales.54

54 Contrast especially [Sen.] Oct. 8 uolucres Pandionias, Stat. Theb. 8.616 Pandioniae . . . uolucres. The examples from Greek inscriptions in Rome well illustrate how easy it would be there for material to pass from Greek to Latin traditions: in IGUR iii.1250 there are two linked poems in Latin; in 1342 there is Latin material to the right of the Greek on the marble tablet. It is interesting too to note differences: in the Greek of 1250 åæı#æÅ ˚ æØ# (‘more golden than Aphrodite’, front 6), in Latin (left 11–13 [c in CIL (vi.12652), which is confused]) cui formam Paphié, | Charites tribuere decó|rem. Courtney (1995), 376 mentions IGUR iii.1303. The elegiac couplet in AÉ 1908 no. 15 is best made a separate sentence, as in Courtney’s text but not his translation. The reference to the hero would be a step beyond CIL ii.4350.3–6, if that poem alludes to other Clearchi. AÉ 1908 no. 15 is discussed by Fernández Martínez (2004), who dates the poem to iii ad rather than ii–iii ad, on archaeological grounds (1374).

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14 Hexameters: History and Internal Mixture H I S T O RI C A L S H A P E S A N D P A T T E R N S We now come back to the external time of literary history. Some of the differences in adaptation which we have seen within hexameter genres are connected with the sequence of composition, for example as between Virgil and Calpurnius. We have also noted some points about the different types of hexameter, for example the relatively late appearance of mythological narrative, so far as we can tell. We can add some more points now. Of particular interest for our purposes are the consequences which are sometimes drawn from rough impressions of the literary history; one of these will be discussed in more detail. 1. The super-genre appears to begin in Latin with didactic and narrative by Ennius. We can have no confidence that he was not anticipated; but Lucretius’ claim that Ennius was the first to take a garland from Helicon probably has some connection with his use of hexameters. Livius and Naevius had already written dramas in a rough equivalent to Greek single-short metres; but the pre-existing saturnian had been used for Livius’ version of the Odyssey and Naevius’ Bellum Punicum: this might suggest there was some Saturnian tradition for narrative poems. These two poems, Livius’ and Naevius’, show a large difference between them in the degree of distance from Greek poetry; the same is true of Ennius’ Hedyphagetica and Annales. Metre apart, the Annales are less close to Greek poetry than Livius’ Odyssey; the latter was later recast in hexameters (fragments Courtney (2003), 45–6).1 2. Apart from Ennius’ intermittent usage, and some of Lucilius Book 29, it is with Lucilius Book 30 that satire seems to move into hexameters. That would mean a difference of something like 60 years between Ennius’ beginning the Annales (after 184?) and Lucilius Book 30 (129 or later?—provided 1093 Marx = XXX 8 Charpin refers to the death of Scipio). Virgil claims to be the first author of pastoral, although in Catullus 62 we see a poem heavily indebted to Theocritus and in the Song of the Parcae clear use of Theocritean poetry. (The novelty receives a more substantial parody than do the Georgics, in the two poems of Numitorius’ Antibucolica: Courtney (2003), 284–6.) Hexameter inscriptions seem to begin in the second century bc (CIL i2.1861; Plin. Nat. 35.115, Blänsdorf (1995), 75–6). 1 Saturae and Scipio seem to use hexameters sometimes: Sat. 3–4 Vahlen (Saturarum II), 66–70? (attributed by scholars), Var. 4?, 14 (in Scipione; other double-short possibilities?).

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3. Precarious as deduction from our information is, it looks as though satire and pastoral are rarer than narrative and didactic. It must be borne in mind that if Hor. Sat. 1.10.46–7 had not informed us of the Lucilian writing of Varro of Atax and quibusdam aliis, we should not have known about satire between Horace and Lucilius (it sounds less abundant than narrative hexameter poetry, however). Our knowledge of the Einsiedeln Eclogues is due to an unlikely chance. But Ovid, Epistulae ex Ponto 4.16, offering a snapshot of poetic activity at his time, gives one or two pastoral poets, and many narrative hexameter poets. antiquas and rediret (33) sound as if the genre were relatively unusual; Naiadas a Satyris . . . amatas (35) sounds unlike Virgilian pastoral, and could be a more mythological sort of poem. On the other hand, not many didactic poets are mentioned either (21–2?, 34). If (2) and (3) are right, the relatively late appearance and relatively small representation of satire and pastoral strengthens the idea of them as consciously deviating from more common hexameter practices, and to some degree depending on them; it also strengthens the idea of their affinity.2 4. In the 50s bc, poems emerge which have fairly little resemblance to Greek poems in overall conception (Smyrna, Io); we also see the champions of these small hexameter poems in conflict with more traditional hexameter poets who write on a massive scale. 5. We need to be cautious in identifying some periods as particularly significant, and in specifying that significance. It is risky to announce the early years of Nero as boasting the first poetry after Augustus, or rather after the early years of Tiberius; we simply know too little for such negative generalizations (when were Seneca’s tragedies written?). To see them as consciously providing a unitary outburst of hexameter, inspired by the princeps, would underplay Persius’ presentation of his poetry as isolated from contemporary verse (and hexameter in particular). The probable controversy between Petronius and Lucan shows liveliness and disunity. 6. One sort of time which partly intersects with the development of literary history is the period of time constituted by the careers of individual poets about whom we know a little (others of whom we know very little can be added from pp. 296–7 and 301). We may divide them into (a) poets who cultivate only one hexameter genre; (b) poets who cultivate only hexameter genres, but more than one; (c) poets who write significant works in other super-genres and write (c) (i) in one hexameter genre, (c) (ii) in more than one hexameter genre. This would give: (a) Lucilius, Lucretius, Grattius, Cornelius Severus, Manilius, Persius (dies young), Lucan (but both mythological and historical; a pentameter quoted Mart. 10.64.6; dies young), Calpurnius, Valerius (dies young), Turnus, Silius (but note plural carmina Plin. Ep. 3.7.5), Juvenal; (b) Aemilius Macer, Virgil, Statius (with some non-hexameter poetry in Silvae; note both historical and mythological narrative hexameter poetry); (c) (i) Accius, Furius Bibaculus, Gallus, Horace (but develops satire into epistolary form), Valgius Rufus (or (ii)), Domitius Marsus, Albinovanus Pedo (mythological and historical narrative); (ii) Ennius, Cicero, Varro of 2 At Ov. Pont. 4.16.35 Fontanus, despite Hollis (2007), 423, is found as a personal name: cf. e.g. AÉ 1987.716 (Augustan?), Tab. Vind. II 325 i.1, CIL vi.975 (b) col. iii 18 (ad 136). Later, one could be more hesitant than Schindler (2005) in asserting the decline of didactic poetry; the question, though, is well worth raising.

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Atax, Cinna, Calvus (prose too), Catullus, Varius Rufus, Ovid (but Phaenomena relatively limited?), Petronius (in a way).3 The following observations on (6) appear to be valid. Poets who write hexameter satire do not write other types of hexameter poetry (if we view Horace’s Epistles as an extension of satire; if not, he is an exception who does not in hexameter aspire high generically). This limitation assists their stance: on the margins and unpretentious. Apart from Virgil, those who write didactic hexameter poems of more than two books do not write other types of hexameter poetry. (Varro of Atax’s Chorographia may have been a work divided into two books, Europa and Asia; Aemilius Macer’s Theriaca had two.) In some cases (Lucretius, Manilius), this limitation assists a stance of philosophical commitment. After Tiberius, we do not find poets of hexameter books writing books in other super-genres. This kind of professionalization, or confinement to the super-genre, brings Roman poets closer to standard Greek practice: Callimachus in Iambus 13 is defending an adventurous position (note 30–3; but cf. e.g. Parthenius).4 Virgil and Statius stand out in the pattern of their work. By Statius’ time, restriction of hexameter poets to hexameter poetry seems standard; he appears unusual for his period in eventually embracing and publishing a second type of hexameter poetry, and that on a substantial scale. But it could be that our information is limited. Virgil is writing at a period when it was much commoner than later to encompass more than one super-genre; he seems unusual in combining confinement to hexameter with three different hexameter genres, including a less elevated genre and didactic. Theocritus provides something of a model for Virgil’s combination of range and restriction (in Theocritus’ case there are at least some lyric poems and epigrams); however, Virgil’s didactic poem and his large narrative go beyond Theocritus’ range. The temporal sequence of the work is also very striking. Virgil wishes to give the impression of covering the whole range of the super-genre in one corpus, and to ascend perhaps to competition with Homer (see below). The global ambition within the super-genre may be seen as parallel to Horace’s ambition within lyric.5 Statius half-modestly presents the Silvae, not as a daring expansion of range, but as preliminary play, typical of illustrium poetarum, and notably Homer and Virgil (Silv. 1 pr., cf. 4 pr.). The mention of criticism for his publishing hoc stili genus (4 pr.) lightly hints at the novelty. More arresting is the plan to write two large mythological narratives. As we have noticed (pp. 31, 37–8), Statius presents himself as competing with both Virgil and Homer, with the latter most directly in 3 The parallel of Mart. 10.64 with 11.20, and the air of presenting something relatively little-known, make against the notion that Lucan’s elegiac poem was part of a book of epigrams or the like rather than a one-off piece. At Plin. Ep. 5.3.5 the inclusion of Lucan among the writers of erotic verse (not of books of such verse) is strongly discouraged by the stemma (Annaeum Senecam ª: Annaeum Senecam Lucanum MŁ [it would have to be A. S., Annaeum Lucanum; interpolation through knowledge of Martial is not impossible]). Turnus is (a) on the assumption that fr. 2 Courtney is not pastoral but using pastoral. Valgius Rufus could be (c) (ii): FRP 169 could be pastoral (but Hollis (2007), 291, 297 is cautious). 4 Pliny’s expertus sum me aliquando et heroo (Ep. 7.4.3) need not imply a whole book of hexameter poetry. The book of hendecasyllables has a much more definite existence (4.14, 7.4.8–10, etc.); in 8.21.4 Pliny recites a book in various metres. 5 Cf. p. 21.

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the Achilleid; but it is tempting to see the sequence of two major narrative poems as Homeric. It was disputed whether the Iliad or the less admired Odyssey was written first (Sen. Brev. 13.2); but although the extant portion of the Achilleid has an element of New Comedy (cf. Longin. 9.15 on the Odyssey), it is precisely Ulysses who in its first book recalls the poem to war. In a sense the two narratives are two Iliads.6

HEXAMETER AFTER TIBERIUS

(i) Silius We now return to (5). Should we see a gulf after Augustan (and Tiberian) poetry, so that the Neronian poets introduce, and their successors continue, a switch from Greek models to Latin? The environment is not encouraging, with extravagant philhellenism in Nero and the institutional promotion of both literary cultures at Rome by Vespasian and Domitian. We further see Greek philosophy playing an important role in the work of some prominent Neronian writers (Seneca, Lucan, Persius); one major Domitianic poet has a father who taught and wrote Greek poetry, and another draws substantially on contemporary Greek epigram. It should also already be apparent that any such view would be far too simple. Hexameter poetry before Nero uses Latin models too (so the Georgics use Lucretius); in the case of narrative, in particular, our knowledge of those models is severely limited. We have already seen plenty of interaction with Greek in postTiberian poets, and will pursue the question in a moment.7 We have seen in Chs. 7–9, 13, and elsewhere that there are different degrees of closeness to models, and that relationship with Latin models tends by nature to have a greater intimacy. National pride induces an emphasis on Latin models, but even explicit statements include much mention of Greek poetry. Close relationship with earlier Latin poetry may well increase after Ovid; after Ovid, relationship with Greek poetry is often at a greater distance than with Latin poetry, but it remains of much significance. Close reworking of a Latin model is a practice itself based on Greek close reworking of a Greek model as well as on Latin close reworking of a Greek model. We see a lucid example of change between Virgil, who presents himself as the first Latin pastoral and has Theocritus’ poetry as his prime point of reference, and Calpurnius, who makes Virgil what Theocritus had been for Theocritus’ successors and for Virgil. (P. Vindob. Rainer 29801 illustrates a poem not even thought to be by Theocritus but using his language.) But Theocritus, as we have seen, is important for Calpurnius in his own right. Narrative is more complicated. We have already looked (pp. 170–6) at the intricate position with Homer, Apollonius, Virgil, and Valerius. Even if Valerius’ relations with Apollonius 6 On the order of the Homeric poems see Russell (1964), 95–6. On the prefaces to the Silvae, and their subtle advertising, see Newlands (2008). 7 For a view of the Neronian period as making Roman poets the chief models, for the first time, see the important article of R. G. Mayer (1982).

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have been misunderstood, the Greek model must be clear. Statius’ intimate engagement with Homer and other Greek hexameter poetry should be evident. So Virgil and others had taken up Homer’s I# d# ¼æ I#  æØ, Œæı# Œæı, IæÆ  I æ (‘shield leant against shield, helmet against helmet, man against man’, Il. 16.215, omitted at 13.131 by a papyrus and probably spurious there). They had transferred it from a quasi-hoplite line to enemies clashing. But Statius’ unique beginning iam clipeus clipeis, umbone repellitur umbo at Theb. 8.398 must evoke Homer directly. (Sil. 4.352 mentions the umbones, 9.324 mentions the clipeus, but in the second clause; the others omit shields altogether.) The umbones probably come from I# # O çƺ##ÆØ (‘shields with bosses’) in the preceding line at Il. 16.214. Prompted by Val. Fl. 6.183 uirque uirum galeis adflauit adactis, Statius and Silius (4.353–4) competitively continue interaction with Homer beyond the polyptota to the touching of plumed helmets (Il. 16.216–17), which Statius turns to the subtle and surprising admotaeque nitent aliena in casside cristae (8.401). But the involvement with Homer does not stop there. Statius’ passage simultaneously evokes Hom. Il. 4.446–9 (= 8.60–3), which could be read as the first clash of shields and spears (# Þ ƺ ÞØ# Œº., ‘they threw hide shields together’ etc., cf. Ar. Peace 1274; Stat. Theb. 8.396–7 elaborate Il. 4.446). What follows in Statius responds profoundly to Homer’s movement from beauty before battle to destruction (with Theb. 8.402–5 cf. Il. 4.431–2 (note ƒ Ø, ‘wearing’), before 4.451–2 and 539–44, with Theb. 8.420 perimuntque caduntque cf. Il. 4.451 Oººø  ŒÆd Oººı ø, ‘killing and being killed’). The contexts in Iliad 4 and Thebaid 8 relate on an ample scale (so Ares and the personifications at Il. 4.439–45 are reworked at Theb. 8.383–9 (and 375–82)). Statius, however, is sometimes thought to be a special case because of his father and his own native city. So we shall turn briefly to the historical epics of Lucan and Silius; in overall conception, these stand further from Greek narrative hexameter than Valerius’ and Statius’ poems on Greek myth.8 First, Silius will exemplify a detailed interplay with various types of Greek poetry; Greek narrative hexameter forms only one part. As might be expected from the wide cultural range that he displays, a rich tapestry of Greek runs through Silius’ work. The Umbrian Piso provides one example: he was ora puer pulcherque habitu, sed corde sagaci | aequabat senium atque astu superauerat annos (8.464–5). Aeschylus’ Septem was a popular play, and it would seem mere prejudice to discount a combination of Parthenopaeus, º #Å Æ ŒÆºº æøØæ, Iæ ÆØ# I æ (‘offspring fair of face, a man who is a man-boy’, 533), who has a spirit that is hØ ÆæŁø K ı  (‘not at all fitting a name from girls [parthenoi]’, 536), and Lasthenes, ªæÆ e F, # æŒÆ  H#Æ çæØ 8 For Statius and Greek cf. Housman (1972), 1222, Holford-Strevens (2000), McNelis (2007). On Statius and Apollonius: cf. e.g. Stover (2009). On the polyptota see p. 301 n. 14 above. Wakefield’s clipei clipeis is made doubtful by Sil. 4.352 teritur iunctis umbonibus umbo [not ablative absolute]. (Some doubt the authenticity of the lines in Silius.) The competition will be on one side at least, but could be on both (if Silius’ lines are indeed unsuitable to their context, they could be an authorial addition). For the smart gear of Theb. 8.404–5 cf. also Hom. Il. 13.342, with the pathos of 344–5. Many of the Homeric parallels are in Juhnke (1972), 354; his final lists provide a mass of detailed evidence often ignored, though Latin material needs to be added in. Cf. also Lovatt (2005) for the constant and pointed interaction between Homer and Virgil in Thebaid Book 6. On Valerius, Apollonius, Virgil, and Homer cf. Fuà (1988), Zissos (2002).

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(‘an old man in his mind, but the flesh he has is a young man’s’, 622). With 533–5 Iæ ÆØ# I æ. | #åØ  Yıº# ¼æØ Øa ÆæÅø | uæÆ# çı#Å#, ‘a man who is a man-boy; the down is lately coming over his cheeks, made to grow by his youth’, cf. Sil. 6.19–21 uir (later time) . . . puer addere sese | pubescente gena [Virg. Aen. 12.221 pubentesque genae] castris optarat. It may be significant that Piso demonstrates his astus with the spear like Lasthenes (Aesch. Theb. 623–4) at Cannae (Sil. 10.250–3). Hannibal’s remark at Cannae on Piso, who had seemed to be dead, unquestionably condenses Achilles’ remark on Lycaon, but turns Achilles’ mockery of the wretched Trojan into a remark that glorifies the Italians, along the lines of Crinagoras XXI Gow–Page (note there ÆsØ# IæÅœç ø ¼Łæ KŒ Œø, ‘leapt up again from the dead killed in war’): umbraene Ausoniae rediuiua bella retractant | post obitum dextra nec in ipsa morte quiescunt? (10.256–7), cf. Hom. Il. 21.53–63 . . . q ºÆ c æH# ªÆº æ# o# æ  ç | ÆsØ# IÆ# #ÆØ  e Ççı Mæ# . . . (‘indeed the great-heart Trojans whom I have slain will rise up again from beneath the murky darkness of death . . .’; perhaps taken by Silius, unlike the bT scholia, as a question, wrongly ( ºÆ) but not unreasonably, cf. 21.60–3). In Book 8 the Greek intertextuality we saw at 464–5 is immediately enhanced by Silius’ comparing Piso in his arms to a gem shining on Parthians’ (rulers’) necklaces: Arsacidum ut fuluo micat ignea gemma monili (467). The phrase picks up Virgil’s image for boyish beauty at Aen. 10.133–5 (134 qualis gemma micat fuluum quae diuidit aurum), but the Arsacidum looks back to Virgil’s own model, the tradition of epigrams on jewels; cf. especially Posidippus 4.5–6 Austin–Bastianini (Persian jewel set in gold worn by Persian queen), 8.1–6 (chain on gold necklace depicting Darius III). A range of Greek connections emerges from this very minor character and a few lines.9 There subsists in Silius a strong relationship with Homer in particular: on him the whole structure of scenes is commonly based. This sustained reworking of Homer has been well and fully demonstrated by scholars. One example is the close recasting at 7.282–347 of the first part of Iliad 10. So Agamemnon cannot sleep, and puts on a lion-skin (23–4); he plans to see Nestor, but first Menelaus comes to wake his brother (32 n Iºç). Hannibal cannot sleep, puts on a lion-skin (Sil. 7.287–90), and goes to see his brother (290 fratris); together they proceed to find Maraxes. Next to Hannibal’s brother, as to Nestor, lie his weapons, which are enumerated (7.294–7, Hom. Il. [10].75–7; 297 tellure quiescunt marks Silius’ development of Homer’s ŒØ and ŒE, whatever the exact text at Sil. 7.294).10 The intertext is used with awareness for its place in the original text and with ethnic point. Book 10 was seen by some in antiquity as a separate composition of Homer’s, not originally part of the Iliad (+ 10 0 b (T)). Some thought Homer was turning, after the grand events of 1–9, to another r # (‘type of writing’), one where he uses ºı ŒÆd ıŒ# (‘trickery and night’, + 10.3–4 (bT)). In Silius night is marked as the time for trickery, not war (7.329–32 . . . ad fraudem . . . nunc nocte utendum est; cf. 318–19, 349–51, with Hom. Il. [10].251–3). The setting 9

On Posidippus’ jewels see Kutner (2005), 151–4. On Silius and Homer (note 4.525 non, mihi Maeoniae redeat si gloria linguae) see Juhnke (1972), 204–7 for this episode. See now also Littlewood (2011), esp. xxviii–xxxii. For Iliad 10 see lately Dué and Ebbott (2010); on earlier Roman use of it, see Jolivet (2004). 10

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marks out how the Carthaginians are putting on a special effort in their own field of trickery: Fabius’ cunning has posed a challenge (336–7 hic Fabio persuadeat astus | non certare dolis, cf. 260–1, 268–9 intellectus erat Fabio, Tyriosque uidebat | dictator saeuire dolos). [Homer’s] own narrative produces a sense of trickery and counter-trickery: 43–4 åæg ıºB# . . . ŒæƺÅ# (‘we need a crafty plan’); spying by ˜ºø (connected with º#, ‘trick’); an (unintended) false oath to Dolon by Hector (332); Dolon tricked by the Greek spies (383, 447–8; deliberate miss, 372). Consciousness of Virgil’s, and indeed [Euripides’], adaptation of the same material enhances the intricacy. Perhaps the Virgilian notion of trickery as characteristic of the Greeks and Ulysses (Aen. 2.44 dolis Danaum, sic notus Ulixes?, 152 dolis . . . et arte Pelasga, etc.) lends force to Silius’ adaptation of Greek activity from the part of the Iliad where the Greeks are trickiest. In Virgil’s own version the Trojans Nisus and Euryalus are less tricky; Silius’ has moved back towards the Iliad. His version gains point when seen as ending a sequence.11

(ii) Lucan Lucan’s case is more complicated and intriguing. The poem is often seen as a dialogue with the Aeneid; but other poets too should be admitted to the conversation. In particular, there is a much stronger Homeric element than is often realized. Matters are complicated, however, by the radical distortions and negativity which characterize Lucan’s intertextuality. Since in addition he, like Silius, does not have the same closeness of phrasing to Homer as to Virgil or Ovid, the connections are often not straightforward to establish. However, it is not as if we were trying to find a proof that Lucan had read an obscure Greek text: we can be sure that he and his readers had been familiar with Homer from their earliest studies of Greek literature, and that Homer was seen as an important author in the genre. Our approach should ultimately be to assume that Homer is readily available for intertextual dialogue, and to see how interaction with related Homeric scenes would contribute. But this point will be reached gradually, and will be confirmed later when we look at Lucan’s intertextual web in a particular passage (pp. 347–9 below).12 The place where Homer is explicitly introduced (9.983–4) offers some clues. The mention is followed by Caesar’s own presentation of his descent from Aeneas, and his wish to create a Roman Troy (999). The presence of Virgil is inescapable (so 991–2); Caesar’s own rumoured projects and questions of race introduce further entanglements. (1000 Iliacas . . . moras offers multiple ironies, 11 Virgil’s treatment of Dolon, Aen. 12.346–52, seems to stress his ambition more than his trickery The mad rush of the cows through thickets and mountains (Sil. 7.356–9) reads like a combination of Bacchylides and Virgil on the daughters of Proetus, Bacch. 11.53–8, cf. 92–4, Virg. Ecl. 6.47. 12 Ovid is just as important as Virgil for most of these authors; but the concentration of their poems on a small span of time and what could be viewed as a single æAØ# (‘action’) makes Virgil the more relevant for the features treated below. One tiny example of Ovid’s pervasive influence: the phrase dux or ductor Latius (Luc. 9.546, 10.536, Sil. 3.1–2, 15.443, 16.138, Stat. Silv. 3.2.104, in different orders and often split) comes from Ov. Met. 1.560 ducibus Latiis. The place for ‘Roman leader’ in Virgil was relatively limited; the whole use of Latius to mean ‘Roman’, though found at Prop. 3.4.6, is probably popularized by Ovid. It is a development of the similar use of Latinus found in Hor. Epod. 7.4 etc.

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on a metapoetic level too.) Connection with Homer, then, must be seen in a large context of later texts and developments. A clear example is the necromancy in Book 6. The link with Aeneid 6 is apparent: both Sextus and Aeneas seek knowledge of the future through a female figure and through the dead. And yet the link with Odyssey 10–12 is much closer, on the level of action. In Lucan a dead person is enabled to speak through chthonic ritual, thanks to a female expert in magic; the male does not go down into the world of the dead. (Odysseus is told by Circe to go to the house of Hades e.g. Hom. Od. 10.512, but does not seem to go in for most of Book 11; the reading of the episode as necromancy is already seen in Aeschylus’ /ıåƪøª, ‘Necromancers’, cf. fr. 273a Radt.) The male learns how he is to die (cf. also Aesch. fr. 275 Radt), and is chiefly concerned with his own fate. The connection with Homer is obvious in the related but much closer remodelling by Silius. The dead are there summoned through sacrifice; the underworld is described only in an inset speech by Autonoe (13.523–614), related to the dead man’s speech in Lucan (6.784–99). Lucan’s episode draws on a story about Sextus (Plin. Nat. 7.178–9) and on magical practice; but the reader in this genre is likely to think too about the relation with hexameter models. So the end of Lucan’s book (821–30) will be seen to develop the rounding off of Homer’s ŒıØÆ (‘book of the dead’) at the beginning of Odyssey 12 (1–27): Lucan’s passage combines the funeral desired by Elpenor (12.8–15, cf. 11.65–80), not fully one of the dead (cf. Luc. 6.621–3, + Od. 11.51 (BQ in Dindorf)), with extension of Circe’s Ø#ŁÆ#, ‹  ¼ººØ – Æ Ł Ø#Œı# ¼Łæø Ø (‘men of two deaths, when other mortals die once’, Hom. Od. 12.22, cf. Luc. 6.821–7, esp. 823–4).13 Lucan’s version of Homer is related too to Seneca’s version in the Oedipus, where Tiresias is not the dead authority but the living necromancer. Yet the hexameter form of Lucan gives an independent significance to the Homer; the resonance of narrative hexameters is made apparent by such features as the recent death of the soldier, before full entry into Hades (6.777–8, cf. Elpenor (Hom. Od. 11.51–83: blood not needed), and Palinurus), and the concern with Sextus’ death. Statius’ reworking of Seneca in Thebaid 4 brings out the hexameter connotations of that scene itself. Lucan’s episode is to be seen as last in a sequence, after Homer and Virgil; he goes back behind Virgil, with negative point, and simultaneously relates the Homer to contemporary magic. The Greekness of intertext and material acquire point in the context: Thessaly, as part of its sinister evolution, is now the home not of heroes but of witches, and will destroy the Roman senate (6.349– 51 melius mansura sub undis | Emathis aequorei regnum Pharsalos Achillis | eminet (mythical sources of destruction, 395–414); 434–506, 8.847–72).14 An example on a smaller and closer scale will join up with larger Homeric aspects of the poem. Caesar’s speech (5.654–71) as he is alone with Amyclas in the storm remarks on the gods’ efforts to destroy him; tells them he will accept quamcumque datis . . . mortem; lists his past achievements, including his superiority to Pompey; informs the gods he needs no funeral. Aeneas’ speech at Virg. Aen.

13 On Lucan’s episode cf. recently Hömke (2006); at 178 she sees Lucan as exploiting an ‘epic’ tradition rather than just the Aeneid. For magic and Sextus see Ogden (2002). 14 See Juhnke (1972), 268–9 for traditions of ŒıØÆØ; Parkes (2012), 214–15, 271–2, etc.

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1.94–101 is clearly connected; but the intertextuality gains more force from setting that speech in its Homeric tradition. Aeneas’ speech makes no mention of the gods or of funerals. Odysseus like Caesar is isolated on a small vessel. His speech at Hom. Od. 5.299–312 presents the storm as Zeus’ doing, and dwells on the funeral he could have had at Troy, instead of this ºıªÆºøØ ŁÆ øØ (312). Both this speech and Aeneas’ are linked with Iliad 21. There (271–83) Achilles addresses Zeus and complains that no god has pitied him, and wishes that Hector had killed him, instead of this ºıªÆºøØ ŁÆ øØ (281). The bT scholia comment on Achilles’ nobility in minding not death but the kind of death (276a, cf. 279a). In Lucan, Caesar pointedly achieves superiority to the gods by not minding about the kind of death (epigrams on shipwreck are relevant too). He excels Achilles, not just in fearing no death but in Achilles’ own particular quality of not fearing the gods: so Achilles tells Apollo he would take vengeance on him if he had the power (Hom. Il. 22.20, cf. Luc. 7.455–6).15 Caesar’s speech relates to Pompey’s less boastful speech at his actual death (Luc. 8.622–35), which in turn relates to Hector’s speech when he sees death is coming (Hom. Il. 22.296–305). In general, the poem presents an opposition between the dynamic Caesar and the domestic Pompey which perhaps evokes shades of the opposition between Achilles and Hector. This brings us to some of the difficulties mentioned. Resemblances appear between the interaction of Hector and Andromache and of Pompey and Cornelia, not only through action but through placing. There is a prolonged scene of parting at the end of Lucan 5, as virtually at the end of Iliad 6; Cornelia’s speeches as Pompey is dying in Book 8 (639–61) and after his death in Book 9 (55–108) could be thought to match Andromache’s two speeches in Iliad 22 and 24. But the material is so much transformed that detailed connection is hard to establish. In 5.795 praecipitantque suos luctus strikingly suggests mourning, and seems to link with Hom. Il. 6.498–500, where Andromache’s maids Ø Çøe ª  ‚ŒæÆ (‘mourned for Hector while he was still alive’). Her rushing away could be thought to change pointedly Andromache’s constant turning back (495–6, cf. + bT). Both Cornelia’s speeches on Pompey’s death could be seen as pointedly changing Andromache’s opening NBØ ¼æÆ ª Ł ÆY#ÅØ | I çæØ (‘we were both born with a single fate’, Hom. Il. 22.477–8): she wants to share his death, and resents the separation that Pompey’s care has created (cf. Luc. 8.651–3, 9.98–100). Her fainting (8.661–2), her concern with the missing funeral (transcended 9.69–72), their son, the mandata (poignantly missed at Hom. Il. 24.742–5): all could be connected with Andromache’s speeches, but could also be explained by the events and other models. On the whole, even in the case of these two couples sensibility to the hexameter tradition recommends reading with Homer in mind.16 15 On the episode see Matthews (2008) (note 139–40 for the clearly Homeric 5.564–5 niger inficit horror | terga maris, cf. Hom. Il. 21.126 ºÆØÆ çæEå’, ‘black shivering’ (of sea), etc., 2.159 etc. K  PæÆ HÆ ŁÆº ##Å#, ‘on the broad back of the sea’); add Pitcher (2008). The connection between different types of watery predicament should not be thought too remote. In Lucan’s Book 3, the seabattle has connections with the Iliadic battle at the ships (680–90, perhaps 626); this type of link and contrast is confirmed explicitly by Polemon B 37. As for the gods, one may note how the speech of the Lesser Ajax in Seneca’s Agamemnon (545–52) defies them much less subtly. 16 Chambert (2005), 299 mentions Hector and Andromache in discussing the scene of parting, but without asserting intertextuality.

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At all events, the occupation of such roles by characters should not be seen as immovable. Rather, the poem draws on the mobility and multiplicity of Virgil’s use of Homeric characters; the relationship with Homer is to be seen through this further Virgilian layer. Caesar’s exchange with Domitius, whom he had previously spared, draws on Achilles’ second meeting with Lycaon, but especially on Hector’s exchange with the dying Patroclus. The taunt iam Magni deseris arma (7.606) condenses Hector’s taunt to Patroclus for obeying Achilles (16.837–42). Domitius, instead of prophesying vengeance from Pompey, is glad that he can die while the hope of such vengeance is still possible (7.613–15, contrast Hom. Il. 16.851–4). The change is pointed, psychologically and philosophically. The reader knows that in fact the sequence of deaths will put Caesar in the role of Achilles, and Pompey of Hector.17 The play with roles grows especially complicated at Luc. 10.524–9, where the killing of Pompey’s actual killer Achillas is seen as vengeance, but the full vengeance for his death will not come until Caesar is slain. The causation of Caesar’s death could link him with Hector (Hom. Il. 16.851–4) or with Achilles (22.358–60; cf. also 21.588–9, where Agenor prophesies Achilles’ death at Troy, and tells of the many noble men defending it). It is the narrator who makes the prophecy. The intervention recalls Virgil’s narrator alluding to the time when Aeneas will take vengeance on Turnus for the death of Pallas (Aen. 10.501–5): Turnus is now in the position of Hector, not Achilles. But whereas Virgil’s narrator shows wise pity for mankind and grim restraint over Turnus, Lucan’s narrator insists with the vehemence and quantitative extravagance of an Achilles that only the death of Caesar will suffice: the present victim does not, and Ptolemy’s whole court would not (non omnis regia, 10.527, cf. P ‹#Æ Hom. Il. 9.381, 401, 404, and note 21.103–5). The phrasing altera, Magne, tuis iam uictima mittitur umbris (Luc. 10.524) particularly recalls Achilles telling the dead Patroclus that he will slaughter twelve Trojans in front of his pyre; he will not bury him until he brings the dead Hector (Hom. Il. 18.333–7; less close but related Virg. Aen. 10.513–20 (narrator on Aeneas); cf. also Hom. Il. 20.452–4). Lucan’s narrator is also taking up his own entreaties to the Fates (10.341–2, cf. 525–6) and Pothinus’ counting of victims (385–7). Intertextual and intratextual density accumulates. Nor is the relation with the most famous Greek hexameter poet exclusive, any more than it is in Virgil. As in Virgil, Apollonius is an important presence. That presence is most evident in their two sequences in the Libyan desert (cf. e.g. Ap. Rh. 4.1250–8 with Luc. 9.847–80 (at opposite ends of episodes; both explore past possibilities), Ap. Rh. 4.1513–17 with Luc. 9.619–99 (especially 696–9)). The patent concentration on a model other than Homer and Virgil marks the sense of metapoetic wandering in the poem itself, on one level; so too, despite Virgil’s

17 For Virgil’s use of Homeric characters cf., among much else, Griffin (1985), 193–5. See also Dekel (2012), 114–15 on the ending of the Aeneid; Dekel in general increases the complexity of Virgil’s relationship with Homer by stressing how the Aeneid exploits the Odyssey’s own reconfigurations of the Iliad. A small illustration of the complexities in Lucan: Adorjáni (2004), 194–7 plausibly makes Caesar at Pharsalus a perverted Odysseus (cf. Luc. 7.577–8 with Hom. Il. 2.198–206); but cessantīs points the reader to ŁØÆ#, ‘holding back’ (from war), at Hom. Il. 4.240, and makes Caesar a perverted Agamemnon too.

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pervasive engagement with Apollonius, does the concentration on him in Aeneid 4. The beginning of Lucan Book 3, where Pompey alone looks back as they leave Italy, links to the action of Jason alone at departure (Ap. Rh. 1.533–5, cf. 453–61; note the explicit comparison to the Argo at Luc. 2.715–19). But, with pointed alteration, . . . ab Hesperia non flexit lumina terra | Magnus, dum patrios portus . . . cernit uanescere . . . (Luc. 3.4–7), whereas  #ø | ÆŒæıØ# ªÆÅ# I e

Ææ# Z

Æ ØŒ (‘Jason in tears bore his eyes away from his fatherland’, Ap. Rh. 1.533–4). The melancholy of Jason colours Pompey at a crucial moment; this mingles with suggestions of Aeneas (Luc. 2.728–30; note the reversal cum coniuge).18

G RO W I NG IN T R I C A C Y O F H O M E R I C P H R A S E S So Greek literature continues to be a vital and central point of reference for postAugustan hexameter narrative; the nature of the relationship is made different in part by the increased complexity which literary history produces. Virgil (and other Latin poets) are added to the layers through which the Greek is received. Not that Virgil’s relationship with Homer is devoid of intervening layers itself. We will turn now to the small scale of phrasing. Two points are to be made, which pull in different directions. First, Virgil’s rendering of Homeric phrases can sometimes be seen to use renderings by earlier Latin poets; so even Virgil’s web is tangled. Second, Virgil makes a distinctive attempt to capture Homer’s language, not just through abundant adaptation of phrases but through repetition. We have already seen examples of this; but in a wider historical context we should note that Virgil’s treatment of Homer is not just typical Augustan treatment of a Greek model. Horace’s use of Greek lyric, say, does not involve nearly so much sustained and close adaptation. And even Virgil’s use of Theocritus does not involve such extensive deployment of recurring phrases. (Repetition across poems is less frequent in Theocritus than repetition all over long poems in Homer.)19 We have only fragments of Ennius’ Annales (perhaps nearing a book’s worth); the longer passages in particular do not give such an impression as the Aeneid of attempting to evoke the texture of Homeric language. None the less, we can note a use of repetition, both in phrases adapted from Homer and in other phrases, that is more like the Aeneid than post-Augustan epics. We see again varied modes and 18 The episode on Perseus is expanded from Ovid, but its appearing at all in the Libyan sequence is probably due to Apollonius’ Libyan sequence. (Cf. Luc. 9.729–32, esp. omnia, with Ap. Rh. 4.1509; perhaps 1515 | ˆæª# Iæ  Œçƺ , ‘newly cut head of the Gorgon’, affects Luc. 9.679 | caesa caput Gorgon (no such verb in Ovid) and 653 faciem . . . Gorgonos, 668 | Gorgonos (Gorgonis in Ovid).) Cf. also Ap. Rh. fr. 4 Powell, Fränkel (1968), 606–7, Wick (2004), ii.274–5. On the beginning of Lucan Book 3 cf. Chambert (2005), 295–6. 19 Virgil’s detailed use of Hesiod is much slighter. Note that G. 3.292 molli . . . cliuo, followed by magno . . . ore, may complicate, and play on, the Hesiodic aesthetic seen in Lucretius (cf. p. 306 n. 27, Hes. WD 289–92, and perhaps note already in Lucr. 1.412–13 largos haustus e fontibus magnis (hypothetical) before lingua . . . suauis, cf. [Virg.] Catal. 15.1–2). Cf. also R. F. Thomas (1988), ii.97. On Virgil and Homer see esp. Knauer (1964), Barchiesi (1984), Lyne (1989), 63–99; recently Dekel (2012).

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distances in using Homer; and we see Ennian intervention complicating Virgil’s own deployment of Homer and Homeric repetition. Macr. Sat. 6.8–24 offers instances of phrases used by Virgil and incidentally occurring more than once in Ennius; one is Homeric, two are not: caelum . . . stellis fulgentibus aptum | (Enn. Ann. 27, 145 Skutsch, cf. 348 nox . . . stellis ardentibus apta |; Homeric PæÆ(HØ) I#æ(Ø) | (‘starry sky’, Il. 4.44, etc.), Virg. Aen. 4.482, 6.797, 11.202 stellis ardentibus aptum | (last with caelum)); summa nituntur opum ui | (Enn. Ann. 151, 405; Virg. Aen. 12.552, cf. 9.532 summaque euertere opum ui |); quatit ungula terram | (Enn. Ann. 242, 263, cf. 431 concutit ungula terram |; Virg. Aen. 8.596, 11.875 quatit ungula campum |). For the first note the non-Homeric caeli caerula templa | Enn. Ann. 48, cf. caerula caeli | templa 54–5, i caerula prata (| ?) 127 (not in Virgil; cf. Lucr. 1.1014 caeli lucida templa |, 6.96 caerula caeli |, etc.). We may add e.g. Romana iuuentus | (Enn. Ann. 499, 550, 563), a Romanization of Homer’s ŒFæØ åÆØH | (‘young men of the Achaeans’, i.e. Achaean warriors, Il. 3.183 (cf. 190), and eight other times); cf. 303 tunicata iuuentus | (Carthaginians), Virg. Aen. 1.467, 699, 2.63, 4.162, 8.182, 545 Troiana iuuentus |, 7.672 Argiua iuuentus |. Repetition, mostly of non-Homeric phrases, is conspicuous in Lucretius; here we must reckon with a mixture of Homer, Empedocles, creation of terminology, and textual problems. How far phrases seen in both Virgil and Lucretius go back to lost Ennius is a question we may here leave aside.20 Later poets do not seek to suggest the Homeric texture as Virgil does. There are some gestures, like Statius’ | arduus Hippomedon, Theb. 4.129, 5.560, 6.654, 9.91, but at the start of lines (and e.g. pius Aeneas is not at the end of a line). They wish their use of Virgilian phrases taken from Homer to stand out as different from Virgil’s own usage. One instance will illustrate both Virgilian intricacies and the difference in later poets. mortalibus aegris | comes three times in the Aeneid (Aen. 2.268, 10.274 (whole line similar to Homer), 12.850). It translates غE#Ø æE#Ø | (‘wretched mortals’, Hom. Il. 22.31, 76, 4 more times; once in Hesiod: WD 686); but it comes earlier too, in the Georgics (1.237), so is not created for the Aeneid, and is taken from Lucretius (6.1)—or a predecessor. It is itself taken up by Silius, but once (4.792); 13.883–5 (Sibyl) quanto leuius mortalibus aegra subire | seruitia . . . quam posse mori! turns the phrase round, with some irony.21 We may spend longer on the supreme god. Virgil uses diuum pater atque hominum rex | four times (Aen. 1.65, 2.648, 10.2, 743). The phrase renders Æcæ IæH  ŁH  | (‘father of both gods and men’, Hom. Il. 1.544, and fourteen more times—of which only three come in the Odyssey); but the formulation is taken from Ennius (Ann. 203 Skutsch, with diuom), and is marked out as archaic by its metre. Macrobius (Sat. 6.1.10) would probably have mentioned if it came in exactly that form more than once in Ennius; but Ennius also had diuomque

20 The relation to ŒFæØ åÆØH is not noticed by Skutsch. On Ennius and ‘the formulaic’, cf. Aicher (1989), 228. On the relation of Ennius and Homer in language see von Kameke (1926). On repetition in Lucretius see Minyard (1978), Deufert (1996), Pierrard (2002). 21 For arduus Hippomedon see Wilamowitz (1914), 99 n. 1; add ferus Hippomedon || (Stat. Theb. 7.430, 9.196, 544, 568 (feri . . . Hippomedontis | 154)). On Virgil’s use of Homer as ‘modello-genere’ see Barchiesi (1984), esp. 97–103; one might remark only that Virgil’s approach here differs more from his successors’ than ‘inevitabile’ (103) could suggest. Horsfall (2008), 237 even says of mortalibus aegris ‘formulaic for Virgil too’.

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hominumque pater rex | (591) and patrem diuomque hominumque (| ?) (592) (cf. also 444 o genitor noster, Saturnie, maxime diuom |). Virgil further deploys a series of abbreviations and variations of the phrase (repeated Aen. 3.375, 12.851 deum rex |; also 8.572 diuum tu maxime rector |, 9.495 magne pater diuum, 10.875 pater ille deum, 12.829 hominum rerumque repertor |). He has another repeated rendering of the same Homeric phrase, which will owe at least something to earlier poetry: hominum sator atque deorum | (Aen. 1.254, 11.725). Apart from atque + consonant, the word sator is archaic (in this sense), and used only here by Virgil; cf. Cic. Tusc. 2.21 caelestum sator | (only tÆ . . . | æ in Soph. Trach. 1087–8), Pacuv. Perib. fr. 216 Schierl deorum (?; morum MSS) sator |.22 Later poets take up the Virgilian versions, and add in Ovid’s deum genitor (Met. 14.91): this and Virgil’s sator are especially popular. Silius offers a milder form of repetition, with the shorter 5.70, 17.342 diuum genitor (both same part of line), 6.618 genitor diuum; he also offers the philosophized repetition 9.306, 16.664 sator aeui |, varied at 4.430 to rerum sator, and the variations 3.137 pater . . . caelestum, 3.217 deum regi, 13.568 regique deorum |. Statius, moving further from Homeric formularity, repeats deum genitor once, in different parts of the line (Theb. 2.115, 3.556), but offers a whole series of virtuoso variations on Virgil’s version with sator, as if advancing on Virgil’s advance on Homer: Theb. 1.178–9 summe deorum | terrarumque sator, 3.218 sator astrorum, 488 summe sator terraeque deumque |, 5.22 deum sator, 7.155 diuum sator optime, 7.734 diuum sator, 9.511 sator inclute diuum |, 11.248 sator optime diuum |. To complete the picture we may add Cat. 64.204 caelestum . . . rector |, Ov. Met. 2.848 ille pater rectorque deum (cf. Germ. 4 deum rectorque satorque |) and Val. Fl. 1.505 summe sator.23 It will be noticed that in all the post-Ovidian poets the idea of Jupiter as father of mortals is avoided (contrast Ov. Met. 14.807 diuumque hominumque parentem |; the Greek expression no doubt originally denoted authority rather than paternity). It will also be noticed how the Homeric narrative phrase is often turned into an address in speech; the barer ZF æ (‘father Zeus’) could not easily be captured in hexameters with Iuppiter and pater (contrast Livy 1.18.9 Iuppiter pater). Virgil himself can naturally take up Homeric repeated phrases in a non-repetitive fashion. Aen. 7.604 lacrimabile bellum | uses a traditional phrase but in a modern Roman context (war against Getae, Arabs, and so forth); the negative connotations add a challenge. The phrase comes only here in Virgil;

º  . . . ÆŒæÆ | (‘war that brings tears’) comes three times in Homer, without seeming fully formulaic (Il. 5.737, 8.388, 17.512; there are related phrases 22 For rex cf. e.g. ZF ¼Æ (‘lord Zeus’, Hom. Il. 3.351 etc.), Ὕ , ¼Æ ø  ŁH ø  IŁæ ø (‘Sleep, lord of all gods and all men’, 14.233). Note the process supposed by Seneca’s imaginary grammaticus at Ep. 108.34: Ennium hoc ait Homero [se] subripuisse, Ennio Vergilium: the Neronian does not see the Augustan as just using Greek. Of Augustan poets besides Virgil, only Propertius has diuum sator (4.2.55). 23 Virgil already has deum genetrix (Aen. 2.788, cf. 9.82). Sil. 5.70–5 elaborate Hom. Il. 20.56 Øe  KæÅ# Æcæ IæH  ŁH  | łŁ (‘the father of gods and men thundered dreadfully from on high’). Cf. also in Silius 4.126, 12.284, 643 summe deorum |, 15.362 summe deum (Ov. Met. 4.756 summe deorum |, used in Virgil of Apollo), from Homer’s ŁH o Æ# ŒÆd ¼æØ## | (‘highest and best of gods’, Il. 19.258, etc.; cf. o Æ ŒæØø |, ‘highest of rulers’, Il. 8.31 etc. with Ovid’s Met. 13.599 summe deum rector—and Fast. 4.197 optime regum |, to Saturn). Luc. 1.359–60 (centurion to Caesar) Romani maxime rector | nominis plays on both religion and politics; cf. Roche (2009), 265.

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with other nouns for fighting). When Ovid reuses it, once, at Met. 8.43–4 ‘laeter’ ait ‘doleamne geri lacrimabile bellum | in dubio est . . . ’, the Homeric usage must be heard through the Virgilian to give Scylla’s frivolity its full point. Differing practices in using Homer, and the difference made by the accumulation of texts, can be seen on a tiny scale in a group of satirical moments which begins with Lucilius’ ut . . . ‘e  K æ Æ  ººø’ [‘and Apollo snatched him away’] | fiat (231 Marx = VI 2 Charpin). Lucilius’ use of Greek has been discussed earlier (pp. 153–4); here the quote requires a knowledge of context and poem: Hector’s fortunate escape from Achilles in Iliad 20 (this phrase 443). The mode of reference no doubt brought out the incongruity between the Iliad and the poem and situation in Lucilius. At the end of Horace, Satires 1.9, sic me seruauit Apollo (78) evokes both Homer and Lucilius. A divine name which remains almost the same in Latin neatly allows a mimicking of the sound while translating. The ending of the poem serves as a springboard for the return in the next and final poem to the theme of Lucilius: nempe incomposito dixi pede currere uersus | Lucili (10.1–2). The puzzled question being answered arises partly from the imitation of Lucilius in the preceding line (9.78, cf. also 9.1). The discussion soon proceeds to the mixture of Greek and Latin in Lucilius; Horace’s translation of the Greek phrase prompts or at least connects. Not writing Greek uersiculi (31–5) is actually truer to the Greek artistry which Horace values (cf. 16–17, 66). The finality of sic me seruauit Apollo achieves on a small scale a concise close not seen in Lucilius’ chatty enjambement, and advances on Homer, in large as well as local terms (Homer’s phrase does not finish the sentence): Homer is deferring Hector’s death to the end of the poem (+ Il. 20.443 Ab), Horace is decisively saved by the god of poets, and indeed has the best possible chances of success when he encounters readers and critics in the final poem.24 Juvenal’s inclusion of a Homeric quotation in Greek must be adding itself into the controversy, when Horace has given the matter so much emphasis. Lucilius’ quotations from Homer are in any case notable as including most of his more continuous pieces of Greek (esp. 25, 231, 355, and 463 Marx, cf. 540 = I 22.2, VI 2.1, IX 5.4, XIV 7.2, XVII 2.1 Charpin); Horace makes them the more notable by translating one. Juvenal’s ÆPe# ªaæ K續ÆØ ¼æÆ ŒÆØ# (‘for a cinaedus draws a man to him of his own accord’, 9.37) reverses Horace’s principle more flagrantly than Çøc ŒÆd łıå (‘O my life and soul!’, 6.195), in a context where the use of Greek is (ostensibly) criticized, and ªHŁØ #Æı (‘know yourself ’, 11.27). Juvenal’s quotation, by altering the last word from #Åæ# (‘iron’), produces the same pattern as the Horace (and Lucilius): a final word that is almost identical in Greek and Latin. cinaedus in Lucilius hovers between Latin and Greek; cf. 1058 Marx = XXX 89 Charpin inberbi androgyni, barbati moechocinaedi. But Horace’s last word humorously elevates; it is the grandest use of a divine name in that book (cf. the metonymic Venus, Sat. 1.2.120, 3.109, 4.113, 5.84 and Liber, 4.89; Musa, 5.54; Priapum, 8.2; Luna, 8.22, 35; Hecaten, 8.33; Tisiphonen, 8.34; ‘Furiarum’, 8.45; Vestae, 9.36). Juvenal’s last word produces an almost Aristophanic Ææa

24 seruauit goes beyond K æ Æ and the poet’s own ut me eriperet (65): cf. Henderson (1999), 226. On Horace’s procedure in relation to Lucilius, cf. Chahoud (2004), 13–14.

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æ#ŒÆ (‘surprise ending’, cf. e.g. Ar. Ach. 496, where the ending of Euripides’ line is altered). Juvenal’s line is made the more complicated because it is given to another speaker, Naevolus. The reader is made to wonder how far the use of Greek, and a Greek quotation, characterizes the speaker (note his Polyphemus and Ulysses at 9.63–4). The phrase comes twice in Homer, as a sententious close to a speech recommended within a speech (Od. 16.294, 19.13), and is cited sententiously at + Hom. Il. 3.19 and 19.16 (both bT) and Tert. Pall. 4.2 CCSL ii.742.27–8, Olympiod. on [Plat.] Alcib. I 135a (231.5, p. 143 Westerink), and Elias Categ. 11 p. 250.15 Busse (Comm. in Arist. Graeca xviii.1) (cf. also Eur. fr. 362.26 Kannicht). If it does characterize, how rebellious is Juvenal being against Horace?25 The phenomenon of ever-increasing intertextual complexity raises a problem, which will be intensified by an example to come of Lucan using Homer. If such density of interaction surrounds single phrases in the later texts—a density which would be thickened still further if we knew of more of the Greek and Latin context—does this not interfere with the onward momentum of the texts? Naevolus’ line is an incidental parenthesis in a subordinate clause, within a rhetorical structure; although delay and diversion are part of Juvenal’s style, too much loving erudition in the exegesis of each phrase could be thought to interfere with the impact of the whole. Similar objections would apply, for example, to Statius. The answer lies in the multiple modes of reception which we saw in considering experiences of Greek literature. Homer, above all, is the object of both the closest philological scrutiny and the most flamboyant performance. The Latin tradition of commentary was more limited, and the future existence of commentary on a poet’s work as he wrote it a more uncertain proposition; but the Greek context well displayed the diverse ways in which one could and should be read.

M I X I N G W I T H H E X A M E T E R E P I G R A M A N D OR A C L E We come now to look at the mixing of genres within the super-genre. First some general points, which the discussion following will illustrate and develop. From what has been said so far, it will be evident that we should oppose intertextuality which occurs within the super-genre but outside the genre both to intertextuality within the genre and to intertextuality outside the super-genre. This threefold division of intertextuality is obscured by usual conceptions. Interaction within the super-genre, that is to say within the metre, is typically more subtle and intimate than interaction outside it. It will be noticed that we must now reckon with two ‘intimacies’, that of language and that of metre. The links with Greek literature, which concern us here, are always lacking one type of intimacy, always standing at a further distance than if the external text were in Latin. But the distance increases if there is also a difference in super-genre; that difference can 25 Lucilius has cinaedus two other times even in what remains, Horace and Persius never use the word; Juvenal has it three or four other times. At Juv. 9.37 ŒÆØ# (which does not point at Naevolus himself) perhaps alters the point of the original phrase from automatic attractiveness to automatic efforts in attraction.

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add to the appeal of bringing two widely separated things together, as in a metaphor. The appeal of transgressing boundaries is probably more obvious at present than the appeal of play within the super-genre, and a formulation of genre which enabled more transgression would perhaps be preferred. But the formulation we have been following seems closer to the ancient conception, and subtlety and gradation also have their attractions. The fundamental features of different genres can be particularly confronted by interaction within the super-genre; so can the specific characteristics of an author inside his genre. Greek and Latin hexameter poetry are alike essential to interaction inside the Latin super-genre; likewise, such interaction provides an essential framework for the intertextuality of Latin with Greek hexameters. There are numerous types of poetry in hexameters, not all of them obvious. As we have seen from looking at inscriptions, even inscribed epigram can in Latin be a hexameter genre. We should often then be thinking primarily within the super-genre when considering the hexameter use of inscriptions. Aeneas dedicates a shield at Actium, with this inscription: Aeneas haec de Danais uictoribus arma (Virg. Aen. 3.288). The single hexameter particularly recalls in form the single hexameter supposedly from the heroic age seen by Herodotus on a tripod in Thebes:  çØæø  IŁÅŒ ŁHØ I e ź ø (‘Amphitryon dedicated me to the god from the Teleboae’, 5.59; two other inscriptions follow, in hexameters). The minute and tangible carmen (Virg. Aen. 3.287) contrasts with the massive book-poem on Aeneas and arma; the mingled pride and gloom of the inscription spring from a perspective on the Greeks and events which differ from that of the narrative poem (note the place Actium, and 6.836–40). uictoribus can be contrasted with Amphitryon’s victory, and compared with the victory and defeat spoken of by the Greek Pyrrhus in a hexameter inscription (originally three lines?) which is attributed to Ennius (Ann. 180–2 Skutsch).26 Inscribed poetry is involved in elaborate play within the super-genre at Virg. Ecl. 5.43–4. Daphnis, we take it, has requested the following epitaph: Daphnis ego in siluis, hinc usque ad sidera notus, | formosi pecoris custos, formosior ipse. This poem turns into funerary utterance deictic speech from a character (Theocr. 1.120–1 ˜ çØ# Kªg ‹ B# › a# Æ# z  ø, | ˜ çØ# › g# Ææø# ŒÆd æØÆ# z #ø, ‘I am the famous Daphnis who pastures his cattle here, the Daphnis who waters his bulls and calves here’). The successive lines of the epitaph give us Odysseus’ boast ŒÆ ı Œº# PæÆe ¥ŒØ (‘my fame reaches the sky’, Hom. Od. 9.20, cf. Il. 8.192 of Nestor’s shield) and, less closely, the shepherd’s P ŒÆº# K

Ø; . . . ŒÆd A#ÆØ ŒÆº  ŒÆ þæÆ [cf. in siluis] çÆd ªıÆEŒ# (‘am I not beautiful? . . . all the women in the hills call me beautiful’, [Theocr.] 20.19– 30, probably combined with a misinterpreted [Theocr.] 27.38 a b Æ ŒÆºa  ø , ‘I will look after your flocks well’). Note also Achilles on his own beauty at Hom. Il. 21.208; praise of beauty is far more common in epitaphs for women, but in Greek cf. e.g. MAMA 7.582.2 (Sengen) IªºÆ æç# (‘beautiful in shape’) of a man. One can see how intimately the first line moves between hexameter

26 The passage (on which cf. Dinter (2005), 164) connects with Aen. 7.733–43 (cf. Dinter (2005), 166), where we have carminibus nostris (733); possibly Teleboum (735) makes a link with the Herodotus. Dinter (2005) and (2009) treat of epic and epigram, without raising issues of metre.

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phrases from Theocritus and Homer; but, as they are Greek, we see also ingenious similarity in one case and neat recreation in the other (cf. Virg. Aen. 1.379 fama super aethera notus). Here the crucial feature of the funerary poem (cf. carmen 42 with carmen 45) is not brevity but finality. Virgil’s version of bucolic is about to outdo Homeric narrative and Theocritus 1 in reversing death and apotheosizing its character (but cf. Theocr. 13.72: apotheosis of Hylas). And his immortal actually reaches the stars (sidera 43, cf. sidera 57), unlike the human gods of didactic hexameters: cf. 64 deus, deus ille, Menalca with Lucr. 5.8 deus ille fuit, deus, inclute Memmi (3.1042 ipse Epicurus obit decurso lumine uitae, though surpassing men like the rising sun putting out the stars), Emped. fr. 1.4–8 Inwood Kªg   E Łe# ¼ æ#, PŒØ ŁÅ#, | øºF ÆØ a A#Ø Ø # (‘I move about honoured among you all, an immortal god, no longer a mortal’ etc.).27 Oracles are another hexameter genre, much more important for the supergenre than epigram. They stand out in performance, or a reading to oneself informed by performance, since delivery is bound to be distinctively solemn and authoritative and evoke the imagined performance of real oracles. They have been discussed in an earlier piece; but for our present purposes we should note how completely Greek the genre is (Latine Apollo numquam locutus est, remarks Cicero explicitly, Div. 2.116: an odd objection, however, to the Ennius below).28 Ennius, inventing, it was alleged, but pretending to translate, neatly matches Greek and Latin syntax and captures the oracular ambiguity: aio te, Aeacida, Romanos uincere posse (Ann. 167 Skutsch). The grandiose -ida also suits the oracle, cf. e.g. Hdt. 6.86ª2.1, Ael. fr. 327 Domingo-Forasté (`NÆŒÅ), Oenom. fr. 16.72 Hammerstaedt; contrast Enn. Ann. 166 Burrus. Lucan probably expands an oracle in his version at 5.194–6 (cf. Val. Max. 1.8.10; no. 436 in Parke and Wormell (1956)); he keeps the oracular Romane, cf. Phleg. FGrHist 257 III.5, App. BC 1.453). Even so his oracle is only three lines: Apollo curtails the answer by force (197), and speaks just of Appius’ fate, not of the civil war in general (cf. e.g. 67–8). The conception of the oracle as poetry is underlined by the poetic suggestion of words like uates (85, etc.; cf. 1.63–5, with the poet renouncing Delphic inspiration), cano (92, etc.), Castalios . . . latices (125). Noteworthy in the context of literary history is the mooted notion that the (Greek) carmina of the Sibyl entrusted to the Romans (uobis 138) have superseded the Delphic oracle (136–8).29

Hdt. 5.30.4 does not support an ‘ethic’  E (Wright (1995), 266), cf. 5.30.3. Theocr. 1.120–1, Hom. Od. 9.20, Lucr. 5.8 appear e.g. in Clausen (1994), 165, 168. Cf. further Breed (2006), 62–4. If [Theocritus] 27 is later than Virgil, both passages could draw on a Greek model, which Virgil need not then misinterpret. pecoris custos is evoked in the epitaph at the end of the Culex (413 pecudum custos), without the epithet. 28 The complex performance of an actual Delphic oracle would not have been witnessed by most Roman readers at most periods; but they would have witnessed performances of works containing oracles. (One can illustrate their impact from the effect in the theatre when the oracle in the Winter’s Tale is read out.) There were active hexameter oracles, notably at Didyma and Claros (cf. Parke (1985), Merkelbach and Stauber (1998–2004), v.320–1), and even in Italy (Nestor, above pp. 50, 57); revelations of textual oracles, as from the Sibylline books, are also full of drama. On oracles in general see recently Stoneman (2011); on oracles and Latin hexameter poetry cf. Hutchinson (2013a), 22–3. 29 The reader has had a different conception at 111–12: the silence of the oracle is a loss for saecula . . . nostra. On the episode cf. Masters (1992), 91–149. 27

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In the oracle, the god speaks with knowledge to the mortal about his death: an unusual ground for narrative hexameter poetry, and highly anomalous in Lucan’s version of that genre, where we do not have speaking gods. The narrator has already puzzled over the theology of the oracle and the relation of prophecy and causation (86–96); now he harangues Apollo for his silence about the outcome of the war (198–203), and Appius for his failure to understand oracles or the gods (224–36). He spells out the truth at length, keeping just the key words bell-, Euboici, and tenebis (secreta at 230 is pointed, cf. 222). His poem, while skirting over individual deaths at Pharsalus (7.617–41), passionately though uselessly makes manifest the central truth of the Senate’s defeat. The mention of Aulis at the end of the episode (5.236) recalls not only Calchas’ prophecy about Iphigenia (cf. iniquam classibus) but his precise prophecy of who would win the war and when, mentioned early in Homer’s poem (Il. 2.323–9); Zeus had revealed the truth (324). Through the external genre of oracles Lucan underlines the difference of his work and its world from Homer’s. The oracle in Sil. 12.324–36 has been considerably expanded (cf. no. 354 in Parke and Wormell (1956)); the added mention of divine activity and support follows the Delphic vein (cf. e.g. Hdt. 7.140.2.5–6, 141.3.1–2, App. BC 1.453.1–2). ipse | Delius . . . uates hints at the connection and contrast between prophet and mortal poet, cf. 410 (Apollo, speaking of Ennius) dignus Apolline uates (and 398 uates ut Thracius). The oracle indicates the outcome of the war, from knowledge and without concealment; but it is delivered within the events, unlike the narrative poem, and hence can inspire not certainty but spem . . . dulcem (320). At the end paeana canunt responsaque fida precantur (341). The oracle, unlike the narrative poem, has a Greek orientation: it is delivered at Delphi, it addresses the gens Veneris (cf. Appian loc. cit.), Apollo is the Delius . . . uates, though sympathetic to Trojans (330; Jupiter is more located in Rome, cf. 337–40).30

DISTORTING PASTORAL Pastoral is a genre which is not satisfactorily seen either as completely separate from other sorts of hexameter poetry or as a kind of epic. Its appearances even in didactic can be significant. On a small scale, Lucr. 5.943–65 wittily parodies pastoral in his picture of man before agriculture. His picture is to seem more mixed and more truthful than the easy idealizations of pastoral; but its lyricism and charm help his argument that life was sustainable. The section is introduced with the mainly Homeric miseris mortalibus (944); here too we have a mixture rather than the gloom of narrative hexameter poetry. Contrast multa . . . nouitas tum florida mundi | pabula dura tulit, miseris mortalibus ampla (943–4) with especially Hom. Od. 12.341–2: starvation the worst of deaths, though all are hateful غE#Ø æE#Ø (‘to wretched mortals’). There is a cognate turn at Lucr. 6.1: Athens first distributed corn mortalibus aegris. The love-gifts (or rather pretium) of glandes atque arbuta uel pira lecta (5.965) plainly look to bucolic 30

Parke and Wormell (1956), ii.143 do not mention Silius or Zonar. 9.3, Dio Cass. i.229 Boissevain.

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poetry, where the ŒÆ AºÆ (‘ten apples’) of Theocr. 3.10 were to be similarly thought bucolic by Propertius (2.34.69, of pastoral, utque decem possint corrumpere mala puellas, 71 uiles pomis mercaris amores). They are one alternative to uiolenta uiri uis (5.964). siluestria templa . . . nympharum, quibus e scibant umoris fluenta | lubrica proluuie larga lauere umida saxa, | umida saxa super uiridi stillantia musco (948–51) evokes Theocr. 7.135–8, where there are many trees, e  KªªŁ ƒæe oøæ | ı çA K ¼æØ ŒÆØ  Œº æıÇ (‘from nearby the sacred water flowing down from the nymphs’ cave was murmuring’, cf. also 1.7–8, etc.). The pastoral tonality is picked up by Calp. Sic. 6.65–7 (unless this has lost models) saxa petamus, | saxa, quibus uiridis stillanti uellere muscus | dependet. The heavy repetition of the last two feet of the hexameter (umida saxa), with addition or advance in the second occurrence, in this context sports with the style of pastoral: cf. e.g. Theocr. 1.4–5 . . . Ær ªÆ f º łÅØ· | ÆY ŒÆ  Ær ªÆ º ÅØ B# ªæÆ# . . . (‘ . . . you will take the goat; and if he takes the goat as a prize . . . ’), Bion 1.42–3 E, @øØ, | #  , E, @øØ (‘stay, Adonis, unhappy Adonis, stay’). But these humans live like animals (cf. 946–7), and they have squalida membra (956).31 The subject-matter of the Georgics and pastoral overlap more substantially; the contrast brings out the more practical and energetic ethos of didactic. On the one hand, molles . . . sub arbore somni | non absunt (G. 2.470–1, cf. Ecl. 1.1 recubans sub tegmine fagi, Theocr. 1.17 I

ÆÆØ, Pan ‘rests’, Virg. Ecl. 7.45 somno mollior herba, Theocr. 5.51 o ø ƺƌæÆ, ‘softer than sleep’; Virg. G. 3.435 mollis . . . somnos: risk of snakes). But the country also has, in the next line, patiens operum exiguoque adsueta iuuentus (G. 2.472). Theocritus’ Corydon carefully gives a calf some hay, as well as taking it to rich pastures (4.15–19), though all the cattle are thin from longing for their former master (12–14); G. 3.174–6 has a more extensive list of foods which must be picked for calves, as part of a carefully controlled system related to age.32 In narrative hexameters, pastoral is a recurrent element, which creates generic contrast. On a small scale, Sil. 13.314–47 shows Pan filling the Roman army, not with e ÆØŒ (cf. Polyb. 5.16.2–3 for Romans relating a ÆØŒ to Faunus), but with a gentleness which makes them sheath their swords (350) and not burn Capua. In a hyper-pastoral conception, the god who is irascible and ØŒæ# in Theocritus (1.17–18) becomes mitis (Sil. 13.320). When he has done his job, he heads for Mount Maenalus, ubi argutis longe de uertice sacro | dulce sonans calamis ducit stabula omnia cantu (346–7). The contrast with martial narrative and its poetry is apparent. The passage especially recalls Virg. Ecl. 8.22–4 Maenalus argutumque nemus . . . semper habet, semper pastorum ille audit amores | Panaque, qui primus calamos non passus inertis and Theocr. 1.123–9, where Pan is asked to come from Maenalus and other holy mountains (cf. 126) and take

31 The stylistic connection with pastoral is not brought out in Campbell (2003), 209–11 (or in Wills (1996), 157–8), though the place of pastoral in the passage is properly emphasized at 205–6. Cf. also Gale (1994), 170, where Theocr. 7.136–7 are mentioned, but not viewed as a specific intertext; Costa (1984), 114 mentions Theocr. 3.10. 32 The last line of the Georgics allows the possibility of making the poet the one singing sub tegmine fagi—part of a larger irony in the leisured poet of work (4.564); at any rate the genres are there collocated and compared. On pastoral elements in the Georgics cf. Ross (1990), Halperin (1990).

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Daphnis’ º ı . . . #æتªÆ (‘sweet-breathing pipe’, on one view in the scholia). The description of Pan (Sil. 13.326–42) connects with visual art; but Pan is a recurring god in Theocritus, and the reader thinking of hexameter and pastoral may relate his pastorale . . . baculum and deer-skin in Silius to the human goatherd’s goat-skin and throwing-stick in Theocr. 7.15–19, 128.33 The word pastorale here is more notable. Quintilian uses the word in relation to the genre (Inst. 10.1.55, on Theocritus, musa illa rustica et pastoralis; note the title of Theocritus 5 ÆN ºØŒe ŒÆd Ø ØŒ, Idyll of goatherd and shepherd), and such a use of the adjective recalls the first part of Theocritus 1 (22–3 › ŁHŒ# | B# › Ø ØŒ#, ‘the seat of shepherds’, cf. also 56 cup ÆN ºØŒe Ł Å Æ, ‘an amazing sight for goatherds’; + 5.58c.2 Iªªø Ø ØŒH, ‘shepherds’ vessels’). The Eclogues do not use pastoralis; but the word does link us to Virgil’s Aeneid. There it marks the conversion of a near-pastoral early Italy into war, and the distortion of bucolic poetry into military narrative. The Fury (an Antimachean figure) gives a pastorale . . . signum with a horn from the top of a stabulum (7.511– 15); but it is a Tartaream . . . uocem, and makes the nemus et siluae tremble. In the last line of the book and the end of the Catalogue, Camilla carries pastoralem praefixa cuspide myrtum. The pet deer, whose killing is used to inflame the animos . . . agrestis with war (482), was taken from its mother by the king’s herdsman and reared (cf. nutribant) by his family, especially the daughter; it recalls the eleven fawns with collars that Polyphemus is rearing as pets for Galatea (Theocr. 11.40–1; æ çø).34 Pastoral is conspicuously woven into the hexametric tapestry of Metamorphoses 13–14: Polyphemus appears in both a Theocritean and a Homeric episode. Polyphemus is a figure almost exiled from the Eclogues, but salient in Theocritus; the tale of Acis is filled with Theocritean elements, and Polyphemus’ song begins by expanding Theocr. 11.20–1 into an outrageous parody of pastoral style (Ov. Met. 13.789–807; note also pastoria sibila in 785). The episode is narrated by the poet when Aeneas and his Trojans arrive in Sicily: space is used in books 13–14 to juxtapose and compare Aeneid, Odyssey, and Theocritus. After the account of Diomedes in Italy, based on the Aeneid, Aeneas’ envoy sees the place from which a shepherd frightened the nymphs (a connection of space). Even now the piping of Pan (14.514–16) keeps the place pastoral. The story comes from one of the poem’s basic resources, Nicander’s Heteroeumena (Book 2; fr. 47 Schneider); as Antoninus presents it, its Italian locale is strongly emphasized. In Nicander, the rustics boast superiority to the unrecognized Nymphs in dancing, and their shepherds’ dances are ¼ ı## (‘unrefined’, Ant. Lib. 31.4). Ovid takes the generic implications in a different direction: his shepherd improbat has . . . saltuque imitatus agresti | addidit obscenis conuicia rustica dictis (520–1; compare and contrast Daphnis’ failure to dance with the maidens (nymphs?) at Theocr. 1.90–1). The crudest side of pastoral is exposed; we may think not just of the nymphs in whose 33 The scholia to Theocritus are interested in Pan; note that the learned note on 4.62–3 now looks to have appeared in some form in P. Oxy. LXIV 4432 (ii ad) col. ii. For the throwing-stick cf. Gow (1952), ii.87–8. 34 Hunting here forms a link between narrative and pastoral hexameter, cf. Theocr. 1.109–10, 5.106–7, [23].10, Virg. Ecl. 10.56–7; the link enables a movement to violence. Cf. Merriam (2002), esp. 856–7. More generally on pastoral elements in the Aeneid see Suerbaum (2005).

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sanctuary someone does something to Menalcas—the obscenus word is omitted (Virg. Ecl. 3.8–9)—but the more openly improper original conuicia in Theocritus (5.41–4, K ªØÇ ı, ıª# Æ#, ‘I was buggering you’, ‘buggering’, with comments on physical pain and extent of penetration). But we also compare and contrast the poet, who is demeaning both pastoral and narrative hexameter as he imitates them, yet with impunity and elegance.35 The engagement of pastoral itself with narrative and didactic is significant too. One example will suffice. Just before it becomes apparent that Calpurnius 3 is based on Theocritus 14, an Iliadic introduction precedes: nunc age dic, Lycida: quae uos tam magna tulere | iurgia? quis uestro deus interuenit amori? (22–3). #  æ #çø ŁH æØØ ıÅŒ å#ŁÆØ; (‘what god brought them together to fight in strife [or ‘a quarrel’]?’), the bard asks the Muse (Hom. Il. 1.8; cf. also quo numine laeso in Virg. Aen. 1.8, but Calpurnius is closer to Homer than to Virgil). tam magna takes up the emphasis on extent in Hom. Il. 1.2–5, made explicit with Virgil’s tot . . . tot . . . tantae (Aen. 1.9–11). The humour in joining the start of the Iliad to a particularly unelevated poem of Theocritus is more apparent to the writer and reader than to the speaker. The question on causation holds ironies too: the guilty party will emerge as, not a god or the rival, but the aggrieved lover himself: a te coeperunt tua iurgia (36). The difference of ground from the Homer is clear at once: a conversation between individuals, followed by homodiegetic narrative, not mortal talking to god and then speaking his heterodiegetic tale to no named audience. The generic range of the poem emerges when Lycidas’ song of appeal, which turns into a written poem and so resembles a Latin poem in elegiacs, ends with a funerary inscription (90–1); this in turn draws on [Theocr.] 23.46–8, cf. 62–3. But the inscription will be not on a grave or the beloved’s walls (so [Theocritus]), but on ‘that holm-oak’, from which the rustic will hang himself (87–8). The intricate relation, and discord, between the hexameter genres is well illustrated by the Culex. The subject-matter is basically pastoral: a goatherd is the main human character. The early description of the goats in action (48–57) is filled with evocation of the Eclogues (cf. e.g. 51 haerebant ad . . . rupes with Virg. Ecl. 1.76 pendere . . . de rupe, both of goats, or 53 labrusca, a rare word found in poetry only here and at Virg. Ecl. 5.7). But the Georgics is also highly important, and at the end of a passage based on Georgics 2 we are told that aemulus Ascraeo pastor sibi quisque poetae | securam placido traducit pectore uitam (Culex 96–7). Pastoral song is suggested, but linked to Hesiodic poetry. The manner of the poem as a whole is more a play with narrative hexameter than an imitation of pastoral: the first word lusimus strikes the note. The gnat’s account of the underworld includes an extensive evocation of the Iliad (296–324); part of this is a lengthy selfinterruption by the gnat, introduced by o quis non referat talis diuortia belli . . . ? (304). The theme has been known to deter (e.g. Horace, Odes 1.6); but the poem here plays with its own amused, yet not wholly deflated, verbosity. The poem even seems to take the side of the Iliad against the Odyssey (325–33, which develop

35 On the figure of omitting the rude word cf. J. N. Adams (1981); he sees the omission itself as quite likely Theocritean (120), cf. Theocr. 1.105, on goddess and cowherd. For Polyphemus in Metamorphoses 13 and 14 cf. Hutchinson (2007b).

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Hom. Od. 11.541–67 on Ajax and Odysseus). The emphasis on the grandest Greek work more than on the Aeneid enhances the comic ambition of the poem. It ends, however, with an inscription, which draws on the inscription in Eclogue 5.36

MIXES MATCH: NARRATIVE AND DIDACTIC The proximity of didactic and narrative hexameter is evident; it has been indicated elsewhere that the relationship runs both ways. There is a correspondence between the passages where didactic most ostentatiously moves into narrative mode, as if in a set piece, and narrative similarly moves into didactic mode. The content is in the first case mythological, in the second philosophical (and so general— narratives are specific). In both cases, the moves derive from and refer to Hellenistic poetry: for didactic Aratus’ inset narrative on Justice (100–36; already taken up in Nicander’s snake and donkey, Ther. 343–58), and for narrative hexameter poetry Apollonius’ inset account of Creation (1.496–502). The correspondence between the two types of move is brought out when didactic connects not only with Aratus but with Apollonius, and when narrative poetry connects not only with Apollonius but with Aratus. (When didactic links with Apollonius or narrative poetry with Aratus, the Greek poet’s name will be italicized.) In such cases movement across the genres is marked out still further. Aratus’ account is much connected with his model the Works and Days: Hesiod’s five ages, and his personification of Dike; but the formalized didacticism of Aratus means that the narrative emerges as a different mode. It is introduced with an inset ground, with ºª# ª b KæåØ ¼ºº# | IŁæ Ø#, ‰# BŁ . . . (‘but another story runs among men: supposedly . . . ’, 101–2); this removes it from the truth of the main poem (cf. 163 and especially 637 @æ Ø# ƒº ŒØ· ææø ºª#, ‘May Artemis be gracious! The tale comes from earlier men’, the tale of Orion; Nic. Ther. 343–4 TªªØ#  ¼æÆ FŁ# K ÆNÇÅE#Ø çæEÆØ, | ‰# . . . , ‘an ancient story is borne around among mortals, that . . . ’). Apollonius has the Empedoclean version of creation followed by an account of the early gods (1.503–11) that recalls the less didactic of Hesiod’s two authentic poems (cf. SH 938 for the mixture of Hesiod with Empedocles; Apollonius at first follows Pherecydes’ specifics). The whole (= Orphica 67 V Bernabé) is given an inset ground: the bard Orpheus sings it to the Argonauts. The performance hints at Orpheus’ poetry instructing the initiated (cf. P. Derveni col. vii 9–11 (Bernabé (2007), 203–6): near beginning of poem?), but turns his song into more Homeric or Hesiodic entertainment. Both Aratus’ and Apollonius’ passages deal with stages through which the world or man has proceeded to their present state. They both come early in their poems.37 36 On the Greek and Latin intertexts and generic affinities of the Culex see Janka (2005). Further material and speculations in Marinčič (1998). For Ulysses, contrast the special praise he receives as naturae uictorem in the Homeric part of the anabasis (so to speak) at Man. 1.762–5, cf. 2.1–7. 37 For Empedocles in Apollonius here and elsewhere cf. Kyriakou (1994). For Aratus’ passage on Dike cf. Schiesaro (1996). On the place of the line in P. Derveni col. vii 9–10 cf. Betegh (2004), 109–10. The passages of Apollonius and Aratus could be seen as a sequence in depicted time (creation and fall), and, the other way round, in probable order of composition. Since Orpheus’ song tells of cosmological and divine EŒ# (‘strife’) to calm and generalize human EŒ# (cf. 492, 498), and since the Argonauts are at sea, readers of Apollonius could readily connect such aspects of the Aratus as the original absence

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Lucretius’ myth of Iphigenia (1.80–101) may follow Aratus’ pattern of placing. Virgil moves his narrative inset to the end of the Georgics, his philosophical inset to the middle of the Aeneid (6.724–51, near the end of Book 6 of twelve). The position in the Georgics links to the poet’s next move within the super-genre, on to narrative hexameter; cf. the proem to Book 3. (The killing of cattle in the inset of the Georgics provides a link in content with Aratus (132, cf. also Virg. G. 1.125, 147–8, 3.525–6), which will become more significant in Ovid.) Manilius and the Aetna roughly follow the Georgics: the Aetna ends with its story (602–44), the narrative of Andromeda comes in Manilius’ last book (5.540–630, last line 745).38 Ovid puts his main philosophical piece in the first half of the last book (Met. 15.60–481), where it temporarily appears to offer a resolution of the poem through philosophical discourse. Its beginning and end also connect with Aratus’ passage, cf. Arat. 132 æHØ b H K #Æ Iæ æø (‘they were the first to eat of the bulls that ploughed’) and + 132 p. 137 Martin F æH æÆ# ø N# f# #ıæªı# ŒÆd ÆNı# B# ªøæªÆ# (‘they first did this to their fellowworkers, who were the cause of farming’) with Met. 15.123–4 qui potuit curui dempto modo pondere aratri [also evokes name of poet through cross-language play?] | ruricolam mactare suum, 470 bos aret [similar words in both languages]. Ovid further imitates, and turns round, the Apollonian passage at the very beginning of his work (1.5–75), where the intertext helps to puzzle us on the nature of the poem. (Contrast Ap. Rh. 1.497 e æd  Iºº ºØ#Ø ØBØ #ıÆæÅæÆ

æçBØ, ‘they had formerly still fitted together in a single shape’, with Ov. Met. 1.18–19 obstabatque aliis aliud, quia corpore in uno | frigida pugnabant calidis; note the magni primordia mundi before the quoted speech of Pythagoras begins, 15.67.) The same purpose is served by the passage on the Ages, ending with the departure of Justice (1.89–150): this connects to the passage of Aratus, with the twist that Ovid’s has less narrative specificity.39 Statius offers a vestigial philosophical résumé in his middle book (Theb. 6.358– 64; Theogony material is included in a parenthesis, 358). Silius’ passage marks a telling new start near the end of his poem, as Scipio is inspired by Virtus at the beginning of Book 15 of seventeen (10–132). The passage is modelled on Prodicus (and Xenophon, and Lucceius); but it has various connections of a general kind with Aratus’ passage, and with its model the Works and Days: Virtus is led ad astra (100), Scipio is to be a Iustitiae cultor (111), an age of degeneration is envisaged even for Rome (125 uenient mea tempora quondam, cf. 92–3), Virtus

of EŒ# and the sea from human life (108, 110–11). Links could also be seen between the separation of the elements in strife and the departure to the skies in loathing for men (133–4) of Justice, who previously IÆ d KŒ ŁÅ ŒÆd IŁÆ Å æ KF#Æ (‘sat mingled [with men and women], though she was immortal’, 104), and between the singing of Orpheus to the Argonauts (XØ, 496, 503) and of Justice to men (XØ, 107). 38 For the passage on Iphigenia as part of Lucretius’ attack on sacrifice cf. Massaro (2010), 264–8. The sacrifice of Andromeda links with that of Iphigenia, cf. e.g. Man. 5.545 hic hymenaeus erat, Lucr. 1.96–7 non ut . . . perfecto posset claro comitari hymenaeo; sacrifice is one of the main themes taken from the passage of Aratus. On the placing of the passage in the Aeneid, and the relation of that placing to Ennius’ dream of Homer, cf. P. R. Hardie (1986), 76–83, (1995), 211. On the story at the end of the Aetna cf. Volk (2005), 88–9. 39 On Pythagoras’ speech cf. P. R. Hardie (1995), Galinsky (1998), Oberrauch (2005), Beagon (2009). On the intertextual connections of the cosmogony in Book 1, see Barchiesi, Segal, Koch (2005), 148–50.

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presents herself in language that clearly renders Hesiod (101–4 . . . ardua saxoso perducit semita cliuo. | asper principio . . . labor . . . , cf. WD 289–92 . . . ÆŒæe# b ŒÆd ZæŁØ# x # K# ÆP  [sc. æ ] | ŒÆd æÅåf# e æH . . . , ‘ . . . the path to Excellence is long and steep, and rough going at first . . . ’).40 In form, both types of passage play on their own and the other genre, and exploit frames of speaker and of source to separate their utterance from the poem. The passage in the Georgics gestures boldly to the beginning of the Iliad in its opening quis deus hanc, Musae, quis nobis extudit artem? (Virg. G. 4.315), cf. Hom. Il. 1.8 #  æ .çø ŁH æØØ ıÅŒ å#ŁÆØ; (p. 343 above; the action is more benign than in Homer). ut fama, however (Virg. G. 4.317), withdraws into caution and poetic sources. Within the outer narrative, which abounds in Homeric connections, Cyrene instructs Aristaeus didactically (note praecepta 447); Proteus’ inset narrative is presented as praecepta (397), and also as another hexameter genre, oracula (448; cf. with 450–1 non te nullius exercent numinis irae e.g. SGO 02/02/01.1–2 (iii ad; Delphic oracle) åغØb# Ø Æ æÅ# ˜Øe# Kƺı#Æ# | غØåÅØ "Ø#åŁØ K ¼º#œ ø e KæÆ#, ‘you (city of Tralles) ended a thousand-year-old cause of wrath for the fatherland from Zeus by putting an altar to the Earth-shaker in his grove, in propitiation’). There is also some link with the Apollonius: Cyrene has unusually become a river-nymph, with nymphs of other rivers (such as Arethusa), and shows her son all the rivers and their startingpoints (Virg. G. 4.366–43); cf. ‰# Æ d jek‹domte# | ÆPBØ#Ø m˝lvgi#i ŒÆd !æ a  Kª (‘and how there came into being the sounding rivers, together with their nymphs, and all animals’, Ap. Rh. 1.500–1), note Virg. G. 4. 364–5 lucosque sonantis . . . ingenti motu . . . aquarum, 370 sonans Hypanis.41 The passage in the Aeneid is given an inset ground, with almost the situation of a didactic poem: Anchises ordine singula pandit (6.723), as if a poet, to his son. The Apollonian passage had already been used in the Eclogues (6.31–40, Creation); but there it is part of an entertainment. The capture and binding of Silenus to obtain utterance connects with that of Proteus (Ecl. 6.19, 23, G. 4.397–8, 411); but it is less serious. In Aeneid 6, the ivory gate (893–8) may distance the passage from the assertion of (fictional) truth implicit in the rest of the poem. Pythagoras’ speech in Ovid gives an archetypally didactic situation, but he fails to convince (Met. 15.74 sed non et credita, 483 (Numa) sacrificos docuit ritus). Persuasion had been a problem even for the at least equally popular Empedocles (e.g. fr. 2.2–3 Inwood, cf. 1.4–12, Ov. Met. 15.66–7). The speech of Virtus in Silius gives us a basic didactic situation (more normal than Justice’s direct speech in Aratus); the whole episode could be taken as a dream (18–19), as (if of this scene) in Raphael’s drawing (London, BM PD 1994–5-14–57) and painting (London, National Gallery NG213). Questions of truth and of unreal worlds are bound up in the interplay of genres. The Aetna does not vouch for its story, which acts on its own: insequitur miranda tamen sua fabula montem (603). However, it enables Etna and the poem to match and outdo all the false myths—with their hexametric and dramatic

40 Iustitiae is given a lower case in editors, but cf. ‘tu vénèreras la Justice’ in M. Martin and Devallet (1992), 38. 41 On the general relation of didactic and narrative in the story of Aristaeus see Conte (2001), 46–8.

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resonance—which lure tourists to other sites (571–92; cf. also 74–93 on the falsehood of uates, that is especially of narrative hexameters). The story, drawn from Greek sources, particularly connects with that of Aeneas, who also piously carries out his parent, as the flames give way (e.g. Virg. Aen. 2.633, Man. 4.24). The excursus marks out the genre but also this particular poet’s version of it. Manilius’ passage, on the other hand, is separated only through time, with quondam (5.540): another means of signalling a shift into narrative. The opening connects with the Apollonius: infestus totis cum finibus omnis | incubuit pontus, {timuit naufragia{ tellus (540–1; then probably 514 et quod erat regnum pelagus fuit). This is again a perversion of Orpheus’ beginning, where coalescence between parts of the world is implicitly caused by غÅ#: XØ  ‰# ªÆEÆ ŒÆd PæÆe# Mb Ł ºÆ##Æ, | e æd  Iºº ºØ#Ø ØBØ #ıÆæÅæÆ æçBØ, | ˝Œ# K OºE ØŒæØŁ I çd# *ŒÆ#Æ (‘he sang of how earth, sky, and sea, which formerly had still fitted together in a single shape, were all separated and set apart because of destructive Strife’, Ap. Rh. 1.496–8, cf. Emped. Phys. 1.246–51, 288–90, 300–6 Primavesi).

RANGE AND ERUDITION Lucan’s is the narrative poem most eager to play with the didactic mode, across a range of subject-matter (including snakes and geography). The loss of either Greek or Latin poems or both makes it hard to assess how much the poet draws on either language; from the reader’s perspective, Nicander on snakes will in general be borne in mind as well as Aemilius Macer. The Bern scholia on 9.411 (301.9–14 Usener) illustrate from Varro (probably of Atax) and Alexander (probably of Ephesus) the two different views which Lucan actually confronts on the distinctness of Libya (Africa) as a continent. This suggests an ancient reading of Luc. 9.411–19 as an encounter between two hexameter traditions, Greek and Latin.42 The sizeable account of Thessaly, 6.333–412, raises elaborate issues, and will start to draw us into questions of mixture beyond hexameter. The passage in outline has mostly a geographical shape: (a) extent of Thessaly; (b) Thessaly originally covered in water; (c) rivers; (d) peoples; (e) Thessalian claims to fame (‘firsts’). The poetry will seem to the reader less close to very detailed narrative accounts of Thessaly or part of it, such as Rhianus’ Thessalica (probably at least sixteen books), or Nicander’s Oetiaca (at least two books), than to brisk poetic accounts of Greece or larger areas, here expanded (later examples in Dionysius Periegetes (hexameters), earlier examples in Pseudo-Scymnus and Dionysius son of Calliphon (both iambics)). As Rhianus’ and Nicander’s poems indicate, however, geography and history are not easily segregated. Parts (b) and (c) will evoke

42 See Housman (1926), 271–2, R. F. Thomas (1982), 109, 120, Wick (ii), 159–60 for prose passages. On Lucan and didactic: cf. Schindler (2005), 205. Barrenechea (2010) explores the interaction of didactic and narrative dynamics in the treatment of the Nile.

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for the reader the historian Herodotus, but in geographical vein (Hdt. 7.129, 198– 200). This use of less narrative prose will in itself conjure up didactic poetry.43 But matters are complicated by the extensive insertion of familiar, not abstruse, mythology. The practice is generally characteristic of didactic hexameter, if not in quite such copious abundance; it is as if the poetic character of the passage is being underlined. The emergence of Thessaly from the waters is the work of Hercules (Luc. 6.347–9), not of Poseidon half-equated with earthquakes (Hdt. 7.129.4; cf. Luc. 4.110–20: Neptune asked to create a flood). But the passage is also made to stick out from Lucan’s non-mythological narrative, and to forge links with the other type of narrative hexameter. Connections with the Iliad come early (Luc. 6.349–52). They are probably part of the poetic tradition (e.g. Dion. Perieg. 545–8: ghosts of Achilles and others), but so they are too of the prose tradition. Strabo’s account of Thessaly in Book 9 makes extensive use of Apollodorus’ commentary on the Catalogue of Ships, and provides much comment on Homer from this and other sources; this was an aspect of Thessaly that he thought of special interest to his readers. Lucan is likely to be using Strabo or similar sources as well as Herodotus. The Catalogue is the prime point of reference: the names in 6.352 Phylace Pteleosque et Dorion come from the Catalogue (Hom. Il. 2.594, 694, 697 (Pteleos comes twice)). The allusions to Thamyris and Protesilaus point to the Catalogue, and prima Rhoeteia litora pinu | quae tetigit (351–2) points to the ships. The first item, regnum Pharsalos Achillis, embroils us in the scholarly discussion of the Catalogue. The name Pharsalus is not Homeric, as is noted by + Hom. Od. 4.9 a1–3 Pontani; it first appears in a reorganization of Homeric myth (Pherecyd. fr. 1 Fowler; Eur. Andr. 16–23). The text of Strabo 9.5.6 431 C. iii.120.33–7 Radt is uncertain, but it seems that there was controversy, and certainly discussion, on the relation of Pharsalus, old or new, to Achilles’ territory. Cf. Mythographus Homericus, P. Oxy. LXI 4096 fr. 10.5–7. Lucan wishes to connect his war to the Trojan War, but to show his as greater and more calamitous. His whole section is leading up to the battle of Pharsalus (cf. esp. (e)). Achilles’ realm, first in the list of places emerging from the lake, would have been melius mansura sub undis (349, cf. p. 330 above): the battle is more important than mythological heroism, his poem, in a sense, than Homer’s.44 The next names, Trachis and Meliboea, appear in the Catalogue of Ships (Hom. Il. 2.682, 717). olim Larisa potens (Luc. 6.355) teases the reader: perhaps it is not what became the main city of Thessaly but Larisa Cremaste, which was equated with Pelasgian Larisa (cf. Hom. Il. 2.840–1) and brought into Achilles’ domain (Strabo 9.5.13–14 435 C. iii.130.1–15 Radt; ‘Phthiotian’ IG ix.2.520.10–11 (Augustan), SEG 39 (1989) no. 494.3–4 (ii ad); captured by Rome 171 bc, Livy 42.67.10–11). Certainly ubi nobile quondam | nunc super Argos arant (Luc. 6.355–6) uses nobile to toy meaningfully with the reader: not the now wellknown Argos in the Peloponnese, still thriving, but Pelasgian Argos, first in the list of Achilles’ forces (Hom. Il. 2.681). In Strabo’s discussion we hear that some 43 On the metre of Pseudo-Scymnus (and Apollodorus), and the implications for hexameter, cf. Hunter (2008c), 513–17. On Lucan’s description of Thessaly cf. Nicolai (1989), Arweiler (2006), 12–20. 44 On the relation of Homer’s own Catalogue to his poem and his war see e.g. Visser (1997), Danek (2004).

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thought it was a city, F  PŒ s#Æ (‘now no longer in existence’, 9.5.5 431 C. iii.118.19–20 Radt). Lucan is distant in time from Homer; and cities change. But in the final item the narrator himself mischievously cheats (or less plausibly makes a mistake): he turns Phthiotid Thebes, involved in the same discussion as Pharsalus at Strabo 9.5.6 431 C. iii.120.4 Radt (¨ Æ# a# ŁØøÆ#), into Boeotian Thebes, hardly a part of Thessaly. (Strabo 9.5.8 433 C. iii.124.11–12 would scarcely provide an explanation, despite the textual questions.) The narrator’s purpose is to lead on to another myth: ueteres ubi fabula Thebas | monstrat Echionias, ubi quondam Pentheos exul | colla caputque ferens supremo tradidit igni, | questa quod hoc solum nato rapuisset, Agaue (Luc. 6.356–9). Hexameter is relevant even here. Whereas in the Bacchae Cadmus has brought back the scattered parts of his son’s body so that they can presumably receive burial (Eur. Bacch. 1216–20; cf. Nonn. Dion. 46.315–19), in Theocritus’ mini-narrative the Bacchants other than Agave, Ino, and Autonoe divide up the rest of Pentheus, apart from his head and arms, like the meat of a victim (26.24 ŒæÆ ), and all return ŁÅ Æ ŒÆd P —ŁBÆ çæØ#ÆØ (‘bringing a cause of lamentation and not Pentheus’, 26). Earlier Agave has taken his head (!ºE#Æ, 20). This account assists in reaching the situation implied in Lucan, where only the head can be cremated. The use of questa here, with cross-language play on ŁÅ Æ ŒÆd P —ŁBÆ, confirms the importance of Theocritus (Eur. Bacch. 505–8 is not so relevant). None the less, the reader must bring Euripides to the passage; exul particularly connects with the close of the Bacchae (1350, etc.). The intensity of tragic death and mourning heighten the suggestion of Pompey’s death. He too is decapitated, and mourned by a woman (his wife); but it is the rest of him and not the head that is cremated, just about. Cornelia cannot be present even at that inadequate ceremony. The head is treated with ignominy by the Egyptians: seruata de parte queror, his son Sextus ends a speech (9.145).45 In this passage we see genres outside the super-genre drawn into the interaction with hexameter genres. The super-genre is central; the whole conception is didactic, and the very scope and learning of the passage connect with the scholarly elucidation of Homer. All aspects serve the large purposes of the poem; but part of the impact lies in the figure of the author as alert and wide-ranging manipulator of literature. The passage, however, is accessible to a reader who knows just Homer and the basic myths; the complexities build up the more the reader knows. The myths invite a collaborative play of learning between author and reader, rather than displaying inaccessible erudition which separates the author from the admiring reader. Such erudition is sometimes found, say, in Callimachus; he and other Hellenistic poets also deploy a wide range of local myths, which Latin poets mostly avoid. A collaborative use of learning is exemplified at Virg. G. 1.436: sailors will pay their vows Glauco et Panopeae et Inoo Melicertae. The reader of

45 The third of the three ubis (355–9) should rhetorically denote a different place from the second, and exul implies it is different from Boeotian Thebes; cf. Parth. ¯— 32.4. That passage does not give much support for making Thebas . . . Echionias the Phthiotid; it is Boeotian in Stat. Theb. 6.14, cf. Ov. Trist. 5.5.53. On ŒæÆ  cf. Cairns (1992), 7. On Lucan’s treatment of Pompey’s death and burial cf. recently Erasmo (2008), 109–27.

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well-known Greek poets can savour the combination, in this Aratean context, of Arat. 658 ˜øæØ ŒÆd —Æ ÅØ (‘Doris and Panope’) with Parth. fr. 36 Lightfoot ˆºÆŒøØ ŒÆd ˝ÅæBœ ŒÆd NƺøØ/ øØ ºØŒæÅØ (‘Glaucus and Nereus and Melicertes of the sea’ [or ‘son of Ino’]). The Aratus itself, instead of saying ‘seanymphs’, takes up in a similarly collaborative play Homer and Hesiod’s ˜øæd# ŒÆd —Æ Å (Hom. Il. 18.45, Hes. Theog. 250). Virgil’s play within the super-genre is complex; the Greek words and prosody strengthen the interaction with Greek poetry (cf. p. 150 above). But the names would in this context give a reader of Greek poetry little difficulty, not even Panope, as one can see from the similar use of Cymothoe (Virg. Aen. 1.144).46

EXTERNAL GENRES ILLUMINATING THE SUPER-GENRE Our main concern has been with interplay inside the super-genre; but, as has already been seen, interplay with genres outside it is of great importance too. Here it must suffice to investigate a few instances. At the start of Thebaid 5, Hypsipyle is asked her name, father, and origin; she soon launches on her lengthy inset narrative. The Thebaid as a whole is much bound up with tragedy. Although the myth had received substantial hexameter treatment, it lies in the central territory of tragedy; the reader will certainly have the Phoenissae and other tragedies in mind, as the text confirms. The story of Hypsipyle and the Lemnian women before the Argonauts’ arrival had been told briefly in Apollonius (1.609– 26, cf. 4.424–6), and expansively in Valerius (2.78–310); but tragedy is a prime point of reference. Euripides’ Hypsipyle brought Hypsipyle and Opheltes together, perhaps for the first time; Aeschylus’ Hypsipyle and Sophocles’ Lemniae evidently dealt with Hypsipyle and the Argonauts (the content of Cleaenetus’ Hypsipyle is not known, TrGF 84 T 4; there are no traces in Roman tragedy). All these plays are likely to have contained some mention of previous events (cf. Eur. Hyps. fr. 579a.1593–9 Kannicht; note also Aesch. Cho. 631–8); Aeschylus’ Lemniae (-oi Catalogue) may have dealt with those events themselves.47 In Statius, Adrastus’ inquiry to Hypsipyle meets with horror at the thought of the past and retelling it: redit ecce nefas et frigida cordi | Eumenis. o miserae, quibus hic furor additus! o nox! | o pater! illa ego nam . . . . raptum quae sola parentem | occului (Theb. 5.32–6). o nox! is a strikingly unusual end to a hexameter (Virg. Aen. 5.624 o gens | infelix . . . ). In our present knowledge of tragedy, it particularly recalls Soph. El. 201–6 (a daughter) t Æ#A ŒÆ º ± æÆ | KºŁF# KåŁ#Æ  Ø· | t · t  ø Iææ ø | Œ ƪº ¼åŁÅ, | E# K e# Y Æcæ | ŁÆ ı# Œº. (‘Oh that day that came most hateful of all to me! Oh night! Oh the dreadful

46 Cf. Prop. 2.26A.16; note the neat exploitation of her Greek etymology at Sil. 3.58. For Panope in post-Virgilian Latin poetry cf. e.g. Ov. Fast. 6.499, Epic. Drus. 435. 47 The story also resembles that of Hypermestra and the other Danaids, treated in Aeschylus’ trilogy. On tragedy and the Thebaid cf. recently Dangel (2009), 161–4. On a smaller scale cf. e.g. Fernandelli (2000). For treatments of Hypsipyle as far as Valerius see Boner (2006). On Statius’ section see Gruzelier (1994), Scaffai (2002), Ganiban (2007), 71–95.

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grief of the unspeakable banquet, at which my father saw his death’ etc.). The Latin comes close to the Greek even in sound.48 As to the emotion of the utterance, a sense of performance in both genres will have been brought into private reading. Statius’ secondary narrator is more intense in language than Virgil’s, either when he introduces his narrative or at Aen. 2.361–2 quis cladem illius noctis, quis funera fando | explicet . . . ? Hypsipyle also outdoes the exclamations of the hexameter primary narrators on this subject; they are straining the limits of convention. Ap. Rh. 1.616 has t ºÆØ Ç ºØ  K Ø# ıªæH# IŒæÅØ (‘oh unhappy women, disastrously insatiable in jealousy!’); Valerius is horrified at his tale, like Hypsipyle, and wishes that his noctes | could be free of this vision (2.216–19). The external genre of tragedy thus furthers the dialectic with other hexameter narrative. A tension between tragic and hexametric preoccupations at first seems to appear when Hypsipyle seeks to break off her account: et uos arma uocant magnique in corde paratus (37). This contrasts with her redit . . . cordi | Eumenis (32–3). Furies, though significant in Antimachus and Virgil, could be thought quintessentially a phenomenon more of tragedy than of hexameter; but, as we are well aware, they are fundamental to the war which Adrastus is approaching.49 The beginning of Statius’ sixth book invokes a different genre: epinician. Again the interplay outside the super-genre has much to do with interplay inside it. Other use of epinician in hexameter accords. The beginning of Georgics 3, as is well known, plays extensively both with fifth-century lyric epinician and with its third-century developments in elegiacs. The epinician element fits with a part of Book 3’s theme: horses. But the celebration of the poet’s own victory, as after the games, leads into celebration of Octavian’s victories in war, with a Roman and cosmic context (26–39). Although epinician can have much to say on war, as in Pythian 1, it is in essence a celebration of athletic not military victory: that is more the province of narrative hexameter. When Virgil breaks off interea Dryadum siluas saltusque sequamur (40), an opposition is plainly suggested between narrative hexameter and his version of didactic; it is to the former that he will aspire after this poem (46–8). But the continuation of Olympic glory into his opening on horses and cattle (49–50) lets some epinician sublimity continue to invade his

48 [Sen.] Oct. 18 is probably later than the Thebaid (cf. Ferri (2003), 5–30); even if o nox is right in that passage, there is no reduplication in it. But the play illustrates interest in that scene of the Electra; cf. Herington (1961), 20. For the reduplication note also Enn. fr. 87 Jocelyn o pater, o patria, o Priami domus. The present is the only instance of a triple o in Statius; the only other instance in narrative hexameter without (further) address (cf. Enn. Ann. 106–8 Skutsch, Ov. Met. 1.351) is the surprising and for the reader ironic exclamation of Hannibal’s father’s ghost, Sil. 13.749. There is one instance in Seneca’s tragedies (and one quadruple instance); in Greek tragedy see e.g. Soph. Ant. 891–2, Eur. Hec. 619–21, El. 866–7 (including t ªÆEÆ ŒÆd , ‘oh earth and night’). Possibly too, since Eumenis begins the line, one could recall in the background Aesch. Eum. 745 t ˝, ºÆØÆ Bæ (‘O Night, my black mother’): Night is mother of the Furies. It may be disputed how much address there is in some of these passages; that need not have implications for the accentuation of t (note the vocative at Bacch. 9.15 below). 49 On the exclamation cf. Schetter (1960), 61, Scaffai (2002), 159–60; see also Vessey (1986), 2989– 90. For Virgil’s use of Antimachus (including Aen. 6.280 ferrei Eumenidum thalami, cf. Antim. fr. 112.3 Matthews, wå ºŒØ æ ø Ł xºÆ Ø, ‘bronze chambers of the Erinyes (Curses)’, cf. 1  ¯ æØ#) cf. _ Meliadò (2006), 41–3.

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subject-matter. Epinician enriches and complicates the opposition within hexameter poetry.50 Grattius directly refers to epinician: per illos (Sicilian horses) | cantatus Graiis Acragas (527–8). Pindar, Olympians 2 and 3, Pythian 6, and Isthmian 2 are in mind, particularly Ol. 3.2–3 ŒºØa Œæ ªÆÆ ªæÆæø . . . ¨ æø#  Oºı

ØŒÆ o  OæŁ#ÆØ#, IŒÆ Æ ø | ¥

ø ¼ø (‘by honouring famous Acragas . . . raising up a hymn on Olympic victory for Theron, the supreme reward for his horses with their untiring hooves’). But Grattius has already warned against some types of horse that are especially successful at Olympia: ne tamen hoc attingat opus: iactantior illi | uirtus quam siluas durumque lacessere Martem (505–6). The iactantior ties up with the showy celebration; what Grattius admires about the Sicilian horses is the discipline shown by their climbing mountains: cf. dociles 529. (In 527–8 the point is that even horses who came from Mount Nebrodes, fragosum but not as steep as Etna (524–5), were defeated; the use of tenses is loose.) Martem (506, 515) and armis . . . meis (528–9) exhibit the recurring language of war in Grattius (contrast imbellia, 499; cf. e.g. 344–6 haec tua militia est. quin et Mauortia bello | uulnera . . . tua tueri est). Warfare, which might be thought to separate narrative from didactic hexameter, in his case does not (on a metaphorical level). Epinician helps to underline this unexpected reorganization within the super-genre.51 Statius’ use of epinician relates only to his own hexameter genre. The games of Book 6 are not war—a stage the poem has yet to reach—but a safer and less terrible prelude to war. The book begins: Nuntia multiuago Danaas perlabitur urbes | Fama gradu, sancire nouo sollemnia busto | Inachidas ludumque super, quod Martia bellis | praesudare paret seseque accendere uirtus. | Graium ex more decus: (1–5). The other Panhellenic games are then explained as honours (5–14). This development makes the relevance of epinician obvious. The opening gestures to the opening of epinician poems:  Æ (‘Fame, Report’) comes at the start of two odes of Bacchylides. In 2 she is told to bring to Ceos (which had only four cities) an IªªºÆ (‘message’) of victory in [ ]åÆ# ŁæÆ#åØæ (‘fighting with bold hands’). Germane too is the start of poem 10, which in the ancient edition follows a poem (9) Statius particularly uses in this passage:  ] Æ, #f ª[a]æ _ _ I[ K] ØåE# | [çF]ºÆ, ŒÆd Æ [ (‘Fame, since you visit the peoples, _ _ and to all (?)’, 10.1–2). The poet’s immortal creation will tell of the victor’s Iæ (‘excellence’, 14, cf. uirtus). Danaas may also evoke Call. SH 254.4 = fr. 143 Massimilla = 54 Harder w˜ÆÆF ªxB# (‘land of Danaus’, Argos), from which has come the news of victory at Opheltes’ tomb. But here Fama does not follow victory but precedes a preliminary. While war and athletics are related in epinician, there is here a dynamic sequence in the poem and the protagonists. The idea of a practice for war (cf. also Stat. Theb. 6.18–24) reverses the sequence of the Iliad, where the games come after the fighting they half-parody; it strengthens the

50 For the proem to Georgics 3 and its Greek models cf. Balot (1998), R. F. Thomas (1999), 68–92. On third-century epinician see lately Kampakoglou (2011). 51 Man. 4.221–4 presents hunting as war, or arms in peace-time; [Oppian] rarely uses such language of hunters (from the perspective of the hunted cf. e.g. Cyn. 3.391–403, 401 º ÇØ, ‘makes war’).

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relation of games to war seen in the Aeneid. Epinician helps this part of the poem to mark its place among its hexameter competitors.52 Epinician also colours the sombre relation of Archemorus’ death to the Argives’. Amphiaraus’ speech at the close of Book 5 combines his speech to Hypsipyle in Euripides (fr. 757.908–18 Kannicht) with Bacchylides 9: the Argives ¼ŁºÅ#Æ K  æå æøØ, e . . . ç . . . æ Œø . . . , #A Æ ºº# çı. | t EæÆ ºıŒæÆ#· h Ø | EŁ  OœŒºÆ# ºØ | #åØ . . . (‘competed in honour of Archemorus, slain by the snake . . . , a sign of slaughter to come. Oh powerful Fate! Amphiaraus could not persuade them to return . . . ’, 10–17). Euripides had the etymology too. It is Bacchylides who introduces Fate (and Statius could readily apply the exclamation backwards), and has Amphiaraus speak to the Argives; generally similar is Statius’ recto descendunt limite Parcae. | et situs . . . et letifer anguis | et puer, heu! nostri signatus nomine fati, | Archemorus: cuncta haec superum demissa suprema | mente fluunt (Theb. 5.736–40). But in Bacchylides the passage contrasts with the main emphasis of the poem on the present success of the victor and his future glory; the emphasis is related to the genre. Joy is another feature of epinician with which Statius is contrasting his poem.53 The origins of the games and of their ritual are epinician material (Pind. Ol. 10.24–77, Isthm. fr. 5; Call. SH 265.5–9 = fr. 156 Massimilla = 54i Harder). But Statius has taken, probably from a commentary or treatise on Pindar, the idea that the games all commemorate death (+ Pind. Hyp. Isth. a iii.192 Drachmann, K  Ø#Ø ºıÅŒ#Ø); he builds it up to a dark climax of lamentation, connected to his poem: at the Isthmian games there is ritual mourning for Palaemon, and Echioniae responsant flebile Thebae (Theb. 6.14); cf. 171–3 haec primordia belli . . . sic aequa gemant mihi funera matres | Ogygiae (for the connection of Palaemon and Opheltes cf. Silv. 2.1.179–82). At the other end of the book, after play with the announcement of the victor (Theb. 6.922–3 (text disputed)), Adrastus alone fails to obtain a victory (cf. 927– 8), and an omen promises him tristes . . . recursus (946, last line). In epinician, as the reader who now has had it in mind will recall, the victor has a joyful return, ## . . .  ƺ # (cf. Pind. Pyth. 8.83–4); the loser’s return is åŁØ## (‘most hateful’, Ol. 8.69) because of defeat in the games, not because of defeat and loss in war (uni remeabile bellum Stat. Theb. 6.945, cf. , ‘alone’, in Antim. fr. dub. 196 Matthews). Pythian 8 sets against Alcmaeon’s prophecy of success to the victor (56–60: so taken by + 8.78a Drachmann), and his implied ## . . .  ƺ #, Amphiaraus’ prophecy to Adrastus of an unhappy return from the second expedition, because he alone ( #) will have lost his son. Adrastus has 52 For Book 6 in general, see Lovatt (2005). Virg. Aen. 9.474 has nuntia Fama, but not at the start of a book, nor in so similar a context; but the two intertexts, Bacchylides and Virgil, can both operate. McNelis (2007), 91–3 mentions Pindar and Bacchylides in general terms and dwells on connections with Callimachus’ epinician. We can say little about the games in Antimachus, but cf. fr. 31 Matthews with Stat. Theb. 6.301–3 (note P. Oxy. LXI 4096 fr. 10.11–25). The relationship of athletics to war, including Theban war, is particularly striking in Pindar, Nemean 9: note the singer’s wish to postpone the fighting (28–32, recalling Hom. Il. 22.159–61); Amphiaraus’ futile wish to postpone the fighting at Stat. Theb. 5.740–5 has a different generic resonance. 53 For contrasts between the Seven and the victor in Bacchylides 9, and related aspects, see Fearn (2003), 347, 354–8.

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already been sent news of a better ZæØå# (‘fate, omen’, 50: Œæ### NøF, ‘better omen’, + 68a), yet it is sadly incomplete; here Adrastus ignores the omen (cf. omina 936). What in the epinician is ultimately just an antithesis to the victorious return is in the narrative hexameter structure more important than any games. The alien genre intensifies the self-presentation of the hexameter poem.54 We have looked at this whole subject on many different scales, from individual words in particular passages to the relations of super-genres. We have looked at the mental constructions of Romans and at specific spatial settings (which also become mental constructions of Romans). We have seen engagement with the artistic use of language in social and personal situations as well as in texts; and we have seen the importance of the reader in approaching intertextuality. Intertextuality between languages and peoples has emerged as a distinctive phenomenon; its wide range has also emerged, in nature, in degree of distance, and in scale. Generic and national structures have been seen presenting challenge and chances on levels from peoples to persons and works. All is mediated through the patterning and poses of texts (including texts on stone); but the texts none the less display with clarity the pervasiveness, the multiplicity, and the excitement of Greek impact on Roman writing and reading, listening and thinking. With this material and these frameworks in view, my own readers can now think further, and apply and expand what they have encountered; the subject lies open for discussion and for use. After our joint expedition over much arduous but perhaps intriguing terrain, I hope to have brought my readers up to a point where they can spread their wings and begin their own adventures. And so I leave them, poised for flight. 54 Van’t Wout (2006) argues that Amphiaraus’ prophecy at Pind. Pyth. 8.44–55 is made during the first expedition; but ÆæÆ ø (‘as they fought’, 43) after 41–2 makes this seem unlikely. Cf. further Isthm. 7.10–11 on Adrastus’ return; Nem. 9.22–3 on the Argives’ loss of their ªºıŒ | # (‘sweet return’). The moment in Statius is linked with another at Theb. 11.442–3, which foretells the second expedition.

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Index of Passages Discussed Reference to a page includes the footnote at the end of the relevant paragraph, even if it comes on the next page; reference to a footnote is to the page where it starts, even if the relevant mention appears on the page that follows. Achilles Tatius 5.1.1: 123 Ad Herennium 1.27: 235 4.10: 152 Aelian Hist. An. 11.40: 125 n. 33 fr. 314a Domingo-Forasté: 84 n. 17 Aeschylus Theb. 533–6: 327–8 622–4: 327–8 fr. 273a Radt: 191 n. 11 frr. 273–8: 330 Aetna 74–86: 283 583–8: 283 602–44: 283, 345, 346–7 Afranius 299 Ribbeck: 149 Agatharchides 21 GGM i.119–22 Müller, fr. 21 Burstein: 17 n. 21, 238 Albinus fr. 1 (b) Chassignet: 141, 147 Andocides 2.1: 269 Anthologia Latina i.2.708–9: 145 Anthologia Palatina 11.72: 146 n. 23 11.406: 110 n. 3 Antimachus fr. 31 Matthews: 298, 353 n. 32 fr. 112: 298 n. 8, 342, 351 n. 49 Antipater of Sidon LXI Gow–Page: 60 Antiphilus VI Gow–Page: 103 n. 53, 108 n. 64 Antiphon 6.1: 273 Antoninus Liberalis 31: 342 Apollonius Rhodius 1.133–6: 297 1.496–502: 344–7 1.533–5: 333 1.609–26: 350, 351 1.721–67: 172 1.857–8: 174 1.861–914: 170–6 1.865–74: 174 1.879–85: 174 1.896–8: 172–3 3.1069–71: 173 3.1204–6: 172, 173 n. 15 3.1259–64: 174 4.420–34: 173 n. 15 4.445–8: 280

4.597–8: 297 4.620–6: 297–8 4.1223–1536: 332 4.1381–90: 280 4.1673–7: 280 4.1773–6: 280 Appian pr. 62: 64, 231 Hann.15: 169 Civ. 2.376: 124 4.77: 39 n. 28 4.276–313: 105 Appius Claudius Caecus ORF 4 1 F 4–10: 225 Apuleius Apol. 4.1: 155 10.3: 10 72.1: 125 72.3: 83 95.5: 41 Flor. 15: 242 9.27–9: 139 9.30–40: 271 18: 271 18.5: 83 18.38–43: 116 n. 14, 155 20.3–4: 83 Aratus 16: 282 n. 16 37–44: 209 79–87: 205–8 100–36: 344–7 123–6: 282 658: 349–50 Arati Vita I 10.13–19 Martin: 210 n. 17 Archestratus fr. 7.1–4 Olson–Sens: 315–16 Archias SH 194–5: 300 Aristides 19: 118 42.14 ii.338.9–19 Keil: 118 Aristophanes Ach. 496: 337 Frogs 1030–6: 7 Lys. 519–20: 164 frr. 466–7 Kassel–Austin: 224 Aristotle Hist. An. 6.576a6–12: 202–4 Metaph. ` 983a24–988a20: 7–8 Z 1038b1–2: 250

408

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Aristotle (cont.) Poet. 1447b3–20: 276 1451a19–20: 299 1451a38: 224 Soph. El. 184b3–8: 249 —æd ØÅH fr. 70 Rose = fr. 73 Janko: 276 n. 3 Arnobius Nat. 5.18, p. 271 Marchesi: 78 Arrian Anab. 1.12.5: 258 4.10.1–2: 228 7.29.1–2: 228–9 Athenaeus 1.2b–3d: 61 1.13b–c: 303–4 5.185c: 154 n. 43 6.240b: 129 8.350c: 96 10.429a: 122 12.283a–b: 33 n. 12 12.523c: 122 Audax GLK vii.359.22–4: 150 Augustine De Haeresibus 5 CCL xlvi 288.71–80: 246 n. 48 Soliloquia 1.12.21 CSEL lxxxix 33.2–15: 246 Augustus Epist. fr. 30 Malcovati: 94 n. 35 De Vita Sua, hist. fr. 6 Malcovati: 239 Aurelius, M. 1.7: 139 1.17.4: 139 Bacchylides 2.1–5: 352 9: 352, 353 10.1–20: 352 Batrachomyomachia 24–55: 316–17 249–303: 317 Bion 1: 285 [Bion] 2: 285 Boethus SH 230: 117 Caecilius VI p. 89 Ofenloch: 39 Caelius ORF4 162 F 17: 235 F 39: 235 Caesar Civ. 1.34.4: 122 2.22.6: 122 n. 27 Gall. 1.1–7: 261 7.77.3–16: 263 fr. 1 Funaioli: 28, 159 n. 3 fr. 1 Courtney: 160 Callimachus SH 254.4 = 54 Harder = 143 Massimilla: 352

fr. 110 Pfeiffer = 110, 110d Harder = 213 Massimilla: 198 Iamb. 13.30–3: 325 fr. incert. 761 Pfeiffer: 25 n. 1, 157 Ep. 27 Pfeiffer: 306 n. 27 Calpurnius Bibulus fr. 1 Peter: 164 Calpurnius Flaccus 6: 244 Calpurnius Siculus 1.4: 308 1.33–88: 310–11 2: 178 2.1–2: 286 2.19–20: 286 2.68–71: 178, 179–80 3: 178 n. 23, 311, 343 3.49: 178 n. 23 4: 178–9, 180 4.62–3: 178 4.87–91: 178–9 4.160–3: 178, 180 6.7: 308 6: 178 n. 23 6.47: 308 6.65–7: 341 7: 179, 311 Carcinus, Medea: 193 Cassius Hemina fr. 3 Chassignet: 47 Cato ORF4 8 F 20: 39 n. 28, 136 n. 1 163–71: 103 n. 54 Orig. Book 2: 225 Books 2–3: 46 Fil. fr. 1 Jordan: 84–5 Catullus 1.5–7: 20 34: 50 n. 10 46: 115 61.209: 173 62: 226 n. 5, 284, 317, 323 64: 299 64.22–30: 280 66.79–88: 198 Catulus frr. 6, 8 Peter: 240 n. 38 Celsus pr. 5–11: 9 3.14.1: 25 6.18.1: 152 n. 36 Charisius 135.19–136.1 Barwick (GLK i.106.14–18): 246 380.20–4 (i.292.16–19): 147 Chariton 1.14.9: 184 3.4.2: 184 5.6.10: 186 5.8.2: 186 5.10.4: 185 6.2.10–11: 184–5

Index of Passages Discussed 6.7.9: 185–6 7.5.5: 185 8.8.15: 185 n. 3 Chiron 778: 203 n. 4 Choeroboscus Gr.Gr. iv.2.34.8–9: 148 Anecd. Gr. Oxon. ii.196.33 Cramer: 298 n. 9 Chrysippus SVF iii no. 709: 315 Cicero Ac. Post. 4–13: 152 8: 82 n. 13 5: 226 6: 150 Ac. Pri. 5: 135 9: 256 n. 22 10–12: 19, 29–30, 124–5 24–5: 151–2 61: 118, 124–5 102: 250 137: 141 Arat. I Soubiran: 209 XV Soubiran: 205–8 5–6: 209 212: 209 Arch.: 50 5–6: 60 9: 71 19: 113 n. 9 Att. 1.2: 82 n. 13 1.15.1: 119 n. 22 1.16.15: 300 1.19.10: 141, 142 2.1.1–2: 142 2.1.3: 39, 267 2.1.9: 104 2.3.4: 119 2.5.1: 124 4.10.1: 65 4.11.2: 69 6.1.12: 69–70 6.1.26: 85 6.6.2: 85 6.7.2: 105 7.2.1: 26 n. 2 12.6.1: 236 n. 29 12.26.2: 70 12.32.3: 82 12.52.3: 159 13.32.2: 67 14.18.4: 84 n. 17 15.13a.2: 251 15.16a: 208 16.11.4: 251 Balb. 51: 36 Brut. 26–51: 35 36–8: 33, 35 n. 18 51: 106 61: 225 71: 27 72: 70

104: 59 131: 81 138: 28 172: 161 245: 104, 106 254: 31 258–9: 161 285: 93 286–7: 236 310: 159 n. 53 314: 92 315–16: 106, 114–15 325–6: 17, 115 Caecin.51: 158 64: 158 Cael. 1, 2: 269 11–12: 230 n. 15 24: 124 40–1: 33, 230 Clu. 141: 234 De Orat. 1.5: 235 1.82–95: 85 1.126: 104 1.187: 57 1.204: 227 n. 8 2.3: 104 2.51–64: 233 2.217: 93, 106 2.223–4, 225–6: 234 2.360, 365: 117 3.42: 161 3.68: 81 3.142–3: 230 3.194: 60, 279 n. 10 3.214: 234 Div. 1.13, 17: 208 1.58: 119 2.3: 197 n. 22 2.4: 224 n. 3 2.5–6: 19 2.116: 339 2.131: 136 Fam. 2.17.1: 105 3.7.5–6: 155 3.15: 155 4.4.1: 159 5.12.2–3: 227 7.3.2: 49 7.3.5: 106 9.4: 155 9.8.1: 254 n. 16 13.1: 89 13.24.1–2: 61 13.30: 78–9 13.36: 79 15.19.2: 226 Fin.1.10: 158–9 2.52: 148, 149 2.67–8: 245 3.7–9: 69 3.51: 159

409

410 Cicero (cont.) 4.74: 231 n. 16 5.1–5: 87, 94 5.8: 73 5.75, 86, 95: 255–6 5.89: 52, 136 Flac. 15: 155 46–7: 54 n. 17 63: 122 75: 116, 155 Font. 12: 122 Hort. fr. 50 Grilli: 106 Inv. 1.63: 84 n. 17 1.109: 235 2.178: 235 Lael. 6: 256 n. 19 Leg. 1.1–5: 256 1.5: 233 1.57: 245 2.36: 86 3.12–14: 246 Man.1–3: 273 7: 272 12: 272 32–3: 272–3 Mil. 8: 270 28: 99 n. 43 80: 90 Mur. 61: 231 n. 16 ND 1.6: 106, 230 n. 15 1.8: 159 1.15: 256 n. 22 1.25–41: 8 1.59: 82, incl. n. 11 2.1: 231 2.47: 198 2.104: 209 Off. 1.1–2: 251 1.86: 251 3.49: 251 3.121: 251 Opt. Gen. 8: 114 11: 162 14–15: 162 n. 58, 196–7 Orat. 15: 229 n. 12 25: 94 28: 93 29: 162 30–2: 218 n. 27, 233, 237 68: 224 76: 30 n. 7 164–236: 236 168–9: 236 n. 28 171: 234 175: 236 191: 276 n. 3 212: 115 n. 12 226: 236 230–1: 115, 236 Parad. pr.: 231 Phil. 1.1: 155–6

Index of Passages Discussed 2.21: 58 5.13: 91 6.19: 271 Pis. 67: 151 68–72: 69 Planc. 83–4: 104, 106 QF 1.1: 155 n. 45 1.1.6: 119 1.1.28: 119 2.10.3: 304 3.4.5: 119 3.5.1–2: 255 3.5.6–7: 119 Rep. 1.13: 256 n. 20 1.65.6–68.1: 197 5 fr. 1 Powell: 255 S. Rosc. 1: 273 Sen. 16: 225 26: 135 41: 47 Sest. 41: 86 Sull. 17: 74 Tim. 1–2: 118, 197, 198–9 8: 197 16–17: 194–6, 198 18: 196 30: 199 n. 25 38: 199 Top. 1–3: 69 Tusc. 1.5–8: 18–19, 255 1.34: 153 2.5: 33 2.26: 92 2.35: 159 3.38: 92 3.45: 25 n. 1 4.5–7: 226 5.22: 85 5.64–6: 80, 78 Verr. 2.50: 155 2.87: 80 3.204: 78 4.4: 99 4.126: 80 5.148: 155 Cinna FRP 2–6: 317–18 Claudius Quadrigarius fr. 80 Chassignet: 257 n. 23 Clitarchus FGrHist 137 F 40 (fr. dub.): 241 n. 40 Coelius Antipater fr. 2 Chassignet: 257 fr. 14: 166 fr. 27: 257 Columella RR 1 pr. 3: 69 1 pr. 28–31: 30 n. 8, 38 1.1.7–14: 10 6.29.5: 203–4 6.37.3: 23 n. 31

Index of Passages Discussed 9.14.12: 23 10.103–9: 304 n. 22 10.178: 204 n. 22 10.181–93: 302 10.435–6: 29 n. 6 12 pr. 1, 7: 23 n. 31 Cornelius Longus I.4 Page: 146 Crassus ORF4 66 F 25, 38–9, 45: 234 Crinagoras XI Gow–Page: 63 XXI: 187, 328 XXXII: 63 XLVIII: 63 n. 37 Culex 48–57: 343 96–7: 343 296–333: 343–4 413: 339 n. 27 Curtius 7.8.12–30: 241 10.9.1–7: 241 De Viris Illustribus 82.1: 105 n. 58 Demetrius 15: 26 n. 2 Demosthenes Ol. 2.24: 272 Phil. 3.36: 272 3.70: 271 23.111–12: 272 [Demosthenes] 11.13: 30 n. 8 Letters 5: 229 n. 12 Digest 27.1.6.1–3: 111 n. 5 45.1.1.6: 155 n. 44 Dio Cassius 38.28.1–2: 232 52.42.6: 127 n. 37 55.9.8: 106 60.24.4: 101 62.29.2–4: 20 n. 26 Dio of Prusa 31.116: 96 Diodorus Siculus 1.4.1: 170 1.4.4: 78 13.20–7: 265 n. 37 13.52.3–8: 265 16.7.1: 77 17.52.5: 123 20.37.7: 261–2 34/5 fr. 33 Dindorf: 39 Diogenes Laertius 2.64: 109 n. 1 Dionysius of Halicarnassus Ant. 4.77–83: 263 7.71–73.5: 46 Amm. (1) 10–12 i.268–79 Usener–Radermacher: 8

Comp. 16 ii.63.11: 163 19 ii.85.12–18: 8 Din.8 i.308.8–10: 106 Isae. 4 i.96.13–15: 162 Lys. 2 i.9.16–20: 162 11 i.20.5: 162 Orat. Vet. Praef. 2 i.4.20–21.11 = 2.1–3 Hidber: 26 2 i.5.11–14 = 2.4: 237 3 i.5.21–6.7 = 3.1–2: 94 n. 35 4 i.7.16–17 = 4.5: 266 Pomp. 1.1 ii.221.3–9: 63 n. 35 2.14 ii.231.5: 63 n. 35 3.15 ii.238.17–18: 232 Thuc. 1 i.325.3–326.12: 63 55 i.418.19–21: 63 Donatus Vit. Verg. 11: 73 35: 124 n. 31 43: 282 Egnatius FRP 43: 304 FRP 43A: 305 n. 23 Einsiedeln Eclogues 1: 179 1.38–49: 31, 37 Empedocles frr. 1–2 Inwood: 282 fr. 1.4–8: 339 fr. 2.2–3: 346 fr. 9: 306 fr. 25.21–6: 306 fr. 44: 306 fr. 118: 282 Ennius Ann. 2–13 Skutsch: 36 n. 20 27: 334 48: 334 151: 334 167: 339 180–2: 338 211: 149 242: 334 357: 148 n. 26 499: 334 591, 592: 334–5 Trag. 208–16 Jocelyn: 188–9, 190 217–18: 192–3 219–20: 194 264–5 Vahlen: 191 Var. 14 Vahlen: 324 n. 2 35–9: 315–16 60–146: 225–6 Epictetus Diss. 3.23.29: 138 Euphorion fr. 19 Lightfoot: 34 n. 17 Euripides Bacch. 1216–20: 349 Med. 1–8: 188–91 351–4: 191

411

412

Index of Passages Discussed

Euripides (cont.) 502–5: 192–3 Hypsipyle fr.757.908–18 Kannicht: 353 Eusebius: see Jerome Fabius Pictor fr. 1 Chassignet: 46 fr. 20: 46 n. 3 fr. 23: 140 Favorinus Cor. 25–6: 94 fr. 27 Amato: 53 Festus p. 150.14–36 Lindsay: 296 pp. 326–9: 24 n. 33 Florus Verg. 3.8: 39 Fragmenta Bobiensia GLK vii.539.28–540.6: 150 Frontinus Strategemata 1 pr. 1: 152 4 pr.: 152 Fronto pp. 21.11–15, 21.20–22.3 Van den Hout: 142–3 pp. 24.1–13: 143 p. 27.6–8: 41 pp. 29.19–30.9: 55 n. 20 p. 31.1–7: 72, 139 p. 42.9–15: 139 p. 51.5–18: 159 n. 53 pp. 56.18–57.22: 11, 41 pp. 155–7: 38 p. 168.14–16: 231 pp. 215–17: 238 n. 33 pp. 241–2: 238 n. 33 pp. 242–8: 142 p. 245.14–18: 143 pp. 250–5: 142 Fronto Anthologia Palatina 12.174, 233: 146 FRP 262 dub.: 296 n. 3 Furius Bibaculus FRP 81: 296 Galen Libr. Propr. 9.4–5 p. 160 Boudon-Millot xix.35 Kühn: 59 Ord. Libr. 1.4 p. 89 Boudon-Millot xix.50 Kühn: 90 5 pp. 100–2 xix.60–1: 95 n. 37 Part. Med. 2.3 CMG Suppl. Or. ii pp. 28–9: 126 n. 36 Praecogn.2.11–12 (CMG v.8.1) xiv.608 Kühn: 64 n. 39 4.1–3 xiv.619–20: 58 4.17 xiv.624: 64 n. 39 Us. Part. ii.451.22–3 Helmreich: 21 n. 27 —æd Iºı Å#Æ#: 50–1 13: 12 n. 14 16–17: 59 20–1: 67 n. 46 24b: 95 n. 37 78b: 68 n. 47

Gallus FRP 145.8–9: 310 n. 34 Gellius 1.2: 92 2.2: 85, 91–2 2.26: 158 3.13: 229 5.4: 140 7.13.7–12: 92 7.17.1–2: 96 n. 41 9.4: 74 10.22: 160 12.1.24: 53 12.2.2–11: 38 13.9.5: 135 13.28.1: 29–30 14.1.1: 53 14.2.1, 11: 83 n. 13 15.11.3: 32–3, 52 16.1.1–2: 53 17.8.1: 161 17.10.8–19: 29, 81 17.17.1: 137 n. 3 17.20.1: 92 17.21: 15 19.2.1: 91 19.6.2: 92 19.9: 68 19.12: 91 Germanicus 1–23: 209, 302, 303 79–84: 206–8 235–6: 209 444–5: 210 fr. 6.2 Gain: 209 fr. ii–iv: 305 fr. vi: 158 Gracchus, C., ORF4 48 F 61: 234 Grattius 95–107: 302–3 214–16: 283, 303 249–52: 283, 303 315–25: 283, 303 337: 283 430–60: 282 497–541: 352 Gregory the Thaumaturge Orig. 1.7 (PG x.1053A): 156–7 Hadrian V FGE: 100 Hegemo SH 463: 300 Hegesias FGrHist 142 F 5: 236 n. 29 Heraclides Ponticus (?) CPF 56: 256 n. 20 Hermippus FGrHist1026 F 45 b: 8 F 50: 229 Herodicus (?) SH 495: 290 Herodotus 1 pr.: 258 5.30.4: 339 n. 27

Index of Passages Discussed 5.59: 338 7.129: 347–8 7.198–200: 347–8 Hesiod WD 54–8: 282 207–11: 282 289–92: 345–6 453–4: 282 803–4: 306 n. 26 Theog. 250: 350 Hirtius Gall. 8 pr.: 257 Historia Augusta Hadr. 16.6: 38 20.2: 124 Sept. Sev. 3.7: 84 Homer Il. 1.1–9: 343, 346 1.544: 334, 335 2.198–206: 332 n. 17 2.323–9: 340 2.484–779: 348–9 2.484–90: 280 4.240: 332 n. 17 4.422–544: 327 5.737: 335 6.368–502: 331 [10]: 328–9 13.131: 327 13.342–5: 327 n. 8 14.58–61: 279 n. 9 16.214–17: 327 16.692–3: 280 16.787: 280 16.827–63: 332 18.45: 350 18.333–7: 332 20.56: 335 n. 23 21.53–63: 328 21.271–83: 331 22.20: 331 22.296–305: 331 22.460–515: 331 23: 352 24.723–46: 331 Od. 5.299–312: 331 9.20: 338–9 11: 330 11.541–67: 343–4 12.1–27: 330 12.341–2: 340 16.294: 337 Honestus X–XXI Gow–Page = I.Thespiai 288–298, 300, 312, 424: 100 Horace Ars 53–5: 37 Carm. 1.1.35: 21 1.3.1–8: 84 1.7: 106, 112 n. 6

413

1.12.5: 99 1.21: 50 n. 10 1.29.13–14: 59 1.32.3–5: 29 n. 6 2.13.21–40: 6 3.30.13: 29 4.9: 21 Epist. 1.2: 67, 277 1.2.1–2: 67 1.12.12–20: 79–80 1.19.19–25: 29 2.1.28–31: 13 2.1.90–1: 25 2.1.156–7: 32 2.1.247–8: 37 2.2.41–5: 83 2.2.75: 314 2.2.80: 67 2.2.81–4: 84, 97 Sat. 1.2: 287 1.4: 287 1.4.1–7: 277 1.4.36–82: 277 1.4.60–1: 277 1.5: 288 1.7: 118, 287 1.7.8–19: 277 n. 5 1.9.33: 313 1.9.78: 336 1.10.1–35: 107 n. 63, 154, 336 1.10.36–7: 277 1.10.43–9: 276, 277, 324 1.10.54–5: 36 n. 20 2.1: 290 2.1.105–10, 119–22: 16 2.2: 287, 289 2.4: 315–16 2.4.1: 290 2.6: 287, 316–17 2.6.24: 313 2.6.62: 65 2.6.79–117: 289 2.7.59–60: 314 n. 43 2.8: 288, 316 Idaeus SH 502: 298 Inscriptions AÉ 1908 no. 15 = ML 189: 320–1 1924 no. 78: 125 1967 no. 85: 76 1999 no. 1394.15–16: 87 Battistoni (2006): 46 n. 3, 79 CIL i2.775 = iii.283 = I.Eleusis 290: 87 iii.14147: 125 iii.399: 50 n. 10 iii.7279: 228 iii.7436.8–9 = ILBulg 145 = CLEMoes 26: 291 n. 31 iv.3407 (Casa degli Epigrammi): 74 v.7914: 122 vi.9118 = ML 177: 320

414

Index of Passages Discussed

Inscriptions (cont.) vi.9218: 58 vi.9454: 56 vi.10229.78: 150 n. 32 vi.12652 = IGUR iii.1250: 64 n. 38, 320 vi.16843: 60 vi.25063 = ML 187: 320 vi.32323.149: 50 vi.32323.156, 161: 49 vi.33976: 52 n. 13 viii.212–13 = ML 199A: 292 viii.27764.17: 34 n. 17 ix.2860: 52 n. 13 x.1797: 125 n. 34 xi.6435: 57 xiii.3710 (Monnus mosaic; Trier, Rheinisches Landesmuseum Inv. 10703–24): 11 xiii.7661 (IG xiv.2562) = ML 160: 292 Corinth VIII.1 no. 14.84–6: 79 VIII.1 no. 19.1–8: 100 n. 46 VIII.1 no. 19.10–11: 79 Ebner (1965): 76 n. 63 FD iii.1 no. 89: 52 n. 13, 72 iii.4 no. 438: 142 n. 14 Geagan (1991): 96 n. 39 GVI 1001: 102 IG ii2.1099 = Oliver (1989) no. 73: 89, 90, 91 ii2.1134.16–28: 86, 87–8 ii2.3157 = Schmalz (2009) no. 101: 95–6 ii2.3173 = Schmalz (2009) no. 103: 88 ii2.3175 = Schmalz (2009) no. 102: 88 ii2.3287: 95 ii2.3327–74: 88 ii2.3783: 96 n. 41 ii2.3786–9: 36 n. 20 ii2.3791: 96 n. 40 ii2.3800 = Schmalz (2009) no. 203: 96 ii2.3803: 83 n. 15 ii2.3919 = I.Eleusis 347: 73, 96 ii2.4187 = Schmalz (2009) no. 264: 96 ii2.4267–8: 95 ii2.5029a: 95 v.1.691: 98 vii.420.27–8: 79 vii.1773 = I.Thespiai 178: 100 vii.1776 = I.Thespiai 180: 100 vii.1828 = I.Thespiai 270: 100 vii.1862.1–2 = I.Thespiai 352: 99 vii.2727.13–14 = Manieri (2009) Acr. 27: 99 xii.1.58: 107 xii.1.83 = Puech (2002) no. 187: 107 xii.5.444 = FGrHist 239 (Parian Marble): 8 xii.8.445: 320 xiv.278: 79 n. 4 xiv.316: 78 xiv.411: 79 n. 5 xiv.615: 71

xiv.674 = CIL ix.48: 73 xiv.737 = I. Napoli 47: 72 xiv.830: 74 xiv.874: 72 xiv.1284 = IGUR iv.1612 = 1A Sadurska (Tabula Iliaca): 67 xiv.1292 = IGUR iv.1621 = 10K Sadurska (Tabula Iliaca): 67 xiv.1389.I.30–7 = IGUR iii.1155 = Ameling no. 146: 89 xiv.1436: 74 xiv.2000 = IGUR iii.1326: 57 n. 25 xiv.2434 = IGF 21 = CAG 13/3 no. 21: 121 xiv.2444 = IGF 125: 121 xiv.2454 = IGF 17 = CAG 13/3 no. 17: 121 IGF 119: 120 n. 24 156–8 (SEG 26 (1976/7) no. 1213, 42 (1992) no. 965): 120 n. 24 IGUR i.215–33: 66 n. 45 iii.1191: 123 iii.1342: 320 iv.1508: 66 iv.1526: 66 iv.1527: 66 n. 44 iv.1532: 66 iv.1700: 64 n. 39 IK xi.1.17+18d4–67: 119 xiii.904A.9–10, 905A: 115 xxiv.1.697.33–42 = Puech (2002) no. 209: 118 lix.85: 319 lix.91: 293 ILLRP 343: 125 Inscr. Délos 1660: 104 Inscr. Olymp. 56: 72 I.Thespiai 72–80: 99–100 174: 100 288–298, 300, 301, 312, 424: 99 L. Moretti (1953) no. 74.12–13: 121 Lindos 2: 102, 103 2 B 33–4, 64–5: 106 n. 60 223.17 = IGRR 1143: 103 n. 54 392 b.19: 105 n. 59 449.12: 107 MAMA i.100.3: 292 Manieri (2009) Acr. 27: 143 n. 17 Mari (1991), 239–40 (‘Villa of the Vibii Vari’): 66 OGIS 383: 159 n. 53 712: 128 n. 39, 129 n. 41 Oliver (1970) p. 119 no. 37, p. 122 no. 42: 93 n. 33 Oliver (1989) nos. 97–104: 85 no. 296.17: 51 n. 12 Perg. viii.2.269: 119 viii.2.374: 119 Schmalz (2009) no. 229: 95 SEG 1 (1923) no. 151: 124 n. 30 19 (1963) no. 335.35 (TrGF Did. A7) = Manieri (2009) Tan. 2: 143 19 (1963) no. 335.43–7, 54–5: 143 n. 17

Index of Passages Discussed 19 (1963) no. 623: 105 n. 59 21 (1965) no. 500: 97 21 (1965) no. 703: 97 38 (1988) no. 114 col. v 116–17, 122–4: 81 51 (2001) no. 1591: 119 n. 22 54 (2004) no. 961: 72 54 (2004) no. 1031: 91 55 (2005) no. 249: 89, 90 SGO 02.02/01: 346 03/02/31: 112 03/02/72: 112 n. 6 05/01/26: 113 05/01/44: 320 06/02/16/11: 292 n. 33 11/03/02: 293 SIG3 810.25–6 = Oliver (1979) no. 34: 108 849 = Oliver (1989) no. 135A–B: 113 Slapšak (2008), 18–19: 99 TAM ii.905.XIB13–XIC12: 114 v 498: 128 Vecchio (2003a) no. 21: 76 Isidore Etym. 6.5.1: 60 n. 29 Isocrates Archid. 1: 273 Demon., hypoth.: 251 n. 7 Iunius Brutus De iure civili frr. 1–3 Bremer: 234, 253, 256 n. 20 Jerome Epist. 121.10.5 CSEL lvi 42.18: 36 n. 19 Mich. 2.7.5/7 CCL lxxvi(1).511.250–2: 36 n. 19, 36 n. 20 Vir. Ill. 40 208.11–12 Siamakis: 140 53 216.15: 140 = Euseb. GCS vii.151: 135–6 = Euseb. GCS vii.162: 55 John of Antioch FHG iv fr. 8: 308 n. 31 Josephus BJ 1.3: 259–60 1.11: 259 [Julius Rufinianus] De Schem. Dian.1 p. 60.10–11 Halm: 138 Justin Epit. 20.1.5: 46 28.2.1–13: 241 n. 39 38.3.11: 262–3 38.4–7: 272 43.1.1: 241 Juvenal 1.162–4: 277 2: 287 3: 289 3.74: 55 n. 20 3.243–4: 313 3.254: 313 3.261–7: 313 n. 40 6.195: 336 6.398–404: 313–14

415

6.434–7: 37 7: 62–3, 314 7.105–7: 233 7.229–32: 57 9: 290 9.37: 336–7 11: 287, 288 11.180–1: 37 11.193–204: 315 13: 289 14: 287 15: 287 16.24–5: 313 n. 40 Laurea FRP 194: 65 Laus Pisonis 209–61: 291–2 232: 37 Leonidas of Alexandria I, VII, XXI, XXVI Gow–Page: 64 Libanius Decl. 46 vii.550 Foerster: 268 [Libanius] Decl. 43: 244 Livius Andronicus frr. 16–17 Spaltenstein: 71 Livy pr. 1–5: 20 n. 26, 23, 232 pr. 9–12: 167 n. 3, 232, 259 1.18.3–4: 46 1.20.4: 24 n. 33 1.56.9: 47 n. 6 1.59.8–11: 263 3.31.8: 47 5.51–4: 263 7.3.7: 24 n. 33 7.30.1–23: 263 9.16.19–19.17: 6–7, 24 9.36.3: 56 21.29.5–38.9: 166–70 21.32.7, 8: 169–70 21.33.8–10: 168–9 21.34.1: 167 21.35.9: 167 21.36.7, 8: 168 21.37.2–3: 169 21.40.9: 170 21.47.5: 170 25.39.11: 24 26.49.1: 23 27.37.7–15: 71 29.27.13: 23 30.35.4–11: 260 33.10.8–10: 24 33.20.1–2: 101 34.24.3: 137 35.14.5: 24 36.35.14: 261 n. 30 38.17.11: 126 39.22.1–2: 48 39.43.1: 23 39.52.1: 24 39.56.7: 23 n. 32 40.8.2–15.16: 263

416

Index of Passages Discussed

Livy (cont.) 40.29.8: 23 42.13.1–12: 264 42.34.2–15: 264 44.41.4: 153 45.23.15: 264 45.27–8: 98 Periochae 49: 71 n. 55 fr. rhet. 1 Jal: 227 n. 7 fr. rhet. 2 Jal: 30 Longus 2.33.3: 177 n. 20 Lucan 1.84–97: 295 n. 2 1.359–60: 335 n. 23 2.704–3.7: 333 3.589: 187 3.603–34: 187 3.680–90: 331 n. 15 3.709–22: 187 4.785–7: 187 4.799–813: 281 5.64–236: 339–40 5.654–71: 330–1 5.722–815: 331 6.196–206: 187 6.333–412: 347–9 6.413–830: 330 7.455–6: 331 7.577–8: 332 n. 17 7.599–616: 332 8.622–35, 639–61: 331 9.55–108: 331 9.145: 349 9.368–949: 332–3 9.411–19: 347 9.604–949: 347 9.980–1002: 329–30 9.983–5: 37, 41 10.524–9: 332 Lucian Hist. Conscr. 14: 259 n. 26 15: 161 58: 263 Merc. Cond. 18: 68 35–6: 61, 95 n. 37 Lucilius 15–16 Marx = I 12 Charpin: 154 84–5 = II 15.1–2: 154 88–94 = II 19: 81, 137, 154 Book 3: 78 110–13 = III 8: 154 181–8 = V 1: 154 231 = VI 2: 336 342–3 = IX 2–3: 36, 154 540–6 = XVII 2: 154 784–90 = XXVIII 29: 154 1009 = XXX 6: 277 n. 4 1058 = XXX 89: 336 1093 = XXX 8: 323

1228–30 = H 41.1–3: 314 Lucretius 1.1–135: 301, 302, 306, 345 1.116–26: 5, 36, 323 1.136–45: 158 1.412–13: 306 n. 27, 333 n. 19 1.715–53: 80, 304–5 1.830–42: 153 1.945: 306 n. 27 2.600: 25 2.1114–15: 306 3.1–30: 283, 302 3.1036–44: 5 5.91–109: 284 5.943–65: 340–1 6.1–8: 304–5, 340 6.1138–286, 1247–51: 210–18 6.1215–24: 215–17 6.1237–46: 211–13 6.1282–6, 1247–8: 213–15 Lycon ap. Rutil. 2.7: 235 n. 26 Lydus Mag. 2.6.4: 258 Macer FRP 50: 299 Macrobius Sat. 2.7.16–17: 49 n. 9 5.17.18: 62 6.8–24: 334 De Differentiis GLK v.599: 147 Maecius II and III Gow–Page: 146 Manilius 1–65: 301–2, 303 1.331–6: 206–8 1.446: 303 1.478–531: 305 1.648: 283 1.762–5: 344 n. 36 1.884–91: 210–18 1.896–903: 302 2.1–66: 10, 18, 80, 208, 276 2.888–9: 158 n. 52 3.1–42: 210, 300 3.158–60: 283 3.618–65: 278 n. 7 4.12–13: 283 5.540–630: 345, 347 5.558–64: 282 5.587–92: 282 Martial 1 pr.: 10 4.23: 13–14, 143 5.10.7: 37 n. 21 9.40: 15 10.64: 324 10.68.1: 112 n. 6 11.10: 277 n. 5 11.90: 26 Matius fr. 5 Courtney: 296 Matro SH 534: 316

Index of Passages Discussed Mela 1.86: 113 2.41: 97–8 Menophilus SH 558: 318–19 Messalla SH 558A: 144–5 Metellus Numidicus, Q. ORF4 58 F 6–8: 234 n. 25 Moschus 1: 285 2: 285 [Moschus] 3: 176–7 3.93–4: 176–7 3.102–4: 291 n. 31 3.115–26: 291 Naevius fr. 27 Strzelecki: 46 Pall. I Marmorale: 48, 71 IX: 71 Nepos pr. 1: 257 pr. 2: 240 Epam. 4.6: 20 Hann. 2.3–6: 264 Att. 3.3: 86 14.2: 68 18.6: 142 fr. 57 Marshall: 141 n. 13 Nicander Alex. 3: 282 Ther. 10–12: 276 343–58: 344 957: 276 fr. 47 Schneider: 342 fr. 74: 304 n. 22 fr. 85: 304 n. 22 Nicolaus of Damascus FGrHist 90 F 56: 228 Numenius SH 590–1 = frr. 1–2 Jacques: 304 Onasus FGrHist 41: 298 n. 9 Oppian Hal. 2.675: 281 n. 14 4.11–39: 281 n. 14 [Oppian] Cyn.1.19–40: 290 Ovid Am. 1.15: 6, 10–11 2.18: 42 n. 30, 144 3.9.59–66: 6, 10 AA 3.332–4: 10 Fast. 3.101–4: 32 3.143–4: 91 n. 29 4.197: 335 n. 23 4.491–2: 81 n. 9 Met. 1.5–75: 195 n. 17, 345 1.560: 329 n. 12 3.432–6: 281 7.283–51: 216–17 7.501–660: 210–18 8.43–4: 336

417

9.44–5: 208 n. 13 13.738–897: 342 14.91: 335 14.512–26: 342–3 15.60–481: 345, 346 15.430: 86 Pont. 2.10.22–30, 41: 81 4.13.11–12: 298 4.16: 324 4.16.15–16: 146 n. 24 4.16.25: 299 4.16.33: 180 n. 26 Rem. 375, 379: 223–4 395–6: 223, 276 Trist. 1.2.77–80: 127 2.421–2: 13 2.427–68: 10 2.471–92: 301 4.10.51–4: 10 [Ovid] Hal. 1–48: 283 82–5: 283 100–1: 283 Panaetius T 2 Alesse: 103 n. 54 Pancrates SH 598–601: 304 n. 21 Papyri BKT vii.4–13 (P. Berol. inv. 9781): 40 n. 29 P. Derveni col. vii 9–11: 344 P. Freiburg 2: 253 n. 14 P. Herc. 188 and 1014: 98 P. Herc. 312 i.4.5–13: 73 n. 58 P. Herc. 1021: 66 P. Herc. 1080 fr. III 1–15 ii.145 Sudhaus: 90 P. Herc. Paris. 2: 73 P. Köln III 125: 191 n. 11 P. Köln XI 430: 29 n. 6 P. Louvre E. 10534: 193 P. Merton 19: 129 P. Mil. Vogl. I 19: 58 n. 26 P. Oxy. II 216: 40 n. 29 P. Oxy. X 1249: 145 P. Oxy. XVII 2070: 253 P. Oxy. XVIII 2190: 126 P. Oxy. XVIII 2192: 58, 59, 127 P. Oxy. XXIV 2396: 28 n. 20 P. Oxy. XXV 2435 recto 18–19 = Oliver (1989) no. 295: 125 P. Oxy. XLV 3219: 253, 254 P. Oxy. L 3535: 300 P. Oxy. LIII 3698: 298 n. 7 P. Oxy. LXIV 4432: 342 n. 33 P. Oxy. LXIX 4712: 174, 298 P. Oxy. LXXI 4808: 8, 14 n. 17 P. Oxy. LXXVII 5105: 318 n. 51 P. Tebt. I 33: 125 P. Vindob. Rainer 29801: 285 n. 19 Parthenius fr. 26 Lightfoot: 317 fr. 36: 349–50

418

Index of Passages Discussed

Pausanias 8.11.7–8: 98 Persius 1.4–5: 277 1.62–134: 34, 186 n. 5 1.93–5, 98–102: 34 n. 17, 277 4: 287 4.1–22: 290 5.1–18: 138 n. 5 6: 287 6.1–17: 289 Petronius 1–2: 34, 94 5: 11–12, 83 n. 15 48.4: 12 n. 14 59.2–7: 72 Phaedrus 2 epil. 8–9: 32 4.22.6: 28 App. Perott. 28.1–4: 158 n. 52 Pherecydes fr. 1 Fowler: 348 Philo Abrah. 266: 304 Prob. 141: 127 Philochorus FGrHist 328 F 93: 137 n. 3 Philodemus Poem. 1 col. xciv 24–5 Janko: 163 1 col. cli 11–17: 276 Rhet. 2 (P. Herc. 1674 + 1672) col. li 29– (P. Herc. 1672) col. viii 36 Longo Auricchio: 107 4.1 col. vii 19–22 p. 151 Sudhaus: 237 Vit. (Adul.) P. Herc. 1675 col. v 21–32: 228 P. Herc. 1080 fr. III 1–15 ii.145 Sudhaus: 90 Philostratus VS 1.5 486: 128 n. 39 1.8 490: 120 1.19 512: 118 2.2 566: 92–3 2.5 571: 88 n. 24 2.8 580: 88 n. 24 2.9 582–3: 118 2.10 586–7: 93 2.10 589: 54 2.23 605: 110 n. 2, 112 2.26 613: 113 2.31 624–5: 139 2.33 627: 139–40 Phylarchus FGrHist 81 T 3: 218 Pindar Ol. 3.2–3: 352 7.54–76: 103 n. 53 Pyth. 1: 351 8: 353–4 Nem. 9.28–31: 353 Plato Phaedr. 230a3–6: 230 n. 15 250d3–4: 148

Rep. 5.473c11–e2: 227 10.597e6–8, 598b6–8: 29 Tim. 32c5–33b1: 194–6 33b5–6: 198 33c6–7: 196 38e2–3: 199 n. 25 Plautus Poen. 1110: 149 Pliny the Elder pr. 12–15: 19 3.57: 14 n. 17 4.25.1: 99 5.126: 111 7.107–8: 38 7.115: 50 7.116–17: 38 8.155: 145 11.168: 103–4 13.85–7: 23 n. 32 16.129: 202 17.37: 27 17.37–8: 38 18.274: 84 29.9: 123 35.10: 51 n. 11 37.205: 20 Pliny the Younger Ep. 1.2.2: 41 1.10.2: 117 1.20: 13, 41 2.3: 55, 95 3.1.7: 143 3.7.8: 37 n. 22 3.11.5: 117 3.13: 267 4.3.5: 95, 143 5.3.5: 10, 325 n. 3 5.8.7–8, 9: 232, 233, 262 5.12.3: 267–8 5.19: 68 6.21: 143 7.25.4: 97 7.30.5: 67 7.4.3: 325 n. 4 8.4: 143 8.24: 90 9.26: 41 9.36.4: 68 9.40.2: 68 Plutarch Ant. 24.7–8: 117 Brut. 23.4–7: 164 24.1–2: 85 Cat. Mai. 12.4–7: 84 22.1–23.3: 53, 141 Cic. 7.6: 78 24.5: 253 n. 14 Dem. 3.1–2: 39, 78 Gracch. 40.2: 74 Luc. 1.7–8: 141–2 22.6–7: 93 n. 33

Index of Passages Discussed 29.4: 118 42.1–2: 60 Lyc. 31.2: 228 Num. 22.2–5: 23 n. 32 Pomp. 42.8–9: 49 n. 9 42.10: 104 78.7: 163–4 Sull. 13.5: 84 Aet. Phys. 911f–912a, 913e: 112 Pyth. Or. 396f, 402e–f: 96 Quaest. Conv. 1.1, 612e: 96 1.5, 622c: 96 1.10, 628a–b: 96 7.8 711b–d: 68 fr. 186 Sandbach: 94 [Plutarch] Fluv. 18.10: 299 Lib. Ed. 3a–b: 228 Polemo A 11: 187 Pollio fr. 5 Peter: 239 Polybius 1.4.1: 261–2 2.56.3–12: 170 n. 11, 218 3.47.6–56.6: 166–70 3.48.6–9, 12: 170 3.50.4: 169 3.51.7: 168–9 3.52.3: 167 3.54.2: 167 3.55.5: 168 5.105.4–10: 47 n. 6 7.13.7: 227 12.28.2–5: 227 15.15.1–16.6: 260 21.3.1–4: 261 n. 30 29.23–4: 231 30.4.10–11: 52 30.22.1–12: 48 31.23–4: 61, 109 n. 1, 225 n. 4, 231 36.1: 265 39.1–9: 141 Pompeius I, II Gow–Page: 144 Porphyrio Sat. 2.4.1: 246–7 Posidippus 4.5–6 Austin–Bastianini: 328 Posidonius FGrHist 87 F 7 = F 58 Edelstein–Kidd: 124 F 36 = F 253: 228 Priscian Inst. 18.156–307 GLK iii.278–377: 147 Probus Vit. Pers. 22–3 Rostagni: 138 Propertius 1.1.11: 16 1.6.13–14: 84, 115 1.7: 298 n. 8 1.8.25–6: 300 2.34.29–32: 25 2.34.65–6: 36 2.34.69: 341 2.34.85–94: 10 3.1.1–6: 28 3.1.8–14: 29

419

3.3: 36–7 3.3.1: 99 3.9.43–6: 18 3.21: 84, 87, 94 3.22: 115–16 3.23.20: 151 Ptolemy SH 712: 303 Quintilian Inst. 1.5.24: 150 1.5.38: 126 1.5.58: 147–8, 152 n. 35 1.8.5: 57 1.8.8: 161 3.1.20: 270 3.7.2: 242 5.10.97: 268 6.3.20: 276 n. 3 6.3.96: 144 6.3.107: 93 8.1.2: 161 9.2.106: 16 n. 20 9.3.74: 26 10.1.37–131: 12, 14, 32 10.1.55: 342 10.1.56: 14 10.1.75: 14 10.1.79: 266 10.1.86: 28, 32, 37 10.1.87, 90: 297 10.1.94: 277 10.1.101: 32 10.1.105–12: 270 10.1.105: 32 10.1.107: 28 10.1.108: 30 10.1.125–7: 35, 246 10.2.17: 239 n. 34 10.3.22–5: 67 n. 46 12.2.6–8: 230 n. 15 12.6.7: 104 12.10.14–15: 94 12.10.16: 25 n. 1 12.10.25: 161 n. 56 12.10.27–33: 162 12.10.33: 150 12.10.34–6: 93–4, 157, 158 [Quintilian] Decl. Min.274: 244 376 pr.: 268 382.2: 244 Rhianus FGrHist 265 F 38–46: 300 Rhianus (?) SH 946–7 = fr. 16 Castelli: 300 Rutilius Lupus 2 title: 16 n. 20 2.7: 235 n. 26 Sallust Cat. 1.2: 227 4.1–2: 232 8.2–5: 33, 86, 232 n. 21 20.9: 233

420

Index of Passages Discussed

Sallust (cont.) Jug. 4: 232, 259 Hist. fr. 69 Maurenbrecher: 272 Satyrus fr. 39 Schorn: 253 Scholia on Aratus 83: 207 Scholia on Juvenal 1.128: 12 n. 14 Scholia (Bern) on Lucan 9.411: 347 Scholia on Persius 1.4, 50: 41 Scholia on Pindar Hyp. Isth. a iii.192 Drachmann: 353 Scholia on Theocritus 4.62–3: 342 n. 33 Seneca the Elder Contr. 1 pr. 6–10: 29, 32, 34 1.2.23: 55 1.7.4: 109 n. 1 1.8.11, 16: 117 n. 17 2.1.8: 185 2.6.12: 33 3 pr. 8: 233 3 pr. 15–17: 40 4 pr. 2: 243 4 pr. 7: 156 7.1.27: 40 n. 29 7.4.6, 8: 39 7.6.12: 244 7.6.22: 185 9.1.12: 109 9.1.13: 30, 160 9.2: 244–5 9.3.13: 146 9.4: 244 10 pr. 10: 122 10.4.20: 30 n. 7 10.5.21: 94 incl. n. 35, 109, 237 10.5.28: 32 Suas. 2.12: 53 3.6: 105 n. 59 6–7: 40 7.13–14: 117 Seneca the Younger Ben.6.5.1–7.1: 250 6.42.1: 250 Brev. 14.2: 6 Clem. 1.15.2: 121 Ep. 17.2: 19 19–21: 80 21: 252–3 30: 227–8 40: 156, 231 49.2: 230 51: 252 53: 76, 252 58.1–7: 159 59.7: 33 64.1–2, 4: 67–8 79: 30, 81, 252 89.7: 149 95.45: 137 n. 4 100: 19, 227, 231 102.21: 111, 125

108: 53, 57, 335 n. 22 114: 35 Ira 2.5.4: 119 n. 22 3.23.8: 60 Marc. 17.2–6: 77 Nat. 4a pr.: 80–1, 250 4a.2.13: 125 7.32.2: 90 Ot. 8: 230 Polyb. 8.2: 211 n. 18 11.5: 211 n. 18 11.6: 208 Prov. 6.6: 160 n. 55 Tranq. 1.1–17: 256–7 9.5: 125, 129 n. 42 fr. 12 Haase: 125 fr. 28: 160 n. 55 Ag. 545–52: 331 n. 15 659–778: 22 n. 28 Med. 2–4: 189 20: 193 43–5: 194 297–300: 191 335–9: 190 382–6: 193 n. 15 451–60: 192–3 607–15: 189–90 1026–7: 194 Phaed. 175–7: 186 1119–20: 186 Tro. 7: 114 n. 10 [Seneca] Oct. 18: 351 n. 48 Servius Ecl. 6.13: 73 Servius Danielis Aen. 1.6: 84 10.338: 62 n. 32 Ecl. 8.10: 144 SH 915: 300 938: 344 Silius 3.477–646: 166–70 3.479–82: 168, 170 3.509–10: 167 3.518–20: 168 3.540–2: 169–70 3.551: 168 3.557–629: 168 3.641–3: 169 4.126: 335 n. 23 4.352–3: 327 4.430: 335 4.525–8: 281 n. 12 5.70–5: 335 6.19–21: 328 7.282–351: 328–9 7.356–9: 329 n. 11

Index of Passages Discussed 8.463–7: 327–8 9.306: 335 9.324: 327 10.250–9: 328 12.31–6: 76 12.324–36: 340 12.387–92: 281 12.412–13: 37 13.314–50: 341–2 13.532–614: 330 13.620: 91 n. 29 13.749: 351 n. 48 13.778–97: 6, 41 13.883–5: 334 14.28–9: 80 15.10–132: 345–6 15.425–6: 172 Simonides fr. 10 Poltera: 308 Solon fr. 36.3 West: 45 n. 1 Sophocles Aj. 527–8, 594–5: 164 El. 201–6: 350–1 Phil. 391–402: 25 n. 1 Sosylus FGrHist 176 F 1: 166 n. 2 SSH 1190: 316–17 Statilius Flaccus IV Gow–Page: 145, 146 Statius Ach. 1.3–4: 41 Silv. 1 pr.: 317 n. 48, 325 1.2.252–5: 25 2 pr.: 276, 278 2.2.116–17: 76 2.7.55: 41 3.2: 317–18 3.2.40–1: 38 n. 24 3.4: 318–19 3.5: 318 3.5.79–80: 75 n. 62 3.5.91: 71–2 4.4: 318 4.4.94–6: 31, 37–8 4.7.5–8: 21 n. 27 4.7.25–9: 37–8 5.3.26: 37 n. 22 5.3.89–103: 73 5.3.104–115: 72 5.3.126–7: 75 5.3.150–1: 81 n. 7, 276 5.3.156–61, 163–71: 73 5.3.176–94: 73–4 5.3.233–8: 26, 74 5.3.271–6: 291 Theb. 1.1–45: 297 1.142–65: 295 n. 2 1.178–9: 335 1.624–6: 217 n. 26 2.115: 335 4.129: 334 5.1–48: 350–1 5.49–498: 350

421

5.731–53: 353 6.1–24: 351–3 6.358–64: 345 6.921–46: 353–4 7.430: 334 n. 21 8.373–427: 327 11.442–3: 354 n. 54 11.574–9: 281 12.810–19: 37–8, 297 Strabo 2.5.12 118 C. i.286.7 Radt: 65 4.1.5 180–1 C. i.466.26–1: 122 4.1.5 181 C. i.466.4–10: 83–4, 120, 121, 122 5.4.7 246 C. ii.108.9–15: 71 5.4.7 246 C. ii.108.24: 74 6.1.2 253 C. ii.130.25–8: 75 9.1.24 400 C. iii.28.6–30.10: 87 9.5 429–44 C. iii.112–56: 348–9 13.1.54 608–9 C. iii.602–3: 97 13.1.54 609 C. iii.602.16–604.22: 58 13.1.54 609 C. iii.602.16–19: 62 13.2.3 618 C. iii.626.2: 144 n. 18 13.4.9 627–8 C. iii.650.36–652.5: 110 n. 3 14.1.25 642 C. iv.26.2–7: 47 n. 5 14.1.48 650 C. iv.50.29–31: 105 n. 58 14.2.5–13 652–5 C. iv.54–64: 103 n. 53 14.2.13 655 C. iv.64.26–7: 105 n. 58 14.2.24 659–60 C. iv.74, 76: 117 14.2.5 653 C. iv.56.5–8: 123 14.5.13 673–4 C. iv.110: 91, 116 n. 14, 126, 130 n. 43 14.5.14 674 C. iv.112.13–24: 117 14.5.15 675 C. iv.114.17: 57 n. 23 Suda  1172: 56  2004: 56  3612: 107 Ø 91: 102 n. 51 Œ 402: 106 n. 60

2165: 61 æ 158: 16 n. 19 Suetonius Aug. 85.2: 81 n. 9 Cal. 3.2: 145 Claud. 11.2: 72, 145 42.1: 163 42.2: 142 Ner. 12.3: 51 Tib. 11: 105 32.2: 105 56: 105 57.1: 105 70.2: 16, 25, 146 71.1: 156 Tit. 7.3: 311 n. 37 Vesp. 18: 186 GR 3.6: 48 7.1: 123 7.2: 57 24.2: 48 n. 7 fr. 7 Kaster: 51, 186

422

Index of Passages Discussed

Sulla fr. 3 Peter: 264 n. 35 Tacitus Agr. 4.3: 120, 122 30–2, 33.2–34.3: 264 Dial. 15–24: 41 15.3: 112 16.5–6: 25 18.4–5: 39 30.3: 114 36–41: 35 40.3: 106 Hist. 1.1.3: 259 1.3.2: 259 1.4.1–12.1: 261 1.10.1: 116 1.11.1: 127 2.1–4.2: 108 2.1.1: 261–2 2.9.2–10.1: 262 4.10: 138 4.40.3: 138 Ann.1.4.4: 106 1.65.4: 241 n. 40 2.53.3: 88 2.54.2: 107 2.55.1–2: 89 2.59.3: 126 2.83.3: 145 3.67.2: 119 4.32.1: 261 4.43.1: 98–9 4.44.3: 120 4.55–6: 52, 113 4.60.2: 265 n. 36 4.74.4: 265 n. 36 6.6.2: 227 6.22.1–2: 227 11.11.1: 259 14.21.1: 47 14.59.1: 138 15.71.1: 156 Terence Ad. 1–14: 13 Eun. 19–34: 13 Hec. 56–7: 48 Terentianus Maurus 1749–50 GLK vi.377: 157 Tertullian Anim. 42.2 CCSL ii.845.9–10: 160 n. 55 Cor. 6.3 CCSL ii.1047.21–2: 140 Theocritus 1: 307 n. 28, 310 1.1–63: 342 1.17–18: 341 1.82–5: 286 1.90–1: 342 1.120–1: 338–9 1.123–9: 341–2 3.3–5: 310

3.10: 341 4.15–19: 341 5: 308 5.41–4: 343 7: 285, 286, 288, 289, 290 7.15–19: 342 7.38–41: 310 7.111–15: 309 7.135–8: 341 10: 285, 290 11: 180 11.1–18: 289 11.34–7: 179–80 11.40–1: 342 11.72–6: 309 13: 285 14: 285, 311, 343 15: 311, 312–14 15.6: 313 n. 40 15.63–4: 313 15.69–70: 313 15.87: 313 15.90: 176 16: 285, 288, 291–2, 314 16.88–103: 311 17: 176 18: 285 24: 285, 309 n. 33 26: 349 Ep. 18: 80 [Theocritus] 8: 285 19: 285 20: 285 20.19–30: 338 23: 285 23.46–8: 343 27: 285 27.38: 338 Theon 2 71 Sp. p. 16.7–11 Patillon: 236, 237 Theophrastus HP 1.7.1: 201–2 fr. 687 Fortenbaugh: 163 fr. 708: 276 n. 3 Thrasymachus B 1 Diels–Kranz: 236, 273 Thucydides 1.1.1–24.1: 262 1.70.2: 264 2.47–54: 210–18 2.50.1: 215–17 2.51.5: 211–13 2.52.4: 213–15 5.26.5: 232 8.66.2–3: 265 n. 36 [Tibullus] Pan. Mess. 181–91: 292 Timolaus SH 849: 298 Timotheus fr. 791.221–36 Hordern: 7 Tiro fr. 13 Funaioli: 135 Trogus Prol. 15: 102 n. 49

Index of Passages Discussed Turnus fr. 2 Courtney: 325 n. 3 Tyrannion (Elder or Younger) fr. 63 Haas: 148 Vacca Vit. Luc. lines 39–43 Rostagni: 83 Valerius Flaccus 1.371–2: 297 1.561–73: 171–2 2.78–310: 350, 351 2.242–6: 171–2 2.249: 171 2.369–432: 170–6 2.378–92: 174 2.408–21: 172 2.412: 175 2.422–4: 172–3 3.340–2: 173 n. 15 5.429–32: 297–8 7.141–4: 298 7.476–8: 173 7.509–10: 173 Valerius Maximus 1 pr.: 20, 257 2.1.10: 81 2.2.2–3: 52, 156–7 2.6.6–9: 121, 122 4.1.3: 225 n. 4 4.1.13: 116 4.3.6: 33–4, 89–90 5.3.2e: 117 n. 15 6.9.15: 115 n. 12 7.4 pr.: 152 8.14.1: 37 8.7.6: 136 n. 2 Valerius Messalla Rufus fr. 2 Peter: 239 Valgius Rufus FRP 169: 325 n. 3 Varro LL 5.16: 109 5.96: 147 5.131: 150–1 7.34–5: 147 RR 1.1.1–4: 250 n. 5 1.2.10: 151 n. 33 1.5.2: 22 1.8–9: 10 1.45.2: 201–2 2 pr. 2: 151 2.7.2–3: 202–4 Antiq. Div. fr. 8 Cardauns: 149 Men.62 Astbury (49 Cèbe): 154 176 (176): 154 291 (291): 154 398 (396): 36 Poet. fr. 60 Funaioli: 80 n. 7 Scaen. Orig. fr. 70 Funaioli: 71 n. 55 Vit. Pop. R. 393 Salvadore: 58 n. 26 frr. 295–6 Funaioli: 147 fr. 21 Peter: 47 Varro Atax FRP 105 (a): 135–6 FRP 123: 297 FRP 132: 297

Velleius 1.5.1–2: 27, 29 1.16.2–5: 11, 29 1.17.1: 28 1.18.1: 87 2.34.3: 7, 31 2.66.5: 38–9 2.9.3–6: 8, 18, 28 2.131.1: 240 n. 35 Virgil Ecl. 1: 177, 309 1.6: 308 2: 177, 309 2.18: 309 2.19–22: 179–80 2.21: 178 2.69–73: 309 3: 177 3.8–9: 342–3 3.18: 307 4: 177, 284, 309 4.1–3: 80, 177 5.43–4: 338–9 5.64: 339 6: 177, 284, 291 n. 31, 309 6.1–12: 29, 286 6.13–40: 346 6.30: 286 7: 309 7.1–13: 177 7.21–68: 309 n. 33 8: 177 9: 177, 310 10: 177–8 10.1–5: 81, 310 n. 34 10.50: 25 10.57: 16 G. 1.25–42: 283, 301 1.43–150: 278 n. 7 1.215–16: 283 1.276–86: 305–6 1.351–514: 305 1.436: 349–50 1.437: 305 2.61: 283 2.101–2: 283 2.146–8, 159–60: 283 2.173–6: 302 2.437: 150 2.470–2: 341 3.1–51: 351–2 3.174–6: 341 3.292–4: 333 n. 19 4.125–48: 302 4.281–320: 302 4.315–557: 345, 346 4.367–72: 302 n. 18 4.559–66: 302, 341 n. 32 Aen. 1.8–11: 343 1.144: 350 1.65: 334

423

424 Virgil (cont.) 1.94–101: 330–1 1.254: 335 1.467: 334 2.268: 334 2.361: 351 3.287–8: 338 3.375: 335 4.146: 150 4.219–392: 174–5 4.238–46: 175 4.280: 175 4.328–9: 173 4.408–15: 280 4.482: 334 5.352–3 6: 330 6.280: 351 n. 49 6.724–51: 345, 346 6.847–93: 33 n. 12 6.893–8: 346 7.483–92: 342 7.511–15: 342 7.604: 335

Index of Passages Discussed 7.641–6: 280–1 7.733–43: 338 n. 26 7.816: 342 8.159: 150 8.343–4: 150 8.596: 334 9.446–9: 171 10.133–5: 328 10.501–5: 332 11.508: 281 n. 12 11.664–5: 281 11.891–5: 164 n. 62 12.346–52: 329 n. 11 12.552: 334 [Virgil] Catal. 9.13–22: 144–5 9.61–3: 123, 145 Vitruvius 6.7.5–7: 152 7 pr. 10–18: 9–10, 20 10.16.12: 20 Volcacius fr. 4 Courtney: 116 Xenophon Mem. 2.1.21–34: 227

General Index Reference to a page includes the footnote at the end of the relevant paragraph, even if it comes on the next page; reference to a footnote is to the page where it starts, even if the relevant mention appears on the page that follows. Academic philosophy and eloquence 231 Academies, Old and New 90–1 Academy, Cicero’s and Athenian 65 Acilius, C., historian 140–1 Acilius, friend of Brutus 164 Ad Herennium: and Greeks 31 n. 10 probably using Cicero 235 adaptation, literary 165 awareness of literary history in 217 of Greek to Latin and Latin to Latin 218–19 address: in didactic 281–4 in historiography 257 in inscriptional poetry 292–3 in satire 287, 289 addressee: degree of personification 250 in Greek philosophy often Roman 250 in Latin philosophy normally Roman 250 in philosophy 249–51 produces ground in different super-genres 249–50 aedon 320 Aegina and Athens 218 Aelian 66, 139–40 Aelius Tubero, Q. 63 Aemilius Paullus, L., in Greece 98 Aenesidemus 127 Aeschines and Rhodes 102 Aeschylus and Silius 327–8 Agricola 120 Agrippa, Odeion of 88, 93, 96 Albinus, A. Postumius 140–1 Albucius, T. 81–2, 137 Alcaeus as innovator 29 n. 6 Alcaeus of Messene 111 Alexander in Greek and Latin historiography and declamation 241 Alexander Polyhistor 61–2 Alexandria: Augustus’ rule on 126–7 immoral reputation 127 non-Alexandrian Greeks studying in 126 philosophers in 127–9 practical visits to 125–6 Roman officials in 126 and Rome 312–13, 314 scholars in and from 128 sophists in 127

splendour of 123 alliteration in Ennius 189 Amafinius, date and nature of work 226 Ambracia 98 anagnostes 67 anapaests, presentation of 191 n. 11 Antiochus the Academic 92, 123–4, 255 Antipater of Thessalonica 63 antiquus of third-century doctors 25 Antonius the orator: in Asia 117 in Athens 85 on Rhodes 104 Antonius, L., son of Iullus Antonius cos. 10 bc 120 Antony: in Athens 85 and Boethus 117 anxiety 31 n. 9 Apollodorus, Chronica 8 Apollodorus of Pergamum 109, 115 Apollonius Rhodius: inset and Latin hexameter narrative 344, 345, 346 and Latin didactic and pastoral 345, 346, 347 and location of reader 171 and Lucan 332–3 relation of language to Homer 174–5 and Virgil’s Eclogues and Georgics 346 Apollonius the Soft 103–4, 106, 109 apostrophe 279–81, 282–3 Appian: career 64, 231 and Fronto 142 and Roman history 242 Apuleius: in Athens 83, 97 and Cicero 41 and philosophers 19 and Second Sophistic and philosophy 229 writing in Greek 139, 155 Aratus: and didactic 283–4, 303, 305–6, 344–5, 349–50 Greek imitations of 303 and hexameter narrative 345–6 Latin versions of 18, 205–10 life of 209 Arcadia in Virgil’s Eclogues 177, 178

426

General Index

IæåÆØ- in Dionysius of Halicarnaccus 26 n. 2 Archias 50, 60, 71, 110, 300 architectari 149 Areius 124 Iæ 212 Argentarius 146 Argonautic poems besides Apollonius’ 174, 298 ‘Argos’ 348–9 Aristides, Aelius 112 Aristotle: biological accuracy 204 and forms of philosophical writing 249, 250, 253, 254 Arrian, relation of philosophy and history 228–9 Arrius Antoninus (cos. suff. ad 69) 143 Asclepieion at Pergamum 112, 319 Asia: cities as group for Romans 113 cultural visits to 114–16 earthquakes in 114 exile in 116 meaning of term 109 military and political visits to 117–19 source of epigrammatists 110–11 source of rhetors and sophists 109–10 spatial and cultural relation to Greece 132 supposed luxury 113–14 supposed richness 113–14 Asian oratory 17 Asianism 93–4 as movement actual and probably starts in Greek 237 Aspasius 139–40 Ateius 62 Athenaeum 55 Athenaeus the Peripatetic 63 Athenians, independent behaviour of 89–90 Athens: ancient 86–7 in Cicero 251, 256 decline 86 greatness 33 literary glory 86–7 loss of power 33–4 and Massilia 83–4, 120 and oratory, Hellenistic and Imperial 109–10 and past 87–8 the prime cultural destination 81 philosophy in 90–2 rhetoric at 92–5 Roman building in 88 Roman conception of draws on Athenian 86–7 and Roman law 47 Roman students in 91–2 and Rome in oratory 271–3 visits to: in later life 83–4; in pattern of Roman lives 81–4; while on duty 84–5

atomus 149 atque + consonant 196, 239 n. 35, 335 Atthides and early Roman historiography 141 Attic: charm of 93–4, 161–2 and Latin 160–2 prose, three supreme writers of 229 Atticism: as linguistic movement 94–5 as oratorical movement 17, 93–4; probably starts in Greek 237 Atticists, Roman 161–2 Atticus 82 writing in Greek and Latin 142 auditorium 54–5 Aufidius Bassus 227–8 Augustus (Octavian): in Alexandria 124–5 building 49 libraries 50 patterns of patronage 63 and Sicily 77, 79 and South Italy 75 supposed intervention for Atticism 94 n. 35 and Timagenes 60–1 Aurelius, M. 89, 138–9 in Alexandria 124 and archaism 41 and Aristides 118 in Naples 72 author, presentation of in historiography 258–60 authors: chronological series of 9–11 Greek and Latin, crossing between sequences 18 lives of and poems on stars 209–10 place ‘among’ 18 Babrius 145 Bacchylides and Statius 352–3 bibliopola 58 bilingualism: ‘additive’ 136–7 and verse inscriptions 319 biography: address in 257–8 and history 257–8 book trade 58–9 books and villas 65–6 books, Greek: availability of at Rome 59 and Roman 156 booksellers: at Rome 58–9 status of 58 bookshops in Rome 58 Brundisium: books at 74 philosophy in 73

General Index Bruttianus 143 Brutus 164, 266 in Athens 82, 85, 93 bucolic, main forms in 285–6 Caecilius of Calliacte 78 stance of 39 Caesar the Dictator: and Alexandria 124, 129 experiments with speeches 263 Callimachus: and exclusiveness 29 use of erudition differs from Latin poets’ 349–50 Calpurnius Siculus: names in 307, 310, 311–12 and non-bucolic Theocritus 310–12 space in 178–9 and Theocritus and Homer 343 and Theocritus and Virgil 176–80, 310, 326 Calvus’ Io, no obvious analogy in Greek 299 Caninius Rufus 143 canon: lyric 21 tragic 21–2 canons 8 Capito, Q. Pompeius, poet 96, 146 Capitoline Games 51–2 Carcinus 193 Carneades 82 Cassius and Rhodes 105 Cassius Severus 40, 233 Catius 19 n. 23 Cato the Elder: in Athens 84–5 and Greek 135 Origines 225 and Roman historians in Greek 141 Cato the Younger: and Athenodorus Cordylion 62 combines philosophy and oratory 231 Catullus: in Asia 115 metre 157 Celsi 246 Cestius 40, 55, 86, 109, 118 n. 19, 266 chairs: in Athens 89, 91 of rhetoric 92–3, 95 Chariton: as evidence for ‘pointed style’ 183–6 known in Rome? 186 choral performance 100 choruses in South Italy 71 chronological lists 7–8, 9–10 chronology, literary, interest in 7–8 Cicero: in Asia 114–15 and Asianism 39 in Athens 82; after governorship 85 Brutus, division in 13

427

career 230, 273; displayed through versions of Aratus 209–10 contemporary attacks on 236, 239 defends prose-rhythm 236 education 59, 235 as evidence on earlier prose-rhythm 234 generic range 38–9 and Greek orators 16–17 Greek work 142 as Homer? 25 n. 1 De Inventione, impersonal form of 251 matching Homer and Virgil 38 metaliterary play in 198 on Mithridates 272 De Natura Deorum and Plato’s Timaeus 197–8 on oratory and historiography 233 pairs of words 195–6 and philosophical form 254–7 philosophical works 19 place in literary history 28 place and self in 273 and Plato 245–6, 254–6 as Plato 198 and Platonic expression of ideal 230 and range of imitation 32 relation of philosophy and oratory in 229–31 on Rhodes 104 standing of 38–41 style 195–6; shaped by Hellenistic developments 194 on translation 196–7 use of Greek in letters and speeches 155–6 views of Greek and Latin 158–9 works of political philosophy not confined to Romans 245–6 Cicero, Q. 119 Cicero, son of orator, in Athens 82 Cincius Alimentus 140–1 Cinna’s Smyrna, no obvious analogy in Greek 299 cinnamum 151 citizenship for poets 50 clarus 102, 114 Claudius: and Alexandria 129 writing in Greek and Latin 142 Clitarchus, date of 14 Columella and cited sources 23 comedy, Roman 161 as inferior 30 n. 7 comparatives and paradox 185 Corinth becomes Latin colony 100 Cornutus 138 Crassus the orator and prose-rhythm 234 Cratippus 50 n. 10, 112 n. 6, 115, 118, 198, 199, 229, 255 Crinagoras 63 cultural difference exploited in Latin poets 173 Curtius and Arrian 228–9 Curtius Rufus:

428

General Index

Curtius Rufus: (cont.) and declamation 241 speeches 264 Cynegeirus 187–8 D’Annunzio 148 declamation: form of frame Greek 268 Greek 187 and Greek material 243–5 and oratory 243, 265–7 relation to other genres 183 at Rome 54 declamations: in structural frame 268 on tyrants, Roman elements in 244–5 decline and literary history 32–4 deictic centre 166, 171, 261, 272 Demetrius the Cynic 53 Demetrius Laco 98 Demetrius of Phaleron 33, 229, 246 Demosthenes: and Calvus 39, 41 and Cicero 38, 39, 41, 267, 270, 271–3; in declamatory tradition 40 and Elder Cato 39, 41 on ideal situation 272 on Philip 272 Philippics 39 n. 28, 267 place of 28 seen as supreme 17 is studied in Athens 93 and rhythm 236 dialogue: non-philosophical 253 in satire and pastoral 290 didactic: complication of Roman elements in 301–2 and epinician 351–2 poems: on creatures and food, Greek 303–4; on farming 304; on stars, Greek 303; on stars, relation of Greek and Latin 305–6; sources and time 305–7 prose and poetic sources in 303–7 Roman setting and Greek material opposed 302–3 see also hexameter poetry: didactic Dio the Academic 123, 124, 127 Diodori of Sardis 110–11 Diodorus Siculus in Sicily 78 Dionysiac and Bacchic poetry 34 Dionysius freedman of Atticus 69–70 Dionysius of Halicarnassus 63 ‘old’ in 26 n. 2 Domitian: building: at Ephesus 111 n. 5; at Thespiae 99; in Rome 319 drama: Greek, probably performed at Rome 49 performance of 130 and quasi-drama 185, 186 see also theatre

dramas, Latin as versions of Greek 48 dramatists, statues of 95 dur- 168 education, Roman, pattern of Hellenistic 130 Einsiedeln Eclogues, names in 308 ekphrasis: in Apollonius and Valerius 172 in Valerius and Virgil 175 elephantomachi 153 Empedocles 8, 80, 81–276, 304–5 and address 282 and Latin didactic 304, 306 and Lucretius 284, 306 empire: in Cicero 271–3 in Valerius Flaccus 171–2 in Virgil’s Eclogues 309 Ennius: in Aetolia 98 education 70 and Hesiod 37 and hexameter 323 and Homer 36–8, 333–4 views about 36–8 Epaphroditi 56 ephemeris 151 Ephesus 110, 111, 112, 113, 115, 118, 119 Roman youths at 115 Epicharmus 80 Epictetus 91, 92, 139, 228 Epicureans: in Athens 89, 90, 91, 92, 96, 107 on Rhodes 107 Epicurus: and decline 33–4 letters 252 and Lucretius 302, 304–5, 306 and Seneca 252 and Thucydides in history of prose 217 epideictic 230, 242–3, 266–7 epigram, Roman authors of Greek 143, 144, 145–6 epigrammatists: Greek, origins 110–11 Latin 10 epinician and war 351–2 K  Ø- 276  #, epos 223, 276 Eratosthenes and Hyginus 24 n. 33 Etna 81, 252 Etruscans and Greek influence 47 Euodos 107 Euphorion 14 perspectives on 25 Euripides: emotional openings 189 and Lucan 349 and Seneca 21 and Statius 350 statue 66 extremity in Latin poets 192–3, 212–19

General Index Fabianus 137, 246 in Seneca 19, 231 Fabius Pictor 140–1 readership 166 Favorinus 53, 120, 138, 158 culture at dinners of 68 ‘first’ 28 first person plural, in historiography 259, 261 focalization and atmosphere in Livy, Silius, Polybius 170 French literature, English exploitation of 131 Fronto: and Cicero 41 use of Greek 142–3 Gaetulicus or Gaetulici 10, 146 Galba, C. Sulpicius 95 Galen 112 career 64 Gallus in Virgil’s Eclogues 177–8 games: in Athens 89 at Helicon 100–1 in Massilia 121–3 on Rhodes 102, 107 at Tanagra 143 Gellius: in Athens 83 compares Greek and Latin authors 159–60 and Greek and Latin philosophy 19 quotes of Latin poets 38 generals in competition 6–7 genre, subdivisions in ancient conceptions 223 genres: criteria for divisions differ 224 disparities in modern approaches to 223 geography and poetry 347 Germanicus: in Alexandria 125 diverges from Aratus, follows scholia 207 on Rhodes 107–8 writing in Greek and Latin 145, 146 ªæØ # 120 gods, Greek division from men infringed 209 Gracchi 59, 74 Gracchus, C., not clearly rhythmic 234 Gracchus, Ti. (cos. 177 and 163 bc) 103 grammatici: in Massilia 121 Greek, at Rome 56–7 and scholarship 56–7 teaching of 57 Greece, cultural tourism in 97–101 imagined early Roman knowledge of 46–7 most of unimportant for oratory in Roman period 109–10 supposed decline of 33–4 Greek: asyndeton in 185, 268 and brevity 160

429

in Cicero’s letters 155 concern over using in Latin works 149, 151–2 general medium for early writing about Hannibal 166 and Latin: in competition 158–9; difference in vocabulary 148; genetic relationship supposed? 148–9; relationship in grammarians 147; resemblance 147; short and long syllables in 157; supposed difference in attractiveness of sound 162–3; word-order in poetry 180; works with parts in both unusual 155 in Massilia 122 in philosophical education 130 quotations in conversation 163–4 Roman knowledge of 135–7 Roman love of 163 in satire 336–7 and simplicity 159–60 in South Italy 75 and speed 156–7 technical terms 149, 151–3 terms for constellations 209 use of in titles 152, 153 vocabulary as abundant 158–9 words: avoided 155–6; for novel objects 149, 150–1 written by Roman authors 136–47 Greek writings: Greek tradition of adapting: didactic poems 208; drama 193 read in villas 67 not simply rejected as models in 1st cent. ad 181, 183 Greeks: in Italy, contact with 46 Roman attitudes to complicated 131 in Rome not merely servile 60–1 ground: and city 270–1 meaning of term 249 Hadrian: in Alexandria 124 and archaism 38 in Athens 85, 87, 88, 89, 95, 97 and Hieron II 314 at Mantinea 98 poetry by 100, 146 and Smyrna 118 at Thespiae 99 Hannibal, writing on 166 Hegesias 17, 106 n. 60, 236, 237 Helicon 99–101 Hellenistic kings as predecessors of emperors 95, 100 Hellenistic literature, our ignorance of 219 Heraclides Ponticus the Elder 254 Heraclitus of Rhodiapolis 96

430

General Index

Hermagoras 270 Herodes Atticus 89, 91, 92, 96, 138–9, 142 Herodian 128 Hesiod: and Aratus and Apollonius 344 and Empedocles, and Apollonius 344 and Culex 343 and didactic 278, 282, 283–4, 302, 304, 305–6 and Ennius 37 and Helicon 99 and Silius 345–6 and Virgil 305–6 hexameter poetry: didactic: differences in closeness to Greek 301, 303–7; different relations to Roman space 301; Latin, little inset speech in 282; Latin, rough list of poems 301; material not intrinsically Roman 301; mythical excursuses in 282; narrator and addressee 281–4; narrator and knowledge 282; and past 347; and pastoral, contrasts in ethos 341; poets and other hexameter genres 325; and present 300–1; and universal time 281 in general: cohesion as super-genre 276–8; diversity in use of Greek 278; Greek, impact on Latin does not end with Nero 326–33; Greek, on particular regions 347–8 inscriptional poetry: and address 292–3; first-person speakers 292–3; Latin beginnings 323; and hexameter narrative 338; and recent past 292; relation to elegiac 292, 319–20; relations with Greek inscriptional poetry 292–3 narrative: address to gods 279–81; contrast of narrator’s and characters’ utterance 279; demeans pastoral in Ovid 342–3; and didactic opposed 351; and didactic, opposition infringed 352; and didactic, related crossing of modes 344–7; differences in closeness to Greek 297–301; and epinician 351–4; Greek mythology and Roman history main material 295–7; Greek, on Greek history 300; Greek, on Roman deeds 300; hyper-pastoral use of pastoral 341; Latin, chronological development 297; Latin, rough list of poems 296–7; lost Latin poems and Greek antecedents 299–300; narrator addresses no listeners 279; narrator and body 280–1; narrator and knowledge 279–81, 340; narrators in 351; and past 279–81; and philosophy 344–7; and tragedy 349, 350–1; small poems, relation to large poems and to Greek 299, 324; spaces of 295–7 occasional poetry: and Greek hexameter

poetry 317–19; and hexameter narrative 318 oracles and narrative 339–40 pastoral: and didactic 339, 340–1; difference in grounds from didactic and narrative 284–5; and hexameter narrative 341–3; and present 285; separate worlds and hexameter narrative 286; slight role of narrator in 284–6; treatment of metre played on 341 poets, Greek and Latin in Manilius 18 satire: beginnings in relation to hexameter narrative 323; first-person speaker more solid than in narrative and didactic 287; and Homer 336–7; and pastoral, dialogue in 290; poets do not write in other hexameter genres 325; and present 287 super-genre: and chronological development 323–4, 326–37; and epinician 351–4; interaction of hexameter genres in Culex 343–4; less satire and pastoral written than ‘higher’ types? 324; mixture of hexameter genres within 337–48; play outside 350–4; and poets’ careers 324–6 hexameters: Greek, extant texts in 276 Latin, extant texts in 275 as super-genre 223–4 historians, detachment of from state 232–3 historiography: Greek: and Roman, differ in presenting author’s identity 258–60; interest in Roman history 242; of Roman period and declamation differ in Greek history treated 244; of Roman period on Greek history before Alexander 242; speeches in 262, 263, 264–5 Hellenistic 218–19; and Roman, inspection of places 170 proem in 258–9 Roman: archaic pose 242; fairness to nonRomans in 260; first person plural and identity 259; in Greek 140–2; in Greek, fading of 226; in Greek and beginnings of Latin 225; mostly avoids Greek history 240; pairing of Roman and foreign in 240–1; speeches in 262–5 spatial structure in 260–2 speeches in, controversial 262–3 history: Greek 187 and philosophy: difference in ground 257; ground and content in 260; roles of speech in 262 universal 240, 242, 257 Homer: adaptation in Latin and Greek 298 birthplace 113

General Index and Calpurnius Siculus 343 competition with 31 and Culex 343 and divinity 27 and Ennius 36–8, 333–4 and Hesiod 11 and hexameter didactic 283 and hexameter super-genre 276 in literary history 27 and Lucan 41, 329–32, 340, 347–9 multiple modes in which treated 337 and narrative hexameter 278, 279–81 parodied in Matro 316 and post-Virgilian narrative hexameter 41; post-Virgilian poets vary Virgil’s Homeric repetition 334–5 pro-Greek 132 quoted in conversation 164 and satire 277, 336–7 and Silius 41, 327, 327–8, 335 n. 23 and Statius 38 n. 24, 38 n. 24, 327, 334–5, 352–3 study of 56–7 in Tabulae Iliacae 66–7 and Virgil 36–8, 333–6, 346; create sequence for Lucan and for Silius 329–32 and Virgil’s Eclogues 338–9 and Virgil’s Georgics 346 and war poetry 300–1 Homeristae 72–3 homoeomeria 153 Honestus of Corinth 100 Horace: in Athens 83 and Carmen 50 and Greek and Latin lyric 21 and Lucilius 28 metrical preferences 157 Rome and South Italy in 315–16 Satires 2 and Greek hexameter poetry 315–17 treatment of hexameter narrative different from Greek parody 316 using Greek books in country 67 horr- 170 houses at Rome 59–64, 73 Hybreas 55, 109, 117 ia 320 identity: Greek and Roman, increasingly complex in law 136 and language 136–7 and space 165, 172, 178, 251 Ilium 113 imitari 29–30 imitation 28–30 imperial cult 119 inscriptional poetry: connections with Greek 278, 319–21

431

mingling of Greek and Latin in Rome and Italy 319–20 and pastoral 338–9, 343 read in single place 615 see also hexameter poetry: inscriptional poetry insero 21 n. 27 intertextuality: can be clear without verbal closeness 173–4, 311–12 different degrees and types 181 between peoples 181 problem of complexity and reading 337 problems of establishing when transformation extensive 331 relation to genre and super-genre 337–8 within and between languages 168–70, 179–81, 337–8; see also styles Isocrates 30, 66, 236, 251, 266 Italian cities founded by Greeks 46–7 Italy and elsewhere in hexameter narrative 297 iterum and paradox 184–5 Josephus, identity of author and readers in 259–60 Juvenal: and Theocritus 314 difference of first-person speaker 287 ŒÆØ# and paradox 184 Kant 149, 152 ŒÆØ#, cinaedus 336 landscape and humans 170 Larisa 348 Latin: asyndeton in 203–4, 271 compactness 169 deliberateness of 156 evades Greek repetitions 204 loans from Greek 149–53, 320 predecessors in preferred for citation 22–4 and spatial consciousness 166–7 used by Greek orators 118 weightiness of 156–7 word-order: exploited 169–70; in poetry 190, 191 see also Greek: and Latin Latin literature, beginning of 15, 27 law, Roman, and Athens 47 learned allusion, collaboration of author and reader 349–50 Leonidas of Alexandria 64 libraries: in Athens 97 Greek and Latin in 12, 18 n. 22 of Pergamum 112 place in 18 n. 22

432

General Index

libraries: (cont.) private 60 public 50–1 in villas 69 library: at Alexandria 128, 129 of Celsus 112 Palatine 59 at Rhodes 102 at Tauromenium 79 literary contests not visible in Sicily 79 literary histories: beginning of 27 and generic history 11 Latin and Greek, separated 12–24, etc. literary history: definition 6 n. 1 Latin, evolving 35 as war 7 literary period as Latin concept? 35 n. 18 literature: as existing outside time 5–7 problems of term 6 n. 2 literatures, Greek and Latin, separation of 137 Livia 100 Livius Andronicus 15, 70, 71, 323 Livy: change as work progresses 263–4 and philosophy 227 and Silius 168–70 and sources cited 23–4 use of Polybius 166, 260 love-poetry, dispute on Greek and Latin 68–9 Lucan: and Apollonius 332–3 in Athens 83 his Caesar and Achilles 330–1, 332 and Greek declamation 187–8 and Greek prose 347–8 and Homer 329–32, 340, 347–9 his narrator and Achilles 332 his Pompey and Hector 331 and scholarship on Homer 348–9 seems to bridge gap between narrator and characters 279 standing of 37 Lucilius: and hexameters 277 and Homer 336 use of Greek 154, 336 Lucilius, friend of Seneca 80, 250, 251, 252–3 Lucretius: and hexameter narrative 340 plays on meaningless world 212 poetry of absurd 214 simplifies Thucydides’ argument 216 and vividness 218 Lucullus, L. Licinius (cos. 74 bc) 60, 62, 65, 118, 123–4, 141–2 lyric poets: frescoes of 66

performed at villas 68 lyric tradition 21 lyric traditions 29 n. 6 Lysias as model 39, 41, 162, 233 Macer, Ovid’s friend 144 Machiavelli 232 n. 21 Maecenas and a patron of Theocritus 313 Maecius 146 Manilius: and Aratus 206 and Greek poems 303 independence 18, 208 Manlius Sosis, L. 78–9 Martial: and Greek literary history 15 vocabulary 151 Massilia: changes in 121, 122–3 cultural importance 120, 121–2 and exile 121 Massilians, character and being Greek 122, 187–8 Maternus, orator and tragedian 96 Medea as evil 194 Megalesia 48 memor 173 Menander 95 and Caecilius 160 Messalla not writer of Greek bucolic 144–5 metamorphosis poems 299–300 Metellus Numidicus, Q. Caecilius (cos. 109 bc) 82, 104, 116 metres, Greek, single-short adapted first 323 Metrodorus of Scepsis 117 military language oblique 32 Mithridates 86, 88, 101, 226, 280, 272 Mithridatic Wars 62–3, 71, 96, 272, 300 Molon 104, 106 Monnus mosaic 11 Mouseia 100–1 Mucianus, C. Licinius (cos. suff. II ad 70, III 72) 116, 140 Museum 124, 128, 142 Musonius 91, 138 Mytilene 109, 112, 118 Naevius 71, 323 names: of gods in Greek and Latin 149 Greek in Latin, 149–50, 320; accentuation of 150; morphology and metre 150, 180 naming systems, Roman and Greek 173 Naples: and Greek culture 74 Greek in 75 Greek performance in 71–2, 73 retirement to 74, 318 and Rome 318 narratee for all narrative? 167 n. 3, 249, 279

General Index narrator and narratives of plague 218 ŒıØÆØ 330 Nepos: and chronology 9 writing on Greeks 240 Nero: in Calpurnius Siculus 178–9, 311 in Einsiedeln Eclogues 179 and his poetry 38 n. 28, 59, 71 and Rhodes 108 and Theocritus’ monarchs 310–12, 314 Neronia 51 Neronian period, risk of overstating novelty 324 Nestor of Laranda 57 newness of Latin authors 25–6 Nicander: date of 14 Greek predecessor of 304 and Latin didactic 304 and Ovid 299, 342 Nicanor and Homer 36 n. 20 Nicias of Cos 70 Nigidius 198–9  # 214 nouus and paradox 184 novels, Greek, most rhythmic 237 t, o 351 n. 48 occasional poetry: and Greek affinities 278, 290–2, 317–19 settings of 317–19 and Virgil 291 see also hexameter poetry: occasional poetry Old Comedy and Persius 34 opponere 32 oracles 339–40 and performance 339 oratory: Attic: and context 35; changes in 35 controversies in 236, 239–40 debates on 39–41 and declamation 243 decline of 34 and fashion 35 Greek: and prominence of unreality 266; Roman producers of 140 Greek and Roman 32; opening with conditional 269 and history: difference in ground 250; relations between in Greek and Latin 229, 231–3 importance of Asia for 109–10 Latin, circulated in 3rd cent. bc 225 live performance of 93 and philosophy: constrast in settings 270–1; difference in ground 267; Greek connections between 229; Latin connections between 229–31 and rhetoric 269–70 Rhodian 106

433

Roman: and epideictic 230, 242–3, 266–7; different recipients of 267; minimizes extraneous elements 230–1, 269; no prefaces? 267–8; primarily on official occasions 242; and ‘reality’ 242, 265–7; and Second Sophistic 266 separate literary histories of 13 Ovid: in Asia 115 compression and extremes in 214–15, 217 Metamorphoses: disturbing theology in 213; and Greek antecedents 299–300; mixes two main types of hexameter narrative 295, 297 Palamedes the scholar 75–6

ºØ and paradox 184 Panaetius 103, 107, 113, 124, 488 Pandionis 320 Pantainos 97 Parmenides 76 Parthenius 62 pastoral: and bucolic, city and country in 177, 178–9, 289, 310 Greek stories not taken over like myths 307 Latin beginnings 323 limitation of world 286 main forms in 284–6 names in 307–8 narrative in 286 place and proximity to Greek 308–10 see also hexameter poetry: pastoral

Æ æ 335 patronage in Rome 59–61 Péladan 148 performance: and audience 131 and didactic 282 extempore 60 Greek and Roman 156–7 Greek, in South Italy 71–3 and hexameter narrative 279 and hexameter poetry 279 n. 10 Pergamum 111, 112, 113, 119 Roman youths at 115 Pharsalus 348 Philinus 141 Philodemus 110, 228, 250 and history of philosophy 8 and Piso 69 places 65–6 and Virgil and Horace 73 Philon 123 Philopappus, King of Commagene 96 philosophers: expulsions of 32–3, 52–3 lectures of: in Alexandria 124; in Athens 82; Greek poetry in 92; on Rhodes 104; in Rome 53 performance assessed 92

434

General Index

philosophers: (cont.) visit of in 155 bc 15, 141, 228 philosophical dialogue: Greek 253–6 Roman conversation in 255–6 setting 256 speakers usually Roman 255 with and without narrator 254 philosophical letters, a Roman exchange 252–3 philosophical performance at parties 91 philosophy: epistolary form 252–3 form with addressee 249–51 and history: extensive overlap in Greek of Roman period 228–9; limited overlap in Latin 226–8 ideas: usually Greek in origin 246–7; usually not limited to Romans 245–6 impersonal form in 251 late development in Latin 225–6 natural, in Latin 246–7 nature of education in 130 reading of with philosopher 92 Roman authors of in Greek 137–40; Roman writing of in Greek continues 226 treatment of Latin history of 18–20 Philoxenus on Latin 148 Pindar: and Grattius 352 and Statius 353–4 tomb 98 Piso, L. Calpurnius (cos. 15 bc) 63 plagues in structures of works 210 Plato: aims in political works 245 and Cicero 38 and dialogue 253–6 in Italy 198 performed at parties 68 references to in historiography 227 rendered by Cicero 148, 194–9 is studied in Athens 92 style 195–6 Timaeus as difficult 196 Plutarch, address of works 258 poet, metaliterary actions 318 poets: careers of 324–6 Greek: at Rome 57; study of 57 Latin, not given instruction in the craft 130 rare in Latin inscriptions 50 statues of in Sicily 80 ‘pointed style’: build-up in 184, 187 conjoins unelevated and extreme 186 Greek origins of 183–6 Polemon 85, 110, 113, 118, 187, 243

Pollio 40, 144, 227, 235–6, 239, 243, 244 library 50 use of house 60–1 in Virgil’s Eclogues 177 Polybius: ‘barbarians’ in 167 intellectualism 168 in Livy 24, 260 location of reader 166 and Plato 227 and Roman history 242 and Scipios 61, 231 using Elder Cato? 167 Polybius, freedman of Claudius 208, 211 n. 18, 250 Pompeii: Casa degli Amorini dorati (VI 16.7) 74–5 Casa degli Epigrammi (V 1.18) 74 Greek literature in 74–5 VI Insula Occidentalis 41–2: 75 Pompeius Macer 144 Pompey: and Aeschines of Miletus 117 in Athens 85 and education 59 games of 55 bc 49 in Mytilene 118 on Rhodes 104 and Theophanes 65, 109 n. 1, 144 using Greek 163–4 Porcia 164 Porcius Licinus 15 Posidonius 104, 106–7, 124, 142, 228 Potamon 63 n. 37, 109 potens 114 prose: and verse, connections in chronological structure 10 genres and lists of authors 9–10 Greek, intellectualism of some 218–19 Latin ‘technical’, imaginative writing in 202 rhythmic 184–7, 194–6, 198, 203–4 super-genres: activity of creators especially important for 224; development in Latin 225–6; and education 130; extant examples of three 224–5 prose-rhythm: avoidance in much historiography 238–9 dispute in Cicero’s last years 236 evidence for in Latin before Cicero 234 and Hellenistic use 236, 237–8 relation to genre 233–4 spread after Cicero 235–6, 238; connected with Greek rhetors 235–6 unusual in prose contemporary with Cicero 235 provinces, non-Greek 48 Ptolemies and Latin pastoral 310–12 Ptolemy the astronomer 128

General Index Pushkin 136 n. 2 Puteoli 74 Pythagoras and Numa 46 Quintilian: chronological gap in 14 difference from Cicero 239 and imitation 32 Racine, English reception of 131 n. 45 reader: and intertextuality 348, 349–50 place of 319 spatial perspective of 166–8, 171–2, 261–2, 319, 340 reading: in Athens 97 and performance 131, 279 n. 10, 351 of works in villas, to hearers 67–8 repetition of phrases in Homer and other poets 175, 333–6 rhetoric, chairs of 54, 92–3 rhetorical works not part of oratorical supergenre 270 rhetors: Greek: at Rome 53–5; in Elder Seneca rhythmic 236 Latin: exploit Greek rhetors 55; try Greek 54 places of performance 54–5 Rhodes: choregic activity on 102, 107 cultural history of 101, 102 decline of 101, 108 for exile 104, 106 oratory on 102, 103, 106 relations with Rome 101–2 Roman visits to 101, 103–6 Rhodos 102–3 Romans really Greek 46 Rome: and Athens 218, 251 bilingual readership for inscriptions in 319 in Calpurnius Siculus 310–11 foundation stories 46 gives spatial centre lacking in Greece 181 in historiographical structuring 260–2 ludi at 48–9, 51–2 as part of ground in oratory 270–3 spaces for interaction with Greek 47–64 Russian élite and French 136 Rutilius Lupus 16 Rutilius Rufus, P. (cos. 105 bc) 103, 116, 141, 228 Sallust: and avoidance of prose-rhythm 238–9 and Cicero 233 and oratory 233 relation to state 232–3

435

speeches 264 and Thucydides 30, 238 Sanskrit literary history and chronology 7 Sarapion the tragedian 96 satire: address in 287 city in and Greek model 312–14 country in 289, 290, 315 and Greek 336–7 and Greek hexameter poetry 288–90, 312–17 grounds 287–90 and hexameter super-genre 277, 287–90 and parodic Greek hexameter poetry 315–17 and pastoral 288–91, 312, 314, 315 see also hexameter poetry: satire sator 335 Saufeius, L., in Athens 84 schola 54, 90 ‘schools’ 56, 57 scholarship and Latin literature 129 schools of philosophy in Athens 90–1, 92 Schopenhauer 155 n. 45 Sebasta 51–2, 72 second person singular, impersonal 167 n. 3, 279 n. 9 second-person discourse in didactic 281–4 secta 90 self-reference 29 authorial and national 17–18 senate, Greek speeches in 52 Seneca the Elder: and ground of work 268 on interaction of rhetors 55 separates Greek and Latin 13 Seneca the Younger: career 230 choruses 189–91, 194 and Cicero 19, 40–1, 236–7 and Egypt 125 ingenuity in transforming Euripides 192–3 metre 157 philosophical sensibility in tragedies 193, 194 relation of philosophy and oratory in 229–31 tragedy, corpus of 21–2 Servius Sulpicius Rufus on Rhodes 104 Sex. Clodius 78 Sextii 33, 137, 246 Sextius the Elder 84 Sicily: culture in 78–9 and Greek history 80–1 and Greek poetry 81 Greeks and Romans 77–8 and South Italy: in Calpurnius Siculus 178; in Greek bucolic 176 in Seneca 252

436

General Index

Sicily: (cont.) in Virgil’s Eclogues 176–7, 309 Silius: and Greek poetry 327–9, 345–6 and Homer 327–8, 335 n. 23 and Livy 166–70 Siro 73 Smyrna 113 and emperors 118 sophia 149 sophists in Philostratus 92–3 Sophocles and Statius 350–1 Sosippus of Acragas 78 Sosius Senecio (cos. ad 99, 107) 96, 258 Sosylus 141 Soterus 110 n. 2, 112 South Italy: changes in Greek cities 70 philosophers in 47 in satire 289 in Seneca 252–3 and settings of Greek poetry 76 space: and character 172–3 and genre 178 and identity 165, 166–8, 178 problems as an ancient concept 45 n. 1 in set-up of Plato’s Timaeus 198 Sparta 86 Roman ideas of 98–9 specialists and range 12 n. 12 speeches: in historiography 262–5 those not delivered 266–7 replies to 266 Sperlonga 76 Staseas of Naples 73 stasis-theory 270 Statilius Taurus, T. (cos. suff. 37 bc) 99–100 Statius: Achilleid no direct Greek model overall 298 father 73–4, 75–6, 96 and Homer 38 n. 24, 327, 334–5, 352–3 place of 37–8 and scholarship on Pindar 353 and Silius and Homer 327 Silvae 277; types of poem 278 Thebaid and Greek predecessors 298 and tragedy 350–1 unusual in pattern of output 325–6 Strabo: and Asia 109 n. 1, 227 and L. Aelius Gallus 65 Straton of Sardis 111 style as framework for adaptation 183 styles: and literary periods 188 changes between Latin and between Greek and Latin 201–2, 203–4, 205–8

stylistic intricacy in Middle Republican Latin 189 Stymphalos 98 succession of scholarchs 90–1 Suetonius: and chronology 9 Greek writings of 142 Sulla 88–9 Sulpicius Maximus, Q. 57 super-genre, meaning of term 223 super-genres: intertextuality within and without 337–8 and people 224 poetic, and metre 223–4 superlatives and paradox 185–6 Syracuse 80 Tabulae Iliacae 66–7 Tacitus: in Asia 119 and oratory 232 Polybius, and philosophy 227 speeches in 264 Tarentum 70–1, 75 Tarsus 91–2, 116 n. 14, 117 technical terms, Greek, glossing not just for comprehension 151–3 Terence 149, 160 Tertullian 140 theatre: in Alexandria 127 at Athens 95–6 at Ephesus 111 n. 5 Greeks performing at Rome 48, 49 in Massilia 121 performers’ associations at Rome 48 at Smyrna 113 at Sparta 98 on Rhodes 102, 107 theatres: Italian, in 2nd cent. bc 49 n. 8 in Naples 71–2, 318 at Rome 48–9 in Sicily 79 in South Italy 71–2 at villas 68 theatrical artists 71–3 at Athens 95 in Syracuse 79 in Tigranocerta 118 Theocritus: and Latin occasional poetry 291–2 and location of reader 176 and Lucan 349 names in and Latin pastoral 307–8 non-bucolic poems and Calpurnius 310–12 and Ovid 342–3 and pastoral 278 and satire 288–90, 312–14 and Sicily 81, 176 and Silius 341–2

General Index and Virgil 338–9; and Eclogues 309–10; and Georgics and Aeneid 341, 342; and Virgil’s career 325 Theodorus the rhetorician 105, 109 Theophrastus: availability of works 59 and Aristotle 202 and Cicero 160 and Pliny the Elder 202 in Varro 22 Thespiae 99–100 Łæı# 168–9 Thucydides: as Attic prose 217 austerity of moral comment 212 and Cicero 271 complicated argument in 216 control of language 214 elegance of thought 212 and exile 232 extremity in 216 and Livy 264 and oratory 233 and Sallust 30 speeches 264–5 and Tacitus 264 n. 36 Tiberius: and Greek speeches 52 on Rhodes 105–6 Timagenes 60–1 time: effaced in afterlife 6 escape from through literature 171 titles 153 Titus on Rhodes 108 Tolstoy 136, 259 n. 26 toreuma 151 tragedy: beginnings 27 Greek and Latin 21–2 and Statius 350–1 translation: can lead to deviation from translator’s style 196 and change 297–8 combined with insertion 198 between poetry and prose 210, 217 translation theory and literary adaptation 165 translations as giving translators’ views 208 Trogus: on his identity 259 on non-Roman history 241 Trojan War and literary competition 31 tumultus 168–9 Tyrannion the Elder 62, 69 Tyrannion, Elder or Younger 148 Tyrannion the Younger 62

437

ueteres, Greek and Latin 26 uniqueness claimed for Latin works 19–20 Valerius Antias in Livy 23–4 Valerius Flaccus: Flavian context in 171 and location of reader 171–2 relation to Apollonius: and other Greek Argonautic poems 297–8; and Virgil 173–6 use of Virgil in relation to Apollonius’ use of Homer 174–6 Valerius Maximus: on Roman and foreign material 240 and sources 20 Varius 22 n. 28 Varro: and Greeks: in De Lingua Latina 22–3; in De Rebus Rusticis 22 linguistic theories 147–8 use of Greek 154 Varro Atax 135–6 vase: Apulian red-figure volute crater Munich 3296 (J 810; attr. Underworld Painter) 193 Vedius Pollio 68 Velia 75–6 Velleius: address in 257 division of literary history 13 and Greek literary history 15 on times of talent 35 Vespasian: building at Sparta 98 and philosophers 140 and rhetors 51, 186 Vestricius Spurinna (cos. suff. ad 98, 100) 143 villas: of Aelianus 66 on Bay of Naples 74 ‘Villa di Cassio’ 66 Villa dei Papiri 65–6, 69 ‘Villa of the Pisones’ 66 ‘Villa of the Vibii Vari’ 66 sculptures in 65–6 in Statius’ Silvae 318 Virgil: advances abandonment of ground in didactic 283 Aeneid: and location of reader 171; no known Greek model on subject 299; unusual type of hexameter narrative 295, 297 and Athens 84 Eclogues: and location of reader 177; names in 307–8; naming of Greek poets 15–16; space in 177–8, 308–10 and Ennius and Homer 333–4 Greek loans in 149

438

General Index

Virgil: (cont.) and Homer: complication of earlier Latin 333–4; repetition and variation 335–6; standing in relation to Homer 36–8; use of Homer made less Homeric in later poets 334–5; use of Homer not typical 333, 334; use of Homer in relation to Apollonius’ use 174–5 plans to visit Asia 116 in South Italy 73–4 unusual in pattern of output 325 standing of 36–9 Vitruvius and traditions 20

Volcacius Moschus 55, 109, 118, 121 wall-painting in Casa del Citarista, Pompeii I 4.5, 25, 28, oecus 20, north wall: 171, 172 war: and contacts with Greeks 61–2 as image of literature 30–2 word-order, deflection of and prose-rhythm 234 world-building 184, 261 Xenarchus the Peripatetic 63 Xenophon and Lucceius 227