Power Play in Latin Love Elegy and its Multiple Forms of Continuity in Ovid’s Metamorphoses 9783110490282, 3110490285, 9783110490299, 3110490293

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José Manuel Blanco Mayor Power Play in Latin Love Elegy and its Multiple Forms of Continuity in Ovid’s Metamorphoses

Trends in Classics – Supplementary Volumes

Edited by Franco Montanari and Antonios Rengakos Scientific Committee Alberto Bernabé · Margarethe Billerbeck Claude Calame · Philip R. Hardie · Stephen J. Harrison Stephen Hinds · Richard Hunter · Christina Kraus Giuseppe Mastromarco · Gregory Nagy Theodore D. Papanghelis · Giusto Picone Kurt Raaflaub · Bernhard Zimmermann

Volume 42

José Manuel Blanco Mayor Power Play in Latin Love Elegy and its Multiple Forms of Continuity in Ovid’s Metamorphoses

ISBN 978-3-11-048661-2 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-049028-2 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-048865-4 ISSN 1868-4785 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dn.de. © 2017 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Logo: Christopher Schneider, Laufen Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck 1 Printed on acid-free paper * Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

Contents Acknowledgements

IX

General Introduction 

The intertextual relations between Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Latin elegy: a critical assessment 3



Methodological considerations

9



Power relations in elegy and “the elegiac” in Ovid’s Metamorphoses 12 14 . Section I: analysis of elegiac discourse .. Ideological context: the problem of power relations 14 .. Elegy as fallax opus: the “elegiac estrangement”. 16 ... Critical landscape and methodological considerations 16 22 ... Elegy: agonistic poetry . Section II: “the elegiac” in the Metamorphoses: meta-poetry and power relations 24

Section I. Et amando et amare fatendo: Fiction and suprafiction in Latin love elegy. Agon and power relations as poetological expressions 

Introduction

37



Insidias legi, magne poeta, tuas: the puella de-codes the text Propertius 2,13 48 Propertius 1,8 and 3,23 52 Propertius 2,26 54 Propertius 2,34 58 Propertius 1,1 60 Ars Amatoria 1,455 – 458 and Heroides 20 and 21 62 66 Propertius 2,11 and 3,2

43

VI

Contents



Te mihi materiem felicem in carmina praebe: 72 the puella as subject matter Catullus 68b 75 Tibullus 1,4 91 Propertius 1,15 101 106 Propertius 2,3 Propertius 2,32 109 110 Propertius 2,28 Propertius 2,1 112 Ovid, Amores 1,1 116 118 Ovid, Amores 1,3 Ovid, Amores 1,10 121 Ovid, Amores 2,17 121



“The body-text”: the puella as literary work Ovid, Amores 3,9 125 127 Propertius 2,24a Propertius 2,25 and 2,34 128 Propertius 1,18 129 Propertius 2,5 132 135 Propertius 2,30b Propertius 1,2 137 Ovid, Amores 1,5 and 3,12 143

125

Section II.New perspectives in the study of “the elegiac” in Ovid’s Metamorphoses 

Introduction

149



Asymmetrical love in the Metamorphoses Daphne and Apollo 153 Io and Jupiter 175 Callisto and Jupiter 187 Herse and Mercury 192 205 Philomela and Tereus Byblis and Caunus 223 Pygmalion 234

151

Contents

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Mutual love in the Metamorphoses: towards the ultimus ardor of 243 Latin elegy Pyramus and Thisbe 252 Cephalus and Procris 268 Ceyx and Alcyone 292 318 Pomona and Vertumnus

Conclusions

339

Bibliography

351

Index of Passages Cited

369

Index of Names and Subjects

377

VII

Acknowledgements This book is a thoroughly revised version of a Ph.D. thesis at the University of Zaragoza. The transformation of the thesis into this book has been a long and arduous work. Its solitary course accounts for any faults that this book may have, for which I apologize in advance. My special gratitude is due to Gonzalo Fontana, whose teachings on love and power relations in Latin poetry crucially inspired this project. I am indebted to many people who have shared with me their comments on my project, or who have read the manuscript or parts of it. I am particularly grateful to Christiane Reitz, who encouraged me to publish this work. My thanks go also to Chris Whitton, who kindly read some parts of my manuscript. Not least, I deeply appreciate the comments of the anonymous readers of “Trends in Classics – Supplementary Volumes”, whose valuable help has improved this work. I am indebted to Christopher Londa for his constructive help in matters of style and language and to the staff of Walter de Gruyter for their generous assistance during the production of this book. Finally, the deepest of my thanks go to my wife María José. Without her support this book would have never found its way. To my father and to my son

1 The intertextual relations between Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Latin elegy¹: a critical assessment With the passage of time, Ovid has become one of the most popular authors of Latin literature. Aside from the great esteem which he enjoyed in his own time, scholarship has “re-discovered” Ovid‘s poetry in recent years, such that we can readily speak about a true “Ovidian boom”², particularly since the 1980s. As a consequence, we have uncovered a multifaceted and sophisticatedly self-conscious artist, a self-professed son of his time with a discerning eye for the paradoxes of his literary and historical context. Recent criticism, with its increasing proclivity to accept and share the values of postmodernism³, has found particular favour with the Metamorphoses, since Ovid’s magnum opus can straightforwardly be associated with open, complex, multivocal and de-centred literary modes. Hence, narratology and post-structuralist studies have now reached a key vantage point over the critical landscape of the Metamorphoses ⁴. The genre of elegy has also experienced ―in line with the “Ovidian boom”― an important impulse in the last thirty years⁵, mainly under the aegis of gender studies, and also, more recently, of post-structuralism. Feminist criticism has put its emphasis on the question of how gender, as a specific ideological product and as a historically determined construct, is rhetorically manipulated by the poet, and how it intersects with dominant ideological paradigms⁶. In the

 In the following pages, all the quotations of Latin and Greek authors will follow the Oxford editions, unless specified otherwise. Specifically, for those texts most frequently cited, the fol lowing editions will be used: Tarrant (2004) for the Metamorphoses; Barber (1960), for Proper tius; Postgate (1968) for Tibullus; Mynors (1984) for Catullus; and Kenney (1977) for Ovid’s ele giac oeuvre.  On this “boom” in Ovidian studies, see Schmitzer (2002: 143) and idem (2001: 11), Lacki (2007), Wheeler (2001: 242), Fernández Corte Cantó (2008: 54), Myers (1999: 190 191), Hardie (2003: XVIff.), Holzberg (2007: 121), Knox (2006b), Hinds (1987: XI) or Barchiesi (2002: 180).  On the “discovery” and veneration of Ovid as a “guru” of Postmodernism, see Barchiesi (2002: 180), as well as Fowler (1992: 89), Myers (1999: 190 191) or Fernández Corte Cantó (2008: 55).  See, for instance, Barchiesi (2002) or Myers (1999: 194).  See Wyke (1989) for a review of the main hermeneutical guidelines followed by criticism on elegy until the end of the 1980s.  See Fear (2000a: 153). This tendency has, in turn, displaced gender per se as the critical focus. It has been gradually replaced by a more general reflection on gender as a point of negotiation of the discursive usage of power what has been labeled “post feminism”. See Fear, 2000a: 154, and supra in this Introduction. DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 001

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General Introduction

frame of post-structuralist approaches to elegy⁷, studies have basically tended towards two opposing critical patterns: the semiotic model (whose main precursor is Veyne (1983)), and the eclectic model supported by Kennedy (1993), who argues for the “sociology of literature” as a concept. In any case, as we can infer from the many monographs and studies published in the last two decades, interest in elegy has seen an intense revival, and the results have also been highly fruitful. Although this proliferation of studies on Ovid and elegy has generated a huge body of scholarship ―a titanic bibliography beyond the capacity of any study―, the current state of play offers a great advantage: a vast critical span has been ploughed and sown. This leaves room for an enormous range of questions about Ovid’s oeuvre and his elegiac predecessors. Indebted to the work of the successive generations of classicists who have tried to explain Ovid and Latin elegy, this study came into being as a quest for elucidation in regard to an issue which had already been set out by previous critics: in the frame of its thematic and generic heterogeneity, the Metamorphoses is a poem that presents the reader with a considerable number of passages characterised by the unmistakable traits of Latin love elegy. The question about elegiac motifs and diction in the Metamorphoses finds its starting point in the early twentieth century, when Richard Heinze (1919)⁸ for the first time approached the matter. Since then, many scholars have studied, from different angles, the presence of elegiac forms and motifs in Ovid’s hexametric poem. Nevertheless, the debate about “elegy in the Metamorphoses” has proceeded in such a way that the exegesis of the intertextual and metapoetic function of these elegiac elements still remains open to debate. Among the traditional approaches to the elegiac elements in the Metamorphoses, the first landmark was set, as mentioned above, by Heinze’s near “classic” work (1919). Aside from its value in and of itself, another merit of this study lies in the fact that it led to a fruitful scholarly debate about the Erzählweise of the Metamorphoses and of Latin elegy. Heinze summarises the issue under the formula that the elegiac narrative mode is connected to “to eleeinon” (mourning subject matter), whereas the epic narrative mode is associated with “to deinon” (solemn subject matter). His clear-cut division between epic and elegiac narrative modes was held valid for a long time⁹, until scholars like Little (1970) questioned his impermeable categorisation of the “epic character” of the Metamorphoses vs. the “elegiac  See Fear (2000a) and Miller Platter (1999a).  Reprinted and reedited in 1938 (pp. 308 403).  Although Rohde (1929: esp. 15) and Wilkinson (1955: 193) had already shown a critical attitude towards Heinze’s thesis, as Otis (1966: 23) and Larosa (2010) remark.

A critical assessment

5

character” of the Fasti. To be sure, Heinze was well aware of the nuances obscured by this ―argumenti gratia― rigid structure. Yet, it raised scepticism among a number of scholars. Little’s critical stance, be it as it may, fuelled the trend of recognising elegiac elements in Ovid’s hexametric poem. Nonetheless, this tendency led, in some cases ―like Galinsky’s¹⁰―, to exegetical models which ended up questioning the validity of generic criteria when confronted with the problem of the thematically and stylistically multi-layered world of the Metamorphoses. Hinds (1987: 99 – 103) tried to check the criticism levied against Heinze’s work, claiming that his conclusions should not fall into neglect¹¹. Crucially, Heinze was indeed the first to approach the problem of the elegiac elements present in Ovid’s Metamorphoses and launched, thus, a fertile hermeneutical debate. Among the critics who have focused on this vexata quaestio, Otis (1966) and Tränkle (1963) followed the trail marked by Heinze’s work¹². Furthermore, they expanded his conclusions by offering sensitive readings proving that elegiac elements are not only pervasive in the poem but are profoundly entangled within its plot requirements, as particularly Otis shows. In line with this, Labate’s (1975 – 76: 128) work on conjugal and elegiac love in the episode of Cephalus and Procris (Met. 6,687– 865) is likely one of the most thought-provoking contributions to the matter. The author acknowledges the necessity of revising Heinze’s rigid division between elegiac and epic registers. He deftly tones down the impermeability of this distinction by demonstrating that there is not only a broad “elegiac space” in the Metamorphoses, but that this space is not homogeneous: “elegy” in Ovid’s epic is a labile reality. Still, critics have insisted on the relevance of genre in Ovid’s poem, as particularly Hinds (1987) shows¹³. Al-

 1975: VIII, as well as idem (1999: 305). See also Hinds (1987: 101 and n. 9).  Hinds recognises that Heinze was too reductive and that he extrapolated too uncritically to the whole of Ovid’s epic and elegiac oeuvre his conclusions from merely comparing the two nar ratives of Proserpina’s rape in the Fasti and the Metamorphoses (creating, thus, two tight and clearly distinguishable categories: “epic” and “elegiac”). Yet, according to Hinds, interest in Heinze’s work comes from his definition of elegy as a genre associated with “to eleeinon”, i.e., with the mourning theme. In fact, as Hinds (1987: 103 107) argues, the rape of Proserpina in its elegiac version demonstrates a broader presence of the element of sadness and mourning, in comparison with the version in the Metamorphoses, although this is a tendency and not a rigid thematic distinction. On the origins of the link between elegy and the mourning theme, see Henneböhl (2005: 347 and n. 4), as well as Sharrock (1991a: 37 38), James (2003: 108 ff.; 250, n. 77; 288, n. 3) or Brink (1971: 165 166).  Cf. Fernández Corte Cantó (2008: 14 and 38), and Brunner (1971: 275).  Another interesting contribution is provided by Knox (1986), who underlines the generic af finities between erotic elegy and the Metamorphoses and justifies those links on the basis of gen

6

General Introduction

though the author questions Heinze’s separation between “elegiac” and “epic” compartments and problematises the concept of genre, he still avers the Metamorphoses’ identity as an epos ¹⁴. In turn, Jouteur (2001: esp. 99 – 123) specifically insists on the generic hybridity of the poem and offers interesting readings for the influence of elegy on some passages of Ovid’s magnum opus. In any case, the vantage point from which we can now look back on critical debate concerning the presence of elegiac elements in the Metamorphoses permits us to combine its conclusions with the results of those studies that focus specifically on Latin love elegy. Thus, we gain a wider perspective, in so far as we benefit from the great hermeneutical advances made by recent criticism on elegy, whose chief merit consists in questioning the transparency of the genre and its illusion of emotional immediacy¹⁵. Examining the conceptual complexity of elegy is, thus, an unavoidable step towards comprehending the literary transcendence of the elegiac forms and themes incorporated into the world of the Metamorphoses. As stated by Barchiesi (2001: 142): “the relation that joins a text to a model involves the interpretation not of one text but of two (…). The new text rereads its model, while the model in turn influences the reading of the new text.” If we recognise, then, that the new text ―the Metamorphoses, in our case― is not semantically univocal, we have to apply this same premise to the model-text. Therefore, any allusion to previous texts must be considered a bilateral process: “allusions are combinations of two texts both needing interpretation, with each interpreting the other, not the combination of one text already ‘closed’ and another still ‘open’” (Barchiesi, 2001: 144). It is precisely this interpretative stance that leads to the twofold structure in this book. For the sake of clarity, the Section I is entirely devoted to the “model-text” of this bilateral process of allusion: elegy. Once the conceptual me-

eral stylistic and thematic principles, as observed by Fabre (1987: 331) or Henderson (1988: 27). A comparison between Knox’s (1986) and Hinds’ (1987) studies evinces, though, an important epis temological difference: the former considers language a closed and static entity, whereas the lat ter regards it as a dynamic and discursive reality. For a joint analysis of both works, see Kennedy (1989: 209 210).  Some reviews of Hinds’ (1989) work, especially Anderson’s (1989b), criticise what they con sider the “obsessive” trend of modern criticism to classify the Metamorphoses within a strict ge neric category.  On this issue, see McCarthy (1999), who reviews some of the most important contributions going back mainly back to the mid 1980s. In this regard, yet, we should not forget that Conte, in (1974 [=2012], esp. 58 ff.; 102 ff.; and 112), and particularly in idem (1980, esp. ch. 1) had already hinted at elegy’s artificial nature and its lack of spontaneity. These same premises are resumed and amplified in idem (1991: 53 94).

A critical assessment

7

chanics of elegy have been expounded, Section II will deal with how Ovid integrates elegiac paradigms into the “new text”: the Metamorphoses. The well-worn debate about “the elegiac” first pioneered by Heinze has been rehearsed to such an extent that its very foundations and sense of the subject have been called into question. Galinsky (1975) voiced the opinion that it is necessary to get over the obsession with the generic definition of the Metamorphoses, and delivered, thus, a severe blow to the yet untarnished “elegiac question”. Gradually, new questions and perspectives replaced the interest in studying, in comprehensive terms, the presence and function of elegiac elements in Ovid’s magnum opus. After the studies which have focused on the analysis of the complex position of the Metamorphoses within the literary tradition, as is the case in the aforementioned contributions of Knox (1986) and Hinds (1987), or in Nicoll (1980), Solodow (1988), Farrell (1992), or Myers (1994a)¹⁶, the most recent approaches to the Metamorphoses have definitively dismissed the relevance of its generic definition, attaching value instead to what had been the very target of much Ovidian critique since Antiquity: its hybridism and discontinuity. In fact, as we will see, the Metamorphoses’ “glittering” surface actually contributes in a significant way to its meaning¹⁷. In line with these efforts, Galinsky (1989: 71– 72), for example, refers to Kreuzung der Gattungen ¹⁸ as one of the most characteristic traits of the Metamorphoses. Barchiesi (2001: 49) prefers the term polyeideia to designate the metamorphic capacity and the plurality of literary genres in Ovid’s work¹⁹, whereas Farrell (1992) defines the generic polyphony in the Metamorphoses in terms of “dialogue”. Unlike the traditional methods of analysis, the new interpretative trends aim at the examination of the powerful ideological implications inherent in the phenomena of allusion and intertextuality in Ovid’s magnum opus ²⁰. The chief point is no longer the analysis of the distinct generic tonalities of the poem

 On generic variety in the Metamorphoses and its place within the epic tradition, see also Har rison (2002: 87 89). For a review of the main bibliographical milestones on the matter, see idem, p. 93.  See Myers (1999: 191).  An expression that was coined by Kroll (1924: 202 224) and has become near “classic”. See also Gómez Pallarés (2003: 66 67), who summarises Kroll’s contribution in the following way: “Kroll mostró con rotundidad cómo a partir de la producción literaria alejandrina, que presu pone la incorporación masiva de la transmisión escrita de unos textos literarios que, antes, go zaban también de una amplia transmisión oral, los géneros literarios terminan mezclándose y cruzándose”. See also Gildenhard and Zissos (1999: 163), Farrell (1992: 236 237) and Myers (1994a: 2).  See also Caballero Tola (2004: 124).  See Burrow (1999: 271 273).

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General Introduction

(elegiac, tragic, comic, bucolic,…), but the examination of the workings of a protean discourse where the different generic forms are not merely a compound of stylistic and plot features, but ideologically codified semantic fields.

2 Methodological considerations Thanks to the contributions of recent criticism, methodological tools have been repurposed and the scopes broadened, such that the focus of traditional approaches to the “elegiac question” can be accordingly redefined. While traditional hermeneutics concentrated on the combination of genres and on the originality of Ovidian epic, contemporary interpretative methods have opened a promising exegetical procedure that analyses the position of Ovid as a negotiator and interpreter of an intertextual dialogue with the literary tradition within which he self-consciously integrates himself. Critics have, thus, discarded the reductive stance that considers Ovid’s handling of his literary past mere parody or erudite pedantry. Instead, current hermeneutical tendencies reflect on Ovid’s dialogue with literary tradition as “the sign of a critical consciousness that observes the text’s formation from outside and reveals its implicit practices”²¹. At the same time, in opposition to the critical trend of the pure literary readings, which reduce the text to a dialogue with literary tradition, entirely in isolation from the context in which its production took place (let alone its reception), the most recent studies on intertextuality take into account a broader set of factors than mere literary allusion, which include cultural factors, particularly those related to power, authority and gender²². In our case, the advent of new hermeneutical guidelines for analysing the modes of articulating power within literary discourse offers us fresh prospects for reconsidering the “elegiac question” in the Metamorphoses. Methodologically, this study is, therefore, inscribed within an interpretative framework of Ovid’s poem which considers in a comprehensive and wide-ranging manner its intertextual relation with elegy. This means that both moments of literary production ―the text and the subtext²³― are semantically open entities, such that their relation is not unilateral (the subtext influences the new text), but bilateral (elegy

 Conte (1994a: 47).  See Myers (1999: 196 197).  With the label “subtext” we are mean the text that is prior in time, with which another text, later in the chronological succession, interacts and converses. This term, which comes from the jargon of studies on intertextuality and allusion, is appropriate for our aims and fits well into our methodological framework, since the word “subtext” prevents the connotations of ontolog ical priority implicit in terms such as “Quelle”. A subtext is not the font from which a certain later text “drinks”, but a passage in literary history that acts as a circumstantial interlocutor with a text. It is the critics’ work to discern such moments of dialogue and integrate them in a coherent signifying framework. DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 002

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General Introduction

shapes the exegesis of the Metamorphoses, and, simultaneously, the interpretation of the Metamorphoses shapes our understanding of elegiac semantics). Within this exegetical context, it seems necessary to redefine the terms for studying “the elegiac” in the Metamorphoses. To that end, the starting point will be the reconsideration of the question: what does the vague label “the elegiac” account for in Ovid’s magnum opus? In view of its meter, length and scope, we are dealing ―at least formally― with an epic poem, as Harrison (2002: 87) declares. Hexameter being the work’s chosen meter, any generic distinction within the Metamorphoses will, therefore, have to be based on criteria that are different from one of the most basic standards of generic definition in Latin literature (or, at least, the most comprehensible): meter²⁴. In this framework, the use of thematic criteria to re-evaluate the meaning of “the elegiac” in the Metamorphoses turns out to be a valid approach. Specifically, beyond the trite observation of the “eroticisation” of epos or the “epification” of the erotic²⁵, the goal is to examine the characteristics of the distinct patterns of action pertaining to those figures in the Metamorphoses who take part in episodes that are thematically related to elegy. These aims will require caution, since “the elegiac” in the Metamorphoses is far from a clear-cut category ―elegiac features are always interwoven in traits coming from other generic forms. The interpretative trend of the latest studies on generic polyphony in the Metamorphoses inscribes itself within a heuristic framework where genre, according to Conte (1994a: 132), is defined as “a discursive form capable of con-

 As claimed by Henneböhl (2005: 363, n. 53). The author argues that, since meter is the pri mary factor defining a genre, Ovid strives to create distinct “generic tonalities” through resources that are alternative to meter, like, for instance, the use of given lexical stylistic registers or the use of a “narrative tone” which the reader recognises as predominantly epic, elegiac, bucolic, tragic, etc. Farrell (1992: 236) specifies that, in addition to meter, extension is another formal cri terion for the generic definition of epos this is the reason why, according to Farrell, the Meta morphoses can be labelled with the term “epic”, at least with respect to form. Harrison (2002: 79), despite pointing out that genres in Antiquity were classified and distinguished according to some specific formal traits (not only meter, but also vocabulary, subject matter, generic codes and literary models), acknowledges the difficulty to establish clear cut generic definitions when it comes to Ovid and leaves metrics as the only stable criterion for a generic definition. On the other hand, Conte (2012: 121 165 and esp. 113 114) argues for the importance of generic cat egories in Latin literature and understands genre as a dynamic principle that is defined through its relation with literary tradition and with the generic code that serves as its model. The author considers content criteria as important as formal criteria (for instance, meter) for a generic def inition, since form and content are inseparable. See also Gildenhard and Zissos (1999), with a similar post structuralist slant; cf. Myers (1999: 191 194) on genre and allusion in Ovidian schol arship of the late 1980s and 1990s.  See Keith (2002: 235 269), as well as Bömer (1992) or Hofmann (1985).

Methodological considerations

11

structing a coherent model of the world in its own image. It is a language, that is, a lexicon and style, but it is also a system of the imagination and a grammar of things”²⁶. So, literary genres cannot be reduced to formal features alone, but rather consist of an entire thematics, a generically constituted vision of reality²⁷. Moreover, a definite impulse to share this crucial reorientation of the debate on genre derives from the change brought about by recent critics, who have replaced the traditional “ontological” paradigm with a “functionalist” one. In the case of the Metamorphoses, this means that critics have abandoned the sterile quest for the generic essence of Ovid’s poem on transformations, and have focused instead on elucidating how the multiple generic patterns interact within the poem (Gildenhard and Zissos, 1999: 163)²⁸.

 On this double edged dimension of literary genre, see also Conte (1991: 145 170), as well as Tsai (2007: 37 38).  This formulation is taken from Gildenhard and Zissos (1999: 163), who summarise in this way some of the most recent developments in genre theory, where Conte’s (esp. 1994a; 1986 and 1991) contribution has been particularly relevant.  See also Jouteur (2001: 8 ff.), who also defends the necessity of abandoning an ontological approach to the question of genre and proposes instead a “symptomatic” one: “au lieu de réflé chir à partir d’a priori suivant une logique normative ou de déduire, suivant une logique classi ficatrice, une appartenance à un genre a posteriori, nous avons cherché à relever diverses pro prietés renvoyant à tel ou tel genre, des “ symptomes ” d’appartenance en quelque sorte”.

3 Power relations in elegy and “the elegiac” in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Under the aegis of this hermeneutical and methodological revival, I do not intend to enter into the thorny discussion on the generic definition of the Metamorphoses ²⁹, but to scrutinise how a new literary context assimilates the world of subjective elegy, and to observe the possible transformations undergone by elegiac forms once incorporated into a poem whose central theme is precisely change. Universal change, as told by Ovid in the prologue, is the true thematic axis around which the Metamorphoses is structured: so, the phrase mutatas formas does not allude merely to the metamorphoses of the different characters of the poem, but also to the concept of change in general terms. Change does not affect, then, only mythology, but also, among the many entities whose transformation is explicitly or implicitly described within the poem, literature. This idea equally affects genre, as claimed by Galinsky³⁰ who can be considered as one of the firmest advocates of the principle that metamorphosis projects itself into any level of description and analysis (and, therefore, into the “transformation of elegiac love” as well). But, as happens in all processes of transformation in Ovid’s poem, the form that undergoes change also retains a part of its prior essence (Theodorakopoulos, 1999: 149 ff.), such that the incorporation of elegiac elements into the Metamorphoses implies a transfer of the conceptual background of the genre too. As argued by Gildenhard and Zissos (1999: 170), “generic elements, even in the process of becoming part of a different literary system, may retain specific associations with their original generic background, thereby allowing the reader to trace and assess how components of different genres interact within a single text”. Thus, as mentioned above, the first step will be to examine the elegiac genre and to analyse the complex morphology of erotic relationships in subjective elegy in order to disentangle their conceptual principles. The second step of this study is to scrutinise the semantic transfer undergone by elegiac forms when they enter the cosmos of the Metamorphoses. This means that the first phase will be the quest for a semantic-unifying principle in elegy. The theme

 See, for instance, Galinsky (1975: VIII), Gildenhard and Zissos (1999: 163, n. 8), or Farrell (1992: 235), with additional bibliographical references. See also Salzman Mitchell (2005: 2 and n. 5).  Galinsky (1975: 13 ff.; cf. 62 ff. and 80 ff.). See Fernández Corte Cantó (2008: 81; and 35 37), as well as Harrison (2002: 89), who claims that change is the main guiding principle of the lit erary forms that Ovid incorporates within the Metamorphoses. DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 003

Power relations in elegy and “the elegiac” in Ovid’s Metamorphoses

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of this study itself requires that we devote the whole Section I exclusively to elegy and the variegated forms of power play that take place within it. It is only through this explanation that we will eventually be able to grasp the protean nature evidenced by elegiac forms in the Metamorphoses, given that elegiac forms are as changeable as all the rest of entities that Ovid integrates within his hexametric poem. Reading the Metamorphoses entails the risk of losing our orientation within the variety of elegiac themes and motifs that are scattered throughout the erotic episodes of Ovid’s carmen perpetuum. One can easily mistake elegy as a vain rhetorical cliché whose sole function is to act as a “literary backdrop” aimed at the enhancement of the epic character of the Metamorphoses. The elegiac genre within Ovid’s epic would, thus, be understood in terms of degeneration. In order to avoid this fallacious argument, it will be necessary to find a coherent dynamic principle in subjective elegy, which allows us firmly to confront the heterogeneity of the erotic episodes of the Metamorphoses which are endowed with “elegiac patterns of action”. Even if ―in view of the remarkable presence of elegiac elements― we should question the validity of generic criteria for assessing the Metamorphoses ³¹, we would still encounter the need to define, beyond the mere description of elegiac topoi, the literary keys of elegiac discourse. Therefore, the ultimate categorisation of the “elegiac” episodes of the Metamorphoses on the base of their common features must be preceded by the hermeneutical unravelling of elegiac discourse. At this point, the recourse to the most recent advances in the analysis of subjective amatory elegy is most useful: I will argue for a classification of the diverse patterns of erotic action in the Metamorphoses as integrated within a hermeneutical framework that considers elegy as a literary form whose distinctive mark is the reflection on hierarchy, control and power. This does not mean that power play is the only theme displayed in subjective elegy. Under the overarching theme of love and mourning there are, to be sure, other strands that are distinctive of the genre. Yet, as I will try to expound in Section I of this book, power is one of its hallmarks, particularly if we take into account the metaliterary implications of the genre.

 In line, thus, with Galinsky (1975), or Little (1970). See Hinds (1987: 99 103).

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3.1 Section I: analysis of elegiac discourse 3.1.1 Ideological context: the problem of power relations As noted by Fitzgerald (1999: 8), the profound concern of Roman society with hierarchy, and its fascination, so to speak, with the phenomenon of power became a key factor for the emergence of elegiac poetry in its predecessor, Catullus. Not only was maintaining the decorum that befits one’s social status a fundamental factor to Roman Weltanschauung, but so too did one of the idiosyncratic marks of Roman culture, its problematic complex of cultural secondariness to the Greeks³², express Rome’s anxious relation with the phenomenon of power in clear terms. Roman relations with Greek culture and the anxiety to assert mastery over the Greeks, the importance of social hierarchies and, lastly, the deeply rooted agonistic notion of power are key elements for understanding the development of elegy, as well as in evaluating the semantic implications of elegiac elements within the Metamorphoses. Yet, to comprehend the emergence of elegy and the split struggle that takes place within it, it is also necessary to bear in mind the specific ideological context of the last years of the Roman Republic, as argued by Miller (2004). The “life” of Latin elegy stretches specifically from the middle of the first century B.C.E. to the first years of the Common Era. This lifespan is directly associated with the ideological conditions within which the genre evolved: these circumstances had no antecedents, nor did they have continuity. According to Miller’s (2004: 2– 5) interpretation, the main features of this ideological context are the inner tensions of the subject, which he calls the “split subject” (p. 2): a subject which could allow himself to maintain a contradictory position, as is the case for Tibullus, who accepts a life of traditional martial virtue for his patron Messalla, but, at the same time, rejects it for himself.

 As Fitzgerald (1999: 140 168 and 17) illustrates with his reading of Catullus’ carmen 64, the poet’s “representational virtuosity” emerges and solves in this piece the problem of the position of the Roman reader in relation to a lost but longed for Golden Age, in the face of which he ac knowledges his cultural posterity. Although this poem, in recalling an already elapsed age and describing another work of art external to the poem, parades its own secondariness, it also turns that same position of weakness and deference into a position of power and mastery. The elab orate play between the gazes of the characters who are featured in the poem and the gaze to which they are subjected dramatises the latecomer’s power to re present what he has has missed. As Fitzgerald argues, the issue of secondary power is particularly relevant to Roman cul ture, which stands in a secondary but dominant position relative to its Greek models, from whose literature and art this poem’s stories and figures have been both (humbly) borrowed and (imperiously) appropriated.

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In order to justify the distinctive nature of Latin elegy, Miller asserts that, although Hellenistic literature and Roman comedy offer some thematic precedents, “lyric consciousness” is a phenomenon that began with Catullus, and not before. The creation of an “ego” as the site of contradiction and subjective aporia, of temporal complexity and personal depth, is unprecedented, precisely because the historical conditions that made the development of subjective consciousness possible had not existed before, nor did they remain alive beyond Ovid. Elegiac discourse is, thus, characterised by its contradictory and “schizoid” nature (Miller, 2004: 4)³³. The main interest of Miller’s work to the aims of this study comes from his particular vision of the elegiac genre as an agonistic discourse that dramatises fractures related to hierarchy and power. Although the author does not state it explicitly in these terms, the emergence of a split subject, the development of the “lyric subjectivity” upon which Latin elegy is constructed, and its subsequent discourse express a profound concern with hierarchy. This becomes particularly clear if we bear in mind that these disruptions in the structures of meaning are, actually, disruptions in the categories defining the subject as such. Latin elegy dramatises the poetic subject’s anxious concern with the assertion of his power position. This is the reason why the elegiac poet creates an agonistic discourse that performs his anxiety as an artist to prevail over and dominate his work. In line with this, Miller’s (2004: 30) arguments are highly interesting, as he observes that, no matter how elegy has been approached (whether in league with the Augustan political regime or against it; whether as political allegory or as apolitical and ludic discourse; whether exploitative of women or bent on sat-

 Through an imaginative deployment of concepts stemming from Lacanian psychoanalysis, Mill er analyses elegiac discourse as the result of the tensions between the elegiac “Ego” and his sur rounding context. Latin elegy is a symptom of the development within some individuals of the awareness that the Symbolic model (the “external” world of norms and codes) is contingent. More over, it is also a symptom of a split between the norms of the Symbolic and the Imaginary (i.e., the Ego’s individual projection upon the external world). According to Miller (2004: 23 26), elegy re flects a crisis in the categories of the Symbolic and the way the individual subject relates to them. Elegy’s distinguishing mark is its aporetic nature, and this particular nature is precisely the symptom of the historical change which gave birth to the genre. This psycho socio historical split emerges most intensely within the erotic world of elegy, because it is in this space where the con jugation of the “private fantasmata” of our Imaginary self construction and the publicly sanctioned domain of the Symbolic norms those recognising us as subjects take place with the greatest in tensity. This ground, then, is where conflict can most easily emerge. For a review of the main con ceptual axes of Miller’s work, see also Spentzou (2005: 278).

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General Introduction

irising Roman misogyny³⁴), almost all of these readings agree about one point: elegy is always opposed to something. So, I will specifically examine elegiac discourse on the basis of its definition as a metaliterary agon between the poet and his work. Aiming at an eventual explanation of the consequences of incorporating of elegy into the literary world of the Metamorphoses, the first step of this study will be the reading of elegy as a genre that dramatises the struggle for power and the anxiety of self-empowerment for a poet who represents his literary ego in a position of weakness and secondariness to a dominant and evasive beloved.

3.1.2 Elegy as fallax opus: the “elegiac estrangement”. 3.1.2.1 Critical landscape and methodological considerations On the basis of Fitzgerald’s (1999) and Miller’s (2004) psycho-socio-historical arguments, which allow us to understand the emergence of the elegiac genre and its agonistic discourse, a crucial premise of this study is that the genre requires a multidimensional reading³⁵. That is, there are deeper semantic levels than the literal one. Accordingly, biographic exegeses have been definitively replaced by approaches that take into account that the elegiac code is a fallax opus ³⁶, a treacherous poetic mode. Therefore, the first four chapters of this study are devoted to the exposition of the different ways in which the typically elegiac servitium amoris-relationship manifests itself as a “theatrical” elaboration ―a literary device that, from the hierarchical point of view, is diametrically opposed to the direction of the power vectors of the supra-fictional domain. In fact, the “elegiac estrangement” involves the inversion of the hierarchy of the fictional level, such that, since the poet is actually the lover, the puella is exposed as an entity

 See Culham (1990: 163).  This stance is currently nearly a communis opinio among critics, thanks to contributions like Allen (1950). See James (2003: 3 7 and 239 [n. 1]) for a review of how studies on elegy have grad ually tended to abandon concepts like sincerity and autobiography. All in all, the James argues that “the demon of the sincerity requirement has proven hard to cast out” (2003: 3). Moreover, as observed by Miller Platter (1999b: 446), the aporetic nature of elegy is systematic, and any at tempt to reduce the genre to a more easily resolvable set of interpretative problems necessarily involves a misreading of the polyvalent discourse out of which these texts are constructed. See also James (2003: 7 and 243, n. 24).  An expression that comes from Propertius 4,1,135. Although the meaning of fallax opus has been interpreted in different manners, Veyne’s (1983: 47 54) interpretation responds best to the need to read elegy as a semiotic code, where the reality effect created by the poet in the fictional layer ought not be confounded with the hors texte reality. See also McCarthy (1999).

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that is subject to the poet-lover’s discursive constraint. To achieve this objective, the poet uses several strategies that aim at the reader’s suspension of belief and that make possible a multiple reading. As a result, the text permits the distinction between the semantic layer of erotic fiction and the layer of metaliterary supra-fiction. Certainly, the devices employed by elegiac poets to guide the reader to discover the fictional nature of amatory discourse and its motifs are generally subtle, inexplicit, and allusive. But this is precisely the key that allows this “masquerade” to go on. In the end, we will see that, through its own means and literary strategies, elegy turns out to be a metapoetic “theatre”. By examining the episodes of Narcissus and Pygmalion in the Metamorphoses, Rosati (1983) neatly illustrates that Ovid’s hexametrical poem is a great theatre on whose stage the poet plays with the illusion between fiction and “reality”, deception and “truth”. In this study I intend to show that not only the Metamorphoses, but also elegy (which, contrarily to the Metamorphoses, is conceived as [pseudo‐]confessional poetry) becomes a scenic space where the poet leads the reader to question the boundaries between the concepts of “reality” and “fiction”. We proceed, thus, within the aesthetic framework of phantasia, especially applied to the subjective domain of elegy³⁷. As argued by Rosati (1983: 81), this aesthetic paradigm “sottrae l’artista al ruolo di fedele imitatore, di scrupuloso copista della realtà per riconoscergli una sua autonoma facoltà creatrice”. In the specific case of elegy, the elegiac poets use this anti-mimetic conception of poetry with self-reflexive aims, that is, as a means to reassert the hierarchy of their authorial position over the whole world of phantasia that they have created. The universe of mirages and false appearances of the Metamorphoses guides Rosati (1983: 171– 72) to conclude that, to Ovid: “la letteratura si rivela allora come un’apparenza ingannevole, come uno spettacolo della finzione: conformemente alla chiara coscienza della sua “letterarietà”, questa poesia real izza il suo gesto più autentico ed emblematico nell’esibizione narcisisticamente compiacu ta della propria natura fittizia e degli artifici, dei meccanismi del suo funzionamento”.

Elegy, too, narcissistically displays its own fictional nature, although the means employed to achieve such a “performance” are specific to the genre. At the same time, since the aim of the present study is to analyse the textual machinery that dominates the puella, its methodological premises partially share

 For further details about this aesthetic theory, which gradually crystallised in the Hellenistic period, (although its roots go back to the classical philosophy of the fourth century B.C.E.), see Rosati (1983: esp. 80 83).

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General Introduction

those of feminist criticism on elegy³⁸. Specifically, if we acknowledge the division established by Miller―Platter (1999a: 405) between the two opposed poles in interpretating how female characters are represented in elegiac discourse, this study tends to be more in line with the “negative view”, according to which the puella is seen as completely dominated by masculine cultural discourse³⁹. In any case, the assessment of an interpretative discourse based on a distinction between the “fictional” and the “supra-fictional” levels of a given corpus of poetic texts requires a certain methodological and hermeneutical caution. In this regard, Fitzgerald’s (1999: 41– 42) reflection on the consequences of adopting a poetics of “the surface vs. the depth” in Catullus is particularly illuminating, since it can be equally extended to the domain of the whole genre of Latin elegy. As claimed by Fitzgerald (1999: 41), this vision of the literary phenomenon says as much about modern scholarship as it does about the poem that is under its scope. The attempt to find a “deep sense” under the surface of a frivolous or light poem is a means of protecting us from the triviality of a superficial reading. In the case of the present approach to Latin elegy, the hermeneutical process cautions, as far as possible, against imbuing the text with an aesthetic dignity that sacrifices and rejects for the sake of “deepness” semantic and formal levels that were, to Latin authors, as important as our own sense of “depth”. Therefore, it is necessary to avoid the methodological fallacy that the “true value” of elegy lies encrypted in the depth of metaphor. Latin elegy, although profuse in symbols, cannot be assimilated to symbolist aesthetics, and was even less so understood as hermetic poetry. One of the distinctive marks of Latin poetry is precisely the inextricable union of form and content, hence the necessity of not privileging one dimension over the other when approaching the genre. Thus, even if the elegiac poet does not usually express his hierarchical mastery over the puella at the literal level, agonistic language is systematically present in elegiac literalness. Even though the mastery over the beloved is not accomplished in the erotic fiction, the desire to achieve it and to crush the hardness of the puella is, in fact, recurrently expressed in the literal level. The desire expressed in literalness is fulfilled in supra-literalness. Both levels complement and need each other: that is, there is no point in making the supra-fictional prevail and rejecting literalness as “mere surface”. Literal and supra-literal layers form an indivisible unity of meaning. Moreover, an ulterior discussion about “the elegiac” in Ovid’s Metamorpho-

 See supra for some nuances in our use of feminist criticism.  As opposed to the “positive view”, that detects elements of subversion unsettling received modes of thought. See Miller Platter (1999a: 405).

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ses cannot be reduced to a merely formal or stylistic issue, nor can it be carried out by discarding form for the sake of depth⁴⁰: it must be forcefully integrated within a semantic-functional framework⁴¹. Form and content are equally important. A number of relevant contributions in the field of literary criticism on love elegy have focused on the lover-poets’ mastery and control over his mistress. Although it is difficult to summarise all the approaches to elegy in the last years, there are several works that deserve special attention. Hallett’s (1973) work was a pioneering approach, since it gave birth to feminist readings of elegy. On the base of a literal reading of the genre, the author argues that the elegist’s submission to the will of his puella is a sign of social heterodoxy, introducing, thus, the vision of elegiac poetry as a proto-feminist and counter-cultural discourse. Veyne’s (1983) exegesis of elegy is radically opposed to this hermeneutical trend. His hyper-immanent reading of elegy became, in fact, as was predicted by Wyke (1989), one of the most influent modern studies on the elegiac genre. Veyne’s consideration of elegy as a self-conscious “literary game” that is entirely detached from extra-textual reality set a milestone in the critical landscape⁴², either as a hermeneutical guide or as a foil that galvanised alternative readings to his semiotic model. His interpretation of elegy as a “literary amusement” created by authors who were endowed with a deep poetic self-consciousness definitively revealed the whole amatory elegiac world as fictional. Thenceforth, on the basis of semiotic studies ―particularly Veyne’s (1983) ―, we have witnessed the appearance of new approaches to the elegiac genre, which have been conducted with special fondness by readings that can be ascribed ―though not exclusively― to the critical domain of gender studies. The enormous advance in the comprehension of the elegiac code that has been made

 Particularly if we bear in mind that the Metamorphoses’ main subject is mutatas formas, as Ovid states in the proem (1,1).  As argued by Gildenhard and Zissos (1999: 168), who claim that stylistic (formal) and themat ic factors forge a unity of meaning. Their work’s premises refer to tragic elements in the Meta morphoses, but are equally extensible to elegiac elements: the stylistic devices “help to render visible layers of meaning already inscribed into the material itself. Style and plot thereby start mutually to reinforce each other”.  Yet, as remarked by Gale (2004: 96), Allen’s (1950) work launched the tendency to consider the persona of the puella a literary construct. Thus, we have to recognise, as Fitzgerald (1999: 7) and Wyke (1989: 165) do, that, when Veyne (1983) composed his work, romantic interpretations and readings taking elegiac poems at face value were already quite far from philological consen sus.

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General Introduction

thanks to the impulse of these studies⁴³ is due to the fact that some modern gender-oriented approaches adequately justify that the elegiac puella is essentially a literary construct at the service of the expression of the poet’s artistic concerns. In this hermeneutical framework, Wyke’s⁴⁴ contribution is particularly relevant⁴⁵. Yet, in contrast to gender studies, my analysis of power dynamics in elegiac discourse does not aim at a scrutiny of the relations between male and female in Augustan and late-Republican Rome. Although we cannot isolate elegy from the sociological context in which it emerged, this study does not have a socio-historical orientation. Certainly, as I argued before, Miller’s (2004) and Fitzgerald’s (1999) exegetical models provide us with a psycho-socio-historical framework which permits us to understand the causes that gave rise to elegiac discourse and that explain its idiosyncratically agonistic character. Nevertheless, this contextualisation is not at odds with the fact that the prevailing guideline of my reading is an immanent literary analysis. Even if the causes that were responsible for the emergence of elegiac discourse are outside the text, it is not necessary to go beyond the textual limits, consequently this study will not take into account, at least in an explicit manner, the historical context. All the same, when we talk about a “political-historical context” it is necessary to dismiss the usual univocal association of the concept of “politics” with the formal political institutions and the political figures who directly took part in them. Instead, literature has to be conceived as “a dynamic category encoding social, economic, political, philosophical and a host of other practices and assumptions, all themselves overlapping and interpenetrating”⁴⁶. Therefore, even if the present work does not explicitly include references to actual historical institutions, figures or facts, or even if it does not specifically allude to the complex social relations in Augustan and late-Republican Rome, the consideration of power as the conceptual axis of elegy turns this study, unavoidably, into a political as well as a literary interpretation. The subject itself obliges us to adopt, thus, a methodological eclecticism. Greene’s (1998) and James’ (2003) studies ―two of the most remarkable critical approaches to the issue of power relations in elegy― sufficiently illustrate that the methodological orientation of the present study diverges in some crucial aspects from the socio-historically oriented feminist paradigm. Through an analysis of the

 Particularly remarkable are Wyke (1989 and 2002), Greene (1995, 1998, 1999a, 2000 and 2005), Cahoon (1985), James (2003), Fear (2000b), Culham (1990), Skinner (1989), Sharrock (1991a, 2000 and 2002) and, from a methodological viewpoint which partially diverges from gender studies, Bow ditch (2006) Kennedy (1993, 72 82), Keith (1994 and 1999) or McNamee (1993).  Essentially summarised in Wyke (2002).  As Sharrock (2000: 264) in particular underlines.  Kennedy (1992: 30), apud Myers (1999: 197).

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discursive mastery that the poet-lover exerts upon his puella, Greene claims that the elegiac texts reflect, ultimately, the socio-sexual reality of late-Republican and Augustan Rome. James, in turn, argues that elegy is the literary reflection of a real historical situation: the domination suffered by the elegiac puella is a direct consequence of her different economic status in relation to the male lover⁴⁷. Alternatively, beyond an analysis in terms of gender, it is possible to approach the amator / puella relationship from a metaliterary perspective. Thus, the key point is not that we are dealing with a male-female relationship, but with a relationship between the poet and a literary character created by him called puella. The poet-lover’s mastery over the puella is, thus, a matter of ontological ―not social ― status. Thereby, post-feminist hermeneutical paradigms turn out to be a fruitful interpretative guideline. As explained by Fear (2000a: 154)), the main objective of this new critical development in gender studies, which is influenced by post-structuralism, is no longer gender per se, but a more general reflection on the discursive use of power where gender represents one of a number of possible sites of negotiation and conflict (albeit one that is heavily foregrounded in elegy)⁴⁸. What matters, therefore, is not so much that the puella is a woman, but that she is the fulcrum employed by a self-conscious poet to reflect on ideology and power. Since the aim of this study is to offer a predominantly literary reading of elegy, semiotic-immanent methodology⁴⁹ will be the main guideline. Yet, in contrast to the “pure literary readings”, the adoption of a semiotic-immanent hermeneutical stance does not entail the negation of the historicity of elegy, or its reduction to an a-historical semiotic system⁵⁰. In accordance with Kennedy’s (1993)  See particularly James (2003: 90) on socio chrematistic issues as the main cause of the am ator’s pre eminence over the puella. Cf. Fantham (2006), for a more balanced view of the puella’s (particularly Cynthia’s) status as both a projection of a “real” woman and a product of Proper tius’ poetry.  On the other hand, for a defence of a female reading of Latin elegy, cf. Gamel (1989: esp. 183 186) and Gold (2004), who argues for an alternative feminist criticism, which is more activist and less abstract and, thus, specifically based on gender: “But I argue that post feminism and postmodernist practices have taken us too far into the discursive mode of analysis and representation of women and have thus depoliticized feminism and feminist studies”. This is precisely the type of criticism of poststructuralist discourse analyses which Fear (2000a: 154, n. 3) discusses: “The potential of a poststructuralist critical framework to de em phasize gender as a primary, or even a stable and coherent, category naturally has led to some antipathy between feminist and poststructuralist agendas”.  In line with Veyne’s (1983) study or, more recently, with Boyd’s (1997) or Bretzigheimer’s (2001). For additional bibliographical references, see Schmitzer (2002: 147).  I refer not only to History with capital letters, but also to the particular history of, for exam ple, Publius Ovidius Naso (two categories that would respectively correspond to the Symbolic

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General Introduction

defence of an eclectic socio-literary interpretative model⁵¹, the interpretation of any literary phenomenon is ineluctably linked to the personality (that is, to the historicity) of the interpreter. Kennedy’s (1993: 95 – 100) critical attitude seems, thus, most appropriate: elegy is not a historically determined entity, circumscribed in the past and awaiting the discovery of its determination. Instead, it is a discourse in which we remain involved from the moment we approach it as critical readers; it is a discourse constituted by all the forces that moulded the text plus the appropriations that constitute its reception, including our own⁵². Hence, we have to acknowledge both its determined and its contingent nature⁵³. As claimed by Fear (2000a: 152), what makes a literary form “classic” is: “the potential polyvalence of the meaning of the literary language that is inscribed in its history and its continuing capability to respond to, and illuminate, the questions and im peratives that have been, are, and will be brought to it by various historically and culturally motivated interpretative strategies. One might, therefore, consider the relationship between canonical texts and interpretative critics to be a symbiotic process whereby both literary product and reader/reading method are validated as the text is confirmed as a site of con tinuing relevance, and the strategy of approach is confirmed as adding something to our knowledge of the work.”.

The present reading does not exhaust the semantic possibilities of the text, nor does it mean to establish its “truth”. It is simply another episode in the continuous dialogue between past and present; a dialogue that, at best, is able to illuminate both temporal moments (the moment of the creation of the text and that of my approach to it) and the points in between (that is, the successive critical approaches that determine my own approach) (Fear, 2000a: 153).

3.1.2.2 Elegy: agonistic poetry Examining the elegiac corpus will permit us to discover the genre’s systematic concern with the description of the relationship between the lover-poet and

and the Imaginary, according to Miller (2004: 5 ff.). For a critique of the “immanent” methods of analysing literary phenomena, see Ruiz Pérez (1995 96: 563 569).  See above. See also Myers (1999: 196 197).  Kennedy (1993: 100). See also Myers (1999: 194 95).  Moreover, it is necessary to bear in mind Sharrock’s (2000: 264, n. 5) warnings against “hyper immanent” readings. As shown by Griffin (1985) and Habinek (1998: esp. 128 132) (apud Sharrock, 2000: 264), “purely literary readings” run the risk of misinterpreting the mean ing of elegy. See also Wyke (1989: 165), who alludes to Griffin’s (1985) scepticism towards “pure literary” interpretations for reducing elegy merely to a literary dialogue with tradition, following the hermeneutical line of Williams (1968).

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his beloved as a struggle, an agon. Section I of this book revolves around the consideration of “the agonistic” as the hallmark of love elegy ―a key notion that, moreover, will reveal itself as a thematic link between the elegiac genre and the Metamorphoses. “Agonistic poetry” means, for the purposes of the present study, “the poet’s struggle against the threat of dispossession”, as stated by Fitzgerald (1987: XI). Cautiously readapting Fitzgerald’s claim, we shall analyse Latin subjective elegy as a literary form that dramatises the poet’s struggle to impose his voice and to demonstrate his hierarchical pre-eminence over the secondary products deriving from his creative activity, which can be summarised under the concept of “literary work”. This “threat of dispossession” is channelled through the figure of the elegiac puella, who systematically challenges the poet-lover’s stability. This is the reason why, as some recent studies have argued, the puella is often identified as a metaphor for the poet’s literary work ―although, as we will see, this is not the only device used by elegiac poets to dramatise the conflict with the puella ⁵⁴. The clash between these two forces is ultimately resolved, at least at the supra-fictional level, by the poet’s artistic selfassertion. At the same time, this axiological understanding of elegy is inscribed within a neo-Bakhtinian theoretical framework: the poet is in the position of ‘‘power’’ with regard to his utterance and all its constituents⁵⁵, but, simultaneously, he suffers the internal pressure of the discursive forces that challenge the monologic nature of the poetic phenomenon. Criticism has targeted the canonical version of Michail Bakhtin’s judgments on poetry, since his view of poetry as a monologic discourse, as opposed to the dialogicity of novelistic discourse, has been understood as an unjust devaluation of poetic discourse⁵⁶. In fact, Bakhtin (1987: 285) claims that there is only one voice in poetry: the poet’s. All other poetic entities are mere projections of his single voice. Therefore, poetic discourse is defined by the absence of the natural dialogisation of the word, since poetry is sufficient unto itself and does not presume alien utterances beyond its own boundaries. Yet, those scholars who have reconsidered Bakhtinian orthodoxy⁵⁷

 I refer particularly to the concept of militia amoris, which is conspicuously present in Ovid’s elegy. This motif hints at the idea of erotic relationships as a struggle and alludes to the puella as a hostile entity with whom the amator contends in order to crush her erotic unwillingness. The recurrent metaphor of the beloved as a besieged city and the amator as the one who lays siege to her is integrated within this same conceptual framework. On militia amoris as an exposé of the violent nature of elegiac (particularly Ovidian) amor, see Cahoon (1988).  See Eskin (2000: 388).  See Eskin (2000: 379 380).  As Eskin (2000) does.

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General Introduction

and his presumed repudiation of poetry, have concluded that Bakhtin’s metalinguistic theory admits that poetry is not rigorously anti-dialogic: poetry can not only be polyphonic, like novelistic discourse; but poetry, furthermore, actually represents most conspicuously the existential conflicts between the forces that challenge the univocality of its discourse and those that lead to its homogenisation by imposing a unifying organisation over alien words⁵⁸. This vision of poetry is an appropriate prism for the consideration of Latin love elegy. In fact, even if the poet is the force that ultimately controls all the entities of his discourse, the threat of dispossession that the elegiac puella poses to the poet symbolises the centrifugal drives that define the dialogic discourse, according to Bakhtin. The agon of the discursive forces that comprise elegy is the manifestation of the genre’s dialogic nature, whereas the power position ultimately assumed by the poet reveals the hierarchical authoritativeness that, as Bakhtin himself admits⁵⁹, is inseparable from any literary production ―dialogic or monologic.

3.2 Section II: “the elegiac” in the Metamorphoses: meta-poetry and power relations The observation of elegy’s systematic concern with power dynamics within the relationship between the poet-lover and the puella creates a link to the Metamorphoses with far-reaching consequences. This link, moreover, demonstrates how a dialogic model of literary analysis can be particularly illuminating. The indentification of such a “dialogic” relation between two texts means that not only the understanding of the Metamorphoses is facilitated by elegy; elegy too is ―retrospectively― illuminated by the Metamorphoses. Thus, we evade one of the greatest temptations of literary critics and readers, according to Miller (2004: 6 – 7): the appraisal of the process of literary change in terms of teleological determination. This view misguides the critic into viewing history merely as a logical pattern precluding any possibility of historical change. In order to avoid the a-historicity inherent to this exegetical model⁶⁰, recourse to the concept of re-reading seems particularly appropriated. So, the traditional concept of literary influence

 Actually, Farrell (1992: 239 240), reads the Metamorphoses as a work that, by virtue of its generic polyphony, can be labeled as “novelistic” (in Bakhtinian terms). Elegy too, as we will see, can be considered a dialogic discourse.  See Eskin (2000: 387).  As argued by Miller (2004: 6 7), it is a historic because it studies the beginning of a form a literary form, e. g. from its final result, such that its end is contained within its beginning. Thus, the perfect realisation of such an end is reached through a teleological process.

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(a “forward” influence) is no longer the only way to explain literary change: it is not only the older text that throws light upon the most recent one. Complementarily, it is useful to repair to one of the most interesting developments in recent Latin studies⁶¹: a “backwards” view of literary history. This interpretative prism will be particularly fruitful for the objectives of the present work, since it will enable us to elucidate how the more recent text (the Metamorphoses) reinterprets, reconstructs and recreates its elegiac origins⁶². In Ovid’s case, Borges’ dictum that “each writer creates his precursors”⁶³ seems particularly appropriate. The analysis of the metaliterary practices whereby the elegiac poet projects his authorial hierarchy upon the amator-puella relationship provides a suitable basis to focus, through this new prism, on Ovid’s magnum opus. Examining the dialogue between the Metamorphoses and elegy becomes a necessity which stems from the link between the eroticism in both textual corpora, and which has not been sufficiently assessed ―or, at least, which requires a re-definition. In short, this link is based on the fact that the amatory world of both the Metamorphoses and elegy is primarily concerned with power relations. After the unmasking of the lover-poet // puella relationship as an asymmetrical power relation, we see the semantic possibilities in the literary dialogue between elegy and the Metamorphoses increase significantly. Even if we read the Metamorphoses without apriorisms and in isolation from its literary context, we can clearly observe Ovid’s deep concern with the phenomenon of sexual violence. In fact, mainly in the first six books ―though recurrently all along the work― a high number of episodes following the “Apollo and Daphne” pattern⁶⁴ are invested with (thematically and stylistically) elegiac traits and explicitly give rise to the reflection on love as a hierarchical reality: the power difference be-

 As demonstrated by Barchiesi (1999b). Cf. idem (1993). We can trace Burrow’s (1999: 273) re flections back to a similar hermeneutical position: “literary history goes forwards as well as backwards”. Along these same lines, we would be remiss not to mention Conte (2014: 75) as well, who sensibly recalls that: “le opere letterarie non sono mai semplici memorie, esse rescri vono i loro ricordi, paradossalmente potremmo dire (…) che “influenzano” i loro predecessori, in quanto li modificano e ne rideterminano la rilevanza entro il corpus della tradizione”.  Obviously, this does not mean that we intend to displace the importance of the work’s dia logue with other literary forms that are decisive for its literary configuration, like epic especial ly the Aeneid or tragedy.  As he articulates it in the short essay “Kafka y sus precursores”, in Otras inquisiciones, Bue nos Aires, Emecé, 1960, p. 140.  Philological consensus has adopted this name nearly as a communis opinio. Some of the most representative studies are Armstrong (2005: 140), Otis (1966: 78 9 and 103), Nicoll (1980: 177), Curran (1978: 214 and 231), Nagle (1988a: 32) or Fabre (1985: 93 113), where the au thors talk unanimously about such an episodic pattern.

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General Introduction

tween lover and beloved makes sexual violence possible. In juxtaposition to this predominant erotic model, we find other episodes where, in an equally explicit manner, hierarchy is absent from the amatory relationship. These mutual love stories, where fides binds the lovers together, are endowed with unmistakable elegiac features as well. This juxtaposition ―which in some cases is quite abrupt⁶⁵― can be interpreted as a sign of Ovid’s intention to compel the reader to compare both models. I will argue that the poet’s ultimate intention is to underline the importance of the concept of authority and mastery in the amatory domain, since he impels the reader to ascertain that the characteristic sign of these two models is precisely their radically different approach to the notion of power. Therefore, either through its hyperbolic presence or its explicit absence, Ovid demonstrates that power is a key concept in his literary Weltanschauung. Critics unanimously recognise the literary liaison between the “Daphnetype” episodes and love elegy⁶⁶, but there are still many open doors and questions that have not yet been raised, regarding the troubling concentration of scattered elegiac traits in certain passages and characters of the Metamorphoses. In some cases, the problem has been solved uncritically through the simple identification of an “elegiac veneer” in the aforementioned episodic pattern. Yet, we have to consider why Ovid resorted to the elegiac code in passages whose mere erotic content does not fully account for the allusion to elegiac motifs. Certainly, elegy had become the erotic genre par excellence, and it may have been something close to a literary cliché. This explains, at least in part, the presence of elegiac elements in Ovid’s hexametric poem, in so far as elegiac motifs belong to a repertoire of “erotic” lexical and stylistic devices. Another explanation is surely to be found in Ovid’s fondness of love as subject matter (given his prior experience as a love poet)⁶⁷. Nor should the desire for variatio in contrast to Vergil’s epic model be neglected as a factor. However, we still need an all-encom-

 As we can see, for instance, in the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe. The episode is located at the beginning of the fourth book and is preceded chiefly by divine love episodes, such that the con trast to the predominant erotic pattern of the first three books (“vertical love” tales following the story of Apollo and Daphne) is strengthened.  See Keith (2002: 247 ff.) and Armstrong (2005: 140 46), on the numerous elements shared by the elegiac amator and the gods in love. For an overview of the major bibliography for the most important characters endowed with elegiac traits, see my discussion below in Section II, Chap ter 2.  For a synthesising exposition of erotic language (predominantly elegiac) in the Metamorpho ses, see Iglesias Álvarez (1992). Among the numerous works devoted to examining linguistic and stylistic echoes of elegy in the Metamorphoses, Knox (1986), Frécaut (1976), or Henneböhl (2005) are particularly remarkable.

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passing exegetical framework capable of synthesising the diverse unifying features of the “elegiac episodes” (instead of examining them as discrete unities) and able to compare them, at the same time, to the thematic guiding principles that undergird the amatory relations of subjective elegy. In line with the study of elegiac traits in some scattered episodes of the Metamorphoses, the analysis of power relations in Ovid’s hexametric poem has undergone a considerable development, as we can infer from some important works that have been published in recent years. Salzman-Mitchell (2005), for instance, has undertaken such a task. Her main focus is the study of gaze as a power vector and as a factor that enables sexual distinctions within the Metamorphoses. The author’s methodological basis is provided by feminist film studies and gaze theory, from an eclectic feminist perspective⁶⁸ and through a moderate adoption of reader-response criticism (Salzman-Mitchell, 2005: 13 – 21). Salzman-Mitchell′s exploration offers many stimulating suggestions and refreshing perspectives⁶⁹. The author poses some interesting questions about the complexity of the Metamorphoses, arguing that it dramatises the imbalance of power dynamics through the different perspectives of male and female characters. Yet, beyond a gender-oriented perspective, the theme of power relations within the Metamorphoses can also be approached from a strictly literary perspective by considering “power”, “elegy” and “love” a semantic constellation and by contemplating the metaliterary consequences of such an association. As I will argue, the identification of the elegiac precedents for a high number of sexually violent episodes contributes decisively to the configuration of their agonistic morphology and to their explicit concern with hierarchy. Among those critics who have focused on the links between eroticism and power in Ovid’s poem on transformations, a number of works stand out⁷⁰. In fact, one of the most striking features of Ovid’s Metamorphoses is the profuse presence of stories that incorporate the motif of rape. According to Richlin’s (1992: 158) or Curran’s (1978: 214) count, there are more than fifty episodes where Ovid (or one of his narrative surrogates) tells a tale of rape. These stories  Since Salzman Mitchell positions herself halfway between a “releasing” and a “resisting” reading. See pp. 19 21.  As argued by Lovatt (2006).  See, for instance, Rosati (2012), Labate (2005), Richlin (1992), Curran (1978), Segal (1992, 1994 and 1998), Stirrup (1977), Marder (1992) and also, to a certain extent, Fabre (1985), Parry (1964), Galinsky (1975: 110 157), Kahn (2004) or Anderson (1995). See also Theodorakopoulos (1999), whose work does not focus specifically on the relation between eroticism and power in the Met amorphoses, but hinges on the observation that a Leitmotiv in Ovid’s hexametric poem is the reflection on the vulnerability of the human body and on the violation of its integrity, with all the poetological implications entailed by this fact.

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General Introduction

are sometimes extremely concise, sometimes quite long, but, in any case, rape is recurrent enough to raise the critics’ questions, particularly if we bear in mind that rape is, comparatively, the most common form of “love” within the diverse amatory episodes. Critics who have examined sexual violence in the Metamorphoses see either an empathetic/sympathetic attitude in Ovid towards the victims (as in the case of Curran, 1978), or denounce the author’s delight in portraying love-violence (Richlin, 1992). In any case, these studies are useful for understanding the workings of the power machinery in the erotic domain, particularly in the most common love-pattern in the Metamorphoses: that in which the lovers (mainly male and divine characters) exploit their higher power to satisfy their sexual desires. It is necessary to integrate the analysis of sexual violence within a broader hermeneutical framework that considers its link with strictly literary questions, particularly those concerning the elegiac precedents for the Metamorphoses. Although Ovid’s incorporation of the rape-motif as a quasi-Leitmotiv (especially in the first six books) is particularly innovative, it is not a theme that emerged e nihilo ⁷¹. There are literary precursors that provide a cogent explanation of the association of “love” and “power” in the Metamorphoses. My aim is to cover this hermeneutical lapse through the argument that subjective elegy provides a thematic antecedent for this semantic association. To be sure, this does not mean that the complex phenomenon of sexual violence in the poem can be easily explained away through the reference to elegy as a “catch-all” nostrum. Certainly, the protean nature of the poem itself prevents any simplification and complicates categorical solutions. Besides, it is true that the elegiac tone of the love episodes (be it in mutual or in asymmetrical love stories) is not homogeneous: in some cases it is clear that Ovid intends to recall the elegiac genre (and its conceptual background), whereas in others the elegiac tenor is merely evoked by elliptical allusions. Without doubt, to see an act of deliberate imitation in these different instances is difficult in some cases and we should, therefore, not force the text into a Procrustean bed of allusiveness. As reminded by Conte (2014: 63 – 106), any supposed allusion has to undergo an empirical assessment. Thus, the degree to which a passage endowed with elegiac elements conjures up metaliterary reflections on the agonistic nature of elegy varies. Conte (2014: 105) prudently reminds us that one of the most common mistakes in criticism is to imagine that a give imitation entails the assumption of the whole semantic weight of the prototype, in any of its single parts and in its entire textual

 See Rosati (2012: 198 ff.) for a concise exposition of some important antecedents in the rep resentation of divine loves in literature and figurative art.

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development. Consequently, as an essential methodological premise, Conte emphasises that “l’allusione vuole che il furto sia segnalato, che lasci tracce riconoscibili”. Thus, textual triggers or specifically marked contextual elements will help us to recognise a given cluster of metaliterary allusions of this kind. In other words: signs, as Conte (2014: 105) argues, are needed. Yet, in the end, the relevance and meaning of a given allusion is a matter of interpretation ―and this is precisely the crux of our task. Indeed, not all stories integrated within the “Daphne-pattern” explicitly feature elegiac elements. In some cases the erotic element is subordinated to other narrative goals; the love content is reduced to a brachylogical version, such that, beyond standardised echoes, there is not any noteworthy stylistic or thematic element that activates the episode’s status as an allusion to elegiac power play. In these cases, one could find, at best, a “metonymical” relation to elegy, in so far as the erotic content of these episodes is thematically constructed upon the archetypal love-narratives of the first book, primarily the Apollo-and-Daphnestory. Still, whereas sexual violence has elegiac resonances that are not always explicit, elegiac elements are, conversely, almost exclusively concentrated in stories of erotic content, where power in all cases plays an axial role (be it by virtue of its hyperbolic presence or of its explicit absence as a thematic fulcrum). Thus, with warranted caution, it remains necessary to explain the imbrication of love, power and elegy within the Metamorphoses ―and this heuristic inquiry should not be at odds or contrary to the fact that Ovid resorted to a more or less fixed repertoire of standard “love motifs”. On the other hand, in spite of the deep interest garnered by the convergence of “love” and “power” in Ovid’s magnum opus, another question that still demands interpretation is that criticism has tended preponderantly to identify the “love and power” binomial automatically with the phenomenon of sexual violence, without considering that the overarching importance of power as a Leitmotiv in the amatory world of the Metamorphoses can also emerge through the explicit indication of its absence in certain episodes (as I have anticipated with the mutual love episodes). Labate (2005)⁷² is one of the few critics who makes a case for the necessity of acknowledging the wide-ranging phenomenology of love in Ovid’s narrative poem and who, at the same time, calls attention to the importance of power dynamics within the Metamorphoses. He sensibly argues that in many of the stories of divine love “lo squilibrio costituzionale tra i partner di questo rapporto svuota il contenuto propriamente erotico delle storie

 I would like to express my personal gratitude to Mario Labate for providing me with a copy of this article.

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(…) [L]a storia assai spesso scivola sul piano del potere e del rapporto di forza” (Labate, 2005: 33 – 34). This view of power as an essential factor in love relationships is defended by Rosati (2012) too. In fact, the author not only notes that an imbalance of power is the nuclear force that underlies the representation of desire in the Metamorphoses, but he also refers specifically to elegy as the most conspicuous literary genre that thematises love asymmetry⁷³. Moreover, Rosati (2012: 202) calls attention to the existence of “amori ‘simmetrici’” that focus on the theme of power from a different perspective ―in these cases, the author speaks of “qualcosa di esterno alla coppia che sbilancia il rapporto creando asimmetria, vale a dire mancanza, tensione, desiderio”. To sum up, in order to evaluate the meaning of what some critics have called “Ovidian pornography”⁷⁴ (that is, the rape stories), and in order to understand as well, in its full dimension, the importance of the omission of hierarchies in the stories of mutual love, it is necessary to bring into the semantic trail of love elegy all the episodes in which “eros, power and elegy” converge and interact in one way or another. It is only through an explicit and systematic comparison with power dynamics in the elegiac genre that we will be able to comprehend that, from a strictly literary perspective, the creation of elegiac mutual love relationships is as provocative as, from a modern ethical perspective, Ovid’s ―seeming― delectation when exhibiting sexual violence in “Daphne-type” episodes. Therefore, after having demonstrated in Section I of this work that power dynamics and the agon between the poet and his puella are axial issues in elegy, the objective of Section II will be the analysis and evaluation of the conceptual triad “elegy, love and power” in the Metamorphoses. To that end, I will examine, on the one hand, the most prominent episodes of the “Daphne model” ―specifically, the stories of Apollo and Daphne, Jupiter and Io, Jupiter and Callisto, Mercury and Herse, Tereus and Philomela, Byblis and Caunus and, lastly, Pygmalion. After that, our attention will be drawn to the episodes of Pyramus and Thisbe, Cephalus and Procris, Ceyx and Alcyone, and Pomona and Vertumnus. This second group of episodes is characterised by the explicit absence of power as the cause that brings about the union of the lovers. Considering that elegiac traits pervade the “vertical love” and the “horizontal love” patterns equally⁷⁵, the purpose of this study is to initiate a new way to reflect about po-

 See Rosati (2012: 202).  Richlin (1992: 158 160).  Throughout the present work the terms “vertical” and “horizontal” will be used to refer to love and power patterns that are characterised, respectively, by unrequited and mutual desire. “Asymmetrical” and “symmetrical” will be used as synonyms for these different kinds of love and power relations, following of Konstan’s (1994) terminology (who also uses the term “transi

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etology in the Metamorphoses Through the protean presence of elegiac traits in his magnum opus, Ovid creates a meta-discourse that ―retrospectively― talks about the production of elegiac texts and their metapoetic value. This meta-discourse allows the reader to identify traditional elegiac forms as vetera corpora, but, at the same time, leads him to recognise their mutation and to read them as nova corpora. By revealing that elegiac forms are metamorphic entities, Ovid radically undermines the stability of the very concept of genre. Critics have often referred to the Metamorphoses as a work whose main subject is change ―a principle that affects not only the physical corpora that undergo metamorphosis within the poem, but also immaterial entities, as is, in our case, the elegiac paradigm. As we will see, Ovid demonstrates that some traits persist when elegy changes from its initial form (the discourse of elegiac poetry) to the mutated form (“the elegiac” in the Metamorphoses). That is, the presence of elegy in the Metamorphoses entails a transfer of its conceptual horizon into the new poetic context. In turn, Ovid freely uses elegy’s agonistic content and moulds it in accordance with the aesthetic requirements of his work. However, metamorphosis is never a unilateral process, but a multi-vectorial one: not only does elegy determine the semantics of the text into which it is integrated. But, at the same time, a retroactive semanticisation takes place, such that the “vertical love” pattern (the “Daphne model”) clarifies what in elegy had been hidden in an allusive, non-literal layer. In fact, the process of integrating and transforming elegy within the Metamorphoses can be cogently illustrated through the concept of “clarification”, proposed by Solodow (1988: 174). To Solodow, metamorphosis is a process whereby characteristics of the entity that transforms are rendered visible and manifest; non-tangible or non-visible traits are given physical embodiment through the metamorphosis. An illuminating example is provided by Lycaon, whose metamorphosis into a wolf (1,233 – 239) lends an external form to a characteristic (his ferocity) that existed prior to the transformation⁷⁶. On the base of Solodow’s rationale of metamorphosis one can venture an explanation of the transformation of the elegiac paradigm, whose power dynamics are retrospectively “clarified” when it “undergoes a change” and is integrated within the literary universe of the Metamorphoses. Yet, since the metamorphosis of the elegiac paradigm is not homogeneous, the transfer of the elegiac discourse into Ovid’s magnum opus is accomplished through a double play of identity / diftive” (see esp. p. 9 and 12) to refer to an asymmetrical erotic pattern), which, in turn, is based on Foucault’s more socially oriented analysis of power paradigms in the History of Sexuality (see Konstan, 1994: 6 7).  See Solodow (1988: 175 176).

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ference. Identity is achieved by way of clarification: the “Daphne model” renders elegiac hierarchies visible, and identifies with the genre through a (hyperbolic) reproduction of the same power patterns as elegy ―namely, vertical power relations. Difference is achieved by way of antithesis: the mutual love pattern involves a radical mutation of elegy’s power relations. The ultimate aim of such an alteration is to make explicit ―by way of opposition― its asymmetry, but also to incite reflection about the perpetual instability and contingence of literary forms. Solodow (1988: 175 – 176) employs the example of Lycaon as a paradigm to illustrate that metamorphosis ought not to be interpreted in ethical terms⁷⁷ (punishment or reward), but in ontological terms, that is, as a materialisation of a previously existing essence. In Lycaon’s case, this implies, as is argued by Solodow (1988: 176), that his change is permanent: once transformed into a wolf, he will remain one through all time and he will never change again; Lycaon will always be recognisable for what he is: a wolf. However, Solodow’s idea of metamorphosis (as instantiated in Lycaon) is only partially compatible with the transformation of the elegiac forms in the Metamorphoses. At this point, Feldherr’s (2010) defence of the changeability of the principle of metamorphosis itself ⁷⁸, as well as Anderson’s (1989a) interpretation of Lycaon’s transformation as a pseudo-paradigm may give us a clue: the programmatic nature of this first human transformation is not necessarily to be taken at face value ―or, in other words, the rationale of metamorphosis that Lycaon embodies does not exhaust the typological spectrum of transformation-patterns within the poem. In fact, examining the evolution of elegiac forms within the work reveals, as we will see, that the process of metamorphosis does not stop after the clarification of their essence. This is to say that the “Daphne model”, which through hyperbole clarifies the power dynamics of the elegiac world, is not ―as I have anticipated― the only elegiac form in the poem. In juxtaposition to this model Ovid presents us with another elegiac form, an evolution of the aforementioned “Daphne model”, but opposite in its essence: the mutual love model. Thus, in regard to their applicability to elegiac forms, Solodow’s (1988) arguments about metamorphosis as fixation and clarification need to be counterbalanced. Certainly, the Metamorphoses is a narration about the origins of things

 In a similar vein, see also Anderson (1989a).  See esp. pp. 37 ff., where the Feldherr uses the example of Lycaon to illustrate the impossi bility of giving an all encompassing definition of metamorphosis in Ovid’s poem. As Feldherr contends, interpreting the process of transformation strongly depends on the perspective of the beholder.

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(origin of the wolf ⁷⁹, of the laurel tree⁸⁰, of myrrh⁸¹, of the Pan flute⁸² …), but not about the end of these nova corpora (1,1– 2). Thus, Solodow’s consideration of the principle of metamorphosis as a “memorialisation”, an “essentialising”⁸³, and, ultimately, a teleological phenomenon, demands reconsideration if we focus on metamorphoses that are less explicit than those undergone by characters in the work, such as, for instance, Lycaon⁸⁴. The changes undergone by elegiac forms in the Metamorphoses are not permanent; instead, like the changes described by Pythagoras in his discourse (time, physical elements, geographical features, or the alternate rise and decline of cities), they are ruled by the law omnia mutantur (15, 165), cuncta fluunt (15,178). Hence, Pythagoras’ discourse is not necessarily to be read as a red herring, as argued by Solodow (1988: 164)⁸⁵. With regard, at least, to elegiac forms, it manages to express that their mutability is not oriented towards an end, but is potentially open to new changes to come. This entails that the transformations undergone by elegy in the Metamorphoses are, in the case of the “Daphne model”, a “literalisation” of the metaphoric⁸⁶, as argued by Solodow, but without the teleological character inherent in Solodow’s reading. Thus, the mutual love model is a new phase in a metamorphic continuum that is open to the future and, therefore, irreversible. Finally, it is necessary to be aware of an unavoidable caveat: caution is required when carrying out any type of metapoetic analysis in Latin literature, especially, in Ovid. Runacres’ (2009: 1) words are, to that effect, particularly illuminating:

 Lycaon (1,209 243).  Daphne (1,452 567).  Myrrha (10,298 502).  Syrinx (1,689 721).  Solodow (1988: 176).  In fact, as Martindale (1990: 259) observes, the principle of clarification as a phenomenon inherent to any process of metamorphosis “clearly works better in some cases than in others”.  Solodow (1988: 162 168) claims that, as opposed to Ovidian metamorphoses (those that take place in the rest of the poem), the changes of form in Pythagoras’ discourse are mere reversible mutations that attest the never ending flux of change and movement that rules the universe. Ac cording to Solodow, the Ovidian metamorphoses (in contrast to the “Pythagorean” mutations) clarify, materialise and fix the cause of a fact that, after the metamorphosis, will be unchange able. Cf. Barchiesi (2001: 62 ff.), who points out some important nuances regarding the joint iden tification of Pythagoras’ metadiegetic voice with Ovid’s authorial voice. See also Feldherr (2010: esp. 149 159) on “the risks involved in treating Pythagoras as a mouthpiece for Ovid’s philos ophy of change”, as Davis (2010) puts it.  See Martindale (1990: 259).

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“With sufficient imagination and manipulation, practically any line of Latin poetry can be wilfully contorted to be given a metapoetic meaning. While there is no doubt that Latin poets engaged in the language of metapoetry, that is, using a stylized language to talk about the poetry they are writing while writing it, it is important to make a case for inter preting whole, extended passages as metapoetic. This is especially the case given that each individual episode in the Metamorphoses is in itself a perfectly enjoyable story, the pleasure from reading which should be in no way diminished by the distractions of seeking out ex amples of the poet’s cleverness simply to prove one’s own”.

Why should we insist upon a well-trodden path? It may be useful to recall Galinsky’s (1992: 197) warning about the hermeneutical risks of understanding Latin poetry as if it were only meta-poetry: “Have we become too obsessed by meta poetics? If poets were entirely or predominantly concerned with their own creativity, such narcissism would turn away readers. We as critics have done much to devalue the poets we recommend to our students by our insistence on reading them in terms of their poetical apparatus”.

Indeed, we should evade an obsessively meta-poetic hermeneutics that would absurdly turn the history of Latin literature into a history of meta-literature. As Conte conceives of it, literariness is, in fact, only one of the two axes of the literary phenomenon, historicity being the other⁸⁷. Nevertheless, and with the needed caution, it is possible to understand the Metamorphoses’ “elegiac question” from a poetological perspective. In the following pages I will try to demonstrate that such a reading, far from being the true interpretation, is, at least, a valid and coherent approach.

 As Charles Segal formulates it in his foreword to Conte (1994a: IX)

1 Introduction “Sí, que no todos los poetas que alaban damas debajo de un nombre que ellos a su albedrío les ponen, es verdad que las tienen. ¿Piensas tú que las Amarilis, las Filis, las Silvias, las Dianas, las Galateas, las Alidas y otras tales de que los libros, los romances, las tiendas de los barberos, los teatros de las comedias están llenos, fueron verdaderamente damas de carne y hueso, y de aquellos que las celebran y celebraron? No por cierto, sino que las más se las finge por dar sujeto a sus versos, y porque los tengan por enamorados y por hombres que tienen valor para serlo.” Cervantes, Don Quijote de la Mancha

Based on a selection of poems from the elegiac and Catullan corpus, the aim of this section is to analyse how in elegiac discourse the power dynamics of the relationship between the puella and the lover-poet are manifestly “vertical”. As we approach the world of servitium amoris and, in general, the whole erotic fiction of elegy, we perceive a fallax opus, a fallacious discourse, where the power vectors at the fictional level turn out to be in contrast to those at the supra-fictional level. Through the study of a number of elegiac poems, I will read Latin erotic elegy as a genre whose distinguishing mark is the reflection on power in the frame of a self-referential discourse. Scrutiny of elegiac poetry reveals how a variety of mechanisms produces the agonistic relationship between the amator and the elegiac puella. In the General Introduction to this work I have already pointed out that recent decades have born witness to the most noteworthy studies on the elegiac lover-poet’s strategies of control over the puella ¹. The development of these studies, centred on the exegesis of the mechanisms by which the puella is unveiled as a dominated entity within elegiac discourse, draws its starting point from

 Particularly noteworthy are the contributions of Wyke (2002), James (2003), Greene (1995, 1998, 1999a, 2000 and 2005), Cahoon (1985), Fear (2000b), Culham (1990), Skinner (1989) and Sharrock (1991a, 2000 and 2002). For a general overview of the main exegetical treatments of elegy, see Miller Platter (1999a) and Wyke (2002: 2 5). DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 004

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Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

Veyne’s (1983) semiotic reading of elegy². His interpretation of elegy as a literary fiction created and controlled by poets who were endowed with an extraordinaryly high degree of artistic self-consciousness facilitated the emergence of studies whose methodological basis was the consideration of elegy as a fallax opus. However, Veyne’s work does not specifically focus on the analysis of the poet’s modes of discursive control over the elegiac puella. His main aim is rather to demonstrate that the elegiac world is a world of fiction, a jeu d’esprit that is foreign to the biographical experience of the poet. Kennedy’s (1993) book is another essential work. In the frame of his reflections on the discursive control exerted by the lover on his beloved³, the author argues that the lover’s discourse is not only systematically concerned with the obliteration of those desires and impulses of the puella that may oppose his own; the lover also takes his own identity from his desire to control the beloved and to deny or restrict her autonomy. Other notable works take a more immanent perspective. In this sense, contributions like those of Keith (1994 and 1999), McNamee (1993), Fedeli (1981), or Fineberg (1993), are interesting too, since they focus on the metaphorical devices that associate the puella with poetological matters. The aforementioned works testify to the enormous advances achieved by the hermeneutics of elegy in recent years. Nevertheless, many open questions still remain, not only regarding the different modes of expressing the hierarchical pre-eminence of the amator over the puella, but also concerning the question: what purpose does the elegiac poet’s hierarchical self-assertion serve? Following the path marked by the critics who have approached the problematic amator// puella relationship, my aim is to scrutinise the distinct levels of expression employed by the poet-lover to instantiate his discursive control over the puella. This will lead us to discover that the agonistic relationship between the amator-poeta and the puella is integrated within the conceptual framework of metaliterary reflection. My approach will focus on strictly literary questions, in contrast to those approaches (often influenced by the genre’s pseudo-autobiographical character) that try to explain elegy through extra-textual arguments⁴. By leaving aside extra-textual considerations I duly intend to underscore the conceptual autonomy of elegiac texts. A comprehensible text-immanent reading of elegy capable of

 Yet, as Miller Platter (1999a) note, there are other important works that decisively contribut ed to the impulse of these studies. This is particularly the case for Hallett’s (1973), as well as Kennedy’s (1993) studies.  See particularly pp. 72 82.  In this regard, see Wyke (1989: 165) and Nisbet (1987).

Introduction

39

shedding light upon the polysemous nature of elegiac discourse is not only possible but also necessary. At the same time, I explicitly intend to avoid illuminating socio-historical phenomena beyond those related to meta-literary practices. Still, as has been mentioned before, this hermeneutical stance does not imply a view of literature as an a-historic, narrowly semiotic code. The exegesis of the different modes of expressing the agonistic relationship between the elegiac poet and the entities that stem from his poetic craftsmanship (entities that are synthesised in the figure of the puella) does not necessarily stem from an exclusively immanent reading. In ultimate terms, a meta-literary process is nothing more than a by-product of the broader historical context that prompts its manifestation. In the particular case of elegy, the psycho-socio-historical context that privileged the emergence of the genre ―as argued by Miller (2004) and, in part, by Fitzgerald (1999) ― cannot be ignored, since it accounts for the distinctive features of elegy’s sophisticatedly self-conscious discourse. In this section the analysis of the amator//puella relationship will be organised in three levels. In each of these expressive layers, the puella is demonstrated to be existentially dependent on the poet’s will: at times when the poet emphasises his authorial position, the puella is often in contrast represented as a passive recipient of his oeuvre. Other times we witness a role play where the puella is cast as the literary subject matter of a poet in love. And, lastly, we find other passages where the poet openly elevates himself to the rank of the artist-creator, while she is exposed as the product of his demiurgic ingenuity: his work. This tripartite analysis is based on Lieberg’s (1963: 269) characterisation of the Propertian puella according to three models describing to her relation to poetic production: the beloved functions simultaneously as Quelle, Gegenstand, and as Ziel, i. e., the Inspiration, the Subject Matter and the Addressee of elegiac poetry. Yet, Lieberg’s division is for my purposes more of a terminological than a conceptual model. The reason, as stated by Wyke (2002: 57), is that Lieberg’s hermeneutical premise sees elegy as a “poeticised” reflection of a clearly definable extra-textual reality, where Cynthia is the pseudonym of a “flesh-and-blood” woman called Hostia. As previously argued, my analysis of elegy is based on viewing it as a discourse, and strives to scrutinise the articulation of power within elegy through exclusively textual-immanent means. This means that a specific focus on a hors-texte reality will be left aside in this study. Although this decision does not reflect an epistemological stance (I do not claim that elegy is an abstract semiotic code), contextual aspects (historical, biographical, sociological, etc.) are beyond the scope of this book. Readapting, thus, Lieberg’s division for our objectives, Section I will focus on the meta-poetic consequences of the puella’s assumption of the role of either “reader”, “poetic subject matter” or “literary oeuvre”. In any of these three

40

Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

supra-fictional layers of meaning, the essential feature pertaining to the distribution of power is that the poet-lover hegemonically holds absolute control. Regardless of the intense debate on the origins of Latin elegy; regardless of its degree of dependence upon hypothetically subjective Greek antecedents, one observation is beyond speculation: the author’s identification with the persona of the lover decisively determines his relationship with the persona of the puella; the result is that lover and beloved are not on the same ontological level. At this point, it is important to bear in mind that elegy is composed of a complex system of signs. As observed by Miller―Platter (1999b: 446), “the aporetical nature of elegy (…) is systematic, and (…) any attempt to reduce the genre to a more easily resolvable set of interpretive problems necessarily involves a misreading of the polyvalent discourses out of which these texts are constructed.” On the one hand, the erotic world of elegy casts the lover as an entirely dominated character, who is at the mercy of his beloved’s wishes. But, on the other hand, the relationship of sexual control constituting the main plot of elegiac fiction falls seriously into question and is ultimately subverted by another far-reaching power structure: the identification of the poet with the amator reveals that his subjugation to the puella is a literary artifice. Aside from the vexata quaestio on subjective elegy’s origins⁵, what ultimately matters is that we are dealing with texts where a poet speaks in first person about his love relationship with a literary character; how does this fact affect the semiotics of the genre? Veyne’s (1983: 194) stimulating scepticism on the relevance of the question “qui a inventé de dire je sur un rythme élégiaque pour parler d’amour?” opens up a fresh perspective. His consideration of elegy as a system of signs that codify the “literary game” of a self-conscious author provides an adequate counterpoint to the narrow debate on the originality of subjective elegy, since it questions the validity of the categories “subjective” and “objective”. We require the same openness for the motif of servitium amoris. Critics have largely discussed the originality of this literary theme. Some claim that it is a

 See Cairns (2006), who offers an interesting panoramic view of the critical discussion on the originality of Latin elegy. Against the opinion, notably defended by Day (1938), that subjective love elegy is a genuinely Roman evolution (in contrast to the supposedly “objective” mode of Greek elegy), other scholars have argued for an autonomous sub genre of subjective elegy exist ing in the Hellenistic Period. Over time, the terms of the debate itself have been called into ques tion, along with the very categories of “objective” vs. “subjective”, as Boucher (1966: 99 ff.) and Cairns (2006) himself demonstrate. See also Miller (2002: 14), who argues against “simplistic dis tinctions between subjective and objective elegy”.

Introduction

41

genuinely Roman motif ⁶; whereas others point out that there are Hellenistic precedents⁷. In any case, what really matters is not whether Hellenism provided a model for the servitium amoris, or whether subjective elegy is a Roman invention or not. Even if we had irrefutable documentary evidence of such precedents, the particular development of Latin elegy consists in providing this literary motif with its characteristic meta-literary semantics. As we will see, Latin love elegy offers a sophisticated exploration of the paradoxical ambivalence of the poetlover, who is at the same time master and slave, depending on the perspective from which we approach the narrative. In this section we will examine this multi-layered discourse of Latin love elegy. Regarding the arrangement of the arguments in this section, the analysis of the relationship between the poet and the elegiac puella will be approached in a gradatio-like continuity where each level of meaning gradually moves further away from literalness. Departing from the servus//domina relationship (which I will refer to from now onwards as the “fictional level”), other “supra-fictional” levels of meaning where the elegiac puella is progressively “dehumanised” will be brought into focus. Following the above-mentioned threefold division representating the relationship between the poet-lover and the puella, Chapter 2 is devoted to the analysis of certain passages where this relationship is cast as an author-reader rapport. In Chapter 3, I treat passages where the poet speaks of his puella as his poetic subject matter. The bonds with a hypothetical hors-texte reality are not completely broken until we arrive at those passages where the erotic relationship is redefined in terms of an artist vs. oeuvre relationship. In this last stage of the gradation, which is examined in Chapter 4, the reader definitively discovers the pseudo-autobiographic elegiac world as a fiction, as a “prop” at the service of the poet’s artistic self-assertion. As a preliminary observation, it is necessary to point out that my reading of the elegiac genre will tend predominantly towards a synchronic approach. I do not intend to project a false image of unity upon Latin elegy, but, since my purpose is to offer a homogeneous interpretation of elegy, a synchronic analysis will be most enlightening. We will concentrate on similarities rather than on divergences between the different poets and even within the textual corpus of one author. Thus, for the sake of clarity, I will relegate the chronological evolution of the genre to the background. Yet, it will be necessary to underline the importance

 See Copley (1947); Lyne (1979), Maltby (2006: 156), as well as Dyson (2007: 267) and Cairns (2006: 88)  See especially Luck (1993: 22).

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Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

of the “lateral areas” in the progression of the genre⁸: so, Catullus’ poetry, though not strictly or exclusively elegiac, already incorporates some of the main instances of reflection on the association between eroticism, power relations and meta-poetic expression. And, at the other end of the diachronic chain, Ovid’s first-person elegy, though in line with the main themes set out by previous elegists, enjoys a privileged standpoint that allows him to look back to elegiac conventions and partially rework them⁹.

 See Conte (2014: 66 67) on the inherent imbrication of synchrony and diachrony in any anal ysis: “[i]n realtà non vi può essere studio sincronico senza analisi diacronica: mutamenti con tinui intervengono nel sistema di un’epoca. Anche la sincronia in pratica occorre concepirla in modo dinamico, abitata com’è dal germe della trasformazione”.  See Kennedy (1993: 67), McKeown (1987: 15), Conte (1994a: 44) and idem (1994b: 341 344), James (2003: 155 211) on Ovid’s reworking of elegiac conventions.

2 Insidias legi, magne poeta, tuas: the puella de-codes the text Awareness of the hierarchical inequality between author and reader is not an ideological innovation of Augustan elegy. It is already fully developed in Catullus, who is deeply concerned with exploring the control of speech as a decisive factor in the configuration of hierarchies. Catullus rarely casts his beloved in the role of the reader in the poems of the Lesbia cycle. Yet, although he makes comparatively limited use of the semantic possibilities in representing the puella as a passive recipient of his poetic speech, he insists repeatedly on representing his relationships with his readers as asymmetrically “erotic” in kind. Fitzgerald (1999) thoroughly reflects on some of the poetological implications of the asymmetry inherent in the author-reader relationship in the Catullan corpus. Based on Fitzgerald’s exploration of the “positional drama” which results from the aesthetic transaction between the creator and the addressee of Catullan poetry¹⁰, I shall compare Catullus’ and the Augustan elegists’ treatment of power relations between poet and reader. Fitzgerald claims that Catullus “eroticises” his reader’s relationship with his poetry in a relational structure where the ambiguous power relation between reader and poet is explored through its association with different erotic models. Poet and reader have a relationship where the latter is continually “provoked” or “sexually incited” to consume his poetry. Yet, the readers’ desires are never fulfilled, since they must renounce the appropriation of the aesthetic object that Catullus entrusts to them if they want to participate in the joy of consuming it. Thus, the poet, as the possessor of poetic discourse, situates himself in hierarchical pre-eminence over his readers. One of the most fruitful ways to render this “erotic” relationship between author and reader visible is, as argued by Fitzgerald¹¹, to assign different sexual roles to poet and reader: the former is the irrumator, whereas the latter is condemned to be a silent recipient of the poet’s words. The language of obscenity, which is deeply rooted in Roman speech, is especially relevant in Catullus. Fitzgerald’s (1999: 63) arguments merit a full quotation at this point: “[O]bscenity in Catullus is a distinctive kind of diction that establishes particular relations between poet and reader. (…) In the context of poetry it is particularly significant that

 See especially Fitzgerald’s (1999) chapter 2, as well as idem 1992.  1999, 67. Cf. idem, 1992, 433 435, for a similar reflection in Martial and in Catullus’ carmen 16. See also Fernández Corte (2006: 734). DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 005

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Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

Roman obscenity was predominantly concerned with the impure mouth. (…) This preoccu pation of Roman obscenity with the mouth makes it a particularly rich source of figuration for poetry and especially for a poetry such as Catullus’ that is so concerned with the rela tion and positions implied by the poetic act”.

Irrumatio, as a key element in Catullan poetic discourse, becomes, thus, a trope that refers to the poet’s power to assign his own meanings to those who, perforce, remain silent while he speaks. Fitzgerald (1999: 66 ff.) throws light upon this statement through his reading of some poems of the Catullan corpus. Poem 37, where Catullus’ priapic threat is read as a poetic aggression against the salax taberna and its contubernales, instantiates the alienation of the silent victims of the poet’s speech from their own gestures and intentions: “to put it graphically, the mouths that should express their owner’s meanings and appetites now serve the poet’s will and pleasure”¹². Poem 74 offers, according to Fitzgerald¹³, another interesting example demonstrating the poet’s discursive supremacy over the reader: Gellius audierat patruum obiurgare solere, si quis delicias diceret aut faceret. hoc ne ipsi accideret, patrui perdepsuit ipsam uxorem et patruum reddidit Harpocratem. quod voluit fecit: nam, quamvis irrumet ipsum nunc patruum, verbum non faciet patruus

(74,1 6)

Through what could be labelled the “Harpocrates-metaphor”, Catullus demonstrates that the control of speech is a crucial issue to establish power relations. This poem offers the most elaborate play with the concept of irrumatio: while Gellius deprives his uncle of speech by making a mute statue out of him¹⁴, he places him in the position of a passive object of his irrumatio. Irrumatio and imposing silence turn out to be the same action. Fitzgerald concludes that Gellius, the nephew, “is a poet in action, turning the uncle’s potential censoriousness into an advertisement of his cuckoldry and triumphing over him by playing with the literal and the figurative” (1999: 67). Bearing in mind Catullus’ previous protestation towards Furius and Aurelius “pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo”¹⁵, we  Fitzgerald (1999: 67).  See also Fernández Corte (2006: 137 138; 734; and 744).  The statue of Harpocrates (the Hellenised name of the Egyptian god Horus) represents the god with his finger on his lips, in allusion to the silence that the initiated in his mysteries had to keep. Harpocrates “may have been a proverbial figure for silence in the Roman world” [Fitzgerald (1999: 67 and note 35)]. See also Fernández Corte (2006: 732 734).  In carmen 16; see Fitzgerald (1999: 49 55 and 63 64).

The puella de-codes the text

45

now understand that Gellius’ irrumatio hints at the unequal power relation between the speech-endowed poet and those who are condemned to be silent recipients of alien speech. As shown by Fitzgerald (1999: 71– 72), Catullus endows irrumatio with a semantic polyvalence that allows him to present poetic speech as a sexual act implying the imposition of silence upon the addressee. In line with this, Catullus portrays in poem 80 the situation of Gellius, whose innocent lips become white in spite of themselves and declare, thus, what Gellius tries to keep silent: the irrumatio that the poet is simultaneously revealing and performing: Quid dicam, Gelli, quare rosea ista labella hiberna fiant candidiora niue, mane domo cum exis et cum te octaua quiete e molli longo suscitat hora die? nescio quid certe est: an uere fama susurrat grandia te medii tenta uorare uiri? sic certe est: clamant Victoris rupta miselli ilia, et emulso labra notata sero.

Catullus, the victorious poet appropriates the role of irrumator because he wields the pen. Thus, Fitzgerald (1999: 72) sums up: “Irrumatio in Catullus draws attention to a potentially aggressive aspect of poetry itself, which puts words into people’s mouths; it speaks for everybody and everything while all else is silent (or mouthing its words), and it makes its subject matter take on the meanings of a single voice. But even when the poet is himself the object of irrumatio ¹⁶, he may, so to speak, enter into the side of profit, for poetry allows him to speak from several positions at the same time”.

As a precursor of Augustan elegy¹⁷, Catullus’ deep interest in exploring the poetological complexities of the power relation between author and reader opened up a path that Augustan elegists assimilated and adapted to their own needs.

 As, for example, in poem 28; see Fitzgerald (1999: 68 70).  The elegists themselves considered Catullus an elegiac precursor, as Ovid, for instance, tes tifies in Amores 3,9; or Propertius in 2,25,4 and 2,34,87 88. On the importance of Catullus as a forerunner of elegy, see Alvar (1997: 193 196); Holzberg (2001: 11 15); Knox (2006a: 129 131); Gómez Pallarés (2003: 408 409); Fernández Corte (1997: 119); Luck (1993: 61 and 73); McKeown (1987: 13); Hollis (1977: XVI). Cf. the more nuanced position of Veyne (1983: 62 ff; 85; 95 and 103), James (2004), González Iglesias (2004: 42) and Benediktson (1989: 21). Miller (2004) devotes his whole second chapter to the question of Catullus’ connection to elegy; see particularly p. 31, n. 3 (and idem [2007: 401 ff.]) for a bibliographical overview of all those studies including Catullus in the domain of elegy whether as its prototype or as the first elegist.

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Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

Yet, in contrast to the figure of the reader in Catullus, whose interpretative space allows a reading of the Catullan text that is alternative to the poet’s purposes¹⁸, the interpretative autonomy of the elegiac docta puella is much more limited. In line with her representation as a dreamlike creature, the docta puella is an ideal reader, a learned girl whose capacity for literary exegesis is restricted to the assumption of the meanings that the poet wants to entrust to her¹⁹. Besides, the characterisation of the elegiac puella as a “character who reads” is far more central in Augustan elegy than in Catullan poetry²⁰. Thus, although Catullus’ poetry is crucial to understanding the development of the reflection on the relationship between author and reader as a hierarchically asymmetrical rapport²¹, Augustan elegists explicitly make use of their own erotic (pseudo‐)experience and their own first-person voices as “writers in love with their addressee”, to play with the semantic possibilities of the unequal author-reader relationship. Moreover, hand in hand with absorbing Catullus’ reflections on the “eroticism” of the author-reader relationship, Augustan elegists integrate this power-play into a more

 See Fitzgerald (1999: esp. 49 55). In spite of Newlands’ (1997: 470) criticism of Fitzgerald’s (1999) overly narrow concept of the “reader”, the hermeneutical liberty of the Catullan reader is, in any case, much broader than that of the elegiac puella as reader. Lesbia is only meta discur sively Catullus’ reader, i.e, she is an implicit reader. In contrast, the elegiac puella is explicitly the addressee of the lover poet’s discourse.  Even though, ultimately, Catullus’ reading characters also indirectly serve the poet’s hier archical self assertion, as Fitzgerald (1999: passim) argues. The difference for the elegiac docta puella lies in the degree of autonomy that the poet confers on her. The elegiac mistress is not endowed with the capacity for criticism that Catullus assigns, for instance, to Furius and Aurelius, who enjoy enough critical independence (in carmina 5 and 7) to offer an alterna tive interpretation to Catullus’.  Specifically, the docta puella motif crystallised in Augustan elegy, even though we find some antecedents in Catullus; see James (2003: 226 [appendix]), Fernández Corte (2006: 558) and Fe deli (2005: 338 and 374). Of course, Catullus calling his mistress Lesbia unmistakably associates her with literary reception; see Fernández Corte (1997: 118), Greene (1999b: 3 and n. 6) and James (2003: 21).  Although Catullus set a milestone for reflecting on the power relations between author and reader, awareness of this hierarchical imbalance was deeply rooted in Roman culture. The graf fito compiled in CIL 4. 2360 shows the influence of the imbalance even on popular culture: Amat qui scribet, pedicatur qui leget, Qui opscultat prurit, paticus est que praeterit. Ursi me comedant, et ego verpam qui lego This is the most developed example of a group of graffiti with similar content, like CIL 13. 10017; 4. 8617; 4. 4008; or 4. 8230. See Fitzgerald (1999: 255, n. 37) and Adams (1982: 133). As Fitzgerald (1999: 50; and 255 n. 38) notes, the figurative identification of the reader with the pathicus is a recurrent image, not only in literature but in popular culture too.

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The puella de-codes the text

complex semantic structure and create thus a kaleidoscopic multidimensionality, since the elegiac puella is explicitly depicted as domina and the poet as servus amoris. My aim is to disentangle this sophisticated mirror-play, which serves, ultimately, to establish the authority of the poet who demiurgically pulls the strings of elegiac fiction. Ovid’s and particularly Propertius’ poetry offer the most elaborate thematic abundance in this regard. Representing the amator and the puella as, respectively, creator and addressee is one of the main resources for hinting at the asymmetry inherent in their erotic-artistic relationship. The elegiac poets dramatise an erotic world in which they act not only as lovers but also as artists, whereas the puella is not only the beloved but also the passive recipient of the poet-lover’s artistic product. To that end, the elegists specifically construct their beloveds as doctae puellae, and thus create a motif that is considered one of the distinctive marks of Augustan elegy²². So, Propertius, for instance, describes his puella as a beloved who is able to listen to and understand his poetry: me iuvet in gremio doctae legisse puellae, // auribus et puris scripta probasse mea (2,13, 11– 12)²³. Ovid too, in his catalogue of women who sexually attract him (Amores 2,4), devotes special attention to the profile of an artistically sensible puella: sive es docta, places raras dotata per artes est, quae Callimachi prae nostris rustica dicat carmina cui placeo, protinus ipsa placet. est etiam, quae me vatem et mea carmina culpet culpantis cupiam sustinuisse femur

(17)

(19 22)

Yet, beyond a literal reading, the beloved’s doctrina is much more than a factual description of the intellectual traits of a “flesh-and-blood” girl. Casting the puella in the role of an erudite reader is the first sign that allows us to distinguish the poet’s will to unite eroticism and the metaliterary reflection on poetic creation as a power relation with the entities that secondarily stem from it ―in this case, with the figure of the reader. Some critics, like James (2003), combine this function of the docta puella with a view of elegy as a hortatory genre, that is, a discourse mainly concerned with persuading the puella to yield to the lover’s desires. James considers the beloved’s doctrina a “professional advantage”, and argues thus

 On the elegiac docta puella, see Schmitzer (2001: 38 and 80), Greene (1998: 47 and 49), James (2003: 36 41; and 258, n. 5) and Veyne (1983: 107 ff.).  See also, e. g., 1,7,11: me laudent doctae solum placuisse puellae.

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Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

for a sociological interpretation of elegy²⁴. Yet, against interpreting the function of the docta puella in terms of Nützlichkeitstopik (the theme of poetry’s sexual utility)²⁵, her characterisation as a docta puella and, hence, the creation of a character capable of appreciating the poem’s literary strategies can be seen as an allusion to the poet’s will to admit a supra-fictional level of reading. Moreover, as explained by Wyke (2002: 57– 59), the difficulty that derives from the characterisation of the puella as the addressee of the poet’s discourse is that the bonds with a hypothetical hors-texte reality remain unaltered, such that it is easy to fall for the erroneous inference that there is a “flesh-and-blood” woman behind the names of Corinna or Cynthia. As a result, strictly literal readings of elegy, like James’ (2003) or Hemelrijk’s (2004) risk confounding “reality effect” and “reality”²⁶. Bearing in mind the hermeneutical difficulties that stem from interpreting the motif of the docta puella in strictly literal terms, I claim that the designation of the beloved as an erudite recipient of the poet-lover’s discourse is integrated within a meta-textual semantics serving to establish the author’s hierarchical pre-eminence over the derivative products of his poetic craftsmanship. As argued by some critics²⁷, by characterising the puella as docta the elegiac poets create the figure of an ideal reader, a reader who is able to understand the poet’s discursive strategies and to go, thus, beyond a literal reading. This means that the beloved is thought to assume, supra-fictionally, that she is existentially subordinated to the amator-poeta. A close reading of some poems that incorporate the motif of the docta puella will support the view that the beloved’s role of reader hints at her hierarchically ancillary role relative to the poet-lover.

Propertius 2,13 Rarely do we, however, find an explicit expression of this asymmetry. Hence, in poem 2,13²⁸ Propertius expounds how Amor bade him to compose verses in order to gain Cynthia’s favours (lines 1– 8). The poet describes his beloved not only as addressee, but even as judge of his poetry:

 See James (2003: 27; 105 106 and 219).  This term, which articulates the view of elegiac discourse as an instrument for erotic seduc tion, was coined by Stroh (1971: 3; et passim). Cf. Madsen (2005: 82).  Cf. Sharrock’s (2003b) criticism on what she considers an excessively reductive position in James’ interpretation.  See Greene (1998: 47 and 49), as well as Veyne (1983: 107 ff.).  In this case, I do not follow Barber’s edition (1960). I agree, instead, with those critics who defend the unity of the poem, like, for instance, Wilkinson (1966). See Fedeli (2005: 361 365).

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me iuvet in gremio doctae legisse puellae, auribus et puris scripta probasse mea. haec ubi contigerint, populi confusa valeto fabula: nam domina iudice tutus ero

(11 14)

At first sight, the servitium amoris ²⁹ relationship seems intact. Writing for a haughty beloved could be interpreted merely as a matter of wooing. Nevertheless, the extensive thematic treatment in this same poem of the poet’s fame and immortality obliges us to reconsider to what extent Cynthia’s literary judgment (domina iudice: 14) awards her any power over Propertius. In the context of the whole poem, Cynthia’s artistic discernment turns out to be a sophisticated means of alluding to her subordination, especially to the extent that her configuration as a docta puella hints at the need to go beyond a simple reading and to reach instead for a sophisticated interpretation. In accordance with the Callimachean spirit that pervades the whole composition³⁰, populi confusa fabula valeto (13 – 14) refers to the type of “fictional” or “standard” reading (cf. fabula populi) that a learned reader ought to reject. Thus, the motif of the docta puella becomes a way to designate an ideal reader who is able, on the one hand, to understand that the main intention of the poem is Propertius’ poetic self-assertion and, on the other hand, to assume that her role as reader transforms her into an entity that is entirely subordinate to the poet. Propertius’ specific reflection on his poetry occupies 13 verses (from v. 3 to v. 16): Amor obliged him to compose elegy (vv. 3 – 4) and made out of him a love poet who does not care about the applause of the populace but who is content with the approval of an erudite reader. Both the disdain of vulgar literary taste and the issue of perennial fame through poetic practice clearly evoke Callimachean poetics: Non tot Achaemeniis armantur etrusca sagittis spicula quot nostro pectore fixit Amor. hic me tam gracilis vetuit contemnere Musas, iussit et Ascraeum sic habitare nemus, non ut Pieriae quercus mea verba sequantur, aut possim Ismaria ducere valle feras, sed magis ut nostro stupefiat Cynthia versu: tunc ego sim Inachio notior arte Lino. non ego sum formae tantum mirator honestae, nec si qua illustris femina iactat avos: me iuvet in gremio doctae legisse puellae,

 To which the poet alludes in the first part of the poem. See Fedeli (2005: 377).  See, e. g., Fedeli (2005: 362).

5

10

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Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

auribus et puris scripta probasse mea. haec ubi contigerint, populi confusa valeto fabula: nam domina iudice tutus ero. quae si forte bonas ad pacem verterit auris, possum inimicitias tunc ego ferre Iovis.

15

Unlike Orpheus³¹, who controls beasts and trees by guiding them (sequantur/ducere: 5 – 6) with his voice, Propertius intends to “astonish” or even “bewilder” his beloved (stupefiat, line 7). The priamel non ut… sed magis ut (5 – 7) contrasts the distinct type of influence that the song of each one of these artists —Orpheus and Propertius— exerts upon their respective audiences: in the first case, the mythical singer “drags” or “guides” (ducere) his audience like a shepherd does with his flock, whereas Propertius “paralyzes” his beloved. In both cases control affects movement, such that poetry is always in one way or another a coercive force. In so far as Cynthia is programmed to discern the author’s discursive strategies, she can perceive the latent power dynamics of Propertius’ “strength contest” with Linus and Orpheus. Over his audience the elegist has even more power than the two figures whose songs can invert the course of nature. Thus, with Cynthia as his astute addressee, he will surpass Linus’ fame (line 8) and reach a degree of power equal even to Jupiter’s (line 16). The next group of lines (17 to 38) confirms that the main theme of the composition is the metaliterary reflection on Propertius’ authorial pre-eminence over the secondary products of his creative activity. Propertius imagines his own death and expresses how he would like Cynthia to conduct his funeral: following the Callimachean overtones of the whole poem, he does not wish for boastful obsequies³²: nec mea tunc longa spatietur imagine pompa nec tuba sit fati vana querela mei; nec mihi tunc fulcro sternatur lectus eburno, nec sit in Attalico mors mea nixa toro. desit odoriferis ordo mihi lancibus,

20

Instead, his three books³³ are enough for him in his cortège: sat mea, sat magna est, si tres sint pompa libelli (line 25). Although his epitaph complies with the the-

 The reference to Pieriae quercus (5) is an implicit allusion to Orpheus, as observed by Butler Barber (1996: 212).  This affirmation is in line with Callimachean aesthetics, which loathes everything vulgar. See Fedeli (2005: 362).  On the controversy about the number of Propertius’ books, see Syndikus (2006: 273, n. 93).

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51

matic requirements of the servitium amoris-motif (QVI NVNC IACET HORRIDA PVLVIS, / VNIVS HIC QVONDAM SERVVS AMORIS ERAT: 35 – 36), the true central theme of the composition is the poet himself and his power as the creator of an indelible work. Propertius knows that he owes his survival to his labour as a poet. This idea is confirmed by two details: first, he imagines his tomb covered by a laurel tree ―Apollo’s tree, the patron of poetry (et sit in exiguo laurus super addita busto: 33). Secondly, he implicitly states that his fame, which he proudly claims will exceed Achilles’ (nec minus haec nostri notescet fama sepulcri, // quam fuerant Pthii busta cruenta viri: 37– 38), is the result of his poetic achievements. So, the question that Propertius poses at the end of the poem can now be answered in the light of the metaliterary overtones of the whole composition: frustra mutos revocabis, Cynthia, Manis // nam mea quid poterunt ossa minuta loqui? (lines 57– 58). Can Propertius’ scant bones say anything at all? Indeed, they do: his oeuvre will lend him a voice to defy the passage of time. Cynthia, as a “critic” of Propertius’ oeuvre, thus, remains relegated to a level of passivity and dependency that utterly diverges from her role as domina. Propertius’ poetic assertion obliges us to reconsider the validity of his erotic world and of a servitium amoris that diametrically contradicts the supra-fictional author vs. reader relationship. Scholars who consider elegy a hortatory genre³⁴ ascribe this kind of poem to a pattern of verbal seduction³⁵. Yet, if our exegesis of the elegiac code is exclusively constructed in terms of Nützlichkeitstopik, we not only risk becoming victims of the elegiac genre’s aforementioned “ontological fallacy” (i. e., the confusion between “reality effect” and “reality”), but we also ignore the essentially metaliterary function of the beloved’s characterisation as docta. In the case of 2,13, this difficulty does not stand out at first sight, since the puella’s sexual mastery over her lover and the fact that she is, at the same time, docta does not seem to create any conceptual conflict. The beloved’s subjugation to the poet can only be observed implicitly through a poetological reading that takes into account Propertius’ metaliterary power assertion. It is therefore necessary first to overcome a literal reading in order to perceive that, in fact, the servus amoris controls, supra-fictionally, his whole literary universe as well as all the entities that are subsumed within it: his oeuvre, his characters and the addressees of his text.

 Like Stroh (1971) or James (2003).  See James (2003: 23 24).

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Section I. Fiction and supra-fiction in Latin love elegy

Propertius 1,8 and 3,23 The dialectical relationship between the lover and the beloved and the need for a reading that constantly shifts between fictional and supra-fictional levels are both more explicit in other poems of the Propertian and Ovidian corpus, where, in contrast to 2,13, the asymmetry of the poet-reader relationship emerges even in a literal reading. In Propertius’ case, we can distinguish a gradation in how explicitly this asymmetry is expressed. Whereas in 2,13 Cynthia becomes “astonished” (stupefiat, line 7) from listening to Propertius’ poetry , in poem 1,8 she is literally “subdued” by his verses. The lover celebrates that he has persuaded his girl to stay with him: Hic erit! hic iurata manet! rumpantur iniqui! vicimus: assiduas non tulit illa preces (…) hanc ego non auro, non Indis flectere conchis, sed potui blandi carminis obsequio. sunt igitur Musae, neque amanti tardus Apollo, quis ego fretus amo: Cynthia rara meast! nunc mihi summa licet contingere sidera plantis: sive dies seu nox venerit, illa meast! nec mihi rivalis certos subducet amores: ista meam norit gloria canitiem.

(27 28) 40

45

It was not gold that persuaded Cynthia, but Propertius’ verses (line 39). The poet’s mastery is not only expressed through the successful use of his poetry as a wooing device. Furthermore, Propertius makes an authorial incursion into erotic fiction and with his artistic self-assertion demonstrates that Cynthia, as a product of his creative activity, is entirely subjugated to his discursive control. Although the poet is faithful to the usual register of his erotic world (his beloved is still described as a dura puella), it is he who hegemonically controls his poetic character “Cynthia”. Propertius calls attention to this discursive control in an explicit manner: in fact, the phraseology of the whole passage abounds in agonistic overtones that show the puella’s subjugation: the poet wins (vicimus: 28) against a beloved incapable of enduring his words (assiduas non tulit illa preces: 28) and whose resistance is, thus, overcome by the power of his poetry (hanc ego non auro, non Indis flectere conchis, // sed potui blandi carminis obsequio: 39 – 40). Even the allusion to the Muses and to Apollo is woven into the semantics of the power relation between the poeta-amator and his puella: inspired by a divinity, Propertius declares that Cynthia belongs to him (… Cynthia rara mea est: 41– 42). By the god’s leave, the poet elevates himself to the stars (nunc mihi summa licet con-

53

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tingere sidera plantis: 43) and thus creates an image with clear metapoetic overtones³⁶, one which is presumably echoed in two of Horace’s most outstanding metapoetic statements, i.e., Ode 2,20,1– 2: Non usitata nec tenui ferar // penna biformis per liquidum aethera // uates…; and 1,1,36: sublimi feriam sidera vertice³⁷. Another enlightening example that corroborates elegy’s concern with the asymmetric relationship between the poet and his puella-as reader is Propertius’ poem 3,23. The poet laments the loss of his writing tablets, which he had used as a vehicle for his verses and which had helped him to woo girls: Ergo tam doctae nobis periere tabellae, scripta quibus pariter tot periere bona! (…)

1

illae iam sine me norant placare puellas, et quaedam sine me verba diserta loqui (…)

5

semper et effectus promeruere bonos

10

Propertius declares that the tablets have the ability to “placate” (line 5) his addressees through his poetry. In other words, the tablets’ effect is to control the girls with words. To be sure, this form of control is even more explicit than what we have seen in poem 1,8, where the poet congratulated himself because he was able to “persuade” (flectere: 1,8,39) Cynthia through poetry. Now Propertius claims that he does not even need to woo the girls personally: the words inscribed in the tablets are powerful enough to be effective on their own (lines 5 – 6; 10). An intratextual comparison between this poem and other elegies corroborates the gradation in how Propertius expresses his power over his audience. The fact that the tablets alone can “move” their addressees is implicitly linked to Propertius’ “strength contest” with Orpheus in poem 2,13 (see supra). Now Propertius’ upper hand is even clearer: whereas Orpheus has to sing, Propertius reaches his intended scope through a surrogate of his voice: his tablets.

 These metapoetic overtones are duly anticipated by the immediately preceding poem, 1,7, where Propertius proudly rejects epic and asserts his elegiac choice. His poetic self assertion places him not only at the same level as the great talents of Roman poetry, but even above them: tum me non humilem mirabere saepe poetam tunc ego Romanis praeferar ingeniis. nec poterunt iuvenes nostro reticere sepulcro ’ardoris nostri magne poeta iaces.’ (1,7,21 24)  This possible parallel has been discussed by Gold (1985/86: 151 152). Regarding the complex issue of the chronology and possible mutual influences between Horace and Propertius, see McKeown (1987: 75 and n. 4), Nisbet Hubbard (1970: XXXV ff.), Nisbet Rudd (2004: XIX XX), Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 23), Flach (1967), Nisbet (1971), Miller (1983: 289) or Veyne (1983: 34, n. 9).

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Propertius 2,26 This increasingly explicit expression of the asymmetric relationship between the poet and his puella-as-reader culminates in poems 2,26 (lines 21– 28) and 2,34 of the Propertian corpus. I will first focus on elegy 2,26³⁸. This long composition, which I will treat with more detail in Section II, Chapter 3 below, features a passage that is of particular interest to my arguments. In lines 21 to 28 the poet expresses his happiness because Cynthia has finally reciprocated his love. Propertius returns to the topical opposition between wealth as a way to “buy” love, and poetry, which he has offered to his beloved³⁹. As in other poems where the pauper poeta competes against the dives amator, the aim here is to enhance the power of poetry, which, unlike material wealth, is able to grant immortality. Although in this poem we do not find explicit reflections on Propertius’ literary fame⁴⁰ (as we have seen in 1,8, where the figure of the dives amator occupies the first part of the composition), the expression of the amator’s hierarchical pre-eminence over his puella is particularly explicit. In a passage that, according to Maltby (2006: 158), is unique in Roman elegy, Propertius “uncovers” his power position: in an assuredly unusual utterance, the power vectors of the relationship domina-servus are inverted and Cynthia is described as Propertius’ slave (21– 22): Nunc admirentur quod tam mihi pulchra puella serviat et tota dicar in urbe potens! non, si Cambysae redeant et flumina Croesi, dicat ’ De nostro surge, poeta, toro.’ nam mea cum recitat, dicit se odisse beatos: carmina tam sancte nulla puella colit. multum in amore fides, multum constantia prodest: qui dare multa potest, multa et amare potest

(2,26,21 28)

Fedeli (2005: 747), too, underlines the exceptionality of describing the typically haughty beloved as a serving puella. Yet, neither Fedeli nor Maltby (2006) explore the poetological value of these verses. The puella not only venerates (colit: 27) Propertius’ poetry; furthermore, in opposition to the topos of the servitium amoris, she is overtly subjugated to the amator-poeta (serviat: 22).This fact

 In this case, I agree with those critics, like Wiggers (1980) and Macleod (1976), who argue for the unity of poem 2,26. For a general overview of the poem’s interpretative problems and the different divisions that have been proposed, see Fedeli (2005: 733 ff.).  The opposition between the pauper poeta and the dives amator is a recurrent theme in elegy. See, for instance, Propertius 1,8; 2,16; 2,21; or 2,24b; see also, e. g., Tibullus 1,5,47 ff; 2,3,49 ff.; and 2,4. See Moreno Soldevila (2011: 370) for further references.  This is possibly due to the fragmentary state of the poem. See Fedeli (2005: 734, 747 and 750).

The puella de-codes the text

55

makes Propertius potens (22), a term that explicitly underlines the poet’s supremacy over the puella. If we bear in mind the whole context of poem 2,26 (the power contest with his rival and the meta-literary allusion to the superiority of poetry as a warrant of immortality), as well as the complex set of prior thematic allusions to the hierarchical asymmetry pervading the Propertian corpus, the term potens surely means much more than merely “pieno successo in amore”⁴¹. Supra-fictionally, it describes the poet as Cynthia’s “lord and master”, in so far as he is the only active subject of a text that, put in the mouth of his puella, she can only recite (line 25). At this point, an intertextual excursus to Ovid’s Ars Amatoria 2,294 may be especially illuminating. In advising on the question “how to keep the domina’s love”, the praeceptor recommends that the lover make the girl believe she is the one who holds the power: At quod eris per te facturus, et utile credis, Id tua te facito semper amica roget.

(2, 287 288)

Utilitas tua sit, titulus donetur amicae: Perde nihil, partes illa potentis agat

(2, 293 294)

In this passage, Ovid makes a move that is characteristic of the Ars Amatoria, namely he exposes the theatricality of elegiac erotic discourse. The lover should allow the beloved to “play the role of the master” (line 294). This reveals that her position as domina/potens is a matter of mere appearance, a “jeu d’esprit” which intertextually echoes the poet-lover in elegiac discourse supra-fictionally mastering the whole narrative in which the puella “lives”. In fact, as Kennedy (1993: 65 ff.) claims, rhetoric is such an essential component of the Ars that love becomes a predominantly discursive phenomenon. It is revealed to be the product of an aesthetic will, contrary to previous elegiac conventions, where the poets usually respect the fiction of love as a psychological phenomenon⁴². Thus, a common feature of the Ars is reference to characteristically elegiac “role playing”: if necessary, the lover has to “pretend” to be in love⁴³, he has to act as though everything in the puella pleases him (2,295 ff.),

 As claimed by Fedeli (2005: 748)  In this regard, see Hollis (1977: XVIII).  Two enlightening examples are Ars 1,437 and 1,611 ff., where Ovid asserts that the erotic dis course of the lover imitates a lover’s discourse, alluding, thus, to its status as a literary construct.

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he has to adopt the role of a slave⁴⁴, wail in front of the beloved’s door… In sum, he should behave like a literary lover⁴⁵. Ultimately, all these references to the theatricality of elegiac love allude to the genre’s fallacy and its most conspicuous consequence from the point of view of metapoetics: the true master is not the fictional domina, but the supra-fictional author. The vantage point from which the Ars “looks back” at subjective elegy allows Ovid to facilitate the reader’s comprehension of the veiled control strategies used by the elegiac poet-lover in his relationship with his beloved. The gradual “objectification” of love initiated by Ovid in his Amores is now in full swing, since the author, cast in the Ars as an omniscient magister amoris advising other lovers, is no longer bound by the fictional constraints that the elegiac lover is obliged to maintain. In an indirect reflection on the idiosyncrasy of elegiac discourse Ovid uses this freedom to manipulate his own narrative: frequent authorial incursions into his erotodidactic treatise⁴⁶ or occasional allusions to his earlier Amores, in which he “remembers” himself as a lover⁴⁷, establish Ovid’s authorial mastery over his ideal readers⁴⁸, who read the treatise as Ovid wants them to do so⁴⁹. The aforementioned passage at Ars 2, 287 ff. offers us an illuminating example: the magister not only alludes to the fallacy of the domina-servus relationship through the observation “let her believe that she holds the power (whereas it is really the amator who does)”. He also to his authorial control over the reader alludes in indirect and more complex

 See Ars 2,286 ff., and Ars 2, 196 ff., where the magister reveals that the servitium amoris is a role that the lover has to play; accordingly, making the mistress feel that she is the domina is no more than a dramatic concession.  As González Iglesias (2004: 474, n. 172) notes.  Some examples of this procedure include his occasional metatextual allusions to his own ongoing oeuvre; his authorial management of the treatise’s course; his decisions where to stop it, where to redirect it, what exempla best fit his narrative, (see esp. 2,425, and 429 430; 2, 493; 2, 746; 2, 734 ff.; 3, 99 101; 3, 499; 3,659; 3,746; 3,808.)  See, e. g., Ars 2,551, which is, according to González Iglesias (2004: 476, n. 180), an intertex tual cross reference to Amores 2,5,50 ff. Particularly interesting are a few passages in the Ars where Ovid “remembers” erotic situations in which he himself participated. For instance, Ars 2,551, or 3,659 (where he intratextually evokes Ars 1, 739 754) as well as Ars 3,666 (where the lover intertextually recalls his experience narrated by himself in Amores 2,7 and 2,8). González Iglesias (2004: 37 38) rightly claims that the Amores and Ars are linked through Ovid’s claims that both are “autobiographic” oeuvres. The Amores is the model of an ideal autobiography whose ego enables Ovid to create a further erotodidactic treatise based upon this prior erotic ex perience.  Or “narrataires”, according to Veyne’s terminology. See Veyne (1983: 15 16, 54, 79, 160 161 and 290 291). For the two first books of the Ars, the ideal reader is the would be elegiac lover, whereas the third book is addressed to women.  See González Iglesias (2004: 454 455, n. 94).

57

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fashion with the expression facito and two lines later, in 290, fac. These two imperative forms instantiate the narrator’s mastery over his whole narrative, including his ideal reader, whom the narrator shapes and constructs so as to “obey” his authorial orders. Therefore, whereas Propertius makes an unusually explicit poetological statement by declaring himself potens in elegy 2,26, Ovid echoes Propertius’ metapoetic stance from an alternative perspective, namely, by claiming that the beloved’s identity as potens is a matter of mere appearance. A further cross-reference corroborating the metapoetic resonance of the expression potens is Horace’s Ode 3,30, where the poet also employs the term potens in an unmistakably metapoetic context. While Propertius condenses his metapoetic reflections mainly within the central section of the elegy (lines 21– 28), in Horace’s case the metapoetic tone pervades the whole composition: Exegi monumentum aere perennius

(1)

(…) Dicar (…) ex humili potens princeps Aeolium carmen ad Italos deduxisse modos.

(10 14)

Horace employs the term potens to refer to the literary sovereignty that posterity will grant him by virtue of his poetic achievements. On this term in Horace, Nisbet—Rudd (2004: 375) comment that “[potens] describes the poet’s power to influence people’s thinking”. If we take into account Propertius’ use of the term, we see that he, too, reflects on his power to exert his influence specifically on the addressee of his poetry: Cynthia. Irrespective of the controversy concerning Horace’s influence on Propertian poetry or vice versa, both poets use the term potens in a composition with recognisable metapoetic overtones. Moreover, the common use of the term dicar ⁵⁰ further evinces the intertextual cross-referentiality of these two poems⁵¹. Thus, leaving aside who influenced whom, the parallelism with Horace’s Ode 3,30 extends the scope of Propertius’ metapoetic thought. In any case, this cluster of resonances confirms the thematic confluence of these two poems around the reflection on the poet as a powerful creature. Horace  Compare Propertius 2,26, 22: tota dicar in urbe potens, with Horace 3,30,10 12: Dicar, qua uiolens obstrepit Aufidus et qua pauper aquae Daunus agrestium regnauit populorum, ex humili potens  An additional detail confirming the intertextual cross referentiality of these two poems is the fact that both Horace and Propertius use Rome’s spatial/temporal dimensions to quantify the universality of their poetic names. Cf. Propertius’ tota in urbe (22) and Horace (8 9): dum Cap itolium// scandet cum tacita uirgine pontifex.

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states proudly that his name will defy the passage of time, whereas Propertius, no less conceitedly, allows himself momentarily to take off the mask of the elegiac servus and declares that he holds the power in his literary world. Whereas Horace declares his literary monumentum to be more perennial than bronze (3,30,1), Propertius asserts that his literary voice is more potent than Croesus’ or Cambyses’ gold (2,26,22– 24) —a fact that grants him his mastery over his reader, synthesised in the figure of his obedient puella.

Propertius 2,34 With similar explicitness Propertius’ elegy 2,34 describes the asymmetrical relationship between the elegiac poet and his beloved-as-addressee. The focus of this poem is a reflection on the utility of elegy in matters of love⁵². Having succumbed to love, Propertius’ friend, Lynceus, attempted to woo Cynthia. After exhorting him to stay away from her, Propertius plays the role of magister amoris and counsels him how to succeed in love. Lynceus’ serious poetry will not be of any use since girls like soft cadences and do not care about philosophical, astronomical, tragic or epic themes: quid tua Socraticis tibi nunc sapientia libris proderit aut rerum dicere posse vias? aut quid Erechthei tibi prosunt carmina lecta? nil iuvat in magno vester amore senex. (…) ad mollis membra resolve choros

(27 30) (42)

Then, by his own example Propertius illustrates how verbal seduction through elegy is the most effective instrument to achieve erotic success. Beyond interpreting this kind of poem exclusively in terms of Nützlichkeitstopik, elegy 2,34 allows a supra-fictional reading too. Through this interpretative prism, the beloved (consistent with the other poems we have examined) is once again a trope created by the poet for reflecting metapoetically on artistic creation as an unequal struggle between the author and the addressee of his oeuvre. Thus, although the fictional code of Propertius’ erotic world labels the beloved as domina (a domina tantum te tolle mea: 14), this again turns out to be a masquerade. This time, without metaphors or sophisticated allusions, the poet plainly expresses his dominating position: namely, Propertius states that it is his ingenium (58) that enables his sovereignty over the addressees of his poetry:

 As Syndikus (2006: 315) notes, the subject of this poem is a modified version of a theme that has been previously treated in poems 1,7 and 1,9. See also Maltby (2006: 170).

The puella de-codes the text

aspice me, cui parva domi fortuna relicta est nullus et antiquo Marte triumphus avi, ut regnem mixtas inter conviva puellas hoc ego, quo tibi nunc elevor, ingenio!

59

(55 58)

On the one hand, the passage shows that poetry is far more effective than wealth at seducing girls (55 – 56). Moreover, Propertius not only claims that elegy in particular is more effective than serious poetry for this purpose (58). He also hints at how to read his poetry and to what extent the reader needs a supra-fictional hermeneutics. Propertius as a poet is called to the foreground; his success as a lover becomes all but a secondary reality. Propertius does not dominate his beloved erotically; the servitium amoris relationship in the fictional layer is removed from the question. Instead, what enables him to proclaim his sovereignty over his puella is the fact that he is the poet who creates the verses she passively consumes in the act of reading. Intending to show the puella’s existential dependence on his artistic will, Propertius uses a remarkably explicit expression to refer to his metapoetic dominance over the puella: regnem (57). In fact, the verb regnare or the noun regnum, from which it derives, are semantically charged terms, since they clearly evoke the whole range of connotations of the term rex, whose use in Propertius’ time⁵³, has the meaning of “exerting absolute power and dominating as a tyrant”. With this term Propertius alludes to the erotic tyranny idiosyncratic to elegy, the servitium amoris. Certainly, the cruel regnum that the puella exerts upon the wretched lover is one of the characteristic features of elegiac discourse, as we see, e. g., in Propertius 3,10,17– 18 (et pete, qua polles, ut sit tibi forma perennis, / inque meum semper stent tua regna caput) or inTibullus 1,9,79 – 80 (Tum flebis, cum me vinctum puer alter habebit / Et geret in regno regna superba tuo). Yet, the poet uses precisely this subtle allusion to make us aware of the reversal of the domina-servus hierarchy we are witnessing. Now the poet proclaims that he himself reigns over the puellae who passively consume his poetry. Thus, Propertius forces us to confront a poem in which once again meta-literary reflection on the author’s dominance emerges crucially.

 This use is clearly corroborated by some passage of Latin literature from the Republican pe riod, as the examples of Cicero Philippics 2,29; Pro Milone 45; or De Amicitia 41 evidence. Thus, Phil 2,29: iis, qui illum regnare gaudebant, refers to the figure of Caesar as a tyrant. In Mil. 45 Cicero makes a similar accusation against Clodius. In Lael. 41: Ti. Gracchus regnum occupare conatus est, vel regnavit is quidem paucos menses, Cicero refers to Tiberius Gracchus’ ambitions to exercise absolute and unipersonal power in Rome. For other similar instances, see the entries on regnum and regnare in Glare (1990: 1600 1601) [OLD].

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Propertius 1,1 However, this kind of explicit presentation is rather exceptional, since hierarchical self-assertion is usually expressed through metaphors, symbols or allusions. In this regard, elegiac poets —particularly Propertius— are fond of using myth as a symbolic vector for articulating the power dynamics that underlie elegiac fiction. Propertius’ opening elegy properly illustrates this point. Critics unanimously recognise the programmatic character of elegy 1,1, since it contains in nuce the main themes and motifs of Propertius’ erotic poetry⁵⁴. Love as a way of life and servitium amoris as an essential element of this love are the guidelines of this elegy. At the same time, as recent criticism has pointed out⁵⁵, the capitulation to love (incarnated in Cynthia), is not only a life choice but, furthermore, a literary choice. Cynthia prima suis miserum me cepit ocellis (1,1,1) is, beyond a fictional declaration of love, a programmatic anticipation of Propertius’ faithful dedication to a poetic form, elegy. From the first line onwards, Cynthia is not only Propertius’ beloved, but also the name that stands for his erotic poetry. Nonetheless, leaving aside this consideration —which I will treat with greater detail in Chapter 4 of Section 1—, Propertius’ proemial elegy is also programmatic because it subtly alludes to the metaliterary Leitmotiv of elegiac poetry, namely the supra-fictional reversal of servitium amoris. Specifically, Propertius uses the figure of Milanion to hint at the agonistic relationship between the elegiac poet-lover and his puella. This struggle is characterised by the poet’s systematic aim to assert his power over his elusive beloved. The programmatic starting point of 1,1 is the lover’s willing participation in erotic slavery. To illustrate this Propertius uses the exemplum of Milanion and Atalanta: Milanion nullos fugiendo, Tulle, labores saevitiam durae contudit Iasidos. nam modo Partheniis amens errabat in antris, rursus in hirsutas ibat et ille feras; ille etiam Hylaei percussus vulnere rami saucius Arcadiis rupibus ingemuit. ergo velocem potuit domuisse puellam: tantum in amore preces et benefacta valent.

10

15

Milanion, in love with Iasus’ daughter Atalanta, was ready to endure the pains of love (9) and all sorts of miseries (11– 14). Propertius is likewise prepared to suffer

 See Booth (2001), Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 150, n.1) or Manuwald (2006) with further bib liographical references.  See Manuwald (2006: 226 227 and n. 43), who summarises the most conspicuous contribu tions along these hermeneutical lines.

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similar maladies: fortiter et ferrum saevos patiemur et ignes (27). The mythological allusion seems merely to exemplify Propertius’ servitium amoris, without adding any further information. However, two details in the exemplum of Milanion deserve more detailed attention. In fact, some critics have recognised the implied parallelism between Milanion and Atalanta and, respectively, the speaker and his mistress⁵⁶. It has been even suggested that the exemplum hints at the erotic violence underlying elegiac discourse⁵⁷. However, criticism has not adequately emphasised the poetological value of this literary manoeuvre. First, as Greene (1998: 43) rightly observes, the choice of the verb contundere to illustrate how Milanion managed to placate his mistress’ cruelty is remarkable since it highlights the especially violent methods used by the lover to achieve his end: saevitiam durae contudit Iasidos (10). Contundere, which explicitly means “crush” or “smash”, shows with particular salience how the hero acted. The term is integrated into a semantic field portraying eroticism as an agonistic struggle in which the lover’s endeavour is to “tame” or “paralyse”⁵⁸ a hostile beloved. Moreover, the conceptual link to violence is further enhanced by the term percussus, used by Propertius a few lines later (13), which like contundere reproduces the semantics of “attack”. Just as Milanion suffered violence at the hands of the Centaur Hylaeus (13 – 14), so too did Atalanta finally succumbed to Milanion’s aggression. Indeed, Propertius states that the hero managed, literally, to “subdue” Atalanta: potuit domuisse puellam (15). Milanion, thus, becomes a mythological prototype who programmatically illustrates that the elegiac lover’s ultimate aim is to assert his dominant position by subjugating the puella. In the particular case of Propertius’ mythological alter ego, recourse to verbal persuasion (preces: 16)⁵⁹ as a means to tame Atalanta prefigures Cynthia’s role as a passive reader who is dominated by the elegiac poet’s authorial voice. Thus, through the parallel between the programmatic myth and his own erotic situation, Propertius hints at the need for a supra-fictional reading of his poetry on the one hand. On the other hand, he programmatically establishes a metaliterary guiding principle for his erotic collection, namely reflection on the  See, e. g., Miller (2004: 89), Kennedy (1993: 72) or Greene (1998: 43).  See Kennedy (1993: 48) and especially Greene (1998: 43).  In Horace, Epod. 2,7,16 contundere refers explicitly to the action of “paralysing”. See also Cic ero ad Att. 12,44, where the verb is associated to the notion of “taming” or “controlling”. As Glare (1990: 437) [OLD] notes, the figurative meaning of this verb is “to subdue utterly (nations, feel ings, etc.)”.  In this regard, the adoption of the reading fides, instead of preces (16), supported by some editors like Müller (1898), would partially alter the meaning of the couplet. Thus, I agree with those editors who maintain the reading preces, which overtly enhances the lover’s specifically discursive strategies of seduction.

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asymmetrical relationship between the elegiac lover qua poet and his beloved qua reader.

Ars Amatoria 1,455 – 458 and Heroides 20 and 21 Yet, Ovid is, once again, the elegist who plays most openly with elegiac conventions. In Ars Amatoria 1,455 – 458 he uses myth to reflect on elegiac hierarchies in an even more explicit manner than Propertius does in the exemplum of Milanion. In the frame of the magister’s instructions on how to succeed in love, he advises his pupils to write letters imitating the discourse of those who are in love, rather than to offer any presents to their beloveds: cera vadum temptet, rasis infusa tabellis: // cera tuae primum conscia mentis eat. // Blanditias ferat illa tuas imitataque amantem // verba (437– 440). On the one hand, in the notable expression imitataque amantem verba (439 – 440) we find the well-known allusion to the theatricality of elegiac love systematically incorporated by Ovid in his Ars. But, most interesting is the choice of exemplum to illustrate the effectiveness of letter writing. With the story of Acontius and Cydippe, Ovid not only gives an example of a successful lover-as-writer. He also hints at elegy’s recurrent metaliterary reflection on the unequal power relation between the poet-lover and his mistress-as-addressee: Ergo eat et blandis peraretur littera verbis, Exploretque animos, primaque temptet iter. Littera Cydippen pomo perlata fefellit, Insciaque est verbis capta puella suis.

(Ars Amatoria 1,455 458)

Acontius was in love with Cydippe, but she would not yield to his wooing. In response, he developed a strategy to overcome Cydippe’s erotic indifference: on an apple he wrote a solemn formula at whose reading the girl would bind herself by oath to marry Acontius. As Cydippe picked up the apple and innocently read aloud the message, Acontius’ plan succeeded. Ovid uses this myth not only to illustrate the effectiveness of trickery in love; the poet also accomplishes a metapoetic goal: Acontius’ trickery in the mythical world demonstrates that literary creation is a means to “deceive” (fefellit: 457) and “dominate” the reader (est… capta: 458). The content of the myth parallels the relationship between the elegiac poet-lover and his puella-as-reader. Acontius’ stratagem alludes to the mechanics of the authorial control which the elegiac amator exerts over his docta puella. It is not by chance that Ovid illustrates the usefulness of letter-writing with a mythological exemplum in which the male character is at the same time lover and “writer”, while his beloved is his reader. Furthermore, as a victim

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of the “verbal trap” of the lover-as-writer, Cydippe’s status as reader implies her subjugation to the lover’s will. Ovid unmistakably makes an intertextual allusion to one of elegy’s most conspicuous metaliterary landmarks, i. e., the asymmetry of the relationship amator-poeta // puella. This observation confirms Barchiesi’s (1999a) characterisation of the story of Acontius and Cydippe as “le mythe fondateur de l’élégie latine”⁶⁰. The appropriateness of Barchiesi’s (1999a) description is further corroborated if we examine Ovid’s treatment of the myth in the Heroides ⁶¹. Although the Heroides, like the Ars, cannot be labelled “subjective elegy” and, therefore, do not strictly belong to the textual corpus at the centre of this study, it is necessary to underscore that Ovid’s epistolary collection offers some enlightening considerations that are important to my aims. Scattered in the letters of the heroines, Ovid includes some reflections on the hierarchical dynamics of love in first-person elegy. Considered by some critics to be the “swan song” of Latin elegy⁶², the Heroides is significant not only because, as I will argue in Section II of this study, they prefigure the extensive treatment of mutual love expressed fully in the Metamorphoses. Moreover, Ovid incorporates into this oeuvre some interesting intertextual reflections on the agonistic nature of subjective elegy⁶³.

 See also Henkel (2009: esp. 51 53) and Raval (2001: 297). For the general link between the act of reading and loving (and their mutual identification in some passages of the Ars), see Shar rock (1994: 291), apud Lee Stecum (2000: 211, n. 53).  For the relationship between the Heroides and the rest of Ovid’s poetry, see Anderson (1973), Knox (2002), Harrison (2002) and Kennedy (2002). For the importance of elegy as a thematic base for the Heroides, see Barchiesi (2001: 31 34), who also underlines the crucial differences between these two narrative modes. The thorny terrain of the internal chronology of Ovid’s lit erary production obliges us to be extremely cautious when it comes to establishing a temporal succession, particularly in relation to the “double Heroides” and their chronological relationship to the Ars. On the chronology of the “double Heroides”, see Rosati (2001: 47).  See Barchiesi (2001: 124) and Hintermeier (1993: 197), who argues that: “In Bezug auf die Lie beselegie gehen allerdings die Normdurchbrechungen in sprachlicher und geistiger Hinsicht über den Spielraum hinaus, den jede Gattung zur variatio und Entwicklung lässt. Indem er ihre Ideologie in Frage stellt, führt Ovid die Liebeselegie an ihr geschichtliches Ende”. Cf. Baeza Angulo (2010) and (2008), who contends that the most immediate model of conjugal love in Ovid’s exile poetry is provided by the Heroides.  Included in this process of intertextual reflection on the conventions of subjective elegy are also the Ars Amatoria, as I have previously illustrated, and even the Remedia Amoris, where, as Rosati (2001: 46) claims, Ovid continued his re reading and unmasking of elegiac conventions.

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The “authors” of epistles 20 and 21⁶⁴ (the closing letters of the Heroides collection) are Acontius and Cydippe. With these letters the two characters express their respective viewpoints on Acontius’ feelings and on the consequences of his ruse. Ovid uses the content of the myth (Acontius’ “verbal trap” allowing him to subdue Cydippe) to reflect on the act of reading⁶⁵ and, ultimately, to allude to the power relations between the elegiac poet and his beloved-as-addressee. This conceptual allusion to the amator-puella relationship in subjective elegy is further enhanced by a number of thematic links. Among the many elements in Acontius’ letter (ep. 20) that clearly evoke the discourse of first-person elegy⁶⁶, I would in particular point to Acontius’ self-representation as a lover who is inspired by a woman and instructed by Amor: non ego natura nec sum callidus usu // sollertem tu me, crede puella, facis (20,25 – 26). As observed by Barchiesi (2001: 121 and 125), Ovid is clearly alluding to a well-known elegiac topos ⁶⁷. Other remarkable intertexts include the programmatic poem that opens the second book of Propertius’ elegies⁶⁸, and, as Kenney (1996: 186) argues, Amores 3,12,16 (ingenium movit sola Corinna meum). These echoes are important not only because they evoke the fictional world where the elegiac lover devotes his whole existence to love. They, moreover, enrich the poetological undertones of Acontius’ letter, since, as I will argue in Chapter 3 of this section, they recall a theme which the elegiac poets so often employ as a means of literary self-assertion, namely, the treatment of the puella as literary subject matter. It is furthermore noteworthy that Acontius fully assumes the role of the typically elegiac servus amoris. Acontius demonstrates himself to be a good reader

 Regarding the controversial question of the “authorial autonomy” of the heroines as writers of the Heroides, see Rosati (2001: 30 33), as well as Sharrock (2002: 99 101), Ebbeler (2006) and, from an alternative perspective, Fulkerson (2005).  According to Rosati (2001: 26), “il tema centrale delle due lettere è perciò proprio quello del leggere”. However, the critic does not further explore the metapoetic implications of this asser tion in specific relation to erotic elegy.  See Kenney (1996: 17, 191, 194 195, 201 202, 206, 216, and 239), Schmitzer (2001: 55 58) or Barchiesi (2001: 124 f.). Acontius and Cydippe are characterised, respectively, as servus amoris (20, 75 90 and 130) and dura puella (21, 5). The paraclausithyron motif and the typically elegiac love rival are present too (lines 189 206 and 149 [Barchiesi, 2001: 125]).  As we see, for instance, in Propertius 1,2,4 (ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit), or Tibullus 1,8,5 6 (ipsa Venus magico religatum bracchia nodo // perdocuit) and 1,6,30 (iussit Amor: contra quis ferat arma deos?).  Quaeritis, unde mihi totiens scribantur amores, unde meus veniat mollis in ora liber. non haec Calliope, non haec mihi cantat Apollo. ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit.(Propertius 2,1,1 4)

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of love elegy, since his declaration of servitium includes the most conspicuous features of the motif: ante tuos liceat flentem consistere vultus et liceat lacrimis addere verba suis utque solent famuli,

(75 77)

(…) iamdudum dominae more venire iube.

(80)

(…) omnia perpetiar

(83)

As Schmitzer (2001: 55 – 56) points out, how Acontius declares his servitium amoris is strikingly hyperbolic. Schmitzer argues that this is largley a rhetorical manoeuvre to placate Cydippe. Yet, this is not fully consistent with expectations for Acontius, if we bear in mind that his strategy with the apple has already granted him erotic success. Acontius does not need to recur to verbal persuasion because he already knows that he has subdued his beloved from the moment she read his message. Thus, Acontius’ rhetoric of persuasion could be deemed a superfluous “ornamental” device —had Ovid not intended it as a metaliterary reflection on the unequal power relations in subjective elegy. The presence in the Heroides of elements stemming from subjective elegy turns out to be far more than a mere clustering of clichés: it is an au rebours ⁶⁹ reading that also conveys supra-fictional layers of meaning. Acontius declares himself a slave at the mercy of his beloved; but, in contrast to this claim, he has utterly subdued Cydippe with his treacherous ploy. This paradox allows Ovid to reflect intertextually on the fallacious relationship between the amator and his docta puella in subjective elegy. Cydippe’s lament “insidias legi, magne poeta, tuas” (21,110) is a neat reflection on what it means to be an elegiac puella: being a reader of her beloved’s text transforms her into a passive creature who is at the mercy of the author’s discursive will. Through Cydippe, Ovid asserts that texts (carmine: 106 and 182; scriptis: 212; littera: 238) are actually “verbal traps” (insidias: 110; dolis: 122) binding those who read them in submission and that servitium amoris is, therefore, a fallacy⁷⁰. Literary creation is, thence, a ruse aimed at controlling the reader, as Cydippe laments: vir mihi

 Cf. Barchiesi (1999a).  Meaningfully, after assuming the role of servus amoris (75 90), Acontius describes himself as Cydippe’s “master” (150: dominum (20,150: res habet ista suum), revealing, thus, his true power position. Ovid, Am. 3,7,11 offers another rare instance of the puella calling the amator her dominus. See Cahoon (1988: 302 and passim), who integrates this example within the broad er framework of elegy’s systematic concern with domination.

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non isto more legendus eras ⁷¹ //. Decipe sic alias (21,144– 145). Likewise, lines 212– 214 (iaculo scriptis eminus icta tuis. // quid tamen huc venias? sane miserabile corpus, // ingenii videas magna tropaea tui!), reproduce the agonistic nature of subjective elegy: Acontius’ weapon is his writing, whereas the defeated puella is unveiled as the award for his talent (tropaeum ingenii). This allusion to the elegiac poet’s literary self-assertion and to his hierarchical pre-eminence over the figure of the reader is corroborated in lines 237– 238 (nisi si nova forte reperta est // quae capiat magnos littera lecta deos), where Cydippe reproaches Acontius for authoring such powerful writing that —as she fancies—he has perhaps harnessed even the gods with his spell. In any case, being a reader means Cydippe’s absolute surrender to Acontius: teque tenente deos numen sequor ipsa deorum, // doque libens victas in tua vota manus (Her. 21,239 – 240). Thus, it is not by chance that Ovid refers to Cydippe as docta (21,182): inque parum fausto carmine docta fui. If we take into account the whole context of the Acontius and Cydippe epistles, we can infer that the aim of this line is to make an explicit allusion to the paradigm of the elegiac docta puella and all the metaliterary significance with which the elegiac poets endow it. As Cydippe shows, only a docta puella can reward the poet’s talent (or, in other words, can become his tropaeum ingenii) by producing a reading that follows his intentions precisely. Her doctrina ultimately realises the poet’s authorial will.

Propertius 2,11 and 3,2 All the previously analysed passages confirm that the characterisation of the beloved/reader as docta reflects —beyond the literary fiction of a hortatory discourse⁷²— the poet’s determination to project ruminations about his own poetic creation into a concrete element of his erotic fabula. As Wyke (2002: 46 – 77) argues, the puella cannot be exclusively understood as the elegiac poet’s addressee in literal terms. As shown in the preceding examples, he puella is revealed as a fulcrum for the elegist’s artistic self-assertion. Assigning the status of a reader to the beloved is, thus, a mechanism that ultimately emphasises the hierarchic preeminence of the author over his addressee. Moreover, describing the beloved as docta is not so much a characterisation of the puella as a literary character, but of the discourse she belongs to. The sophisticated and multi-layered discourse of

 For the pun on legere in this line, see Barchiesi (2001: 120).  In this regard, see particularly James (2003: 27; 105 106 and 219).

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elegy needs a well-read character, a docta puella capable of de-coding the clever metaliterary slant of this discourse. Thus, when Propertius, as a result of Cynthia’s prolonged disdain, warns her in elegy 2,11 that he is ready to renounce to her and to stop celebrating her in his poetry, he unveils the instability of his puella’s doctrina. The “threat of dispossession”⁷³ that the elusive and dominant beloved poses to the elegiac poet is ultimately resolved by his authority, when Propertius declares that Cynthia’s “life” as a “well-read” poetic character is subject to his authorial will: Scribant de te alii vel sis ignota licebit: laudet, qui sterili semina ponit humo. omnia, crede mihi, tecum uno munera lecto auferet extremi funeris atra dies; et tua transibit contemnens ossa viator, nec dicet ’Cinis hic docta puella fuit.’

(2,11,1 6)

The poet has the power to abandon his puella: he articulates his artistic freedom to change, if he wishes, his addressee and his subject matter (1– 2) and to decide whether she is docta or not (6). Propertius, thus, reveals that not only her traits but also her very existence depends on his aesthetic will as creator. Although Latin elegists carefully construct a fictional framework in which a dura puella can be entirely unfaithful to the amator, what lies behind the erotic fabula is a metaliterary reflection. As Propertius puts forward in 2,11, the contingency of a docta puella who is a mere product of the multi-layered semantics in elegiac discourse contrasts with the immanence of a poet who reflects on his relationship with his oeuvre. The elegiac puella is, in sum, the means by which the poet asserts his hierarchical pre-eminence over an ideal reader, whom he controls and guides. The figure of the beloved is an ancillary entity, a versatile instrument that enables the elegist to express his artistic self-assertion. This versatility is even more evident in poems like Propertius’ elegy 3,2. In this elegy the poet combines the description of a subjugated puella-as-addressee with her characterisation as his “subject matter”, creating thus a twofold resource for emphasising his dominance: Carminis interea nostri redeamus in orbem, gaudeat ut solito tacta puella sono. Orphea detinuisse feras et concita dicunt

 For the concept, see Fitzgerald (1987: XI). For its integration within the frame of my argu ments on elegy, see the General Introduction above.

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flumina Threicia sustinuisse lyra; saxa Cithaeronis Thebanam agitata per artem sponte sua in muri membra coisse ferunt; quin etiam, Polypheme, fera Galatea sub Aetna ad tua rorantis carmina flexit equos: miremur, nobis et Baccho et Apolline dextro, turba puellarum si mea verba colit?

(1 10)

(…) at Musae comites et carmina cara legenti, nec defessa choris Calliopea meis. fortunata, meo si qua’s celebrata libello! carmina erunt formae tot monumenta tuae. nam neque pyramidum sumptus ad sidera ducti nec Iovis Elei caelum imitata domus, nec Mausolei dives fortuna sepulcri, mortis ab extrema condicione vacant

(15 22)

(…) at non ingenio quaesitum nomen ab aevo excidet: ingenio stat sine morte decus.

(25 26)

After solemnly declaring his firm commitment to write elegy in the poem that opens the collection’s third book (3,1), Propertius now returns to his usual subject matter (carminis interea nostri redeamus in orbem: 3,2,1), i. e., his puella. In a manner similar to elegy 2,13, where, as I have previously argued, Propertius implicitly compares himself to Orpheus, the poet now states that he maintains a writer // reader relationship with his beloved that places him in a dominant position. The puella becomes a passive addressee whose sole reaction to Propertius’ oeuvre is awe (tacta: 2). The beloved’s depersonalising and reifying characterisation is further corroborated by the Orpheus exemplum, where she is likened to natural entities which are proverbially devoid of artistic sensibility, like wild animals (feras: v. 3); and even to inert entities, like rivers or stones (4– 5). Propertius implicitly claims that, just like Orpheus (who was able to exert his influence on different natural entities) or Amphion (who managed to move stones when he played lyre⁷⁴), he is able to overwhelm his beloved with his poetic voice (solito tacta puella sono: 2). Paradoxically, the puella becomes “dehumanised” to such a degree that her figurative comparison to entities moved by the song of mythical singers adds an ironic detail to her “personality”: the allusion to the stones that were moved by Amphion’s music can cogently be interpreted as a hint of one of the most notable traits of the elegiac puella’s “personality”: her

 As Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 404) note, lines 5 6 likely allude to the stones that were dragged to Thebes by Amphion’s song.

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duritia. The resisting beloved, who is fictionally depicted as “harder than stone”, is, like Amphion’s stones, utterly overpowered by art. Another detail that reinforces the puella’s objectification is the fact that Propertius, who begins his poem with the reference to a single puella (line 2)⁷⁵, ends up blending his unique beloved into a crowd: a turba puellarum (10). As we have previously seen in 2,34,57, where the poet hegemonically declares his dominance over a mixed swarm of puellae (regnem mixtas inter conviva puellas), now Propertius transforms his puella even more explicitly into an imprecisely outlined amalgam of addressees subordinated to the expression of his poetic self-assertion. Moreover, he presents his relation to this shapeless mass of readers in a manner that heightens his hierarchical pre-eminence over them: his audience venerates him (colit: 10) like a god, or, at least, like an intermediary to the gods, since Bacchus, Apollo and the Muses support him (nobis et Baccho et Apolline dextro: 9; Musae comites: 15). The central theme of elegy 3,2 is, therefore, the poet and his relation to his poetry. In other poems, the theatricality of elegiac fiction usually conceals this metapoetic reflection, but in this case the figure of the poet clearly emerges. In 3,2 Propertius employs different resources to point to his power position in relation to the products of his poetic creativeness. Some of these resources are subtle and others are more explicit. In the first group I would include the reference to a rare version of the myth of Polyphemus and Galatea in which she does not hold him in disdain but willingly listens to his wooing (7– 8). Only brief mention of the story does not permit us to know whether Propertius is following a version of the myth in which Galatea ended up loving Polyphemus and even bore him children⁷⁶. In any case, Propertius openly alters the canonical version, in which the beloved scorns Polyphemus’ erotic discourse. The poet plays with the myth so as to transform Galatea into a mythical version of an elegiac dura puella, who —just like the beloved of elegy— appears to scorn her lover but finally yields to his verbal seduction. Propertius handles literary tradition as if he were an “Orpheus” who is able to reverse the natural (or traditional) course of reality and adapt it to his own artistic aims. Even if Propertius does not specify whether Galatea was in the end persuaded by Polyphemus, the text presents some allusions that, I argue, functionally transform the nereid into an elegiac puella. In other words, the poet intends to

 Although Propertius does not assign a name to this puella, she can reasonably be identified as Cynthia, when we take into account Propertius’ love affair as depicted in Books 1 and 2.  See Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 404).

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depict her as a character whom erotic discourse ultimately subjugates. In this regard, a detailed analysis of verses 7 and 8 is illuminating: quin etiam, Polypheme, fera Galatea sub Aetna ad tua rorantis carmina flexit equos

To be sure, the adjective fera refers metrically and syntactically to Aetna; it is, therefore, metonymically intended to describe the wild character of the fearful Sicilian Cyclopes. However, its positioning alongside the word Galatea is intentionally ambiguous. Certainly, its location responds to metrical necessities. Yet, the order of the reading fera Galatea generates a provocative semantic compatibility, even if, from the point of view of syntax and scansion, it is an erroneous juncture. Through the contiguity of the term fera and the name Galatea (a mythological character who is typically associated with sexual elusion and cruelty — from the Cyclops’ perspective) Propertius creates an anacoluthon that is meant to evoke Galatea’s hard-heartedness according to the canonical versions of the myth: for a moment, we are confronted with the image of Galatea as an elegiac dura puella who is inflexible to the beloved’s entreaties. Even if the adjective ferus is not usually employed in relation to an elegiac puella ⁷⁷, the intentionality of the “pseudo-syntagm” fera Galatea is additionally supported by another observation: I have previously argued that through the series of mythological exempla in lines 1– 9 Propertius, on the one hand, implicitly assimilates himself with Orpheus, Amphion and Polyphemus, whereas his puella, on the other, becomes associated with the elements of nature that were moved by song and with Galatea. The allusion to the puella’s ferocity achieved by her implicit association with the feras (3) that were moved by Orpheus’ song is further reinforced by the nereid’s—and, by figurative likeness, the puella’s— implicit association with the semantics of cruelty in the pun fera Galatea sub Aetna (7). Lastly, although Propertius does not specify what finally occurs with Polyphemus and Galatea, nor whether his song is successful or not, the poet employs in line 8 the expression ad tua rorantis carmina flexit equos. That is, Galatea stopped and wheeled her horses (flexit). It is interesting to observe the play of metaphors that affect the main actions condensed in this pentameter, as well as their link to the broader context of the poem: given that Polyphemus’ words provoke Galatea to wheel (flexit) her horses, he implicitly wheels (flexit) Galatea herself. Therefore, he has achieved the same ability as Propertius proudly declares to have in 1,8,39 – 40: hanc ego non auro, non Indis flectere conchis, // sed potui blandi carminis obsequio? I argue that the use of this verb is a deliber The most common term for the puella’s heartlessness is saeva. See James (2003: 121 ff.).

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ate means of implicitly characterising Polyphemus as a successful speaker, whose discourse has the power to persuade (flectere) his addressee in the same manner as Propertius does in elegy 1,8. Just like Galatea is a dura puella who has been overcome (cf. flexit) by the discourse addressed to her, so too is the elegiac puella dominated by the poet. Propertius reinforces this poetological reflection through another technique, which, as I will argue in the next chapter, pervades elegiac discourse with even more salience than the motif of the docta puella. In 3,2 Propertius not only refers to his beloved as his reader (carmina cara legenti: 15); he also represents her as his artistic “raw material”, i. e. the pretext that he uses to compose his oeuvre. In fact, from line 17 onwards, the poet definitively obviates the puella’s personality and predicts eternal fame to any girl whom he might celebrated: fortunata, meo si qua’s celebrata libello! carmina erunt formae tot monumenta tuae (17– 18). By attributing the function of poetic subject matter to the beloved, Propertius further depersonalises the puella. But, above all, he crucially emphasises that her existence depends on his poetic will. The true telos of this poem is not the celebration of a given puella (Cynthia or whoever else), but of the poet’s ingenium as the element enabling any entity of his discourse to challenge the ephemerality of material creations, like the Pyramids, Jupiter’s temple at Olympia, or the Mausoleum (19 – 21). With the motif the author’s immortality through his oeuvre (the “exegi monumentum”-motif, after Horace’s Ode 3,3), Propertius admonishes that any puella whose beauty may serve him as a pretext to raise a poetic monument (18) will be subject to his artistic will.

3 Te mihi materiem felicem in carmina praebe: the puella as subject matter The characterisation of the puella as the subject matter of elegy is a recurrent motif in the genre. In this chapter I aim to scrutinise further some of the most notable elegies in which the puella, as we have already seen in Propertius’ poem 3,2, is described as the “artistic raw material” at the service of the poet’s aesthetic arguments. Certainly, characterising the beloved as the poet’s Muse⁷⁸ does not openly contradict the hierarchy of the servus-domina relationship. Indeed, it can even be understood to reinforce the portrayal of the beloved as an awe-inspiring domina. Yet, as I will argue in this chapter, this characterisation is also a way of asserting the metaliterary reflection that pervades the genre, an allusive reference to the asymmetrical power relation between the poet and the products of his creative output. Furthermore, even if representing the mistress as an inspiration and a source of poetic material⁷⁹ does not explicitly contradict her likening to a real, “flesh-andblood” woman, her characterisation as literary subject matter moves her one step closer to the domain of the supra-fictional and, thus, distances her from her literal depiction as domina. As Propertius subtly shows in poem 3,2, the individuality of the puella gradually blurs and the world of servitium amoris is subtly shown to be fictional as a consequence of the lover’s self-assertion as a poet. Wyke (2002)⁸⁰ contends that the illusion of a “real” beloved is, in Propertius’ case, only maintained in the Monobiblos. From the second book on, the puella is unveiled as a poetic fiction, a scripta puella⁸¹ who metaphorically embodies the literary traits of elegiac discourse. To a significant degree, Wyke’s arguments provide hermeneutical guidelines in this chapter and in Chapter 4 of this section. Yet, as I will argue, the puella is conceived of as a literary argument from the beginning, i. e. from the first line of Propertius’ poetry (Cynthia prima suis me miserum cepit ocellis), and more broadly throughout the whole elegiac genre. Elegy is generically constructed as a discourse that constantly obliges us to shift between fiction and supra-fiction, or, in other words, between a verbatim reading and a metaphorical one. Even if my focus on the intra-literary interaction between the poet and his puella does not ignore the epistemological difficul-

 On this issue, see Lieberg (1963), Luck (1993: 120 and 135) and James (2003: 22 and n. 95).  I.e., as both Quelle and Gegenstand, according to Lieberg’s (1963: 269) division.  Particularly in the second chapter (pp. 46 77), “Written Women: Propertius’ scripta puella (2.10 13)”.  Wyke (2002: 46 77). DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 006

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ties of elegiac discourse, as Kennedy (1993: 1– 23) cogently explicates⁸², the examination of the puella’s links to “reality”—understood as extra-textuality— is not the only possible perspective. It may be enlightening to concentrate instead on the agonistic nature of the relationship between the beloved and the lover as an expression of the artist’s anxious power relation with his own oeuvre. I intend to avoid reading elegy as imitatio vitae in a strict sense. Nevertheless, the epistemological delimitation of this aim is complex, because, after all, an immanent reading does not convey a strictly anti-mimetic interpretation of elegy. In any case, although both concepts seem to be analogous, imitatio vitae and mimesis are not the same. Imitatio vitae is certainly a mimetic process, but, conversely, mimesis is not necessarily imitatio vitae. In other words, we may consider elegy as a mimetic genre even if we do not take its erotic world at face value or even if we do not invoke an extra-textual reality as a reference. Not all critics assume this epistemological observation. In fact, readings that interpret elegy as a genre referring to an extra-textual reality are often “accused” of considering elegiac discourse as “mimetic”⁸³. Yet, even if we obviate extra-textual references, and even if we intend to offer a closely semiotic reading of the genre, elegiac discourse is still a mimetic process. To be sure, the expression of the poet’s anxieties in relation to his own oeuvre (that is, the complex process of metaliterary reflection on his agonistic relationship with his artistic production) is ultimately a “performance”, a “re-production”, or, specifically, a “mimesis” of his internal dialectics as an artist. Regardless of the puella’s hypothetical “real” existence outside the textual limits of elegy, elegy is in any case an imitative process, without being sensu stricto imitatio vitae. Thus, although, as I have previously argued, elegiac discourse is closely linked to the aesthetics of phantasia (i. e., an anti-naturalistic aesthetics according to which literature does not imitate but rather creates reality⁸⁴), we can only label elegy as “antimimetic” insofar as we conventionally understand the term “mimesis” as a mere imitation of life or nature. Within the framework of these preliminary theoretical issues, another important caveat concerns the historicity of all discourse. Certainly, as defended by Kennedy (1993: 1– 23 and 95– 100), we, as readers-critics, have to be aware that our own her-

 For further details, see my General Introduction above. In fact, as Kennedy argues, the crit ical efforts to find elements of the genre that “reflect” Augustan society following Griffin (1985) and those studies that see the puella as a meta discursive device for voicing the poet’s moral or political ideology following Wyke (1989 and 2002) are incapable of offering a conclusive explanation of elegy, since they do not regard elegy as an axiomatically open system of signs.  See Farrell (2008) in relation to Griffin’s (1985) and Wyke’s (2002) readings of elegy.  See Rosati (1983: 81 83 and 86 ff.).

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meneutical discourse is historically contingent. By the same token, elegy’s literary discourse is, in spite of its mimetic nature, historically determined. It is therefore not a timeless mimesis, concerned with universals (in an Aristotelian vein⁸⁵), nor a transcendent system of signs. As stated by Kennedy (1993: 96), elegy cannot be abstracted from the discursive context in which it was engendered, nor can it be interpreted separately from the assumptions which it exploited, i.e. “the discursive situation by which it was shaped and in which it has been received”⁸⁶. In sum, elegiac discourse is mimetic (though not necessarily autobiographical) and, at the same time, historically and contextually determined. The elegiac poets reproduce the — contingent and historically conditioned— anxiety stemming from the threat of dispossession posed by their own oeuvre. Although the elegiac poets strive to depict the erotic fiction of the servitium amoris as a “real” experience, it is necessary to read beyond the fictional frame and to interpret the mistress that inspires the poet’s verses as a figurative expression of the poet’s own oeuvre. A number of studies have successfully engaged with the issue⁸⁷. Yet, unlike these exegetical approaches (most of which are ultimately concerned with the links between elegiac discourse and extra-textuality), I intend to avoid immersion into the complex rhetoric of reality (i. e., the external world elegy “stands for”), as described by Kennedy (1993)⁸⁸. Instead, a less ambitious “rhetoric of literality” (that is, the interplay between literal fiction and figurative supra-fiction) is likely better suited to my aims. Other authors, such as Keith (1994), McNamee (1993), Fedeli (1981), Fineberg (1993), or Papanghelis (1991) analyse from a strictly immanent perspective the metaphorical devices that associate the puella with poetological matters. In the case of Kennedy (1993) himself, the author deftly advocates a semio-sociological reading of elegy. Problematically, nevertheless, these approaches either do not examine the whole elegiac corpus systematically, or they fail to focus specifically on the different strategies of discursive control through which the poet asserts his power over the puella. Even if the aforementioned studies might offer enlightening readings of some particular poems or might usefully serve as meth-

 In the Poetics (IX 1451a 36 1451b 1 4) Aristotle describes poets as those concerned with the imitation of what might happen and what is possible according to probability and necessity, in contrast to historians, who tell what actually happened. For Aristotle, poetry deals, thus, with universals.  Kennedy (1993: 96).  Particularly Wyke (2002: esp. 11 191), Greene (1995, 1998 and 2005), Bowditch (2006) and, in part, Sharrock (1991 and 2000) and Lee Stecum (2000).  See particularly Kennedy’s first chapter, “Representation and the rhetoric of reality” (pp. 1 23).

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odological guides, it still remains necessary to reconsider what function it has in elegiac discourse to identify the beloved with poetic subject matter. My purpose is to integrate the supra-fictional analysis of the amator-puella relationship into a more expansive hermeneutical framework that reads elegy as a genre in which the reflection on power plays a key role. A “backwards” reading of elegy from the perspective of the Metamorphoses will reinforce this interpretation, as we will see in the next section. One part of the question has already been developed in the previous chapter: in fact, as we have seen, the puella’s assumption of the role of reader exposes her, at a meta-discursive level, as a passive object dominated by the poet’s literary discourse. Through a close reading of certain poems of Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius and Ovid, my purpose now is to concentrate on the beloved’s function as literary subject matter, so as to show how elegiac poets use this device to assert their authorial mastery over her even further.

Catullus 68b Catullus’ carmen 68b⁸⁹ is usually considered the nearest precursor of Latin elegy⁹⁰. This complex composition, which Fordyce (1992: 344) describes as “heavy and awkward”, and Feeney (1992: 33) as the “most oblique of poems”, has engendered a prolific debate about its obscure structure. Precisely this structural complexity has encouraged critics to search for the central theme of the poem. In this framework, critics have tried to determine the relation between the world of myth and the poet’s personal experience. Whereas traditional approaches contend that myth in carmen 68b “illustrates” and, therefore, “is at the service of” the poet’s personal experience, other more recent approaches question the customary delineation between “central” and “peripheral” themes in this complex elegiac poem. The content of the poem can be summarised as follows: Catullus writes this composition for Allius (41– 50) in appreciation because he provided solace to the poet’s passion (51– 65) by loaning him his house for a rendezvous with Lesbia (66 – 72). Lesbia’s love and her entrance into Allius’ house are compared to Laodamia’s ingress into her new conjugal dwelling after her marriage with Protesilaus. Yet, Laodamia’s passion is truncated after the unexpected outbreak of the war with Troy, where, as dictated by the Fates, he would die (73 – 86). The focus

 In this case, I follow the division made by those editors, like Thomson (1978: 472 ff.) who consider 68b independent from 68a.  On carmen 68b, see Miller (2002: 109 ff.), who, in line with the communis opinio, considers this poem “the first full fledged love elegy in Latin literature” (p. 19). See also Cairns (2008: 162) and Fernández Corte (1997: 119).

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of the poem turns now to Troy, whose association with the theme of death and destiny leads Catullus to his brother, who also died there, like all the Greek heroes who battled in the fateful Trojan War (87– 104). Among those Greeks was Protesilaus, whose wife felt a passion for him that is comparable in depth to the abyss that Hercules dug during his labours and in intensity both to a grandfather’s love for his late-born grandson and to a dove’s devotion to its mate (105 – 130). As worthy a beloved as love-struck Laodamia is Lesbia, whom Catullus loves, even though he must share her with other men, just as Juno had to tolerate her husband’s infidelity (131– 148). The composition comes to its end when Catullus, in Ringkomposition, offers the poem once again to Allius and blesses the house that sheltered his love (149 – 160). In order to explicate the thematic kaleidoscope crafted by Catullus, I offer now a synopsis of the sequence of themes concatenated throughout the poem. I aim explicitly to present a mere list of juxtaposed subject matters and intentionally avoid a hierarchical division between “secondary digressions” vs. “main themes”: 1. Catullus requests immortality for the poem devoted to Allius, his benefactor. 41– 50: Non possum reticere, deae, qua me Allius in re iuuerit aut quantis iuuerit officiis, ne fugiens saeclis obliuiscentibus aetas illius hoc caeca nocte tegat studium: sed dicam uobis, uos porro dicite multis milibus et facite haec carta loquatur anus. ******** notescatque magis mortuus atque magis, nec tenuem texens sublimis aranea telam in deserto Alli nomine opus faciat.

41

2. Catullus’ passion burns like Mt. Aetna and the hot springs of Thermopylae. 51– 54: nam, mihi quam dederit duplex Amathusia curam, scitis, et in quo me torruerit genere, cum tantum arderem quantum Trinacria rupes lymphaque in Oetaeis Malia Thermopylis,

51

3. Catullus’ tears and the relief brought by Allius’ favour are united in the image of a mountain stream: the simile functions as a praegnans constructio (the torrent stands at the same time for tears and for consolation). Allius’ service is

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compared to the solace of a welcome breeze: Allius functions as a praegnans constructio (Allius is at the same time fresh water and tender breeze⁹¹). 55 – 66: maesta neque assiduo tabescere lumina fletu cessarent tristique imbre madere genae. qualis in aerii perlucens uertice montis riuus muscoso prosilit e lapide, qui cum de prona praeceps est ualle uolutus, per medium densi transit iter populi, dulce uiatori lasso in sudore leuamen, cum grauis exustos aestus hiulcat agros: hic, uelut in nigro iactatis turbine nautis lenius aspirans aura secunda uenit iam prece Pollucis, iam Castoris implorata, tale fuit nobis Allius auxilium.

55

60

65

4. Catullus reveals how Allius helped him: he made his house available to the poet and his mistress. 67– 72: is clausum lato patefecit limite campum, isque domum nobis isque dedit dominae, ad quam communes exerceremus amores. quo mea se molli candida diua pede intulit et trito fulgentem in limine plantam innixa arguta constituit solea,

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5. Lesbia is compared to Laodamia when she entered her groom’s house. 73 – 74: coniugis ut quondam flagrans aduenit amore Protesilaeam Laodamia domum

6. Protesilaus’ house and his marriage are not blessed by the gods. This presages his death in Troy. 75 – 86: inceptam frustra, nondum cum sanguine sacro hostia caelestis pacificasset eros. nil mihi tam ualde placeat, Ramnusia uirgo, quod temere inuitis suscipiatur eris. quam ieiuna pium desiderat ara cruorem, docta est amisso Laudamia uiro, coniugis ante coacta noui dimittere collum,

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 See Fordyce (1992: 350 1) for the different interpretations of the similes, depending on the punctuation in line 56 and the reading of hic, ac or nec in line 63.

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quam ueniens una atque altera rursus hiems noctibus in longis auidum saturasset amorem, posset ut abrupto uiuere coniugio, quod scibant Parcae non longo tempore abesse, si miles muros isset ad Iliacos.

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7. The Trojan War. 87– 90: nam tum Helenae raptu primores Argiuorum coeperat ad sese Troia ciere uiros, Troia (nefas!) commune sepulcrum Asiae Europaeque, Troia uirum et uirtutum omnium acerba cinis,

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8. The death of Catullus’ brother. 91– 100: quaene etiam nostro letum miserabile fratri attulit. ei misero frater adempte mihi ei misero fratri iucundum lumen ademptum, tecum una tota est nostra sepulta domus, omnia tecum una perierunt gaudia nostra, quae tuus in uita dulcis alebat amor. quem nunc tam longe non inter nota sepulcra nec prope cognatos compositum cineres, sed Troia obscena, Troia infelice sepultum detinet extremo terra aliena solo.

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100

9. The Trojan War as a consequence of adultery. 101– 104: ad quam tum properans fertur undique pubes Graecae penetralis deseruisse focos, ne Paris abducta gauisus libera moecha otia pacato degeret in thalamo.

10. Protesilaus’ death in Troy provokes in his spouse a sadness that is as deep as the pit dug by Hercules: the simile functions as a praegnans constructio (the abyss of the pit reflects at the same time the depth of Laodamia’s passion and the depth of her sadness). Simultaneously, Laodamia herself functions as a praegnans constructio (her love generates two similes: the simile of the passionate dove and the simile of the loving grandfather). 105 – 130: quo tibi tum casu, pulcerrima Laudamia, ereptum est uita dulcius atque anima coniugium: tanto te absorbens uertice amoris

105

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aestus in abruptum detulerat barathrum, quale ferunt Grai Pheneum prope Cylleneum siccare emulsa pingue palude solum, quod quondam caesis montis fodisse medullis audit falsiparens Amphitryoniades, tempore quo certa Stymphalia monstra sagitta perculit imperio deterioris eri, pluribus ut caeli tereretur ianua diuis, Hebe nec longa uirginitate foret. sed tuus altus amor barathro fuit altior illo, qui tamen indomitam ferre iugum docuit. nam nec tam carum confecto aetate parenti una caput seri nata nepotis alit, qui cum diuitiis uix tandem iuuentus auitis nomen testatas intulit in tabulas, impia derisi gentilis gaudia tollens, suscitat a cano uolturium capiti: nec tantum niueo gauisa est ulla columbo compar, quae multo dicitur improbius oscula mordenti semper decerpere rostro, quam quae praecipue multiuola est mulier. sed tu horum magnos uicisti sola furores, ut semel es flauo conciliata uiro.

110

115

120

125

130

11. Lesbia’s re-introduction reminds us that Laodamia is a comparatum. Catullus loves her —even if he must share her with other men: in the same way that Juno had to digest her wrath when confronted with her husband’s infidelity. Catullus functions as a praegnans constructio: his passion for Lesbia is assimilated to love (Laodamia) and hate (Juno). 131– 148: aut nihil aut paulum cui tum concedere digna lux mea se nostrum contulit in gremium, quam circumcursans hinc illinc saepe Cupido fulgebat crocina candidus in tunica. quae tamen etsi uno non est contenta Catullo, rara uerecundae furta feremus erae ne nimium simus stultorum more molesti. saepe etiam Iuno, maxima caelicolum, coniugis in culpa flagrantem concoquit iram, noscens omniuoli plurima furta Iouis. atqui nec diuis homines componier aequum est, ******** ******** ingratum tremuli tolle parentis onus. nec tamen illa mihi dextra deducta paterna

135

140

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fragrantem Assyrio uenit odore domum, sed furtiua dedit mira munuscula nocte, ipsius ex ipso dempta uiri gremio. quare illud satis est, si nobis is datur unis quem lapide illa dies candidiore notat.

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12. Conclusion: Catullus offers his poem to Allius in thanks for his favour and wishes that the house that sheltered his love —his lusus (156)— may not fall into oblivion. The house functions as a praegnans constructio: it represents Allius’ favour, Catullus’ love and the creation of a poem that expresses gratitude in return for Allius’ services. 149 – 160: hoc tibi, quod potui, confectum carmine munus pro multis, Alli, redditur officiis, ne uestrum scabra tangat rubigine nomen haec atque illa dies atque alia atque alia. huc addent diui quam plurima, quae Themis olim antiquis solita est munera ferre piis. sitis felices et tu simul et tua uita, et domus in qua lusimus et domina, et qui principio nobis terram dedit aufert, a quo sunt primo omnia nata bona, et longe ante omnes mihi quae me carior ipso est, lux mea, qua uiua uiuere dulce mihi est.

150

155

160

Among the different structures proposed by those critics who have tried to organise the multiplicity of subjects and plots unfolding throughout the poem, Gaisser’s (2009: 121 ff.⁹²) model of “concentric rings” is particularly notable. Ramírez de Verger (2009) summarises Gaisser’s arguments as follows: “[a] Chinese Box of five rings: the Allius ring (41– 50, 149 – 160), the ring devoted to Catullus (51– 69, 135 – 48), the Lesbia ring (70 – 6, 131– 4), the two parts of the Laodamia ring (77– 86, 105 – 30), the Troy ring (87– 90 and 101– 4), with the heart of the elegy consisting of Catullus’ lament for his brother in lines 91– 100”. Yet, such a rigid structure generates some difficulties: the first is that, as Fernández Corte (2006: 707) argues, this kind of arrangement, in spite of its aesthetic interest, does not suffice as a hermeneutical approach, since: “los anillos constituyen un esquema estático, en el que la proporción geométrica de las masas es la que domina ―algo espacial y visual― y no la progresión lineal del lenguaje ―algo temporal, con réprises, memoria y continua reorganización dinámica y reinterpretación de datos anteriores”. In fact, the problem with this exegesis is that it does not take  Apud Ramírez de Verger (2009).

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into account the reading-order of the poem, but it reflects instead a thematic organisation resulting from a re-reading and from an a posteriori attempt to structure the arguments comprehensibly. A linear reading progression is more free, heterogeneous and flexible than a geometric organisation of arguments, and, for that reason, this way of reading is more appropriate for a poem where the sequence of themes allows the reader to recognise that their links are loosely arranged. The difficulty to establish a hierarchy of themes is instantiated by the fact that the limits between comparatum and comparandum are often blurred. Another difficulty deriving from a closed interpretation like Gaisser’s is that it implicitly organises the sequence of themes into a hierarchy. As a result, Catullus’ personal experience occupies the centre of the poem, not only spatially but also with respect to the organisation of the plot. The problem is that Gaisser’s structure wholly obviates what authentically is the only visible principle of cohesion, namely juxtaposition. In fact, as Fernández Corte (2006: 704 and 706) claims in regard to the complex organisation of this poem’s distinct themes, the most appropriate exegetical stance is to consider the different subjects and plots as juxtaposed themes that are related to each other metonymically. The question that ultimately generates the debate about this poem’s arrangement of subjects is the difference in critical views regarding the relation between Catullus’ personal experience and the other themes —which can be labelled “myths” or “fabulae”. There are essentially two alternative exegetical models: On the one hand, traditional approaches defend a clear-cut distinction between “objective” and “subjective” narrative elements in this poem, where the former are subordinated to the latter. Cairns’ (2008: 225) stance paradigmatically represents this interpretative trend⁹³: he claims that the distinctive mark of Catullus’ poem 68b is — in contrast to the hypothetical subjective love elegy of Hellenism— the subordination of myth to reality. He contends that, whereas the theme of Laodamia and Protesilaus functions as a mythical paradeigma, the poet’s personal experience is “the dominant theme” (2008: 165). The myth of Laodamia is, thus, thematically at the service of Catullus’ erotic subject (Lesbia) and, more broadly, his “personal” sphere (which also includes the theme of his brother’s death). The other hermeneutical model argues for the “juxtaposition of themes” as an interpretative strategy. As Fernández Corte (2006: 704 ff.) argues, the succession of themes generates the feeling in the readers that they stand in front of a

 Along the same lines, see also McNamee (1993: 220 ff.). In turn, Ross (1975: 17 and 165 ff.) ad vocates an eclectic approach to the hierarchical relation between “objective” and “subjective” themes in this poem.

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poem as it unfolds organically⁹⁴. In 68b the conventional comparisons (introduced by textual markers like qualis [57] or ut [73] that formally indicate the transition to a different diegetic level) are combined with looser associative modes. In fact, some authors have likened Catullus’ thematic flux of (apparently) free mental associations that emerge in the plot of the narrative with a “stream of consciousness” narrative device⁹⁵. For instance, inserting the theme of the death of Catullus’ brother at line 91 results from the associations evoked by the Trojan theme. It is not integrated into any kind of formal simile, but nevertheless emerges conjured up by the reference to Troy. Furthermore, even in those cases where Catullus actually makes a specific comparison, the clear-cut distinction between comparatum and comparandum becomes jeopardised. This is a consequence of relating one term to the other through a non-explicit analogy. As a result, the links between comparatum and comparandum are oblique, as Feeney (1992: 40) defines it. This is the case in the Lesbia-and-Laodamia-simile: on the first occasion (line 73) the text leaves ambiguous the precise feature that Lesbia and Laodamia actually share (their beauty? their gait? their character? the love of their counterparts? …). On the second occasion (line 131), this ambiguity is even more pronounced: if we take into account that Lesbia has been “absent” from the narrative for almost 60 lines (from 72 to her “reappearance” in 131), and that Laodamia and the themes associated with Troy have become the main subject of the poem, readers may be induced, as they re-encounter Lesbia in line 131, to “confound” her (the primum comparandum) with the character to whom she is likened, and who serves to illustrate some of her features or actions (Laodamia). In fact, as readers arrive at line 131, the text confronts them with the confusion whether Laodamia is the main figure of the poem (and Lesbia, thus, an external character conjured up to ponder Laodamia’s love and beauty), or whether Lesbia has this role. This deliberate blurring of the boundaries between main themes and secondary exempla ultimately leads the reader to accept that Lesbia, in juxtaposition to the concatenated comparisons and arguments that unfold throughout the poem, is one more subject within the kaleidoscope of this elegy. In the end, the reader stands before an irresolvable uncertainty distinguishing between central and marginal elements. Certainly, Catullus achieves “a gigantic deception of the reader”, as stated by Cairns (2008: 163).

 See Fernández Corte (2006: 724): “Podríamos afirmar que el movimiento narrativo del poema procede indirectamente, dando tales rodeos a través de las comparaciones, sobre todo en la parte última, que estas ocupan mucho más espacio que el componente autobiográfico. Esta manera del poema se acentuará en las partes que siguen, lo que ha llevado a algún crítico (Fee ney, 1992: 35) a asegurar que el poema versa sobre comparaciones”.  See Fernández Corte (2006: 706).

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Therefore, a clear-cut hierarchical distinction between “objective” and “subjective” elements (where the former are subordinated to the latter), as maintained by traditional approaches to the poem, is unable to account for the complexity of Catullus’ carmen 68b. The crucial result of a close reading of Catullus’ oblique narrative is that the organisation of themes does not confirm the primacy of the parts that traditional criticism calls “subjective” (those related to the death of the brother and to Lesbia). Instead, the text guides the reader to consider the whole elegy as a mosaic of juxtaposed scenes, assembled to create a confectum carmine munus (149), a poem of thanks to Allius. In the same way that the Trojan War; the marriage of Laodamia and Protesilaus; or the multiple similes pervading the composition are perceived as a series of different juxtaposed “plots”, so too does Catullus’ “personal sphere” —i. e., Lesbia, as well as his brother—, become one more subject within the poem. Each one of these themes functions as Catullus’ subject matter. He arranges them, manipulates them and elaborates them according to his authorial intentions. Carmen 68b challenges any expectation of conventional narrative organisation. Its odd comparisons as well as its profuse polysemous constructions thwart any attempt to distinguish a main subject. This can be perceived throughout the narrative: in the passage where the poet praises Allius’ help (55 – 66), Catullus’ tears seem merely to be pretext for introducing the poetic image of the mountain stream and the breeze. By the same token, the description of Laodamia’s abyss of passion gives the impression that it serves as a metonymical introduction to the complex simile of Hercules and his apotheosis culminating in his marriage to Hebe (105 – 130). Lastly, the reference to Juno, which on the surface illustrates Catullus’ love and patience, at the same time opens up a meta-textual reflection on “Catullus in love” as another literary theme. In fact, even though Catullus humbly avoids any comparison to the gods (nec diuis homines componier aequum est: 141), his depiction of Juno affected by love and hate at the same time (as Catullus says, “she had to digest her wrath”: concoquit iram: 139) is likely intended to hint at the Catullan theme of love and hate⁹⁶. Through this intertextual ruse, the poet reminds the reader that “Catullus in love”, is one further subject of the poem, as evoked by the description of Juno’s emotional state The allusion via Juno’s feelings to the “odi et amo” theme, “an emblem of the Catullan experience” (Fitzgerald, 1999: 135), situates the reader in front of the concession that the boundaries between “objective” and “subjective” themes are confused, since all of them are integrated within the literary play that Catullus authorially unfurls over the

 “Odi et amo”: as it is most conspicuously articulated in poem 85 of the Catullan collection. C. 72, 75 and 92 are also concerned with this paradox.

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course of the poem. In the end, we discover that the world of Catullus’ personal experience is as literary as the world of myth and poetic images. Is it Catullus who has the same feelings as Juno or is it Juno whose feelings are like Catullus’? A traditional interpretation would claim that Juno is an exemplum that illustrates the poet’s real feelings. Yet, the poem, with its oblique association of themes, shows that the poet’s feelings are one of many literary subjects —in this case, a literary theme that is present in other poems of the collection. After all, if there is a main subject, it is neither the death of the brother nor Lesbia, but the creation of the poem itself. As argued by Feeney (1992: 43), the poem’s primary concern with analogies is, ultimately, a reflection on the fact that “experience is refracted into obliquity by poetry”. Catullus using the density of his poem’s metaphorical network to dismember what could be labelled his “personal experience” ultimately calls into question the referentiality of language: “the similes of the poem, in calling attention to their capacity to defer reference, provide the ground for questioning the referential power of the poet’s descriptions, in which the event itself remains absolutely undescribed”⁹⁷. The dense allusive character of the poem —be it in the form of internal allusions to Catullus’ own corpus or in the form of intertextual references⁹⁸— and the central theme of language as a deferral of reality leads the reader to acknowledge that it is impossible, in the end, to trace a line between personal experience and illustrative plots: all of it is literature. Certainly, as Feeney (1992: 44) observes, Catullus achieves a powerful distancing effect precisely at the moment of supposed emotional climax in the poem, namely when he refers to his brother’s death: ei misero frater adempte mihi ei misero fratri iucundum lumen ademptum, tecum una tota est nostra sepulta domus, omnia tecum una perierunt gaudia nostra, quae tuus in vita dulcis alebat amor.

(68b,92 96)

The readers perceive the supposed uniqueness and the emotive nature of the allusion to his brother’s death through a different prism when they realise that Catullus is quoting himself almost literally (poem 68a, 20 – 24): o misero frater adempte mihi, tu mea tu moriens fregisti commoda, frater,

 Feeney (1992: 43).  See Feeney (1992: 43), who claims that the poem is littered with references to Callimachus, Homer, Euripides and Pindar.

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tecum una tota est nostra sepulta domus, omnia tecum una perierunt gaudia nostra, quae tuus in vita dulcis alebat amor.

Likewise, the allusion to himself ⁹⁹ through the simile of Juno’s hate and love conjures up a reflection on the literariness of the whole set of themes that Catullus lays out throughout his poems, regardless of each theme’s supposed “objective” or “subjective” nature. The allusion through Juno to Catullus’ “hate-andlove-feeling” conveys the idea of a literary motif and, thus, achieves a distancing effect. What does Catullus’ allusion to his feelings reference? After all, we realise that we are reading a text that refers to other texts. Objectivity and subjectivity become, thus, unstable categories. The sophistication of Catullus’ tour de force is emphasised especially in the final part of the elegy, where Catullus in Ringkomposition resumes the theme of composing the poem for Allius. Allius’ house —the materialisation of the favour granted to Catullus—, is finally unveiled as a praegnans constructio framing the whole composition. The house is the metaphor that channels Catullus’ poetic expression: it has not only given material shelter to his love, but also (from a metapoetic perspective) to the poikilia ¹⁰⁰ of themes discussed throughout the poem. The house is functionally praegnans because it is the site where the Catullan lusus takes place: on the one hand it provides the material roof under which Catullus’ amusements (in the conventional erotic sense¹⁰¹) have been exercised (sitis felices et tu simul et tua uita, // et domus in qua lusimus et domina: 155 – 156¹⁰²). On the other hand, it is poetologically the site that serves as a pretext for Catullus’ literary endeavour. With the expression domus in qua lusimus, the poet bestows on the house the sphragis that sanctions it as a metaliterary site, since beyond its erotic connotations the verb ludere (or the derivative noun lusus) is almost a technical term designating the act of composing light verses¹⁰³. In this sense, it is particularly interesting to observe that carmen 68a, the poem

 The fact that it alludes to poems and passages that come later on in Catullus’ corpus (poems 72, 75, 85 and 92) does not alter its metaliterary value. After all, in all likelihood, a number of Catullus’ poems circulated as single poems before the poet himself arranged them in one (or three) books. A good summary of the scholarly discussion of the arrangement of Catullus’ col lection is offered by Fernández Corte (2006: 70 ff.).  On poikilia as an Alexandrian aesthetic principle, which was incorporated into Latin poetic theory as variatio, see Skinner (2003: 24).  For further details see Adams (1982: 162).  See Fordyce (1992: 360 361) on the textual difficulties of these two lines.  See Fordyce (1992: 216), with further examples of ludere as related to poetics. See also Clauss (1995: 238) and Glare (1990: 1048 1049) [OLD].

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immediately preceding the Allius poem, also incorporates an instance of verb ludere with an ambiguous erotic-literary meaning¹⁰⁴. Another poem of the Catullan collection that plays even more explicitly with the ambiguity of ludere is carmen 50, where Catullus describes the “literary soirée” in which he and Calvus spent the night writing delicate verses (versiculi: 4): Hesterno, Licini, die otiosi multum lusimus in meis tabellis, ut conuenerat esse delicatos: scribens uersiculos uterque nostrum ludebat numero modo hoc modo illoc, reddens mutua per iocum atque uinum

(1 6)

Their playful collaboration on the improvisation of erotic verses (i. e., their lusus) provoked in Catullus an intense passion for his fellow poet, which manifested itself in the usual symptomatology of lovesickness (sleeplessness, loss of appetite, frenzy, and an intense desire to see the beloved again): atque illinc abii tuo lepore incensus, Licini, facetiisque, ut nec me miserum cibus iuvaret nec somnus tegeret quiete ocellos, sed toto indomitus furore lecto versarer, cupiens videre lucem, ut tecum loquerer, simulque ut essem.

(7 13)

In its conflation of love and poetic composition, carmen 50 plainly illustrates that lusus inextricably designates both an erotic and a literary process. Therefore, including the term ludere in the final section of carmen 68b does not merely allude to the love plays between Catullus and Lesbia, but also, specifically, to the poetic contest between the author and his literary subject matter, a contest that takes place under the contextual “roof” of Allius’ house. The creation of the poem itself, i. e., Catullus’ lusus, is the axial argument of the composition. Consequently, the distinction between thematically subordinate “objective elements” and Lesbia as the “subjective centre” of the poem is not valid. Lesbia is just one additional subject matter admitted through the threshold of Allius’ house into Catullus’ lusus. The hierarchical distinction established by traditional scholarship between the categories of personal experience and myth as an ancillary exemplum needs to be replaced by another model. Given that the only dis-

 In line 17 (iucundum cum aetas florida ver ageret // multa satis lusi).

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tinct thematic focus of the poem is the reflection on Catullus’ own poetic creativity, it is necessary to overcome the division “objective vs. subjective”. Instead, the functionally relevant power structure is the relation that subordinates the fictional layer —the world of myth, the theme of the brother’s death, the love affair between Catullus and Lesbia— to the supra-fictional layer of meaning. At the apex of this structure is, thus, the figure of the poet, who authorially dominates his fictional world. An additional observation that further corroborates Lesbia’s predominantly textual nature is that her physical description itself has metaliterary overtones¹⁰⁵: quo mea se molli candida diua pede intulit et trito fulgentem in limine plantam innixa arguta constituit solea

(70 73)

Catullus’ beloved enters the house and the poem molli pede, that is, “with tender pace” (or “delicate foot”). The poetological connotations of this expression stem from the fact that both words are often used as technical terms designating, on the one hand, the meter (pes)¹⁰⁶ and, on the other hand, a light and refined style (mollis), which, in alignment with Callimachean leptotes, is contrary to the aesthetic conventions of “major genres”¹⁰⁷. Moreover, the description of Lesbia’s sandal as arguta (73) designates a euphonious sound characteristic of musical instruments and gestures at the world of poetic creation through its association with the cicada, as argued by Clauss (1995: 244)¹⁰⁸. Callimachus identifies himself with this animal (in Aetia fr. 1.29 – 36 Pf.)¹⁰⁹, whose song is described in some passages of Latin poetry as argutus ¹¹⁰. By using terms that typically characterise

 As Fernández Corte (2006: 706 and 715) or Clauss (1995: 243 244) point out.  On the technical use of the term for designating meter, see Hinds (1987: 16 18), Wyke (2002: 122 123), Keith (1999: 56) or Quadlbauer (1968: 91 ff.). A number of elegaic passages attest this use. See, e. g., Propertius 2,12 24; 2,29,40; 1,8,7 (cf. Wyke, 2002: 24); 3,1,6; Tibullus 2,5,112; or Ovid Am. 3,1,8 (cf. Wyke, 2002: 67 and n. 44).  Although in Catullus’ times the term mollis had not yet fully obtained the quasi technical sense that it acquired in Augustan poetry, the term was already used to characterise a slender style in oratory or in poetry, as Clauss (1995: 243) notes. On the theme of leptotes, see Keith (1994: 28. n. 4), and Cairns (2008: 5, 21 and 34). On its incorporation in Latin poetics with terms like mollis (mollitia) or tenuis (tenuitas), see Houghton (2007: 3 5)], Fedeli (1981: 228 229), Lada Richards (2006: 46 and 56 58), Clauss (1995: 237 55) and Rosati (1999: 249 250).  See Acosta Hughes Stephens (2002: 240) on the cicada as an image for the immortality of song.  See Clauss (1995: 244) on the poetological semantics of the term argutus.  For instance, in Culex 153, as noted by Clauss (1995: 244).

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literary texts to describe Lesbia’s physical appearance, Catullus questions the limits of subjectivity in his poem. He implicitly positions Lesbia one step closer to the world of literariness at the expense of her “reality” (in contrast to the “fictional” nature of myth). This blurring of the boundaries between objective and subjective elements confirms the need to reassess the hierarchical models proposed by traditional approaches. Cairns (2008: 225), for instance, argues that the distinctive trait of this poem is the subordination of myth (i. e., the “objective” parts) to reality, which, in turn, is identified with Catullus’ “subjectivity”. In a similar vein, Ross (1975: 17) argues that myth illustrates the emotions of the poet, which occupy the centre of the poem. Yet, if we take into account that Catullus deliberately confuses the lines between myth and personal experience (mainly with respect to Lesbia) and that the composition’s only thematic centre is the creation of the poem itself, it becomes essential to reconsider those approaches that, implicitly or explicitly, make a clear-cut hierarchical division between subjective and objective elements. First, one difficulty in Cairns’ reasoning is that he uses the term “reality” too uncritically: adopting an interpretative position that, in the end, does not completely escape the risks of the biographical fallacy to subjective love poetry, he locates Lesbia and Catullus’ brother in the domain of “reality” —and, implicitly, relegates myth to the world of “fiction”. Secondly, Cairns’ discourse constantly recurs to the distinction between “objective” and “subjective” elements¹¹¹, and founds on this differentiation his arguments about the poetry of Hellenistic precursors to Latin elegy (Antimachus, e. g.), where he clearly distinguishes between “subjective framework” and “objective centre”. It is not my aim to enter the discussion on Hellenistic elegy and on the scope of its supposed distinction between third-person and first-person narratives. In any case, it is problematic to trace the delineation between subjectivity and objectivity in Catullus. Understanding myth as an instrument for the expression of the poet’s personal experience¹¹² is the result of a scholarly preconception that seeks to prioritise subjective experience over the other narrative parts of the poem. The result, in the case of Catullus 68b, is that the “objective” parts of the poem are seen as ancillary elements. Yet, a close reading of the text allows the inference that Catullus resorts to the “objectification” of his own love world —the erotic world of the personae “Catullus” and “Lesbia”— as a means of suggesting a metapoetic reflection. In  Yet, following Boucher’s (1966) nuanced stance, he paradoxically questions (2008: 215) Day’s (1938) clear cut division between “objective” and “subjective” elegy.  See also McNamee (1993: 220 ff.), who offers another example of the traditional division be tween “myth” and “personal experience” in Catullus 68b.

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this poem (which scholars unanimously consider one of the most immediate precursors of Latin love elegy), the author deconstructs the image of his own love experience and identifies his beloved with his poetic subject matter. In other words, Catullus depicts Lesbia as one more theme among the polyphony of arguments in his confectum carmine munus. Neither myth, nor fabula nor fiction is subordinated to Catullus’ “real” love experience, because this experience functions as a fabula in the same manner as myth. This freedom to transgress the boundaries between subjectivity and objectivity does not imply that the distinction between these two categories was irrelevant for Roman elegists. Instead, it demonstrates that they used the opposition between these two narrative perspectives (first-person narrative vs. third person narrative) as a point of departure. Yet, they deliberately blurred the distinction precisely in order to call attention to the fictional nature of their erotic world. As Catullus’ groundbreaking poem 68b demonstrates, “Catullus” and “Lesbia” are, in the same manner as “Protesilaus” and “Laodamia”, poetic personae. Playing with the division between expected categories of subjectivity and objectivity ultimately generates in the readers the impression that the poet is the dominating force and that, in the end, the scope of his power extends to hierarchical pre-eminence over the fictional world that he has created. Ross’ (1975) nuanced position on the relation between “subjective” and “objective” elements neatly illustrates the difficulty defining them. First, the author (1975: 17) argues that myth illustrates Catullus’ personal experience, but, later on (1975: 165 ff.), he deems myth the central matter of the poem and in contrast relegates Catullus’ personal experience to a marginal position: “[poem 68b] can thus be termed objective rather than subjective… Its objectivity, however, provides a capacity for that abstract expression through which the individuality of the poet and his Roman world can be most deeply and truly reflected”. This confusing fluctuation between the “subjective treatment” of myth and the “objective treatment” of personal experience evidences the scholarly indecision when it comes to defining the position of myth relative to the poet’s subjectivity. Ultimately, this interpretative quandary denotes the difficulty inherent in a poem where Catullus has deliberately blurred the hierarchical organisation of its narrative elements and where the division between the purview of “literature” and that of “personal experience” has been (self‐)consciously confounded. Assuming that we cannot demarcate the boundaries between centre and margin, main subject and exemplum, it is most expedient to understand the central theme of 68b as the poem itself that Catullus presents to Allius. In addition to the complex relation between myth and personal experience in this poem, another relevant feature that undermines a clear-cut distinction between “margin” and “centre” is the seemingly marginal position occupied by Ca-

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tullus in his erotic relationship with Lesbia. As critics have shown¹¹³, carmen 68b offers the first example of the terms domina (lines 68 and 156) and era (136) in an erotic context. Moreover, Catullus not only prefigures the servitium amoris motif; he also anticipates the motif of the puella divina, a theme that will reach its full development later on in Augustan elegy. In fact, Catullus describes his beloved as a goddess (70) and places himself implicitly in the role of a humble devotee. Furthermore, Catullus assumes that he does not control his beloved, and that he has to share her with other men (135 – 140). Catullus’ erotic subservience is corroborated by his identification with Juno (138 – 140), a “provocative gender reversal”, as Syndikus (2006: 296) defines it¹¹⁴. Nevertheless, Catullus’ role as a subordinated lover is subverted if we take into account that his characterisation as a servus amoris “avant la lettre” occurs in the context of Catullus’ explicit expressions of poetic self-assertion. The metaliterary allusions that frame the composition are essential to a comprehensive understanding of Catullus’ relation to Lesbia, since it is precisely in the introductory lines and at the end of the poem where the poet fully deploys the theme of poetry’s power to immortalise its subjects. As Fernández Corte (2006: 712) comments, one of the aims of the swollen, almost epic prologue is to enhance the importance of the poet and to rank him above the Muses. In fact, Catullus prophesies that, thanks to his poem —which, as he hopes, will become a long-lasting piece of writing (carta anus: 46)—, the name of Allius will not be covered by the cobwebs of time (ne fugiens saeclis obliviscentibus aetas // illius hoc caeca nocte tegat studium: 43 – 44; nec tenuem texens sublimis aranea telam // in deserto Alli nomine opus faciat: 48 – 49). Then, at the end of the poem, Catullus returns to the topic and in Ringkomposition concludes with a new celebration of his poetic oeuvre and of those included within it (Hoc tibi, quod potui, confectum carmine munus // pro multis, Alli, redditur officiis,// ne vostrum scabra tangat rubigine nomen// haec atque illa dies atque alia atque alia: 149 – 152). Catullus now uses the metaphor of rust (151) instead of cobwebs as a figurative allusion to the passage of time, but he dwells on the same idea. The reflections on the power of poetry to bestow immortality on its subjects are intentionally located in the opening and the closing lines of the poem and compel the reader to observe the whole composition through this conceptual prism.

 See Miller (2002: 109), Syndikus (2006: 296) or Fernández Corte (2006: 714 and 725).  See also Dyson (2007: 267 268), who claims that the poem is characterised by an “inversion of power and gender relationships” (268).

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The juxtaposition between his marginal position as a lover and his central position as a poet¹¹⁵ is a strategy that Catullus employs to enhance his dominance over his poetic world. Alongside his characterisation as a lover is at his domina’s will, Catullus supra-fictionally asserts his discursive control as an artist who is able to award immortality to his subject matter. Ultimately, Catullus’s relationship with Lesbia becomes that of a poet who moulds his literary subject matter according to his aesthetic purposes. Catullus plays with the hierarchical relations within his text and obliges the reader to account for the supra-fictional layers of meaning en route to discovering that, in the end, it is the poet who holds the power.

Tibullus 1,4 By fluctuating sophisticatedly between the narrative modes of subjectivity and objectivity in carmen 68b, Catullus paved the way for the development of a key theme in later elegiac poetry. His reflections on the hierarchical asymmetry between the “mythologised” puella and her lover/creator anticipated the characterisation of the elegiac puella-as-subject-matter in Augustan elegy. Each one of the Augustan elegists in his own manner exploited this reified representation of the puella. Tibullus, whose particular treatment of the theme I will examine first¹¹⁶, crystallised the implicit characterisation of the beloved as the poet’s literary “raw material” decisively. Certainly, one of the characteristic features of Tibullus’ poetry is that the traits of the puella (be it Nemesis or Delia) are far less defined than in the case of Propertius’ or Ovid’s beloveds. Tibullus is not particularly interested in offering a consistent description of his beloved as a “flesh-and-bone” person, and, thus, his elegies do not specifically strive for imitatio vitae —or, at least, not in the same manner as the poetry of Propertius or even Ovid. Tibullus’ poetic world, escapist in nature, tends towards a longed-for erotic plenitude, a Golden Age of desire where the boundaries between literalness (i. e., the fiction of a love

 For the complex play between marginality and centrality in Catullus, see Greene (1998: 26 36).  As I have already indicated, I do not intend to examine the elegiac genre in a strictly dia chronic manner. Therefore, even if I first focus on Tibullus’ poetry, it is not my aim to enter the complex debate on the relative chronology within elegy, nor to examine Gallus’ presumably cru cial role in the evolution of the genre. In this regard, see particularly Ross (1975). On the relation between Tibullus and Propertius, critics tend to think that Tibullus’ first book was published ear lier than Propertius’ Monobiblos [see Cairns (2006: 81); for a different view, see Holzberg (2001: 79)]. Yet, this does not preclude mutual influence as a result of previous public recitations.

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affair between the persona “Tibullus” and his beloved) and figurative language are often blurred. Its themes and tones seem to grow organically in each single poem, and the dreamlike concatenation of motifs is entirely different from what the other elegists offer us¹¹⁷. Moreover, the presence of myth as an exemplary “parallel world” is much more limited¹¹⁸. To our modern taste Tibullan poetry seems inconsistent and vague, and its “deceptive subtlety”¹¹⁹ complicates a comprehensive assessment of his oeuvre. These are probably the reasons why Tibullus has often been relegated to a second tier in the discussions about love elegy¹²⁰. Moreover, scholarship has tended straightforwardly to distinguish Propertius and Ovid from Tibullus with respect to differences in their attitudes towards metaliterary arguments¹²¹. Yet, although Tibullan poetry is less transparent in the representation of its poetological themes —and, particularly, in the dramatisation of the power play between the poeta-amator and his puella—, Tibullus indeed incorporates metaliterary reflections in his poetry, even if he does so in a much more subtle manner than the other elegists, as Miller (2002: 12) points out. Thus, in the next pages I will offer readings of two Tibullus poems where we can find interesting evidence for interpretating elegiac love as an agon that is conducive to the poet’s artistic self-assertion. Poem 1,4 is one of the elegies of the Tibullan corpus that most clearly confronts the reader with the dichotomy “erotic fiction vs. poetological supra-fiction”. The poem begins with the lover requesting advice from Priapus, who offers, in response, 64 lines (9 – 72) of erotodidactic discourse where he instructs the lover in the art of captivating beautiful boys. From there, the poet intends to assume the role of a magister amoris for despised lovers (73 – 80). But, in the end he laments that his art is useless for his own good, since his unrequited love for Marathus makes him suffer so much that he can only beg his beloved to change his inflexible attitude (81– 84).

 In the view of some critics, Propertius’ poetry in particular is distinctively polyphonous and rhetorically sophisticated relative to Tibullus’. See Bauzá (1990: XVIII), Maltby (2006: 164) or Reinhardt (2006: 207). See Miller (2012) for a balanced valuation of Tibullan poetry.  See Whitaker (1983: 87).  As Miller (2012: 54) neatly defines it.  As some critics observe [see Putnam (1970: 21), Wyke (2002: 2, n.1), Miller (2002: 21) or Holzberg (2001: 108)], in the most recent studies on elegy Tibullus has occupied a secondary position relative to the other elegists. In general terms, the interpretation of Tibullus’ poetry has often been limited to merely describing its most recurrent motifs. In other cases, critics have tried to discover the identity of the “real” persons hidden under the names of Tibullus’ beloveds (see Bauzá, 1990: XVI; or Arcaz, 1994: 30). This hermeneutical trend has led to an undervaluation of his poetry as a mere accumu lation of rhetorical clichés, as argued by Newman (1967: 96).  See Gómez Pallarés (2003: 408 and 416) and Maltby (2006: 168 9).

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As a preliminary observation, it is necessary to point out that the presence of a puer in the role of the beloved (instead of the characteristically elegiac puella) does not alter his poetological function. In any case, a puer is functionally equivalent to a puella: Marathus has the power to decide whether or not to yield to the lover’s erotic requests. The poet-lover, thus, takes on the role of a servus amoris, just as it occurs in the “canonically elegiac” puella/amator relationship¹²². But, as I will argue, Marathus, too, turns out to be a poetic product whose existence depends on the poet’s will —in the same manner as the elegiac puella. In fact, this is precisely what emerges from a close reading that takes into account the supra-fictional layers of meaning. From line 41 onwards, Tibullus —through the voice of Priapus— defends the abnegation that is characteristic of the elegiac lover, who is ready to assume servile labours for the sake of love. Tibullus devotes 11 lines to a detailed description of “how to be a good servus amoris” (41– 52: Neu comes ire neges, quamvis via longa paretur [41] // … Nec te paeniteat duros subiisse labores [47]). Moreover, he deliberately positions this catalogue of “good practices” at the centre of the poem. Therefore, it is especially striking that Tibullus, almost immediately after implying his commitment to servitium amoris, switches to a poetological statement: Reproaching the exchange of love for money, he inserts an unexpected apology for the power of poetic creation: Pieridas, pueri, doctos et amate poetas, Aurea nec superent munera Pieridas. Carmine purpurea est Nisi coma: carmina ni sint,

 As some critics observe, the main reason for the centrality of homoeroticism in Tibullus’ poetry is that, in contrast to Propertius and Ovid, he is more faithful to Hellenistic conventions, as argued by Cairns (2008: passim, and esp. 22 23, 36 ff., 56 ff., 150 ff. and 207). Drinkwater (2005), in contrast to gender theoretical readings, contends that, from the perspective of discur sive hierarchies, the puer is functionally analogous to the puella. This same discussion has ob tained for Catullus’ homoerotic poems to Juventius, who, according to Krostenko (2001: 271, apud Fernández Corte, 2006: 543) is functionally equivalent to Lesbia. In this regard, Fernández Corte (2006: 542 543) sensibly recalls that “en toda la literatura erótica griega anterior a Catulo eran más comunes los poemas de amor a muchachos o muchachas indistintamente, que los de orientación sexual exclusivamente heterosexual. La poesía erótica exclusivamente heterosexual no aparece hasta Propercio y Ovidio. Que Catulo dedicara más poemas a Lesbia que a Juvencio puede atribuirse a su persecución de la originalidad literaria más que a una hipotética sumisión a lo sexualmente “normal””. In the framework of this debate about homoeroticism vs. hetero eroticism in Roman literature, Konstan (1994: 121 122) neatly summarises the question as fol lows: “As E. Housman observed long ago, “ Between philopaidia [love of boys] and philogunia [love of women] the Romans saw no incongruity at all, but they did see incongruity between to paskhein [being passive] and to dran [being active] “”.

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Ex umero Pelopis non nituisset ebur. Quem referent Musae, vivet, dum robora tellus, Dum caelum stellas, dum vehet amnis aquas.

65

Tibullus draws our attention to the importance of his literary craftsmanship and reflects on the contingency of the characters in his poetic discourse. In the same way as Nisus and Pelops owe their existence to the poets (63 ff.), so too does the beloved whom Tibullus celebrates in his verses: he will only live insofar as he belongs to Tibullus’ poetic world. The beloved is functionally equivalent to the characters provided by the mythological tradition: in both cases they are subordinated to the aesthetic will of the poet. Tibullus, thus, intentionally alludes to the fictional nature of elegiac discourse and to the power play that takes place within it: the poet, we realise, is the force that ultimately controls all the characters included in his text and obliges the reader to reconsider the extent to which the servitium amoris motif is valid. As a lover, Tibullus submits utterly to the will of his beloved, but, as a poet, his power over the entities belonging to his poetic discourse is unquestionable. Since it is the poet who decides, according to his discursive strategies, who will endure the passage of time, he is assured to be the victorious force in the power struggle that he is implicitly performing. Poetologically, Tibullus puts Marathus on the same level as the figures of myth. Although Tibullus’ poetic register is less transparent than that of the other elegists and although his metapoetic reflections are generally diffuse, the motif “quem referent Musae, vivet” (65) is a hierarchical self-assertion that is functionally equivalent to any other declaration of eternity for poetic monuments and for those who contained within them, as Propertius describes in 3,2 (fortunata, meo si qua’s celebrata libello! // carmina erunt formae tot monumenta tuae…: vv. 17– 18). Whereas Propertius refers to the theme of the poet’s immortality by comparing the caducity of a material monumentum to the perpetuity of a poetic one (19 – 22), Tibullus makes a less pretentious declaration —but the point is the same: as a praeceptor amoris he reflects on his immortality as a poet: vos me celebrate magistrum, Quos male habet multa callidus arte puer. Gloria cuique sua est: me, qui spernentur, amantes Consultent: cunctis ianua nostra patet. Tempus erit, cum me Veneris praecepta ferentem Deducat iuvenum sedula turba senem. Heu heu quam Marathus lento me torquet amore! Deficiunt artes, deficiuntque doli. Parce, puer, quaeso, ne turpis fabula fiam, Cum mea ridebunt vana magisteria.

75

80

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The image of the old poet escorted by a turba iuvenum (80), on the one hand, has important literary precedents that corroborate its connection to the theme of poetic self-assertion: in fact, as Cairns (2008: 60 – 61) argues, both Callimachus, Aetia, Fr. 41 (Pf.) and Anacreon Fr. 402 (PMG) present a similar image. This characterisation of the poet as a venerable figure has to be situated in the thematic framework of the self-praise that poets expressed with a high degree of artistic self-awareness: this is the case not only for Callimachus¹²³ but also for archaic Greek poetry¹²⁴. On the other hand, the motif of the turba iuvenum forms, at the same time, an interesting further link to Propertius’ poem 3,2, where the triumphant poet represents himself in the company of a turba puellarum that venerates him: miremur, nobis et Baccho et Apolline dextro, // turba puellarum si mea verba colit? (9 – 10). As I argued above in relation to this elegy, the transition that Propertius makes from an individualised puella (in line 2) to an amorphous mass of puellae who worship him should be interpreted as a measure employed by the poet to underscore the contingency of the elegiac puella and her submission to his artistic will. Even though Tibullus performs his self-assertion in a more subtle manner, we can still distinguish a recognisable intent to emphasise the centrality of the poet and his hierarchical pre-eminence over his poetic material. While Tibullus again takes up his description as a servus amoris (quam Marathus lento me torquet amore: 80), metapoetic arguments emerge once more and subtly call into question the validity of elegiac literalness: in fact, the juxtaposition in line 82 (deficiunt artes, deficiuntque doli) of poetry (artes) and deceit (doli) hints at the fictionality of poetic creation, which, as foretold by the Muses in Hesiod’s Theogony ¹²⁵, does not necessarily tell truths. Although Tibullus seems to disparage his erotodidaxis by referring to it with humbleness as vana magisteria (84) and although he overtly expresses his fear of being ridiculed and becoming an unworthy tale (turpis fabula: 83), the discourse of poetry as deceit and the designation of his persona as fabula are clearly endowed with metaliterary overtones and ought to be understood as allusions directing the reader’s attention towards a supra-fictional reading. The erotic world of the amator and the inflexible puer belongs to the dominion of fabula, that is, mythos. Marathus, just like the persona of Tibullus-the-lover, is a poetic fiction that is subjected to the creative will of an artist who knows that his verses will grant him fame. This is the

 See Brioso de Cuenca (1980: 131).  See Fränkel (1993: 153) and López Noriega (2008: 7 20). In archaic lyric’s period of matur ity, Pindar aptly demonstrates the poet’s self conscious reference to his wilful handling of the course of his narrative (see Hurst, 1984, apropos of Pith IV 247 248).  In lines 27 28: ἴδμεν ψεύδεα πολλὰ λέγειν ἐτύμοισιν ὁμοῖα, // ἴδμεν δ᾽ εὖτ᾽ ἐθέλωμεν ἀλη θέα γηρύσασθαι.

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reason why the the reason why the assertion non ego laudari curo (1,1,56) is only partly true: certainly, Tibullus does not expect to be praised as a literary character. Instead, he anticipates that he will achieve celebrity (gloria cuique sua est: 1,4,77) as a poet. Through this hermeneutical prism it is easier to recognise other allusions to the elegiac poet’s power over the characters of his erotic fabula —even in passages that, a priori, do not seem poetologically relevant. This is the case in lines 9 – 14: ’O fuge te tenerae puerorum credere turbae, Nam causam iusti semper amoris habent. Hic placet, angustis quod equom conpescit habenis, Hic placidam niveo pectore pellit aquam, Hic, quia fortis adest audacia, cepit; at illi Virgineus teneras stat pudor ante genas.

10

Priapus warns the amator that it is easy to fall in love, since any boy has qualities that make him a potential object of desire. The turba of boys represents the “source” from which the amator-poeta can select an exemplar. If we bear in mind the overarching context of the poem and its poetological content, we may coherently understand the “erotic material”, i. e. the poet’s potential love object, also supra-fictionally as the “artistic material” that he may avail himself of in the frame of his aesthetic goals. In this regard, it may be enlightening to mention an interesting parallelism that neatly illustrates the beloved’s reification in Tibullus’ elegy 1,4. Tibullus’ metaliterary aims become even more apparent when we read poem 1,4 against the intertextual background of Ovid’s Amores 2,4 (which I will specifically discuss later on in this chapter). The central theme of Amores 2,4 is that any woman is capable of enamouring Ovid, who formulates the main point of his poem thus: non est certa meos quae forma invitet amores; // centum sunt causae, cur ego semper amem(lines 9 – 10). Hereafter, the poet devotes 32 lines (11– 43) to enumerating different types of women who arouse his passion with their diverse charms: she may be modest, bold, severe, learned, naive, tall, small, fair-skinned, dark-skinned… the speaker is susceptible to fall in love with all kinds of women: sive aliqua est oculos in humum deiecta modestos, uror, et insidiae sunt pudor ille meae; sive procax aliqua est, capior, quia rustica non est, spemque dat in molli mobilis esse toro. aspera si visa est rigidasque imitata Sabinas, velle, sed ex alto dissimulare puto. sive es docta, places raras dotata per artes; sive rudis, placita es simplicitate tua.

15

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The puella as subject matter

(…) ut taceam de me, qui causa tangor ab omni, illic Hippolytum pone, Priapus erit! tu, quia tam longa es, veteres heroidas aequas et potes in toto multa iacere toro. haec habilis brevitate sua est. corrumpor utraque; conveniunt voto longa brevisque meo. non est culta subit, quid cultae accedere possit; ornata est dotes exhibet ipsa suas. candida me capiet, capiet me flava puella, est etiam in fusco grata colore Venus. seu pendent nivea pulli cervice capilli, Leda fuit nigra conspicienda coma; seu flavent, placuit croceis Aurora capillis. omnibus historiis se meus aptat amor.

31

35

40

It is particularly significant that line 10 (centum sunt causae, cur ego semper amem) echoes intertextually Tibullus’ line 10 (causam iusti semper amoris habent). Ovid’s poem can be considered as amplificatio of Tibullus’ lines 9 – 14, and, on a grander scale, as an amplificatio of the metapoetic echoes which the Tibullan text contains in nuce. Ovid hints at the contingency of the elegiac beloved: whoever she may be (Corinna, Delia, Cynthia …), she will depend on the desire of the amator-poeta. Through this interpretative prism, the meta-discursive dimension of line 44 emerges: in fact, after having depicted the whole catalogue of women who would aptly occupy the position of Ovid’s beloved, the poet reveals what each one of these puellae means to him: a new poetic subject matter: omnibus historiis se meus aptat amor. Ovid’s amor, the central topic of his whole elegiac world, becomes a discursive strategy that is itself subject to the principle of variatio in accordance with the particular poetic aims of each new context. Love is revealed, thus, as a literary construct, and Corinna and any other elegiac puella are poetic subject matters or, in Ovid’s words, historiae, i. e. the fabulae or literary fictions (these meanings are contained in the term historia) used by the poet according to his artistic interests. This exegetic model allows us to distinguish the poetological dimension of certain expressions in the poem. The amator-poeta asserts that any “causa” captivates him (causa tangor ab omni: 31), and that, therefore, any puella, tall or small, “agrees” with his desire (conveniunt voto longa brevisque meo: 36). If we take into account that one of Ovid’s most conspicuous literary habits is his systematic allusion to other texts, not least to his own elegies, it can be cogently argued that intertextually the expression conveniunt recalls Ovid’s Amores 1,1, whose metapoetic

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and programmatic content is unanimously recognised by criticism¹²⁶. In the first distich of Amores 1,1: arma gravi numero violentaque bella parabam // edere, materia conveniente modis, the verb convenire refers to the adaptability of the subject matter (materia) to the meter (modis) of the poem that, as Ovid tells us, he was about to compose —before Amor compelled him to abandon his epic ambitions and yield to elegiac modes. Although the syntactic structure as well as the word order of the first line conveys a hierarchical priority of the subject matter (arma, violenta bella) over the means (gravi numero), the second line deliberately alters the centrality of the poetic subject matter previously referenced. Instead, it describes the materia as the entity that adapts (conveniente) to the meter. In contrast to the expectations raised by the first line —namely, that the meter will adapt to the theme (*modis convenientibus materiae*)— Ovid emphasises the opposite order and programmatically highlights the “how” at the expense of the “what”. Hence, the verb convenire functions as the semantic hinge permitting Ovid to place the poetic subject matter (materia) in a subordinate position, governed both by the primordial impulse to create (edere) and by the auxiliary channels (modis) that shape such an impetus. It is not by chance that the verb edere is emphasised metrically by the enjambment that separates it from the previous line. Nor is it coincidence that the term conveniente is also the metrical hinge for the transition between hexameter and pentameter. Before the reader/audience reaches the middle of the word conveniente, the sequence ēde ̆re ̆ māte ̆riā̆ cōn… could be the beginning of a hexameter, with a penthemimeral caesura: ēdĕrĕ mātĕriā̆

|

̆ cōnvĕniēntĕ mŏdīs

Yet, the metrical course of the word precludes the possibility of epic verse, since the expected hexameter turns out to be a pentameter. To be sure, this transition is common to any elegiac couplet in Latin poetry. So, when read as a whole, the distich does certainly not offer any metrical surprise. Yet, if we acquiesce to see a play on the reader’s semantic and metrical expectations in this particular case, it is because of the unmistakably epic tone of the first line. The supposedly serious prospect of an epos about arma violentaque bella raised by the solemn first line is thwarted precisely when we arrive at the centre of the word conveniente in the next line, and this is corroborated when we read that the subject matter (materia)

 See, e. g., Boyd (1997: 142 and 147 ff.), Kennedy (1993: 58 63), McKeown (1989: 7 ff.), Gon zález Iglesias (2004: 17 19 and 287) and Holzberg (2001: 110 114).

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is semantically subordinated to the meter (modis)¹²⁷. This “ruse” permits Ovid to emphasise further his choice of elegiac couplets and simultaneously to hint at his wilful use of literary tools. Thus, while epos has yielded to elegy, meter has prevailed over subject matter. In the end, it is the subject matter that adapts and in doing so reveals itself as a versatile and adjustable substance. Thus, in this programmatic elegy, Ovid through the term conveniente (the verb convenire) alludes to his power play with his poetic material. The poet transports the reader to the dominion of elegy as the term unfurls across the verse ̆ ̆ mŏdīs), and defies, thus, the epic expectations (ēde ̆re ̆ māte ̆riā̆ cōn… ve ̆niēnte raised by the first line. By this token, Ovid anticipates the joke of lines 3 – 4 that Cupid “stole a foot” from every second line (par erat inferior versus—risisse Cupido // dicitur atque unum surripuisse pedem). Moreover, he uses the first distich to make a hierarchical self-assertion in relation to his poetic subject matter. Arma, the first word of the poem (and of Ovid’s whole elegiac collection), with its solemn echoes of Vergil’s epic beginning arma virumque…, becomes a toy in Ovid’s hands. At first sight it seems to be a fixed element: insofar as its existence is based on an established, nearly self-sustaining literary tradition, Ovid wittily hints at the erroneous perception that arma is beyond the reach of the poet’s — any poet’s— particular aims. Yet, he transforms it into a labile substance as soon as that he equates it with his poetic subject matter (materia). But it is precisely through the intertextual echoes of Amores 2,4 that Ovid’s play with the expectations of his text becomes even more accentuated. The progression of deception and revelation that the reader experiences in the first distich of Amores 1,1 is further reinforced in 2,4: whereas in 1,1 the subject matter (arma) becomes a malleable substance that depends on and adapts to another substance which in turn is equally variable (the meter), in 2,4 Ovid’s new subject matter (the elegiac puellae) is subordinate to the poet/lover’s fickle desires: conveniunt voto longa brevisque meo (36):

 Even though, one can argue, the tense of the verb parabam (imperfect) already anticipates the failure of Ovid’s epic intentions. Given that the first word arma clearly echoes Vergil’s arma (virumque) (see Conte (2012: 102 102); Holzberg (2001: 114) and McKeown (1989: 11 12)), it is likely that the depiction of Ovid’s supposedly epic endeavour with the phrase parabam … edere should also contrast with Vergil’s factual cano. Whereas Vergil states “I am now singing of warfare…” (contrasting, in turn, with Homer’s appeal that the Muse herself sing through his mouth), Ovid tells of an already foregone deed “I was just preparing to tell about warfare…”, whose very belatedness prevents its actuality. Although a deeper inquiry into the issue is beyond the scope of my arguments, the “changed” tense reflects Ovid’s concern with his own seconda riness to his literary predecessors while permitting readers to recognise his self conscious var iation from the constraints of literary tradition.

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Amores ,

Amores ,

materia

materia

arma, violenta bella convenit modis gravi numero MATERIA CONVENIENTE MODIS

puella convenit voto *PUELLA CONVENIENTE VOTO*

Ovid presents puella and arma as the subject matter determined by his variable poetic impulses (omnibus historiis se meus aptat amor: 2,4,44). He creates, therefore, a confusion of realities where, in the end, the only immobile element is he himself as a poet. First, the subject matter (arma) changes to conform to a meter that is ultimately demonstrated to be versatile. Secondly, the puella (materia) is a variable substance that adapts to the voluble desires of the lover. Lastly, the theme of amor itself is subject to the principle of variatio. As a result, the figure of the poet emerges as the axis around which every single element of his discourse revolves. In this context, the term causa of Amores 2,4 (centum sunt causae, cur ego semper amem: 2,4,10; and causa tangor ab omni: 2,4,31) should be understood to corroborate further the beloved’s objectification and to describe explictly her function as a pretext for Ovid creating his erotic discourse. As Kennedy (1993: 75) argues, the elegiac beloved becomes an objectified entity to such a degree that Ovid composes a love poem dedicated to “Woman” in general, almost as if “Woman” were an abstract concept¹²⁸. Ovid’s comprehensible poetological tone permits us to return to Tibullus with a better understanding of his more subtle metaliterary reflections. In the same way Ovid’s beloved is the causa (i. e., the pretext that allows the poet to develop his discourse on amor), the appearance of Marathus in the final lines of Tibullus’ elegy 1,4 personifies the vague and undefined poetic material that Tibullus intends to immortalise (quem referent Musae, vivet: 65). Until the end of the poem the concrete contours of the poet’s love-object remain diluted in the unnamed turba (9) of boys who are susceptible to becoming a causa amoris (10). Therefore, Tibullus demonstrates amor as a means to designate his own poetic activity, anticipating, thus, a motif that Ovid takes up again and develops further. Tibullus’ strategy obliges the readers to reconsider the power relation between the poet and Marathus: the lover’s dramatic petition for indulgence (parce, puer, quaeso…: 83) and his role as a servus prove to be a

 For a similar stance on Propertius’ beloved in poem 2,3, see Spelman (1999: esp. 136 137), who argues that the puella is unveiled as an reified category that can be filled by any feminine object of desire.

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theatrical inversion of the hierarchy at the supra-fictional level, where the poet controls and handles his poetic material according to his authorial intentions.

Propertius 1,15 In Propertius’ case, the puella’s treatment as his poetic subject matter is not only more overtly formulated than in Tibullus, but also far more concentrated and developed. Even if Propertius does not reach Ovid’s degree of explicitness, he has a proclivity for metaliterary reflections on the elegiac play between “fictional” and “supra-fictional” layers of meaning. In comparison to Tibullus, Propertius is far more profuse in this regard. In Chapter 2 of this section I argued that in his poem 1,7 Propertius intentionally alludes to the function of the elegiac puella as subject matter; in fact, as we saw, the author contrasts Ponticus’ epic themes (wars and heroes) with his own poetic theme, Cynthia. In the following pages I will focus on a number of poems where with even more explicitness than in 1,7 Propertius depicts the supra-fictional role of the beloved as historia, i. e., as his literary plot. Readings of these poems will permit us to examine in detail how this characterisation of the puella is ultimately meant to establish the hierarchy between the amator-poeta and his puella. The beloved’s objectification for the sake of Propertius’ poetic designs has been well-attested by criticism of the poet’s second book, but has been significantly neglected with respect to the Monobiblos. As Wyke reveals¹²⁹, this omission is due to the fact that the first book more strictly respects the reality effect in its description of the beloved and the different situations in the affair between Propertius and Cynthia, whereas from the second book on Propertius more explicitly introduces reflections on his own literary activity¹³⁰. Thus, criticism has tended to ignore the Monobiblos when it comes to searching for poems that overtly treat questions of literary controversy¹³¹. Nevertheless, a close examination of 1,15 uncovers the remarkable presence of poetological thought. By suggesting the possibility to interpret Cynthia not only as beloved, but also as poetical argument, with this poem Propertius expands the scope of his relationship with Cyn-

 See idem (2002: 22 ff., 47 ff., and 57 59) and Sharrock (2000: 264 6).  See Fedeli (1981: 227 and 236) for the distinction between explicit and implicit poetological statements in the Monobiblos.  In spite of the contributions of Wyke (2002: esp. 46 77), Fedeli (1981) Greene (1998: 37 66), Newman (1997: 190 212) or Keith (1999), it is noteworthy that some important studies, like Malt by’s (2006: 147 181) or Manuwald’s (2006: 219 243) devote comparatively scant attention to the Monobiblos (with the exception of 1,7 and 1,9, where Propertius explicitly talks about literary is sues).

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thia into the supra-fictional sphere and simultaneously calls into question (or, in other words, delimitates) his role as a servus amoris. Elegy 1,15, together with 1,7, is one of the poems that most openly asserts the puella’s function as “literary material” in Propertius’ Monobiblos. The poet laments his beloved’s fickleness and blames her for her perfidy towards him: with absolute indifference towards his sufferings¹³², she cares only for her matutinal toilette. Propertius contrasts Cynthia’s attitude with the demeanour of those mythical heroines (as Alphesiboea or Evadne) who are characterised by their unerring fidelity to their beloveds: Saepe ego multa tuae levitatis dura timebam, hac tamen excepta, Cynthia, perfidia. aspice me quanto rapiat fortuna periclo! tu tamen in nostro lenta timore venis; et potes hesternos manibus componere crines et longa faciem quaerere desidia, nec minus Eois pectus variare lapillis, ut formosa novo quae parat ire viro. at non sic Ithaci digressu mota Calypso desertis olim fleverat aequoribus: multos illa dies incomptis maesta capillis sederat, iniusto multa locuta salo, et quamvis numquam post haec visura, dolebat illa tamen, longae conscia laetitiae. nec sic Aesoniden rapientibus anxia ventis Hypsipyle vacuo constitit in thalamo: Hypsipyle nullos post illos sensit amores, ut semel Haemonio tabuit hospitio. Alphesiboea suos ultast pro coniuge fratres, sanguinis et cari vincula rupit amor¹³³ coniugis Euadne miseros elata per ignis occidit, Argivae fama pudicitiae. quarum nulla tuos potuit convertere mores, tu quoque uti fieres nobilis historia.

5

10

14 17

20 15 21 23

In these 24 lines Propertius places a multidimensional tableau in front of the reader, who witnesses the transition between fiction and meta-literature. The poet does so without opening discursive fissures. His deft handling of discourse permits him to present himself as a subjugated lover and simultaneously to re See Fedeli (1977: 76 77) on the various potential explanations of Propertius’ periculum (line 3).  I follow here Barber’s (1960: 20) order for lines 10 20. On the transposition of lines 15 16, see Fedeli (1977: 82 83).

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veal himself as the— ontologically superior— force that creates and controls the whole world of which Cynthia is a part. Propertius formulates the terms of what he portrays as his beloved’s disloyalty: the first distich contains all the necessary elements to position the reader in front of a situation typical of Propertius’ erotic discourse: 1) 2) 3) 4)

Ego: Propertius-the lover, in first person. Cynthia: the beloved, whose most prominent features are duritia and levitas. This fact makes the lover anxious (timebam). In the particular case of this poem, the beloved’s levitas resulted in an act of perfidia.

Yet, this characteristic scenario of erotic fiction gradually becomes more elaborate: Propertius’s presentation of a typical love affair is suddenly interrupted by the intrusion of myth into Propertius’ and Cynthia’s world: at non sic Ithaci digressu… (9). The term sic enables the transition from Propertius’ “reality” to the mythical world. Through the discussion of mythological figures the reader is transported for 13 lines (9 – 22) from Propertius’ first-person love affair towards a sphere that overtly belongs to the dominion of the poetry: Calypso’s sorrow as she contemplates the image of Ulysses’ ship drifting away; Alphesiboea, the tragic heroine who killed her own brothers to avenge the death of her beloved Alcmaeon; Hypsipyle, who never fell in love again after Jason abandoned her; Evadne, the faithful wife of Capaneus who threw herself onto his funeral pyre and died for love. The literary resonance of these mythological figures¹³⁴ as well as the length of the passage obliges the reader to reconsider Propertius’s purpose in incorporating it: is it merely a series of mythological exempla to illustrate Cynthia’s behaviour by antithesis¹³⁵? Or have we been led as readers to a different plane that obliges us to observe Propertius’ erotic affair from a new perspective? Does the poet have the power to transform Cynthia into a new Calypso or a new Evadne? After leaping into the realm of myth, there is no turning back: the poem as “real life experience” has yielded to the poem as literature. Thus, Cynthia ultimately becomes —just like the mythical heroines— a figure of literature: an anti-Evadne, an anti-Calypso, an anti-Hypsipyle… a femme fatale… Be it as it may, Cynthia becomes a literary argument that is functionally equal to myth. Innobilis rather

 For a review of the (mostly tragic) sources for the stories of these women, see Fedeli (1977: 90 97).  According to La Penna (1951: 99) [apud Fedeli (1977: 90)], it is an “exemplum antitetico”.

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than nobilis, Propertius’ puella becomes, in any case, historia ¹³⁶ (24). Propertius alludes to his power as poet to elevate his beloved —or any other of his literary characters— to the level of the characters in the mythological tradition; or, in other words, that he can immortalise Cynthia as a new Evadne or a new Calypso. Historia is, as Fedeli (1977: 82) points out, “un grecismo tecnico, riferito al genere letterario”. Cynthia is therefore a metaphor that designates Propertius’ genre: his is not an elevated genre; nor is it a poetic form that is distinguished by the seal of nobilitas (as in the case of the tragedies and epics represented by the heroines of the exempla). Instead, Cynthia is the emblem of humilis ¹³⁷ poetry: love elegy. The lines that transport us to the world of myth are not a digression, as interpreted by Fedeli (1977: 82). Propertius deliberately juxtaposes them with his “personal” erotic experience: by positioning the “story” (historia) of his love affair at the same narrative level as the stories of myth, the poet transforms his erotic world into an account that is functionally equivalent to the series of fictional accounts of thwarted love (Calypso, Hypsipyle,…) transmitted by poetry. The term historia, linked to Cynthia, alters the semantics of the simile: even though the connective word (non) sic formally introduces the comparison, the meta-discursive connotation of the term historia jeopardises the consistency of the whole construction. The fact that Propertius includes Cynthia in the domain of historia (even though this story is not nobilis) dismantles the premise that sustains all similes: to compare two entities, they must be clearly differentiated. That is, A and B have to represent different categories if we want to compare them. In the case of Propertius’ simile, the reader expects Cynthia and the heroines to pertain to two separate narrative and ontological levels. Propertius plays, thus, with the expectation that Cynthia represents a “reality” that is compared to “literature”. Yet, when Cynthia is herself historia, the simile disintegrates. The result is that Cynthia and the four heroines of myth not only resemble one another (as is expected for a typical simile): they also become identical. Cynthia is transformed into a myth; the question of nobilitas vs. innobilitas remains as the only point of comparison. The simile, which has been introduced by the term (non) sic, makes an unexpected turn. In a usual simile we would expect the parallel thread represented by the simile to return to the main thread of the discourse after enriching it with parenthetical information. Propertius, instead, makes the reader embark on a “one-way trip”. Once the poet deliberately blurs the contours of the simile’s

 Taking, as Fedeli (1977: 82) contends, the substantive historia as nominative, not as ablative.  On Propertius’ use of humilis as a technical term for elegy’s characteristically “unpreten tious” style (in contrast to epos or tragedy), see Fedeli (1981: 229).

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end, we are no longer able to establish a clear-cut ontological distinction between myth and Cynthia, or, in other word, we do not know whether the world of myth finishes with Evadne, the last of the mythical heroines, or whether it extends to the elegiac puella as well. The categories of simile and metaphor are no longer valid, since Cynthia’s (the comparandum) ontological stability has been disrupted. In brief, the mythological exemplum, far from being just a literary ornament, serves as a vehicle to transform Cynthia into a narrative argument. Cynthia’s “mythologisation” is further enhanced if we take into account the possibility that Propertius is simultaneously playing with a sophisticated version of the vel qualis motif, which is directly related to the tradition of the catalogue of heroines stemming from the Ehoiai, a poem that was attributed to Hesiod during Antiquity. In this regard, Propertius’ elegy 1,3 offers an illuminating parallel. As Fedeli (1981: 237) argues, in 1,3,1– 6 the poet pays homage to the Hesiodic tradition (whose celebration was deeply rooted in Alexandrianism) by presenting a sequence of famous mythical heroines, at the end of which he introduces Cynthia. Each woman is introduced by the words vel qualis, that is, ἤ οἳη, the formula after which the pseudo-Hesiodic version was named: Ἠ οἷαι. In this elegy Propertius produces a catalogue of different mythic heroines as exempla to illustrate Cynthia’s appearance while she sleeps: Qualis Thesea iacuit cedente carina languida desertis Cnosia litoribus; qualis et accubuit primo Cepheia somno libera iam duris cotibus Andromede; nec minus assiduis Edonis fessa choreis qualis in herboso concidit Apidano: talis visa mihi mollem spirare quietem Cynthia consertis nixa caput manibus

(1,3,1 8)

To increase the visual impact of the image of sleeping Cynthia, Propertius presents three mythological scenes: Ariadne sleeping while Theseus drifts away; Andromeda asleep after her liberation by Perseus; and an exhausted Bacchant after a night of dancing. We as readers are spurred on by oneiric images of extenuated heroines, until, abruptly, as if the dream were suddenly interrupted, the term talis (line 7) formally closes the exemplum and obliges us to return to the world of Cynthia and Propertius. Thus, in this elegy Cynthia does not transgress the limit of the simile: Propertius likens her to the women of myth, but that she belongs to “reality” (as opposed to myth) is unquestionable. Even if she looks like the most conspicuous sleeping heroines, she is formally excluded from myth by the rigidity of the construction qualis… talis.

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The case of 1,15 is clearly different, since the poet goes one step further than in 1,3: in 1,15 Propertius creates an “open-ended” simile. The puella penetrates the dominion of myth and as an anti-Evadne, anti-Calypso, anti-Alphesiboea and anti-Hypsipyle becomes one more heroine in Propertius’ particular Ehoiai. Propertius juxtaposes the reality effect of his love affair with the metapoetic reflections on his relationship with Cynthia as a literary character. Under the pretext of a sentimental lament, the poet reveals his anxious need to establish his supremacy as the creator of his literary world and to assert his power in raising his beloved to the rank of a literary heroine. While Propertius initially presented himself as a lover (ego: 1), his ultimate intention is to call attention to his central function as a poet. In this interpretative context, assuming the role of the praeceptor amoris in the last lines of the poem (similis moniturus amantis: 41) provides a corollary to Propertius’ metapoetic reflections. By alluding in a marked position at the end of the elegy to his love-teaching through literature, Propertius highlights a supra-fictional reading of the whole composition, in a similar vein to Tibullus in poem 1,4,75 ff. (vos me celebrate magistrum…). Consequently, by becoming the subject of his poetic discourse, Propertius implies that his authorial voice prevails over any object or character of his erotic world¹³⁸.

Propertius 2,3 Likening the beloved to the famous heroines of myth is a recurrent motif in Propertius’ elegy¹³⁹. Lieberg (1969) considers it a technique aimed at the glorification and idealisation of the beloved, who thereby is transformed into a puella divina ¹⁴⁰. Yet, an analysis that accounts for the author’s metapoetic intentions reveals that Propertius’ ultimate purpose is to create a clear-cut ontological distinction between himself as creator and his artistic material. The puella, thus, becomes an element that is functionally analogous to myth and is at service of the poet’s aesthetic will. In this regard, three elegies are particularly noteworthy: 2,3; 2,32; and 2,28. I will first focus on 2,3. Outwardly, the main theme of this poem is the beloved’s

 The parallel of elegy 1,7 further underscores this interpretation. In this poem too, which, as I argued in Chapter 2 above, exhibits clear metapoetic overtones, Propertius concludes the elegy by emphasising the immortality of his name as a praeceptor amoris.  See Lieberg (1969: 328 ff.) for the main examples of Cynthia’s “mythologisation”.  According to Lieberg’s (1969) interpretation, on other occasions this analogy yields to a par aenetic discourse aimed at persuading the beloved to adopt a given moral stance. On the deifi cation of the mistress as an elegaic convention, see Sharrock (1999b: 170 171) with further bib liographical references.

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glorification as a puella divina through the description of her intellectual and physical qualities. Yet, a reading that accounts for supra-fictional signs renders a starkly different image of the poem and reveals the poet’s anxious concern about establishing the hierarchies that rule his poetic world. In the end, Propertius’ focus on praising his own literary activity and its power to create Cynthia’s reality relegates the puella divina to an ancillary position. The poem begins with a monologue in which the infatuated lover laments his situation: ’Qvi nullum tibi dicebas iam posse nocere, haesisti, cecidit spiritus ille tuus! vix unum potes, infelix, requiescere mensem, et turpis de te iam liber alter erit.’

(1 4)

What initially appears to be an erotic lament actually contains the first metaliterary allusion of the poem. In fact, with the reference to his first book of poems (turpis de te iam liber alter erit: 4), Propertius aims to concentrate the attention of the readers on his role as a poet. Later on in the poem at line 33, the poet resumes the reference to his literary self-assertion, stating, by way of a rhetorical question, that the entire youth of Rome knows “Cynthia” —that is, Propertius’ erotic oeuvre— and “is on fire” with her: hac ego nunc mirer si flagret nostra iuventus? Propertius’ ultimate objective is to emphasise his fame as a love poet, and he follows the same line of poetic self-assertion as Catullus 16, 9 – 11: (versiculi)… incitare possunt, // non dico pueris, sed his pilosis, // qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos. While Catullus directly declares that his poetry sexually arouses (incitare) his readers, Propertius plays with the pun that Cynthia stirs up Rome’s desires. In any case, flagrare or incitare, as well as urere in line 44, are endowed with similar meta-discursive content, and both Catullus and Propertius refer to the ability of their poetic discourse to produce a given effect in the reader. Line 30 can be interpreted within the same framework of hierarchical and artistic self-assertion. Propertius asserts that his beloved is destined to be the unique glory of Rome, since she will be the first Roman woman to sleep with Jupiter himself (gloria Romanis una es tu nata puellis: / Romana acumbes prima puella Iovi: 29 – 30). Even if, at first sight, the beloved seems to be glorified as a puella divina, a close examination of the metapoetic allusions shows that in reality the poet is celebrating himself. In fact, on the one hand, Propertius metonymically occupies the position of Jupiter (if Cynthia is like a goddess who sleeps with Jupiter, Propertius is the god she sleeps with). On the other hand, through the allusion of the next line nec semper humana nobiscum cubilia

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vises (31), Propertius asserts his power to immortalise and deify his poetic object. As a result, the glorification of Cynthia as a puella divina becomes a means to objectify her¹⁴¹. Although Cynthia, as a puella divina, seems to occupy the centre of the poem, Propertius’ ultimate purpose is to assert his hierarchical pre-eminence as a poet. In this frame, Propertius recurs again to likening his beloved to the heroines of literature. This time he transforms Cynthia into a new Helen and declares that it would have been more glorious for Troy to perish for this woman (32 ff.): post Helenam haec terris forma secunda redit. hac ego nunc mirer si flagret nostra iuventus? pulchrius hac fuerat, Troia, perire tibi. olim mirabar, quod tanti ad Pergama belli Europae atque Asiae causa puella fuit: nunc, Pari, tu sapiens et tu, Menelae, fuisti, tu quia poscebas, tu quia lentus eras. digna quidem facies, pro qua vel obiret Achilles; vel Priamo belli causa probanda fuit.

35

40

Propertius transforms Cynthia into a literary figure and overtly presents her as an artistic object. The “merits” that the poet attributes to his beloved (pro qua vel obiret Achilles:, 39) are, in reality, the merits of his own poetry. Like in Ovid’s Amores 2,4, the elegiac beloved is once again associated with the term causa (36). As we saw earlier in this chapter, Ovid avers that the elegiac puella is the pretext allowing him to introduce variatio into his love poetry (centum sunt causae, cur ego semper amem: 10). Likewise, Propertius gives Cynthia the metaliterary semantics of the term causa: in fact, the poet holds that she could have provided the plot for an alternate Iliad, an “eroticised” Iliad ¹⁴². As Knox argues¹⁴³, Cynthia’s name ultimately functions as a metaphor for the discourse of erotic poetry itself. The objectification of the puella is most clearly formulated in lines 41– 44, where Propertius explicitly depicts “Cynthia” as an artistic model, an iconographic source for artists:

 On Cynthia’s objectification in this poem, see also Spelman (1999: esp. 129), who argues for “[Propertius’] mastery not only of his mistress, but of all the elements in the poetic world he cre ates”.  Propertius implicitly draws on the beginning of poem 2,1, where he programmatically stated his purpose to cultivate elegiac poetry. As a result all other literary forms are subordinated to the elegiac perspective: seu nuda erepto mecum luctatur amictu, // tum vero longas condimus Iliadas (2,1,14 15).  2006a: 144 (n. 55). See also Ross (1975: 125).

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si quis vult fama tabulas anteire vetustas, hic dominam exemplo ponat in arte meam: sive illam Hesperiis, sive illam ostendet Eois, uret et Eoos, uret et Hesperios.

The poet imagines Cynthia as a new Venus Anadiomene who could figure in the paintings of the most well-known Greek artists¹⁴⁴. He transforms her into an exemplum in arte (42), i. e., into a literary theme that is analogous to those used by painters as an inspiration for their oeuvres.

Propertius 2,32 Poem 2,32 again takes up the metaliterary reflection on the power relation between the poet-lover and his beloved. To that end, Propertius not only creates an analogy between his beloved and, as we have seen in 1,15 and 2,3, the goddesses and heroines of myth, but he also alludes intertextually to the literary character of Lesbia, implicitly comparing Catullus’ puella with his own. In fact, in line 45 the poet refers to Lesbia as a literary exemplum of licentious erotic conduct that went unpunished: Tyndaris externo patriam mutavit amore, et sine decreto viva reducta domum est. ipsa Venus fertur corrupta libidine Martis, nec minus in caelo semper honesta fuit.

31

(…) haec eadem ante illam iam impune et Lesbia fecit:

45

Propertius “mythologises” Lesbia by putting her erotic behaviour on the same level as Helen’s or Venus’. At the same time, furthermore, he “mythologises” his beloved and explicitly inscribes her into the dominion of literature by aligning her with literary figures like Venus, Helen or Lesbia. As in all cases where Propertius likens Cynthia to a character of literature, his ultimate intention is that the reader interpret Cynthia as a literary argument. From this hermeneutical perspective it is comprehensible why Propertius includes his beloved in the group of beautiful women who have been harmed by fabula: semper formosis fabula poena fuit (26). Propertius encourages Cynthia not to give credence to hostile tongues that censure her way of life (sed tu non debes inimicae credere linguae [25]). Yet, he is not only speaking about Cynthia’s behaviour. Supra-fictionally, Propertius reveals that his Cynthia is a fictional character, as we can infer

 See Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 253, n. 87).

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from the pun on the term fabula, which means, on the one hand, “gossip”, but which is also marked with meta-discursive connotations. As we have seen regarding the term historia (poem 1,15,24), Cynthia’s association with the world of fabula demonstrates that the elegiac puella is ultimately for Propertius a poetic theme. The beloved is, thus, functionally equivalent to the stories from literary tradition. In fact, as Propertius explicitly states in the last distich of the poem, his “Cynthia” follows the pattern of imitatio: “Cynthia” models on both Greek and Latin prototypes: tu Graias es tuque imitata Latinas (61). If we account for the self-reflexive nature not only of the poem itself, but also of the elegiac genre as a whole, the meaning of the word imitare goes far beyond the fictional level of Cynthia imitating the behaviour of other promiscuous women. Imitare is here meant as an allusion to the metaliterary reflection on the process of characterising “Cynthia”, or, in other words, the process of creating elegy and incorporating it within literary tradition. Conte’s definition of imitatio neatly describes what Propertius is thinking when he speaks about imitare: “Imitation, as understood by a Latin poet implies (…) bringing into play the vast expressive possibilities offered by the different forms of poetic memory; it is an element of the poetic language, not an obstacle to originality of creation”¹⁴⁵.

Propertius 2,28 Poem 2,28¹⁴⁶ further corroborates the treatment of Cynthia as a poetic argument equivalent to the tales of myth. Moreover, this elegy emphasises more explicitly than 2,32 the power relation between the amator-poeta and the elegiac puella. In this poem the lover worries about Cynthia’s illness and prays that the gods save her. Yet, beyond the fiction of Propertius’ sentimental expression, a metaliterary reading of this elegy discovers a series of elements projecting Cynthia into a supra-fictional level where she is equated with the material of literary tradition. In particular, these considerations can be deduced from lines 15 – 24 and 29 – 30: sed tibi vexatae per multa pericula vitae extremo veniet mollior hora die. Io versa caput primos mugiverat annos: nunc dea, quae Nili flumina vacca bibit. Ino etiam prima terris aetate vagata est: hanc miser implorat navita Leucothoen. Andromede monstris fuerat devota marinis: haec eadem Persei nobilis uxor erat.

 Conte (1994b: 303).  In this case I follow Fedeli (2005: 777 ff.), who defends the poem’s unity.

15

20

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Callisto Arcadios erraverat ursa per agros: haec nocturna suo sidere vela regit. (…) et tibi Maeonias omnis heroidas inter primus erit nulla non tribuente locus.

30

Propertius puts Cynthia on the same level as Io, Andromeda and Callisto, three heroines of mythology to whom, after much toil and suffering, the gods granted immortality. Likewise, a gentler destiny awaits Cynthia after her earthly life (extremo veniet mollior hora die: 16). As a result of assimilating Cynthia to the heroines of mythology, Propertius implicitly occupies a privileged position: in fact, the simile situates Propertius, by analogy, in the place of Jupiter and Neptune (who endowed the women of the exemplum with immortality or placed them among the stars¹⁴⁷): if Cynthia is likened to Io (to take one instance from the exempla) because of her common features (beauty and suffering), Propertius is implicitly compared to the force that granted her immortality, i. e., to Jupiter, in this case. The mythological associations seem at first sight merely to illustrate a concrete aspect of Cynthia’s existence. Yet, in the context of the whole poem and the whole genre, this example becomes a sophisticated allusion to Propertius’ assertion of authorial power: like the gods of myth, he is capable of endowing his love object with immortality. Thus, the concept of power is ultimately the tertium comparationis. From this interpretative perspective the meaning of lines 39 ff. and, particularly, of line 42 (vivam, si vivet) becomes much more comprehensible: una ratis fati nostros portabit amores caerula ad infernos velificata lacus. sed non unius, quaeso, miserere duorum! vivam, si vivet; si cadet illa, cadam. pro quibus optatis sacro me carmine damno: scribam ego ’Per magnum est salva puella Iovem’; ante tuosque pedes illa ipsa operata sedebit, narrabitque sedens longa pericla sua.

40

45

Beyond the fictional level, Propertius is making a metapoetic declaration: his own life as an artist will last as long as his poetic discourse (his Cynthia) remains alive and “keeps speaking” (narrabit: 46; and 27: narrabis Semelae, quo fit Formosa periclo) through time and space. Cynthia is, in sum, Propertius’ narrative material; as a reified entity, she designates the author’s choice of elegy. This is the reason why, when he imagines Cynthia’s bodily death, he places her ahead

 For the details and the mythological background on the deification or catasterism of these heroines, see Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 354 355).

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of the Maeonian heroines (et tibi Maeonias omnis heroidas inter // primus erit nulla non tribuente locus: 29 – 30). As Moya―Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 355) points out, the name “Maeonian” designates the characters from Homeric epic, since some ancient sources suggest Lydia (Maeonia) as the blind bard’s birthplace. By placing Cynthia in the foremost position, explicitly in front of Homer’s literary characters, Propertius raises the literary value of elegy above epic discourse. A close reading reveals, thus, that Propertius is speaking about his oeuvre and that his ultimate intention, beyond praising Cynthia’s beauty, is the celebration of his own choice which poetic genre to write. In the end, Cynthia is an instrument at the service of Propertius’ metaliterary reflections.

Propertius 2,1 However, the beloved’s “mythologisation” is not the only means to objectify the puella and to subvert the hierarchy of the servitium amoris in elegiac fiction. In particular two poems in the Propertian corpus (2,1 and 2,10) characterise the puella as a poetic argument in an unusually explicit manner. I will first focus on 2,1, the elegy that introduces the second book and programmatically presents its poetics. In this composition Propertius justifies his choice of genre and asserts that he will keep writing elegy, in spite of Maecenas’ and Augustus’ exhortations to shift his poetic course and devote his art to epic themes. Propertius uses a recusatio to defend his elegiac discourse and, thus, adheres to a tradition going back to Hellenistic literature¹⁴⁸. Yet, beyond the poetological content per se of the recusatio-motif, the image of Cynthia once again becomes the focal point for the poet’s reflections on the implicit hierarchy in the act of poetic creation. The elegiac puella is depersonalised and becomes a symbol of elegiac discourse: Quaeritis, unde mihi totiens scribantur amores, unde meus veniat mollis in ore liber. non haec Calliope, non haec mihi cantat Apollo. ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit. sive illam Cois fulgentem incedere tcogis t, hac totum e Coa veste volumen erit; seu vidi ad frontem sparsos errare capillos, gaudet laudatis ire superba comis; sive lyrae carmen digitis percussit eburnis, miramur, facilis ut premat arte manus;

1

5

10

 For the recusatio motif and its Hellenistic origins, see Gutzwiller (2007: 220), Laguna Mar iscal (2003), Fedeli (2005: 41 and 58 60, 77 78) and Labate (1999: esp. 131 132). See also New man (2006: 325 ff.) for further details about Propertius’ “Alexandrian code”.

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seu cum poscentis somnum declinat ocellos, invenio causas mille poeta novas; seu nuda erepto mecum luctatur amictu, tum vero longas condimus Iliadas; seu quidquid fecit sive est quodcumque locuta, maxima de nihilo nascitur historia.

15

The motif of the beloved as a source of poetic inspiration is a recurrent theme in elegiac poetry¹⁴⁹. Lieberg’s (1963: 269) examination of the puella in Propertius’ poetry concludes that the beloved functions simultaneously as Quelle, Gegenstand and Ziel, that is, as the Source, Object and Addressee of Propertian elegy. From this view, Cynthia in 2,1 assumes the role of Quelle, as we can infer from line 2: ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit. However, a reading that disregards the text’s supra-fictional semantics generates two difficulties: on the one hand, it falls victim to the genre’s ontological fallacy, since it obliges the reader to invoke a supposed extra-textual “reality” (namely the “flesh-and-bone” Cynthia who inspires the literary text) to explicate a phenomenon whose nature is exclusively textual. On the other hand, particularly in the case of poem 2,1, this kind of reading ignores a number of elements that can cogently be understood as intentional meta-textual signs. Propertius’ puella is not the poeticised representation of a “real” person: Cynthia is simply the most persistent literary motif in Propertius’ elegiac discourse. The rhetorical question that Propertius poses in line 1 (quaeritis, unde mihi totiens scribantur amores) seems intended to praise the beloved as his Muse. Yet, the larger context of the poem shows that its ultimate aim is the poet’s own glory, rather than the puella’s. In fact, once the poet identifies his beloved as the source of his talent (ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit), from line 5 onwards the poem unfolds in manner that gradually blurs Cynthia’s contours, while the figure of the poet grows progressively in prominence and definition. Through the lengthy sequence of conjunctions sive… seu… sive…. seu… seu… seu (5 – 15), Cynthia’s “personality” —and, by the same token, the world of literary fiction — slowly fades away as the text brings the reader into the realm of meta-literature. Propertius amplifies the effect of this transition with the climactic crescendo of the last three pentameters, until the culmination in line 16: invenio causas mille poeta novas [12] … tum vero longas condimus Iliadas [14] … maxima de nihilo nascitur historia [16]. Whatever Cynthia may undertake (sive illam Cois ful-

 Among the many instances in elegiac poetry, Tibullus 2,5 is an illustrative example, as Holzberg (2001: 96) notes. See also Knox (2006a: 142), who refers to Gallus as the most plausible forerunner of this poetic practice.

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gentem incedere vidi… seu vidi ad frontem sparsos errare capillos…), she will always be at the service of Propertius’ poetic creativity. Cynthia is the “raw material”, a versatile literary motif in the hands of the poet. Thus, rather than the Muse, Propertius’ poetic creativity is the true object of praise in the poem: invenio causas mille poeta novas (12). Cynthia is a poetic argument that embodies the erotic subject matter inherent to elegiac discourse. This consideration is illustrated particularly in lines 13 – 14, where Propertius states that his Cynthia can even eroticise warfare —the typical subject matter of epic poetry: seu nuda erepto mecum luctatur amictu // tum vero longas condimus Iliadas. Once again, as we have seen in Tibullus 1,4 and Ovid’s Amores 2,4, the association of the puella with the term causa (12) implies her objectification and dehumanisation. As Propertius asserts in line 16, Cynthia is an ontologically secondary product of his artistic will: maxima de nihilo nascitur historia (16). His literary world emerges “from nothing”, or, in other words, the puella herself is a mere pretext for the poet to enhance the magnificence of his poetic fiction, his maxima historia. As Greene (2000: 250) argues, Propertius reveals openly for the first time that Cynthia is for him a name in a text, a subject matter functionally equivalent to Maecenas’ favourite themes, namely warfare and Caesar’s heroic deeds¹⁵⁰ —topics he could have alternatively treated, if his poetic character had guided him in this direction (17– 46): quod mihi si tantum, Maecenas, fata dedissent, ut possem heroas ducere in arma manus,

17

(…) bellaque resque tui memorarem Caesaris, et tu Caesare sub magno cura secunda fores. nam quotiens Mutinam aut civilia busta Philippos aut canerem Siculae classica bella fugae,

25

(…) sed neque Phlegraeos Iovis Enceladique tumultus intonet angusto pectore Callimachus, nec mea conveniunt duro praecordia versu Caesaris in Phrygios condere nomen avos. navita de ventis, de tauris narrat arator, enumerat miles vulnera, pastor ovis;

40

 “The speaker in 2.1, while personalizing his address to Maecenas, nonetheless makes it clear that Maecenas would exist in his poems as a name in a text. Like the elegiac mistress, Maecenas, as another theme in the poet’s verse, would be subject to the rhetorical control of the speaker. The patron’s fama, like the puella’s, would depend on the poet endowing him with the heroic attrib utes worthy of inclusion in commemorative verse”. See also Fedeli (2005: 65), who notes that the expression cura secunda (26), in reference to Maecenas, means “soggetto poetico”.

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nos contra angusto versantes proelia lecto: qua pote quisque, in ea conterat arte diem.

Propertius employs the recusatio-motif to achieve a further metapoetic goal, namely to emphasise the poet’s role as a creator of fictions: he could have composed an epic oeuvre, leading throngs of heros to war as a poet (possem heroas ducere in arma manus: 18). Yet, from this variety of literary pursuits he chose his elegiac mistress. In any circumstance, his literary characters (whether epic or elegiac) are subject to his authorial control as a poet, since it is he who decides whether or not they take part in his literary world. As a corollary to Propertius’ assertion of his hierarchical pre-eminence over his literary world, the lines closing the poem further reinforce the poet’s supremacy. Propertius imagines his own death and implicitly refers to his future fame as a love poet: quandocumque igitur vitam mea fata reposcent, et breve in exiguo marmore nomen ero, Maecenas, nostrae spes invidiosa iuventae, et vitae et morti gloria iusta meae, si te forte meo ducet via proxima busto, esseda caelatis siste Britanna iugis, taliaque illacrimans mutae iace verba favillae: ’Huic misero fatum dura puella fuit.’

75

As we have seen elsewhere in the Propertian corpus¹⁵¹, references to the poet’s death are usually imbued with metaliterary content and specifically allude to the artist gaining perpetuity through his oeuvre. Propertius conjures up the image of Maecenas passing by his tomb and remembering him as the silent dust of a wretched lover (lines 77– 78). Yet, it is particularly meaningful that he explicitly mentions that his memory will require the written word: Propertius will, in fact, be “reduced” to an inscription¹⁵² that will preserve his remembrance (breve in exiguo marmore nomen ero: 72). Even though with ostensible modesty he rejects an opulent gravestone (breve nomen / exiguo marmore)¹⁵³, he declares  Particularly for poem 2,13 (see above).  See Jacobsen (2008) on Ramsby’s (2007) arguments about the “memorializing possibilities” of epigraphic verses, which are exploited by Propertius as a means to “elevate himself beyond the demeaning role of ’servus amoris’” (Jacobsen, 2008).  In turn, the expression probably hints at the Callimachean motto of “thinness” (leptotes). Thus, even by way of this apparent tapinosis, Propertius invokes the principles of Callimachean aesthetics to make an implicit poetological statement. This allusion is particularly meaningful if we remember that the prologue of Callimachus’ Aetia (Fr. 1 Pf.) does not only advocate a slender

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with pride that he will survive in writing. The poet deftly exploits metaliterary overtones in referring to his nature as an object of reading and, thus, implicitly strengthens his agonistic relationship with the characters and subjects of his poetic world. By depicting himself as the written word, Propertius occupies the place where he normally situates his scripta puella ¹⁵⁴ and, by the same token, blurs the boundaries between author and text. Against the backdrop of the programmatic allusion to the ancillary nature of his subject matter, Propertius ultimately reflects on the fact that, as a poet, he can simultaneously occupy all the positions in his literary world. Consequently, he always finds himself in the place of greatest advantage. This is the reason why he is destined to surpass the limits of time and why in the end his dust will not be silent.

Ovid, Amores 1,1 Ovid, the youngest of the major elegists, began to write elegy after the genre was already formed. As we have seen above in Amores 2,4, a distinctive feature of Ovidian poetics is the treatment of amor and the puella as predominantly discursive phenomena. Although this view is common to all the authors of the genre, Ovid’s originality lies in the fact that he reflects upon it with considerably more transparency than his predecessors. Hence, from the first of Ovid’s love elegies, namely poem 1,1 of the Amores, the poet defies Tibullus’ and in particular Propertius’ elegiac traditions by constructing an adynaton-situation in which he performs the role of the wretched lover whose heart has been conquered by Amor, without having a puella or a puer whom he adulates and adores: nec mihi materia est numeris levioribus apta, aut puer aut longas compta puella comas.’ Questus eram, pharetra cum protinus ille soluta legit in exitium spicula facta meum, lunavitque genu sinuosum fortiter arcum, ’quod’ que ’canas, vates, accipe’ dixit ’opus!’

20

style avoiding “one continuous song” in a “thousand lines”. It is also a recusatio of epic themes. On Callimachean recusatio, see Gutzwiller (2007: 220).  Propertius refers to his mistress with this expression in 2,10 (bella canam, quando scripta puella mea est: 8), another poem of the second book where the poet uses the recusatio motif to reflect on his relationship with his literary puella. In fact, as argued by Wyke (2002: 51 59), in this elegy Propertius situates his puella alongside bella, the new subject matter to which he ini tially intends to devote himself (lines 1 20). Cynthia, the theme which the poet, after all, cannot abandon (lines 21 26) is, thus, revealed as “a form of poetic production”, that is, “a particular form of literary language (…) opposed to the topics of patriotic poetry” (Wyke, 2002: 59).

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Me miserum! certas habuit puer ille sagittas. uror, et in vacuo pectore regnat Amor.

25

Ovid programmatically claims that the lack of an elegiac beloved implies a lack of materia (19) for the composition of his poetry. Therefore, when Cupid’s arrow hits him, Ovid obtains a new subject matter, or, in Ovid’s words, a new opus: ’quod’ que ’canas, vates, accipe’ dixit ’opus (24). This view of the beloved as a literary construct is further reinforced in the next poem (1,2), where Ovid depicts how he suffers from symptoms of love, but expresses his bewilderment ―because he is not in love: Esse quid hoc dicam, quod tam mihi dura videntur strata, neque in lecto pallia nostra sedent, et vacuus somno noctem, quam longa, peregi, lassaque versati corporis ossa dolent? nam, puto, sentirem, siquo temptarer amore. an subit et tecta callidus arte nocet? sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae, et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor. (…) ipse ego, praeda recens, factum modo vulnus habebo et nova captiva vincula mente feram.

5

30

Ovid’s reflections on love as a construct are unusually explicit and distinctive from Tibullus’ and even Propertius’ treatments of the topic. This open view of amor as a discursive phenomenon is so striking that critics have related Ovid’s procedure to Roland Barthes doctrine of love as a cultural construct¹⁵⁵. According to the French essayist, love is not an original feeling. Instead, we construct our own identity as lovers on the base of a “love discourse” which we have apprehended from our cultural tradition. Although, as we have seen in the previous pages, the idea of love as a literary construct is common to all the elegists, Ovid echoes ―avant la lettre― Barthes’ theory most vividly. In fact, his nature as an author of love poems, which is in turn based on his prior reading of love poetry, causes him to be in love. Thus, he reduces the topoi of previous elegy ad absurdum and presents himself as a new lover who has learned the conventions of love perfectly, but who has still not found a beloved.

 See McKeown (1987: 15), and, particularly, Kennedy (1993: 65 ff.).

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Ovid, Amores 1,3 For this reason, when we arrive at elegy 1,3, where the longed-for appearance of an elegiac puella ¹⁵⁶ finally occurs, the mistress is openly depicted as a literary argument: Iusta precor: quae me nuper praedata puella est, aut amet aut faciat, cur ego semper amem! (…) at Phoebus comitesque novem vitisque repertor hac faciunt, et me qui tibi donat, Amor, et nulli cessura fides, sine crimine mores nudaque simplicitas purpureusque pudor. non mihi mille placent, non sum desultor amoris: tu mihi, siqua fides, cura perennis eris. tecum, quos dederint annos mihi fila sororum, vivere contingat teque dolente mori! te mihi materiem felicem in carmina praebe provenient causa carmina digna sua. carmine nomen habent exterrita cornibus Io et quam fluminea lusit adulter ave, quaeque super pontum simulato vecta iuvenco virginea tenuit cornua vara manu. nos quoque per totum pariter cantabimur orbem, iunctaque semper erunt nomina nostra tuis.

1

15

20

25

By analysing the poetry of Catullus, Tibullus and Propertius, I have tried to show how the “mythologisation” of the beloved and her consequent designation as a poetic subject matter were established as a metaliterary trope in the elegiac genre. If we take into account its transparency in this regard, Ovid’s Amores 1,3 can cogently be considered the culminating point of this metapoetic process. On this occasion, Ovid surpasses the conventions of the usual elegiac register and designates the figure of the beloved as the literal materies for his poetic discourse. In fact, after the ostensible love declaration that opens the poem, the reader quickly realises that its central theme is not love as a life-experience, but the poetological reflection on love as a discourse and on the beloved as a product of the poet’s artistic labour. In the first part of the poem, from line 7 onwards, it is remarkable that Ovid reworks the motif of the pauper poeta: after describing himself as a man of modest ancestry (si me non veterum commendant magna parentum // nomina …: 7– 8), he asserts that Apollo, Bacchus and the Muses assisted him (line 11). This allusion to deities related to artistic production

 The mistress is conventionally identified as Corinna, even if Ovid does not give her a name until poem 1,5.

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subtly relegates his status as a lover to the second tier and underlines instead his status as a poet, while, at the same time, advancing a metaliterary reading of the whole composition. Hereafter, the declaration of erotic fidelity (lines 13 – 18) becomes a pledge of faith to a literary form: love elegy. Corinna is now, explicitly, the materies (19) and the poetic causa (20) at the service of Ovid. She is the subject matter and the literary pretext for the composition of the genre to which the poet has decided to devote himself: te mihi materiem felicem in carmina praebe- // provenient causa carmina digna sua. The terms that Ovid employs to describe the elegiac puella imply an unmistakable hierarchical organisation: as the creator’s “raw material”, she is nothing more than a story among the manifold possibilities offered by literary tradition. Ovid considers the term materies/materia sufficiently accurate for expressing the reification of the beloved that he uses it again in the opening lines of the Ars Amatoria. There the magister amoris instructs his pupils in the art of locating the right places where they can find women. In this framework, the poet refers to women as materia ―the “substance” that will satisfy the erotic ambitions of the lover¹⁵⁷: Tu quoque, materiam longo qui quaeris amori (Ars 1,49). To illustrate how the lover should be capable of searching for girls in the right places, Ovid introduces the hunter, the wildfowler and the fisherman as examples, all of whom know where their prey dwells (lines 45 – 48)¹⁵⁸. Following the logical sequence of the exempla, the reader infers that, just as a man is a hunter because he chases stags and boars, appropriate materia is, thus, what enables Ovid’s pupils to become amatores. If women transform Ovid’s students into amatores, Corinna is the materies that transforms the poet into an elegiac poet. As such, she is an object existentially subordinated to his creative power. Yet, to strengthen his power position, Ovid incorporates some additional resources in poem 1,3 that reinforce his supremacy. Ovid’s power assertion implicit in his self-proclamation as a representative to the gods of poetic inspiration is amplified from line 21 following, where he underscores the importance of poetry as the only means for bestowing life on mythological characters. Using a technique that Tibullus had already applied in

 See Holzberg (2000a: 51), who also notes the parallels between materies and materia in Ovid’s elegiac poetry.  Scit bene venator, cervis ubi retia tendat, 45 Scit bene, qua frendens valle moretur aper; Aucupibus noti frutices; qui sustinet hamos, Novit quae multo pisce natentur aquae

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1,4,63 – 64¹⁵⁹, Ovid alludes to his authorial control over the beloved and underlines his existential primacy as the creator of the world she inhabits. In the same way poetry confers celebrity to famous mythological heroines such as Io, Leda or Europa (21– 24), the elegiac beloved depends on the poet for becoming a literary theme that survives the passage of time (nos quoque per totum pariter cantabimur orbem, // iunctaque semper erunt nomina nostra tuis: 25 – 26). It is thanks to his poetry that Ovid’s beloved will be universally renowned. This realisation enhances Ovid’s power position over his poetic world —and, therefore, over his beloved. In this framework, it is not by chance that Ovid quietly likens himself to Jupiter. In fact, as critics have pointed out¹⁶⁰, the series of images immediately following Corinna’s association with the category of poetic materies allude to sexual violence: this is intimated by the implicit analogy of the mythological heroines and Jupiter to Corinna and Ovid¹⁶¹. As Greene (1998: 75) contends, “the parallel between the speaker and Jupiter stresses the violence and dehumanization in the amator’s attitudes and practices toward his mistress”. Moreover, apart from the allusion to sexual violence, the analogy dwells on the broader poetological theme of the asymmetrical power relation between the lover-poet and his puella. Ovid, who initially presented himself in the disguise of the servus amoris (accipe, per longos tibi qui deserviat annos…: 5 – 6), is unveiled as the poet who pulls the strings of his whole elegiac fiction. We, thus, stand before the Leitmotiv that pervades the whole genre, namely a systematic concern with power in the act of poetic creation and in the artist’s relation to his oeuvre. Ovid’s insistence on establishing hierarchies finds its corollary in the last couplet: if the speaker implicitly compares himself to Jupiter by virtue of holding dominion over his beloved, what makes him even more powerful than Jupiter is that he is not only an omnipotent lover, but in contrast to the god Ovid has the power to immortalise his beloved (25 – 26). This “disproportion in the simile”, as González Iglesias (2004: 146) neatly defines it, emphasises Ovid’s absolute sovereignty as the creator of his poetic world. Whereas Horace and Propertius depict the immortality of their literary oeuvre as a challenge to the caducity of the Pyramids or the tomb of Mausolus¹⁶², Ovid raises his oeuvre above the heights of Jupiter himself.

 See above in this chapter. Ovid himself uses this same resource in Amores 3,12 (see below, Chapter 4 of this section).  See particularly Miller (2004: 170 174) and Greene (1998: 76 77).  As Greene (1998: 74) notes, Curran (1966) was one of the first critics who called attention to the analogy between Ovid and Jupiter, the most famous desultor amoris. However, the author does not further explore the hierarchical implications of this comparison.  See Horace Odes 3,30,1 ff., and Propertius 3,2,19 ff.

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The father of the gods is not powerful enough to compete with Ovid and the perennial nature of his literary output (cura perennis: 16)¹⁶³.

Ovid, Amores 1,10 In a manner similar to poem 1,3, Ovid alludes in 1,10 to his authorial efforts to express his power over the entities that derive from his poetic activity. The elegy is an invective against women, like his mistress, who ask for presents in exchange for love. In this framework, the speaker presents himself as a pauper poeta who is ready to devote all his faith to her and to offer her his best gift: eternal fame (57– 62): officium pauper numeret studiumque fidemque; quod quis habet, dominae conferat omne suae. est quoque carminibus meritas celebrare puellas dos mea; quam volui, nota fit arte mea. scindentur vestes, gemmae frangentur et aurum; carmina quam tribuent, fama perennis erit.

60

Adopting the posture of the servus amoris ironically emphasises the power position that the poet holds in the supra-fictional domain. Ovid underscores that his will determines whether one girl or another becomes his literary subject matter (quam volui nota fit arte mea …: 60), and, thus, subverts the hierarchies of the servitium amoris. Some critics interpret this poem merely as a discourse of seduction intended to convince the puella to yield to Ovid —and not to his rich rival¹⁶⁴. Yet, a poetological reading is more consistent with the genre’s systematic concern with the metaliterary power relation between the poet and the derivative products of his artistic activity. Ovid declares that it is his prerogative as a poet to award eternal fame to his poetic material, whose “life”, therefore, is totally subject to his authorial intention.

Ovid, Amores 2,17 Reading these illustrative passages from the elegiac corpus demonstrates how a supra-fictional analysis exposes the elegiac puella as the subject matter that the poet exploits for the sake of his artistic self-assertion. In this regard, the poeto-

 As Fedeli (2005: 65) notes, the term cura in this context features the specific meaning of “soggetto poetico”, as the parallel to Propertius 2,1,26 27 suggests.  See especially James (2003: 94 97).

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logical arguments of poem 2,17 can be cogently considered a neat culmination of this literary feature. Its location in the final part of the second book of the Amores grants it a relevant position within the book’s arrangement and includes it within what González Iglesias (2004: 17– 23) calls the “metapoetic margins”¹⁶⁵. This time the poet undertakes an ingenious literary play that consists in confounding fictional and supra-fictional layers of meaning. The central theme of the elegy is the poet’s unswerving declaration of servitium amoris towards his mistress. Ovid deploys the entire image inventory that is typical of arguments following this motif, one of the most conspicuous topoi in elegiac discourse: Siquis erit, qui turpe putet servire puellae, illo convincar iudice turpis ego! (…) aptari magnis inferiora licet. (…) Vulcano Venerem, quamvis incude relicta turpiter obliquo claudicet ille pede. carminis hoc ipsum genus inpar; sed tamen apte iungitur herous cum breviore modo. tu quoque me, mea lux, in quaslibet accipe leges; te deceat medio iura dedisse foro.

1 14 20

(…) sunt mihi pro magno felicia carmina censu, et multae per me nomen habere volunt; novi aliquam, quae se circumferat esse Corinnam. ut fiat, quid non illa dedisse velit?

30

(…) nec nisi tu nostris cantabitur ulla libellis; ingenio causas tu dabis una meo.

34

The most salient feature of this poem is the inconcinnity that we perceive when we face a poem that aims to create a semantic opposition between fictional and supra-fictional readings. Whereas Tibullus and Propertius often opt for verisimilitude and try to preserve, in general, the effects of realism on their pseudo-autobiographic love-affairs, here Ovid presents an elegy which some readers would even perceive as provocative. If we take into account that metaliterary reflection on the author and his puella pervades not only Ovid’s love poetry, but also the whole genre, this declaration of love-slavery and absolute submission to a hier-

 As the author argues, in each of the books of the Amores there is a clear cut semantic dif ference between the elegies at the margins of the book and those in the centre. Ovid concen trates his programmatic and poetological thoughts in the marginal poems, whereas the content of the central poems is specifically erotic.

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archically prevailing domina seems to offer a further meaning behind the hyperbolic servitium amoris. In fact, by overstating his role as a servus amoris, Ovid calls attention to the fact that being an elegiac amator implies, ultimately, wearing a mask. Indeed, Ovid dramatises the conventions of the genre. The real central theme of poem 2,17 is the literary motif of love-slavery; the poem is, therefore, an elegy about elegy. Thus, the bombastic declarations of love subjugation are deflated and, eventually, exposed as theatrical statements when the reader becomes aware of Ovid’s simultaneous supra-fictional power assertion. Already in lines 21– 22 Ovid “breaks the dramatic illusion” and obliges readers to pivot their gaze from Ovid-as-lover to Ovid-as-poet. In order to justify his love-servitude the poet recurs to myth and refers to examples that support the idea that “little things go well alongside the great” (aptari magnis inferior licet: 14). The allusion to Venus and her lover Vulcanus, a proverbially ugly character, ostensibly reinforces this point: just as in the dynamics between the elegiac lover and his domina, Venus’ beauty makes her more powerful than the lame Vulcanus. However, an analysis of Ovid’s multi-layered language reveals that Vulcanus’ limp is a meta-textual trope. When we arrive at the couplet that concludes the series of mythological exempla we cannot help wondering about the true intent of the Vulcanus-exemplum: does the myth merely endorse love-slavery? It seems rather that Vulcanus, the limping character, is a pretext for Ovid to reach the central point of the poem, namely the auto-referential generic assertion “this is elegy”. Ovid achieves a tour de force in this poem: within the ostensible thematic unity of the composition (the amator’s love declaration), he manages at the same time to discuss the fictionality of the poem itself (and of the whole genre), whose characteristic feature is “unevenness”: carminis hoc ipsum genus impar (21). In fact, as Ovid demonstrates, the conventions of elegy that embody its “unevenness” are, on the one hand, the combination of “noble” hexameters and “slender” pentameters, which together generate “limp” couplets; and, on the other hand, the depiction of the lover as a servus and the beloved as a domina. A literal reading of this poem is, therefore, insufficient to explain the composition’s essentially self-reflexive character. Ovid’s authorial intrusion into his poetic world culminates in the last part of the poem (27 ff.), where he takes off the mask of the lover and reminds his beloved that the true connection between them is the relation between the artist and his artistic object. Thus, to highlight his power to bestow immortality on his puella (sunt mihi pro magno felicia carmina censu, // et multae per me nomen habere volunt: 27– 28), Ovid resorts to a witty conflation of fictional and supra-fictional readings of his text: the author presents the odd situation of another puella who spreads around the claim that she is Corinna (novi aliquam, quae se circumferat esse Corinnam: 29). This

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woman would give everything for this to be true (ut fiat, quid non illa dedisse velit?: 30) since, as Ovid implicitly lets us understand, she knows that the reward of Ovid’s love is immortality. The other woman claiming to be Corinna is a reader of Ovid’s poetry, capable of assessing the benefits of being loved by him. Ovid, however, controls the different narrative layers of his poetry and, as such, has the last word: what this other woman does not know is that Corinna will achieve immortality not because she has been loved by the amator Ovid. The poet sophisticatedly plays with the reality effect of elegy and creates a character (the “pseudo-Corinna”) whose function is to conjure up the genre’s ontological fallacy and to allude to the need for reading elegy beyond its literal meaning. Corinna, rather, will achieve immortality because Ovid-the-poet created her and out of her formed the subject matter of his poetry. As the different poems examined in this chapter demonstrate, the elegiac puella is firmly associated with the category of causa —the literary subject matter that the poet uses to exhibit his talent. Amores 2,17 corroborates this thought, when, in the poem’s last line, Ovid refers to his beloved as the source and pretext for his art: ingenio causas tu dabis una meo (33 – 34). Since the puella’s existence depends exclusively on Ovid’s creative will, the hierarchical unevenness in their metaliterary relationship contrasts diametrically with the poetic fiction. In one way, elegists “betray” their beloveds because they expose the falseness of their domina status. Yet, in another way, they remain faithful to them because, despite the temptation of loftier literary goals —all elegists have been exhorted to yield to “serious” poetry—, they have persevered in their poetic subject matter. * * * Be it in her role as reader or as poetic subject matter, the puella is ontologically subordinated to the poet. As a gradual approach to elegiac discourse reveals, it becomes increasingly difficult to reconcile her image with a hypothetical horstexte reality. To depict the mistress as reader admits the possibility of her existence outside the text; to make a poetic subject matter out of her still preserves some conjectural links with extra-textual reality —even if they are difficult to maintain. The last step in this gradual approach to the domain of the figurative is the depiction of the puella as the elegist’s literary oeuvre. The examination of the elegiac mistress as a metonymic and metaphoric sign for the literary oeuvre she inhabits will occupy the next and last chapter of this section.

4 “The body-text”: the puella as literary work “Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself”. Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.

In recent decades the interpretative spectrum of elegy has broadened considerably due to the gradual decline of biographical readings. This has engendered a multifarious methodological landscape. Yet, in spite of their heterogeneity, recent approaches to elegiac discourse share a common premise, namely the fact that elegy needs a multidimensional reading to account for the intricacy of its different semantic levels¹⁶⁶. In this interpretative framework, some critics have focused on the analysis of the beloved as a metaphor of the poet’s oeuvre. In this regard, the studies of Wyke (2002), McNamee (1993) and Sharrock (1991a and b)¹⁶⁷ are particularly noteworthy. While building my arguments upon these readings, my main aim, however, is to link the image of the beloved as literary work with the arguments developed in the previous chapters. In other words, we can explain the literary strategy of the “puella-as-oeuvre” by viewing elegy as a predominantly agonistic genre, i. e., as a literary form that is essentially centred on the dramatisation of the power struggle that governs the relationship between the amator-poeta and his puella-as-oeuvre.

Ovid, Amores 3,9 The most frequent strategy for describing the beloved as a literary work is to give her the same name as the title of the oeuvre. In this respect, Ovid offers an interesting passage: Amores 3,9 is devoted to the death of Tibullus, the great bard of elegy to whom Ovid pays tribute with words of praise: flebilis indignos, Elegia, solve capillos! […] ille tui vates operis, tua fama, Tibullus // ardet in extructo, cor-

 See the General Introduction above for a review of the main bibliography.  See also Sharrock (2002), Fear (2000b), Kennedy (1993: 72 82), Keith (1994) and Miller (2004: 63 66; 78; 142) with further bibliographical references. DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 007

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pus inane, rogo (2– 5). The poet laments the cruelty of death, whose relentless approach has overtaken the most famous poets, one after another, in spite of the protection granted to them by the gods: at sacri vates et divum cura vocamur; sunt etiam qui nos numen habere putent. Scilicet omne sacrum mors inportuna profanat, omnibus obscuras inicit illa manus! quid pater Ismario, quid mater profuit Orpheo? carmine quid victas obstipuisse feras? et Linon in silvis idem pater ’aelinon!’ altis dicitur invita concinuisse lyra. adice Maeoniden, a quo ceu fonte perenni vatum Pieriis ora rigantur aquis hunc quoque summa dies nigro submersit Averno.

20

25

But, despite Homer’s —like Orpheus’ or Linus’— corporeal death, his literary works escape the greedy pyres: defugiunt avidos carmina sola rogos; durant, vatis opus, Troiani fama laboris tardaque nocturno tela retexta dolo.

30

In this framework, the allusion to Tibullus, who culminates Ovid’s sequence of celebrated poets, is particularly interesting. The periphrastic references in lines 29 and 30, respectively, to the Iliad and the Odyssey, oblige us to view the allusions to Delia and Nemesis, Tibullus’ beloveds, through a different prism: sic Nemesis longum, sic Delia nomen habebunt, altera cura recens, altera primus amor.

(31 32)

Ovid reveals that Delia and Nemesis are for Tibullus what the Iliad and the Odyssey are for Homer: their masterpieces. Ovid alludes, thus, to one of elegy’s most characteristic devices, namely the identification of the beloved’s name with the name of the poet’s oeuvre, a feature that, as McKeown (1987: 106) points out, was quite common in ancient collections of love poetry, as the titles of Mimnermus’ and Antimachus’ erotic works attest¹⁶⁸.. Tibullus’ primus amor stands for his first poetic achievement, whereas his cura recens alludes to his last literary endeav-

 Their beloveds are homonymous to their poetic collections, i. e., Nanno and Lyde respec tively. See McKeown (1987: 106).

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our, i. e., his last book¹⁶⁹. At the same time, these implicit statements reflect on the power relation between the poet and his work: “Delia” and “Nemesis”, the oeuvres of a sacred poet (vatis opus: 29), are the result of his poetic initiative, and their existence is, therefore, subordinated to his aesthetic will.

Propertius 2,24a Yet, of the three main elegists, it is Propertius who most frequently incorporates this reflection into his poetry. In his case, the designation of his amatory oeuvre with the name “Cynthia” is not only the result of a metonymic and metaphoric process, as we will see, but also the result of a usual practice in Roman literature, according to which the first word of a literary work was often treated as the title of the whole oeuvre¹⁷⁰. If we recall the first line of Propertius’ Monobiblos (Cynthia prima suis miserum me cepit ocellis…), it is probable that his whole love poetry collection was known by the name Cynthia ¹⁷¹. However, apart from this formal convention, the Propertian puella is identified with the author’s erotic work through more complex associations. One of them is metonymy, as Ovid once again testifies in one of his usual reflections on elegiac common places. In fact, Remedia Amoris 763 – 764 (carmina quis potuit tuto legisse Tibulli // vel tua, cuius opus Cynthia sola fuit?) is a clue allowing us to infer that, since Cynthia —according to Ovid— “monopolised” Propertius’ poetic production, her name was implicitly associated with the title of his poetic oeuvre¹⁷². Propertius himself corroborates this observation on several occasions in the course of his career as a love poet. This practice is particularly evident in cases like 2,24a, in whose first lines the poet sets up the dichotomy “puella = female fiction” vs. “puella = literary work”: ’Tu loqueris, cum sis iam noto fabula libro et tua sit toto Cynthia lecta foro?’ cui non his verbis aspergat tempora sudor? aut pudor ingenuus, aut reticendus amor

1

 In fact, as Luck (1993: 14 and 75) observes, the expression cura recens alludes especially to the fact that his second book came to light before his death, in 17 BC. “Delia” arguably corre sponds, thus, to the title of the first book, whereas “Nemesis” designates the second.  See McKeown (1987: 106).  However, see McKeown (1987: 105 106), who suggests that Propertius may have also allud ed to his oeuvre under the name “Amores”, as 1,7,5 or 2,1,1 2 may intimate.  At least in relation to Propertius’ amatory work, i. e., the part of his elegaic corpus trans mitted to us as books one and two.

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quod si tam facilis spiraret Cynthia nobis, non ego nequitiae dicerer esse caput, nec sic per totam infamis traducerer urbem

5

Through the ambiguity of his interlocutor’s words, Propertius deliberately blurs the boundaries between his beloved and his poetic oeuvre. He transforms Cynthia into an object of reading for the entire forum (toto Cynthia lecta foro: line 1), consequently depersonalising the puella. In spite of Propertius’ insistence on keeping the fictional guises, the nequitia (line 6) suffered by the lover is merely an erotic play, as Fear (2000b: 228– 229) notes: the beloved’s dishonest behaviour is nothing more than a fictional pretext that Propertius stages in order to emphasise her status as textual object. The amator’s infamy (line 7), which extends all around the city (and, by metonymy, throughout the world) extols the poet’s success as the creator and owner of a Cynthia who is in everybody’s mouth.

Propertius 2,25 and 2,34 Elegies 2,25 and 2,34 develop in a particularly explicit manner the theme of the love poet’s authorial paternity over his beloved/literary work. In the first of these poems Propertius celebrates the beauty of his beloved: Vnica nata meo pulcherrima cura dolori, excludit quoniam sors mea ’saepe veni,’ ista meis fiet notissima forma libellis, Calve, tua venia, pace, Catulle, tua.

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But, behind the praise of Cynthia lies a metaliterary statement: Propertius depersonalises his beloved when he compares her to other literary works, namely to the amatory poetry of Licinius Calvus featuring Quintilia as his beloved and of Catullus featuring Lesbia. Thus, under the pretext of an encomium on Cynthia’s forma, Propertius in truth offers self-praise for the product of his poetic creativeness —a product whose quality is comparable to the amatory works of other illustrious poets. Once again, the discourse on love becomes a discourse on literature. In fact, the term forma (3) is semantically ambiguous: on the one hand, it can be understood as the “physical beauty of a person”; but, on the other hand, it also means the “formal perfection of an object”, in this case, of an artistic object. The word is, as McNamee (1993: 224), points out, a technical term that refers to style of composition. In the same manner, elegy 2,34 offers similar metapoetic arguments situating Cynthia in the category of literary oeuvre. In this respect, the final part of

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this poem is especially illuminating: the poet makes a brief list of the most renowned amatory poets of Roman literature: haec quoque perfecto ludebat Iasone Varro, Varro Leucadiae maxima flamma suae; haec quoque lascivi cantarunt scripta Catulli, Lesbia quis ipsa notior est Helena; haec etiam docti confessa est pagina Calvi, cum caneret miserae funera Quintiliae. et modo formosa quam multa Lycoride Gallus mortuus inferna vulnera lavit aqua! Cynthia quin etiam versu laudata Properti, hos inter si me ponere Fama volet

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Following Varro’s “Leucadia”, Catullus’ “Lesbia”, Calvus’ “Quintilia”, or Gallus’ “Lycoris”, the name “Cynthia” alludes metonymically to Propertius’ erotic work, for which he claims a place within the literary tradition of Roman love poetry. Propertius’ beloved is the symbol of his artistic output. Thus, as soon as the reader notices that Propertius is openly speaking about poetry, Cynthia is suddenly deprived of her human attributes. Once again, the erotic discourse gives way to a self-referential discourse evincing the poet’s anxiety to be part of the canon of acclaimed authors. To that end, he presents his credentials, namely his “Cynthia”, the poetic product that Propertius intends to inscribe within the anthology of Roman love poetry.

Propertius 1,18 With an analogous meta-discursive purpose —though in a more elaborate manner— , the poet-lover in 1,18 pours out his lamentations in a lonely wilderness setting. Cynthia has abandoned him, and only a solitary grove can be his “confidant”: Haec certe deserta loca et taciturna querenti, et vacuum Zephyri possidet aura nemus. hic licet occultos proferre impune dolores, si modo sola queant saxa tenere fidem

1

Yet, behind this cri de coeur, which echoes a conventional motif in love poetry¹⁷³, Propertius hides a series of meta-textual elements that oblige us to consider semantic layers beyond the erotic fiction:

 See Barchiesi (2007: 196 198). As Henkel (2009: esp. 48 ff.) and Knox (2006a: 139), point

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Quid tantum merui? Quae te mihi crimina mutant?

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(…) sic mihi te referas, levis, ut non altera nostro limine formosos intulit ulla pedes.

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(…) an quia parva damus mutato signa colore, et non ulla meo clamat in ore fides? vos eritis testes, si quos habet arbor amores, fagus et Arcadio pinus amica deo. ah quotiens teneras resonant mea verba sub umbras, scribitur et vestris Cynthia corticibus! ah tua quot peperit nobis iniuria curas, quae solum tacitis cognita sunt foribus! omnia consuevi timidus perferre superbae iussa neque arguto facta dolore queri. pro quo ʈ divini ʈ fontes et frigida rupes et datur inculto tramite dura quies; et quodcumque meae possunt narrare querelae, cogor ad argutas dicere solus aves. sed qualiscumque’s, resonent mihi ’Cynthia’ silvae, nec deserta tuo nomine saxa vacent.

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On the one hand, the amator’s declaration of unswerving faithfulness towards his beloved presents an interesting analogy with similar affirmations of fides in other poems of Propertius, particularly in 2,26,27, where, as we have seen above¹⁷⁴, fides, besides being a sentimental expression, is a poetological assertion of the poet’s fidelity towards the elegiac genre (in contrast to other poetic options). Yet, beyond this intertextual observation, in this poem the term fides (line 18) is preceded by a peculiar phraseology (particularly in lines 11– 12) that calls attention to the meta-discursive overtones of the whole passage. In fact, referring to Cynthia as levis is not only a moral judgment; it also alludes to the characterisation of elegiac discourse itself, which is levis (“light”), as opposed to the gravitas of major genres¹⁷⁵. Moreover, the term pes (line 12), which often has metaliterary connotations in Auguout, the most conspicuous “intertext” behind the opening lines of this elegy is Vergil, Ecl. 2, 3 5 (who, in turn, looks back to Hellenistic poetry and, very likely, to Gallus).  See chapter 2 above.  Ovid’s characterisation of Elegy and Tragedy in Amores 3,1, in this regard, is particularly well formulated. In this exchange, Elegy reproaches Tragedy for her inflexible gravity: ’Quid gravibus verbis, animosa Tragoedia,’ dixit, // ’me premis? an numquam non gravis esse potes? (35 36), whereas Elegy proclaims levitas as her domain: sum levis, et mecum levis est, mea cura, Cupido (41). On the quasi technical use of the terms levis, mollis and tenuis in Augustan poetry to denote a slender style (following the metaliterary connotations of the Callimachean concept of leptotes), see Keith (1994: 28., n. 4), Cairns (2008: 5, 21 and 34), Houghton (2007: 3 5), Fedeli (1981: 228 229), Lada Richards (2006: 46 and 56 58) and Clauss (1995: 237 55).

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stan elegy, is here endowed with the double sense of “foot”, at a literal level, and “meter”, as a technical term in poetry. The traits with which Propertius describes Cynthia define her as a discourse, rather than as a person. Cynthia crosses the threshold from fiction towards supra-fiction, and becomes, thus, a metaphor for Propertius’ poetic production. This interpretative perspective allows us better to understand lines 11 and 12. The poet contravenes the conventions of elegiac fiction, according to which an essential locus for many erotic situations is the puella’s house (in front of whose doors the exclusus amator laments his fate)¹⁷⁶. It is, therefore, unusual to refer explicitly to the lover’s house as the site where erotic situations take place, as Propertius does in this poem: non altera nostro // limine formosos intulit ulla pedes (11– 12). A reasonable explanation of this inconcinnity (which is emphasised by the fact, a few lines later [line 24], that the poet remembers himself as an exclusus amator in front of his beloved’s door) is that, in contrast to the doors in front of which the fictional lover weeps, the threshold (limen: 12) on which Cynthia has set her feet symbolises the passage into the domain of meta-poetry. The symbolism of this threshold inevitably recalls the threshold that Lesbia crossed to become a part of Catullus’ poetic lusus in carmen 68b: quo mea se molli candida diua pede intulit et trito fulgentem in limine plantam innixa arguta constituit solea

(vv. 70 73)

To enter Allius’ house, in Lesbia’s case, or Propertius’ house, in Cynthia’s case, means to take the step into the world of literature, be it as subject matter (Lesbia), be it as a metaphor of the poetic oeuvre itself (Cynthia). This observation is further emphasised later on in this poem, which is pervaded by elements underlining Cynthia’s ambiguous nature as “mistress” and “oeuvre”. Line 22 presents one of the most obvious hints at the beloved’s polysemy: Propertius avails himself of a motif going back to Theocritus and Callimachus¹⁷⁷, namely the depiction of the beloved carving the name of his mistress into the bark of trees. This literary echo from Hellenistic poetry is not only a way to designate “Cynthia” as the

 See, e. g., Prop. 2,25,17, where the lover patiently waits at the threshold of her mistress’ house: at nullo dominae teritur sub limine amator. Other analogous instances are Prop. 2,7,9, or 3,25,29.  See Henkel (2009: 95 169, esp. 141 and 156), Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 221), Viarre (2005: 181, n. 141) and Brioso De Cuenca (1980: 168, esp. n. 153).

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title of Propertius’ literary oeuvre¹⁷⁸. Depicting Cynthia specifically as an object of reading (scribitur Cynthia vestris corticibus [22]) is also a means to accentuate her textual nature. Ultimately, the beloved’s status as an artistic object created by the poet further emphasises her existential subjection to Propertius. The poet’s hierarchical pre-eminence is subtly emphasised in the last lines of the elegy, where Propertius, after performaning the customary role of servus amoris (23 – 26), takes up a series of poetological allusions that place the poet before the lover. Already, the first metapoetic allusion is the tender shade of the trees where Propertius’ words (i. e. Cynthia’s name) echo, since, as Henkel (2009: 262) observes, tener is “a programmatic term for the “tender” style of Roman elegy”. Secondly, the divini fontes (27) and the sparsely-travelled path (inculto tramite: 28) that Propertius imagines as the landscape for his woeful life as a lover are poetological expressions in the purest Callimachean style¹⁷⁹. The divine springs are those from which only the most sacred poets drink¹⁸⁰, whereas the image of the crude track in the woods alludes to Callimachus’ motto of the unworn path (κελɛύθους ἀτρίπτους)¹⁸¹ as a metapoetic admonition to cultivate a slender style. Finally, the insistence on the propagation of the lover’s voice (resonent mihi ’Cynthia’ silvae nec deserta tuo nomine saxa vacant: 31– 32) and the presence of terms with specifically discursive content (narrare: 29; and even argutus ¹⁸²: 30) underscore Propertius as the authorial impulse that enables his oeuvre to reach universal fame.

Propertius 2,5 Another poem where Propertius depicts Cynthia as a metaphor of his own poetic oeuvre is 2,5. In a manner similar to 2,24a, the poet reproaches his mistress for her immodest behaviour. As a consequence, rumours of her treachery are spread throughout the city: Hoc verum est, tota te ferri, Cynthia, Roma, et non ignota vivere nequitia?

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 See Viarre (2005: 181, n. 141), Miller (2004: 65) and Kennedy (1993: 51). If we recall that the term liber designates both the bark of a tree and a book, engraving “Cynthia” on it alludes to writing a title on a book.  On the poetological content of the expression fontes divini, see Baker (2000: 165).  Other similar passages mentioning famous “inspiring” springs are, e. g., Ovid Amores 3,9,25, Propertius 2,8,25 and, particularly, 3,1,1 6 and 3,3,1 6.  Cal, Aetia I, Fr. 1.27 28 Pf. See also McNamee (1993: 231).  On the meta discursive connotations of this term, see above in chapter 2 on Catullus 68b and Clauss (1995: 244).

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haec merui sperare? dabis mihi, perfida, poenas; et nobis aliquo, Cynthia, ventus erit. inveniam tamen e multis fallacibus unam, quae fieri nostro carmine nota velit, nec mihi tam duris insultet moribus et te vellicet: heu sero flebis amata diu.

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Once again, the elegiac poet plays with the semantic duplicity of Cynthia-aspuella and Cynthia-as-book. This rhetorical lusus has not been overlooked by critics, as Fear (2000b: 229) demonstrates: “the initial description of Cynthia here can be seen as applicable to both a book of poetry and a woman: hence, te ferri could refer to the gossip circulating about a woman, or it could refer to the circulation of a book”. However, criticism has tended to obviate the hierarchical consequences implied by this “twofold Cynthia”. When Propertius threatens her to confer fame to another puella (lines 5 – 6), he underscores Cynthia’s subordination. In fact, becoming well-known through literature (6) is the award that all entities of Propertius’ poetic world will receive. Conversely, if Propertius renounces to Cynthia, she will fall in oblivion¹⁸³. His authorial will, in the end, is the force that decides her outcome. The poet adds to this power assertion at the end of the elegy: on the one hand, the amator describes his own weakness, since he is not able to renounce a love that makes him suffer: si dolor afuerit, crede, redibit amor.

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 As a matter of fact, at the end of book 3, in poems 3,24 and 3,25, Propertius bitterly bids farewell to Cynthia and implicitly announces his desire to change his poetic course away from the subjective tone that pervaded his first three books. In the first lines of 3,24 the poet alludes to the fictional nature of his mistress’ forma, which has grown renowned thanks to his amor: Falsast ista tuae, mulier, fiducia formae, olim oculis nimium facta superba meis. noster amor talis tribuit tibi, Cynthia, laudes: versibus insignem te pudet esse meis. mixtam te varia laudavi saepe figura, 5 ut, quod non esses, esse putaret amor Whereas, similarly, at the end of poem 3,25, he foretells the decay of her forma: has tibi fa talis cecinit mea pagina diras: // eventum formae disce timere tuae! (37 38). The poet clearly puns on the ambiguity of the term, which means both “beauty” and “style of composition” (see McNamee [1993:224]). Therefore, the implicit threat of sending Cynthia into oblivion reveals itself as a metaliterary allusion to the poet’s anxious need to assert his power over his oeuvre. Con ferring eternal life on his Cynthia or, alternatively, announcing her decline depends on the poet’s will.

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(…) quam facile irati verbo mutantur amantes: dum licet, iniusto subtrahe colla iugo.

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Propertius attempts to calm Cynthia’s presumably angry response to his threats and tells her that he is unable to harm her in any manner. He tries to justify his reaction and ostensibly retracts his threats: parce tuis animis, vita, nocere tibi. non solum taurus ferit uncis cornibus hostem, verum etiam instanti laesa repugnat ovis. nec tibi periuro scindam de corpore vestis, nec mea praeclusas fregerit ira fores, nec tibi conexos iratus carpere crinis, nec duris ausim laedere pollicibus: rusticus haec aliquis tam turpia proelia quaerat, cuius non hederae circuiere caput. scribam igitur, quod non umquam tua deleat aetas, ’Cynthia, forma potens; Cynthia, verba levis.’ crede mihi, quamvis contemnas murmura famae, hic tibi pallori, Cynthia, versus erit.

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However, on the other hand, although Propertius shows his absolute submission to love¹⁸⁴, at the same time he subtly alludes to his authorial power position. The lover’s stance of weakness, by contrast, emphasises his absolute control over Cynthia at a supra-fictional level. In comparison to the rusticus, who expresses his power with physical violence (lines 24– 25), Propertius delicately does this with writing: scribam igitur (line 27). In this framework, it is particularly interesting to observe the last 11 lines of the poem (19 – 30), where Propertius offers a sequence of images that are directly related to the concept of struggle: the bull that strikes his enemies with his horns; the sheep that fights back its attacker; or the rustic who enacts violence against his beloved. The terms related to the semantic field of struggle (hostis: 19; repugnare: 20; laedere: 24; proelia: 25) outwardly are intended to establish a contrast with Propertius’ relation to his puella. Nevertheless, through this priamel sui generis the poet reveals that the only difference between these modes of violence and his particular procedure are the means: the poet’s instrument in his dialectic relationship with Cynthia is his poetic voice. In this regard, Caston (2012: 104) makes an interesting observation.  Syndikus (2006: 256 257) explores the lover’s position of weakness and observes that “the comparison with a helpless sheep makes the weakness of his own position more than obvious”. Moreover, referring to Cynthia as potens (28) reinforces the amator’s vulnerability in front of his domina.

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Even though Caston does not focus on a metaliterary reading of this poem, she notices that “[Propertius] allows himself to enact verbally what he is unable to enact physically. It is not only a veiled threat, but a kind of subliminal enactment”. In fact, the poet demonstrates his superiority over Cynthia by alluding to the crucial ontological difference between them. Cynthia belongs to a fictional world that is ruled by agonistic principles, where love is a tension between the domina and the servus amoris, the two opposite poles of elegiac discourse. The beloved’s systematic defiance of the amator’s love reflects Propertius’ anxiety to assert himself as the force that controls his poetic world. Propertius’ authorship is what grants him absolute control over Cynthia. Since his poetic voice is the vehicle that creates Cynthia’s reality, his writing (scribam igitur, line 27), thus, is his unassailable instrument of power.

Propertius 2,30b Representation of the beloved as an artistic object and reflection on the poet’s power as the controlling-force of his poetic world are also present in poem 2,30b. In the same manner as the previously read poems, metaliterary issues are interwoven into a sentimental expression¹⁸⁵. Propertius first shows his weakness and his lack of power in the face of love: quod si nemo exstat qui vicerit Alitis arma // communis culpae cur reus unus agor? (31– 32). But, at the same time he deftly juxtaposes his cri de coeur with the metapoetic expression of his authorial power. Propertius declares that as an artist he can grant his beloved a place among the Muses (25 – 27): libeat tibi, Cynthia, mecum rorida muscosis antra tenere iugis. illic aspicies scopulis haerere Sorores

This is the climax of the poem, in whose last lines Propertius overtly expresses his authorial superiority: (37– 40):

 Some critics read this poem as a piece of literary criticism. Syndikus (2006: 307) asserts that the central theme 30b is the defence of elegy vs. epos (an interpretation based on the reconstruc tion of lines 19 20, as the Syndikus argues in pp. 307 8). Like in 2,15,41 ff.; 2,34,57; or 3,5,21, the allusion to banquets refers to a life devoted to love, and the symposiac flute (16: tibia docta) al ludes to erotic poetry.

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hic ubi te¹⁸⁶ prima statuent in parte choreae, et medius docta cuspide Bacchus erit, tum capiti sacros patiar pendere corymbos: nam sine te nostrum non valet ingenium.

Propertius depicts Cynthia at the centre of the choir of the Sisters, as if she were a tenth Muse. As a result, Cynthia’s image as a “flesh-and-blood” woman recedes to a secondary tier, while her representation simultaneously as a source of inspiration (his Muse) and as the product of Propertius’ poetry is privileged. In fact, the humble statement in the last line (40) whereby Propertius subordinates his ingenium to Cynthia’s existence may now be understood as Propertius’ metaliterary self-assertion through his oeuvre, Cynthia. The poet’s genius is acknowledged by his Cynthia’s admission to the choir of the Muses (lines 25– 27). Cynthia, his literary oeuvre, allows him to enter the domain where only the greatest poets may enter. The metaliterary interpretation of this passage is reinforced if we read the implicit reference to Cynthia as one of the Muses alongside her designation as a docta puella. Cynthia’s portrayal as a tenth Muse identifies her with Sappho, who was thought of in these terms¹⁸⁷. This allusive identification of Cynthia with Sappho (which has remained unnoticed by most scholars¹⁸⁸) corroborates the metaliterary undertone of the whole passage, insofar as the designation of the puella as docta implies a metonymical declaration of the elegiac discourse’s own doctrina, as we have seen above. If we accept that Propertius hints at Cynthia being as learned as Sappho, the tenth Muse, it is quite plausible to admit that the poet is simultaneously echoing Catullus’ Sapphica puella, Musa doctior (35,16– 17), where the ideal of a docta puella is conflated with Sappho as one of the Muses¹⁸⁹. Moreover, in this implied allusion it is possible to recognise a further intertextual parallel, namely Callimachus’ allusion to a tenth Muse at the beginning of the Aetia. Even though the text is very fragmentary, critics tend to think that Callimachus refers to queen Arsinoe II, who “was known as a protectress of arts” (Harder, 2012: 107)¹⁹⁰. Through the intertextual echo of Callimachus’ tenth Muse, Propertius situates his text in the terrain of Callimachean poetics and permits the learned reader to see a subtle hint at a further Callimachean passage that is conceptually connected to the aforementioned allusion to Arsinoe as the tenth  In this case, I agree with editors like Barber (1960) and Viarre (2005: 196, n. 375), who opt for reading te instead of me.  According to the testimony of A.P. 7.14 and 9.66, 506. See Heyworth (2007: 122), Williamson (1995: 13), Hallet (1992: 108) and Kutzko (2006: 405).  To my knowledge, only Hemelrijk (2004: 345) has noted this association en passant.  See Hallet (1992: 108) and Miller (2013: 169).  See also Acosta Hughes (2010: 80) and Clauss (2002: 74).

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Muse. Specifically, I argue that Propertius intends to evoke Callimachus’ Ep. 51 Pf., where another notorious woman, Berenice, is depicted as a new member of a group of deities: here the three Graces increase in number: τέσσαρες αἱ Χάριτες, ποτὶ γὰρ μία ταῖς τρισὶ τήναις ἄρτι ποτεπλάσθη κἤτι μύροισι νοτεῖ. εὐαίων ἐν πᾶσιν ἀρίζαλος Βερενίκα, ἇς ἄτερ οὐδ᾽ αὐταὶ ταὶ Χάριτες Χάριτες. Four are the Graces; for amidst the other three just now a new one has been fashioned, still moist with perfume, Berenice, splendid, blest among all, without whom the very Graces are not Graces¹⁹¹.

Critics have noticed the parallel between Callimachus’ portrayal of Arsinoe as a tenth Muse and Berenice as a fourth Grace¹⁹². Consequently, we can take for granted that both passages were read as thematically complementary by ancient readers. What is most interesting in this text is that Callimachus, as most critics concur, refers in this poem not to Berenice herself, but to a statue of her¹⁹³. Therefore, it is surely not a coincidence that, through intertextual play with the Callimachean images of the tenth Muse and the fourth Grace, Propertius guides the reader to recognise his allusion to a poem where what first appears to be an encomium for a woman ultimately becomes an artistic ekphrasis. The intertextual evocation of Callimachus’ Ep. 51 Pf. seems measured and intentional; the content of Propertius’ poem perfectly matches the meta-critical nature of the Callimachean intertext. Ultimately, through this echo Propertius strengthens his puella’s fictional character and her status as a work of art.

Propertius 1,2 Among the many Propertian passages that feature the textualisation of the puella, I will lastly focus on elegy 1,2. A close reading shows that it is an especially illuminating poem. Yet, critics have devoted less attention to it relatively, despite the fact that it programmatically presents the reader with Cynthia as a “real” mistress for the first time in Propertius’ love poetry. One of the most noticeable facets of this elegy is the transgression of the semantic boundaries between the literal and the metaphorical —a peculiarity that pervades the whole elegiac corpus, as we have seen throughout this first section. Shifting between these two layers permits

 Translation by Acosta Hughes (2012: 222).  See Knox (1985: 122)  See Petrovic Petrovic (2003). For a different interpretation, see Acosta Hughes (2012: 223).

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Propertius to transform Cynthia into a symbol that carries forward his reflection on his poetics and allows him to voice his literary self-assertion. In fact, the poem is a neat example of how the nature of elegiac discourse thrives on the trope of syllepsis, which, according to Hardie (1999: 260), “is characterized by a slippage between the figurative and the literal, between the conceptual and the physical”. A first reading reveals a poem whose main subject is the defence of natural beauty as opposed to the artificial beauty provided by luxurious ornaments and cosmetics¹⁹⁴: Quid iuvat ornato procedere, vita, capillo et tenuis Coa veste movere sinus, aut quid Orontea crines perfundere murra, teque peregrinis vendere muneribus, naturaeque decus mercato perdere cultu, nec sinere in propriis membra nitere bonis? crede mihi, non ulla tuaest medicina figurae: nudus Amor formam non amat artificem. aspice quos summittat humus non fossa colores, ut veniant hederae sponte sua melius, surgat et in solis formosior arbutus antris, et sciat indocilis currere lympha vias. litora nativis praefulgent picta lapillis, et volucres nulla dulcius arte canunt. non sic Leucippis succendit Castora Phoebe, Pollucem cultu non Helaira soror; non, Idae et cupido quondam discordia Phoebo, Eueni patriis filia litoribus; nec Phrygium falso traxit candore maritum avecta externis Hippodamia rotis: sed facies aderat nullis obnoxia gemmis, qualis Apelleis est color in tabulis. non illis studium fuco conquirere amantes: illis ampla satis forma pudicitia. non ego nunc vereor ne sis tibi vilior istis: uni si qua placet, culta puella sat est; cum tibi praesertim Phoebus sua carmina donet Aoniamque libens Calliopea lyram, unica nec desit iucundis gratia verbis, omnia quaeque Venus, quaeque Minerva probat.

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 The praise of natural over artificial beauty has an ample presence in Greek and Latin liter ature. Its origins go back to philosophy, as Fedeli (1980: 89 91, and idem, 1981: 236 and n. 49) and Ramírez de Verger (1989: 83, n. 11) note. The most noticeable parallels in Latin elegy are Ti bullus 1,8,9 16, and Ovid, Am. 1,14.

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his tu semper eris nostrae gratissima vitae, taedia dum miserae sint tibi luxuriae.

Propertius divulges his ideal for an elegiac puella and recommends that Cynthia not adulterate this aesthetic paradigm with unnecessary use of ostentatious refinements. The poet illustrates this point with two sets of exempla ¹⁹⁵: in the first he resorts to natural phenomena (lines 9 – 14), whereas in the second he turns to myth (lines 15 – 22). Yet, the metaliterary nature of this poem, where Propertius is not only speaking about an ideal woman, but also about an ideal oeuvre, has not been sufficiently stressed by criticism. Although, as I argued above, the Monobiblos adheres more strictly to the reality effect when depicting the beloved, Propertius still includes within it reflections on his own poetic output —even if he does so in a less explicit manner than in subsequent books. In fact, a close reading of 1,2 reveals some traits in the description of Cynthia that correspond to the Callimachean aesthetic ideal. These allusions permit us to see the puella as an embodiment of Propertius’ poetic programme. First, the poem’s theme itself, namely forma (lines 8 and 24) is a technical term that denotes style of composition, as McNamee (1993: 224) points out. Moreover, the adherence to Callimachean aesthetics can be recognised even in the arrangement of the poem, which is pervaded by mythological exempla and elaborate symmetries¹⁹⁶. Furthermore, as some critics suggest¹⁹⁷, Propertius presents a twofold vision of Cynthia: on the one hand, he complains about her luxurious attire and its moral implications, but, on the other hand, he simultaneously delights himself and tickles his readers with his prolix depiction of how Cynthia ought to behave and how she indeed does. We encounter, thus, a poem where Propertius defends the aesthetic laconism of his puella, but at the same time presents his own arguments in exuberant and profuse diction¹⁹⁸. This apparent inconsistency reveals that the character of Cynthia is, above all, at the service of expressing the poet’s artistic aims. Concurrently, this play between reality and symbol distances Cynthia from “the real” and transports her, paradoxically, to the domain of “the artificial”“¹⁹⁹.

 See Gaisser (1977: 382), Ross (1975: 58 59), Fedeli (1981: 236) and idem (1980: 90 91).  See McNamee (1993: 224) and Curran (1975: 7 8 and 14 n. 2).  See Sharrock (2000: 273) or Bowditch (2006: 306).  See Ross (1975: 59, n.1), Curran (1975) and Fedeli (1980: 92).  See Sharrock (2000: 273) on Cynthia’s distancing from “reality” and her movement into the terrain of “the artificial” by way of her comparison to the heroines of myth (in lines 15 22).

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As a result, Propertius is actually defending a series of artistic guidelines. This is further corroborated by his formulation of an ideal elegiac puella who does not so much repudiate refinement as artifice, i. e., deceitful refinement. Interestingly, the poet ostensibly disdains resorting to artful trickery (in line 8 and 14), but, at the same time, he advocates that the colour of his beloved’s face ought to be like the one Apelles uses in his paintings (21– 22). With this stance, he demonstrates that he does not condemn artistically elaborate poetry, but bombastic verse²⁰⁰. In any case, recourse to Apelles’ artistic oeuvre as a paragon for decorum further supports viewing Cynthia, at least in one dimension, as a “work of art”, as Sharrock (1991: 39 – 40) points out²⁰¹. Cynthia stands for an oeuvre that follows the Alexandrian-Callimachean canon to which elegy adheres, i. e., an aesthetic pattern that rejects pompous style and instead claims an elaborate but not overbearing poetics. Using the ideal attributes of Cynthia as a reflection of his poetics, Propertius offers an extensive cluster of polysemous terms that refer simultaneously to the beloved’s physical description and to the metaliterary description of the elegiac genre. In this regard, the use of the verb procedere (1) is particularly remarkable. Within a hermeneutical framework where the puella’s body mirrors the anatomy of the elegiac text, Cynthia’s pace refers metonymically to the rhythm of the elegiac couplet²⁰². In the same vein, the allusion to Cynthia’s hair (1) also evidences a metapoetic undertone. In fact, as McNamee (1993: 224– 5) argues, Propertius, especially in the Monobiblos, is fond of alluding to poetic creation using puns on coiffure, thus showcasing the “difficulty (…) that the Callimachean

 Interestingly, as Plinius tells in Nat. Hist. XXXV 80, Apelles distinguished himself from other painters precisely because of his fondness of simplicity. Thus, the implicit allusion to his paintings also conveys a meta critical statement on style.  The parallel with Ars 3, 219 220 is interesting, since it draws on the theme of comparing the ideal puella to a work of art. Here the magister counsels the would be elegiac mistress, the addressee of his third book, to emulate the statues of the sculptor Myron, in so far as they pro vide a source of inspiration for her fickle and mutable character, which should change to please the different lovers she may encounter. For a more detailed analysis of the passage, see Liveley (1999: 210).  The allusion to Cynthia’s rhythmic motion recalls the pace of the personified Elegy in Ovid’s Amores 3,1,8, where she walks with a peculiarly rhythm (one foot being longer than the other). Moreover, analysing Propertius’ use of the verb procedere reveals its potential for met aliterary overtones, as we see in 2,10,9. As Wyke (2002: 51 59) observes, in this passage Proper tius employs this verb to signal his own pace towards a new poetic orientation. This use under lines, by analogy, the metaliterary undertones of 1,2. On pace as a poetological metaphor, see chapter 2 above (apropos of Catullus 68b), as well as Hinds (1987: 16 18), Wyke (2002: 122 123), Keith (1999: 56) and Quadlbauer (1968: 91 ff.).

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poets face in trying to interweave different strands of meaning in a well-composed unity”²⁰³. McNamee (1993: 225 and 230) points out some of the most important elements that contribute to Cynthia’s “textualisation”. The first is the expression tenuis sinus (“delicate folds” [of her dress]), since tenuis clearly evokes tenuitas as a technical term equivalent to Callimachus’ leptotes ²⁰⁴. At the same time, Cynthia’s Coa veste (2) further reinforces the metaliterary tone of the poem, since it probably alludes to the poetry of Philitas of Cos, one of Propertius’ proclaimed literary models²⁰⁵. Moreover, the terms figura (7), and forma (and derivate terms: 8, 11 and 24) are also endowed with metaliterary meaning, if we take into account that they not only mean “physical beauty”, but also “stylistic figure” or “style” in general²⁰⁶. The term color (6, 9, 19 and 22) is noteworthy as well. It not only refers to an aspect of the beloved’s skin; it is also a feature of style and diction²⁰⁷. Last among the elements of Cynthia’s anatomy with metaliterary undertones is the polysemous reference to her limbs (line 6): they are not only parts of her body, but also clauses or, in other words, parts of a text, as McNamee (1993: 225) indicates. Beyond the ideal puella’s physical appearance, her attitudes and customs permit us to recognise Propertius hinting at poetics. Cynthia’s association with the Aonia lyra (28) links her, as a docta puella, to Mount Helicon, where the Muses inspired Hesiod and transformed him into a sacred poet²⁰⁸. In this manner, Propertius

 McNamee (1993: 224 225). See also Greene (1998: 72), on the congruous association of the puella’s coiffure with poetic style in Ovid, Amores 1,1.  See Houghton (2007: 3 5) and Fedeli (1981: 228 229) on tenuitas as equivalent to Callima chean leptotes.  As Keith (1994: 30) suggests. Ross (1975: 59, n. 2) also takes this possibility into account, but discards it, because it leads to some incongruence. To be sure, it would likely have been more coherent to link Cynthia’s ideal description with the aesthetic ideal evoked by the exemplary fig ure of the Hellenistic poet Philetas (see 3,3,52; 2,34,31; 3,1,1; and 4,6,3). However, one of the con ceptual keys for the understanding of poem 1,2 is precisely the confusion of the factual and the ideal in Cynthia’s depiction (see Arkins [1989] on Propertius’ idiosyncratic imbrication of the concrete and the abstract). Cf. Curran (1975: 12 and 14, n. 6), who offers an alternative possibility related to the allusive meaning of Coa veste. On the proverbial luxuriousness of the Coan silk, see Tibullus 2,3,55 58.  McNamee (1993: 225 and 230).  As McNamee (1993: 225 and 230) argues. Furthermore, the ideal puella being candida (line 19, where the poet employs mythological exempla to reject a falso candore) can be read along this same line too. In fact, according to Keith (1999: 55), the expressions belonging to the seman tic field of pallor are connected with the rhetorical terminology applied to the plain style of el egiac poetry.  See Theog. 22 35.

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implicitly inscribes his oeuvre into a tradition of Alexandrian-Callimachean poetics which considers Hesiod one of its chief literary references²⁰⁹. On the other hand, the exempla used by Propertius to illustrate the superiority of natural beauty contain some elements with metapoetic undertones: this is the case for the image of ivy (10), which evokes the poetic crown associated with Bacchus, the god of poetic inspiration²¹⁰. The image of the cave (11) calls to mind the grotto of the Muses, which in other Propertian passages is endowed with an explicit poetological function²¹¹. Not least is the image of the water (line 11) a metaliterary symbol: Propertius alludes to —and implicitly advocates— the Callimachean limpid stream, in contrast to the great muddy river²¹² (as a way of designating different types of poetry). Moreover, the expression indociles vias (Propertius’ river flowing in “untaught ways”) evokes Callimachus’ poetological motto of the “untrodden paths”²¹³. Within this poetological locus amoenus, even the allusion to songbirds is likely intended to evoke poetry in general and certainly echoes other elegiac passages where birds’ songs are explicitly associated with poetry²¹⁴. Finally, in regard to the mythological exempla, it is interesting to note how Propertius asserts in line 24 that the heroines who models of behaviour do not aim to “conquer lovers everywhere” (conquirere amantes vulgo). Therefore, an ideal puella is contented if she pleases one man (line 26). If we take into account the broader context of the poem and its pervasive metaliterary undertones, it is possible to read the ethical precept rejecting vulgarised love as an allusion to the Callimachean aesthetic dictum of rejecting popular tastes, as Ross (1975: 59) remarks en passant. The echo of Callimachus’ Epigram 28 (Pf.) confirms that Propertius is not only referring to the attitude of his ideal beloved, but, above all, to his own poetics. In fact, in the same manner as Callimachus, who uses the image

 As Callimachus states in Aetia I, Fr. 2, 1 5 (Pf.). See Fedeli (1981: 237), Wyke (2002: 50 51 and 68 69), Cairns (2008: 11 and 50) and Ross (1975: 6).  Some passages in the Propertian corpus confirm this association. For instance, in elegy 3,3, where Propertius expounds his poetic programme (Ross, 1975: 120 22 and 137), we find a similar allusion to the hederae (35). See also Newman (1997: 433) and Propertius 2,5,26.  See 2,30,26; 3,1,5; 3,3,14. Cf. Quadlbauer (1968: 91 ff.), Cairns (2006: 126 127) and Wyke (2002: 56 57).  See Clauss (1995: 242).  See Cal. Aetia I, Fr. 1.27 28 Pf. and McNamee (1993: 231). See also above in the present chapter my discussion apropos of divini fontes … inculto tramite in Propertius 1,18,27 ff.  Like, for example, Ovid Amores, 3,1,4; Tibullus 1,3,59 60; or even Propertius 3,3, where the poet refers to the volucres Veneris (31) as one of the elements accompanying the symbolic land scape of his poetic inspiration. On the echoes of Tibullus 1,3 in Ovid’s Am. 3,1, see Houghton (2007: 155 158).

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of the promiscuous beloved (περίφοιτον ἐρώμενον: line 3) to express his disdain for a cyclic (i. e., epic) poem and for any form of the public (πάντα τὰ δημόσια: line 4), Propertius programmatically illustrates his poetic aims and describes his intended oeuvre through the ideal image of his beloved.

Ovid, Amores 1,5 and 3,12 Ovid’s fondness for playing with the conventions of the elegiac genre becomes evident in two poems, namely 1,5 and 3,2, where he culminates his development of the puella-as-oeuvre theme. Although, as Keith (1994) argues, there are several poems in the Amores where the beloved assumes traits that metaphorically identify her with Ovid’s poetic work, both poems are particularly enlightening. The first one, Amores 1,5, may be though of as the “eroticised” pendant of Propertius’ elegy 1,2. The main similarity between these two poems is that in both cases the poets first introduce their beloveds in substantial fashion. Even though Propertius has already spoken of her in the proemial poem of the Monobiblos, only first in 1,2 does he “anatomises” her before the eyes of the reader. Similarly, in the famous poem about the nap with Corinna, Ovid delights readers with a painstaking description of the puella’s body, after lamenting in the first four poems how he lacks a beloved whom he can celebrate in his elegies, even though Amor’s arrows have compelled him to compose love poetry. Keith (1994: 29 – 31) rightly argues that Corinna’s appearance before Ovid and the readers is described as a quasi-divine epiphany and that it evokes, through some verbal resonances, the epiphany of Elegy in Amores 3,1. Through this intratextual echo, Ovid projects his beloved into the domain of poetics and, by the same token, obliges us to be particularly cautious regarding the seemingly biographical nature of his tryst with Corinna: Aestus erat, mediamque dies exegerat horam; adposui medio membra levanda toro

2

(…) ecce, Corinna venit, tunica velata recincta, candida dividua colla tegente coma

10

(…) Deripui tunicam nec multum rara nocebat; pugnabat tunica sed tamen illa tegi. quae cum ita pugnaret, tamquam quae vincere nollet, victa est non aegre proditione sua.

15

One of the similarities between the personified Elegy and Corinna is that both wear clothing made of light and delicate fabric: the puella wears a tunica… rara (line 13), whereas Elegy wears a vestis tenuissima (3,1,9), whereby Ovid

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plays with the concept of tenuitas, i. e., the characteristically “slender style” of elegiac poetry²¹⁵. Another aspect already attended to by criticism²¹⁶ is the perfection of Corinna’s body: ut stetit ante oculos posito velamine nostros, in toto nusquam corpore menda fuit. quos umeros, quales vidi tetigique lacertos!

17

(…) Singula quid referam? nil non laudabile vidi

23

Ovid describes his beloved as figure without any menda (18), a term that usually designates literary imperfections or mistakes. She incarnates, thus, the poetic refinement to which Ovid aspires. As Keith (1994: 31) argues, “Corinna’s body displays a perfection realisable only in a work of art such as a marble statue, an ivory carving, or a finely-crafted book of poetry”. The poet ponders the qualities of Corinna’s body with criteria from the jargon used by literary criticism to evaluate the formal perfection of a work of art. By this token, he transforms the puella into a metaphor for his ideal poetic oeuvre, in the same way that Propertius, in poem 1,2, exhibits his thoughts on literary excellence with the image of a perfect Cynthia. From the viewpoint of the power relations implicitly at stake in this poem, the consequence of this “textualisation” of the beloved is her absolute submission to the elegiac poet’s authorial hierarchy. In this respect, a close reading of the erotic struggle between the lovers (pugnabat… victa est: lines 13 – 16) is illuminating: the puella’s eventual defeat, far from being an incidental detail in the depiction of their sexual prolegomena, is, metapoetically, a means to reflect on the hierarchical unevenness that defines the amator-puella relationship. Whereas the most common way that the elegists assert their authority over the puella is the supra-fictional reversal of the servitium amoris (as we have seen in many poems throughout this section), here Ovid deftly expresses his power position through an elaborate version of the militia amoris motif. Although describing the lover as a “soldier of love” is not an originally Ovidian conceit, Ovid indeed is the elegist who most fondly resorts to this motif. As Bretzigheimer (2001: 225 – 237) argues, the opposition between the amator as besieger and the puella as besieged city is an image that is often associated with the militia amo-

 For tenuitas as a Callimachean poetic ideal, as opposed to the inflated style of epic poetry, see Ryan Perkins (2011: 32).  See Keith (1994: 30 31) and Fear (2000b: 227).

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ris ²¹⁷. Ovid cleverly moves this motif from a humble articulation of the dutiful lover’s subservience to an agonistic expression. Along these lines, it is meaningful that in Amores 1,5 the lover is the aggressor and the final winner in the erotic struggle against his beloved. Ultimately, from a metapoetic point of view, victory over a puella who is characterised with the attributes of a text demonstrates the elegiac poet’s anxiety to prevail over his literary oeuvre and to assert his ontological primacy over it. Amores 3,12 is the last poem in the collection where Ovid plays with polysemy in depicting an ostensibly “flesh-and-blood” beloved who turns out to be a textual construct. This elegy unfolds from a peculiar situation, namely, that Ovid has to share Corinna with other men: quae modo dicta mea est, quam coepi solus amare, cum multis vereor ne sit habenda mihi.

5

The scene becomes even more extravagant as Ovid affirms that the “crowd” (multis: 6) who will participate in the jouissance of her favours are his readers. In fact, Ovid himself, through his ingenium (line 8), is responsible: he has spurred the spread of his beloved’s name throughout all of Rome; consequently, every man is in love with her: Fallimur, an nostris innotuit illa libellis? sic erit ingenio prostitit illa meo. et merito! quid enim formae praeconia feci? vendibilis culpa facta puella mea est. me lenone placet, duce me perductus amator, ianua per nostras est adaperta manus. An prosint, dubium, nocuerunt carmina semper; invidiae nostris illa fuere bonis. cum Thebae, cum Troia foret, cum Caesaris acta, ingenium movit sola Corinna meum. aversis utinam tetigissem carmina Musis, Phoebus et inceptum destituisset opus! Nec tamen ut testes mos est audire poetas; malueram verbis pondus abesse meis. per nos Scylla patri caros furata capillos pube premit rabidos inguinibusque canes; nos pedibus pinnas dedimus, nos crinibus angues;

10

15

20

 See also Cahoon (1988), who argues for the libido dominandi as the guiding principle that pervades Ovidian elegy in particular. Cf. González Iglesias (2004: 527, n. 132) and Marina (2010: 225), for a broader view of this phenomenon in Propertian poetry as well.

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(…) Exit in inmensum fecunda licentia vatum, obligat historica nec sua verba fide. et mea debuerat falso laudata videri femina; credulitas nunc mihi vestra nocet.

41

Through this bizarre imbrication of the authorial and the fictional layers, the poem ultimately contemplates Corinna’s identity: supra-fictionally, “Corinna” is the name of the poetic character created by Ovid, the name of a literary construct that, like Scylla (21– 23), Perseus (24) or Tityus (25 – 26), is the product of his creative license (41). Ovid is, therefore, reflecting on his relation to his poetry and his oeuvre. It is not by chance that in lines 15 – 16 he discusses Corinna as an emblem of erotic elegy, as opposed to “serious” (epic) poetry —the alternative creative path he could have taken. In the same way that the epic heroes in a hypothetical poem about the Theban conflict, the Trojan War or the deeds of Caesar would have become Ovid’s characters from the inception of his fictional tale, so too does his artistic object “Corinna” enter his possession and dominion. As the product of his pen, any character becomes subject to his authorial power. This confusion between a “real” and a “literary” Corinna ultimately relates to the question of poetic mimesis, as Ovid himself intimates. The allusion in line 19 to the question whether or not the words of the poets should be taken at face value (nec tamen ut testes mos est audire poetas) echoes poem 3,6,17, where Ovid alludes to the fictional nature of the tales of the poets (mendacia vatum). All in all, the reader is led to reflect on the degree to which first person poetry actually adheres to a factual biographical experience. Ovid means to emphasise that his role as a poet is to create a new poetic world —not to imitate biographical facts slavishly. It is in this framework that we are to understand the absurd situation of the readers who have fallen in love with Corinna. The impulse undergirding the poem, consequently, is to expose the aporia to which a literal interpretation of elegiac discourse guides us. As Ovid hyperbolically illustrates with the absurd situation of the enamoured readership, a verbatim reading of elegy is incomprehensible; it does not permit us to understand the puella as a literary construct, i. e., as the opus (18) created by the poet’s ingenium (16). Ovid explicitly expounds that, like all characters and tales of myth (Scylla, Perseus, Niobe, Procne, Callisto or Atreus [lines 21 ff.]), Corinna is the product of his poetic imagination. It is inconsequential whether the literary fiction respects the principle of verisimilitude (subjective poetry) or whether it takes a more lax approach to this precept (the fabulae of myth); what matters is that literary fiction is always the result of the licentia vatum (41).

1 Introduction “Yo creía que quería ser poeta, pero en el fondo quería ser poema”, Jaime Gil de Biedma¹

When Ovid decided to incorporate elegy into the poetic universe of the Metamorphoses he not only included the most superficial and recognisable topoi, but he also brought in the metapoetic background of the genre. It is not coincidental that elegy (in the manifold ways Ovid presents it) enjoys so a prominent presence in the Metamorphoses, if we take into account how pervasively not only the theme of love but also reflection on metaliterary authority appear in the work. Throughout the previous chapters I have tried to demonstrate that, alongside the most obvious erotic content of elegy, the expression of a metaliterary agon between the artist and his oeuvre is one of the main features of the genre. Elegiac discourse manifests a highly sophisticated degree of literary self-consciousness, in so far as it displays a pervasive concern with the artist’s anxious fear of being dispossessed by the creature that he himself engendered. Adopting a characteristically Derridaean formulation², we can say that the elegist as author is systematically worried by the fact that, once he has given life to his oeuvre, it becomes independent and threatens to rise up against him. The elusive nature of the puella reflects the elusive nature of the literary oeuvre: it seems to elude its filiation and, by the same token, to reject the cause of its very existence. Precisely this threat of dispossession impels the artist to assert himself authorially and to represent his ontological priority over his oeuvre as a pivotal point of his discourse. The elegiac agon is the dramatisation of the poet’s struggle to be recognised as, so to speak, the “paternal” force that subjugates his literary work’s quest for independence and permanence. The elegiac genre stages the poet’s struggle to coerce these impulses: even though it is the oeuvre that ultimately lives on, the poet anxiously aims to brand it with the seal of his paternity and, thereby, to place himself at the head of the whole process. But, what happens when these seismic forces that underlie elegy are transferred to a different literary context ―a context that is located in the timelessness of myth and is governed by the fluctuation of change? To what degree are the “elegiac characters” of the Metamorphoses functionally equivalent to the puella

 Biographical note for Las Personas Del Verbo (Ed. Seix Barral, 2002).  See Hershkowitz (1999: 195). DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 008

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and the amator of elegy? Although the characteristically hybrid nature of any element from the world of Ovid’s Metamorphoses prevents analysis in terms of taxonomical categorisation, it is, nevertheless, possible to establish a bipartite division regarding how elegy is incorporated within Ovid’s magnum opus. In the first pattern (which will be treated in this chapter), Ovid ascribes elegiac traits to characters who participate in erotic narratives where there is an explicit power asymmetry between the lovers. In these episodes, of which Apollo and Daphne is the most illustrative example, the stakes usually include sexual violence. In the second pattern, by contrast, Ovid assigns elegiac characteristics to figures who are involved in tales of mutual love. The episode of Ceyx and Alcyone, in this regard, is an enlightening sample. The aim of this section is to examine Ovid’s intertextual dialogue with the elegiac genre and to analyse the manners in which he clarifies (Section II, Chapter 2) or alters (Section II, Chapter 3) the hierarchical paradigm of elegy. In spite of the apparent rigidity of the proposed scheme, it is not my aim to atomise a poem that programmatically is defined as a carmen perpetuum ³. Therefore, as far as possible, a coherent line of evolution will be traced, not only within each of the patterns to be analysed, but also within the poem as a whole. Nevertheless, my reading of the Metamorphoses does not aspire to be an exhaustive account of all the passages that show elegiac influences, given how many parts of the poem are permeated by elegiac tones. For the sake of clarity and synthesis, I will select episodes that are particularly enlightening for examining Ovid’s intertextual play with the conventions of elegy.

 On this issue, see Labate (1975 76: 107), who expresses his reservations concerning “episo dic” readings of the Metamorphoses. See also Otis (1966: 49 ff.) on the continuity and unity of the poem. Cf. Theodorakopoulos (1999), Myers (2009: 2 ff.) or Davis (1980) on the difficulties in volved in delimiting closure and coherence in the Metamorphoses.

2 Asymmetrical love in the Metamorphoses Ovid’s decided interest in the representation of sexual violence in the Metamorphoses is recognizable even at first sight, if we take into account the many passages where the characters in erotic narratives adopt the roles of the sexual aggressor and the helpless victim. The aim of this chapter is to examine some of the most pertinent passages of this type and to explain why these episodes are endowed with elegiac traits. Many studies, from different hermeneutical points of view (though particularly from the perspective of gender studies) have called attention to this fact⁴, and, indeed, the label “Apollo-and-Daphne-pattern” has become a frequent means of referring to sexually violent episodes in the Metamorphoses⁵ ―even though there are surely many other stories in the poem where sexual violence is much more explicit⁶. This narrative pattern pervades the poem, although it is particularly prevalent in its first six books⁷. Criticism has already adequately outlined the common traits of the “Daphne-type” episodes⁸ and has underscored, in particular, the asymmetry of the erotic relations, given that the main characters in most of these stories are a god, who plays the role of the active amator, and a mortal woman or a nymph, who is the passive beloved. These critical efforts improve our understanding of the episodes of sexual violence, in so far as they specifically highlight the importance of hierarchical categories within the Metamorphoses, especially in the episodes of divine love. Although most of these studies acknowledge the elegiac background of the “Daphne-type” episodes, it is nevertheless necessary to combine the analysis of the power relations in these narratives with the representation of power relations in the elegiac genre itself. Unfortunately studies examining power relations within Ovid’s magnum opus do not systematically consider the parallel analysis of power relations within  From a predominantly gender oriented perspective, see Salzman Mitchell (2005), Curran (1978), Richlin (1992) or Kahn (2004). From an eminently text immanent approach, see Johnston (2011) and particularly Parry (1964) and Galinsky (1975: 110 157). From a programmatically eclectic methodological perspective, see Segal (1994) and idem (1992) on Tereus and Philomela. See my General Introduction for further references.  On this episodic pattern, see Armstrong (2005: 140), Otis (1966: 78 9 and 103), Nicoll (1980: 177), Curran (1978: 214 and 231), Nagle (1988a: 32) or Fabre (1985: 93 113).  Indeed, Apollo does not rape Daphne, in spite of his efforts. Yet, as I will argue below, Apollo’s wooing implicitly alludes to violence. The story, thus, crucially anticipates the pattern of behav iour of the infatuated gods further on in the poem.  See Schmitzer (2001: 108 and n. 43) and Barchiesi (2008: 203), who particularly underlines its presence in books one and two.  See, e. g., Fabre (1985) on the most salient features of the theme of the “belles pursuivies”. DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 009

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elegy⁹. As a result, the intricate net of intertextual allusions conceptually linking the Metamorphoses and elegy has not been scrutinised comprehensively from the perspective of power relations. A complex range of hermeneutical assumptions may have contributed to this exegetical gap. Not least, one factor has been decisive: as the epistemological heir of stylistics¹⁰, criticism on allusion and intertextuality too often renders an image of closed immanence and conveys the impression of operating in a discourse that ignores the historicity of the text. Thus, all too often, the critic’s task seems to be the “decryption” of a text’s aesthetic mechanics en route to articulating the true intention of the author. The apodictic nature of this exegetical model¹¹ has likely contributed to a critical landscape where, for the Metamorphoses, the examination of power relations (which has mainly been taken up by gender studies) seems to be at odds with the systematic analysis of Ovid’s intertextual dialogue with the elegiac genre. Perhaps another reason why gender-oriented studies on power relations have tended to distance themselves from the analysis of “elegiac traits” is a (mis)understanding of this task as one in the domain of the old-fashioned Quellenforschung. However, leaving aside fruitless controversies on terminology (as a matter of fact, intertextuality is a study of sources from a functional perspective¹²), the semantic relation between the hierarchical dynamics of the elegiac episodes in the Metamorphoses and the hierarchical dynamics of elegy itself demands an exegetical attention that crucially requires the support of methodological eclecticism¹³. Regarding the power dynamics of eroticism in the elegiac genre, the conclusions drawn in Section I of the present work allow us to reframe the “elegiac question” of the Metamorphoses from a new perspective. Moreover, these very

 As an example, see James (2003), Greene (1998), Wyke (2002) and Fredrick (1997).  See Ruiz Pérez (1995 96: esp. 563 569), who discusses the epistemological relationship be tween formalism and stylistics, which is based on the immanence of the literary text.  On this issue, see Culham (1990) and Gold (2004).  Or, in other words: “there is a difference between merely noting intertextual references (old fashioned Quellenforschung), and reading implications from intertextual allusions, which fre quently transcend cultures and eras” (Claassen (2007: 4)). See also Conte (2014: 74 ff.) on the conceptual differences between Quellenforschung and criticism on literary allusion. On the cru cial importance of intertextuality within the Metamorphoses, see Caballero Tola (2004: 124): “el autor y su obra participan en un sistema semiótico general en el cual la intertextualidad es una propiedad del lenguaje y no simplemente de la literatura”.  At this point, Segal’s (1994: 258) plea is enlightening: “I prefer eclecticism because no single method can adequately interpret the range of meanings of a complex literary work and therefore the critic should be free to choose any method or combination of methods that seem most help ful. It is better for the text to direct the critic to the most useful method(s) than to have the critic force the text into his or her Procrustean bed.”

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conclusions suggest the need to unify the hermeneutical strands of those studies that focus on power relations in the Metamorphoses and those studies that examine (following thematic and stylistic criteria of intertextual allusion) the elegiac elements in the episodes of the “Apollo-and-Daphne-type”. As we have seen in the previous pages, one of the key themes of love elegy is the reflection on power. Within the agonistic discourse of elegy, the poeta-amator performs a veiled but systematic struggle with the realities deriving from his poetic craftsmanship, which are synthesised under the persona of the elegiac puella. My aim in this section is to show that it is possible to read the elegiac passages of the Metamorphoses as an intertextual reflection on the semantic bond between elegiac love and power relations. If we consider love elegy in a comprehensive manner as the most direct literary reference in the Daphne-type episodes ―that is, if we take into account the whole conceptual background of the genre―, the intriguing possibility emerges to reassess the function of these episodes within the Metamorphoses. The intra- and intertextual consequences of this approach are far-reaching: alongside and beyond viewing elegiac elements as a poetic repertoire of “love motifs”, the Daphne-type episodes clarify intertextually, by way of hyperbole, love elegy’s subliminal (or, in other words, supra-fictional) power play.

Daphne and Apollo The first episode I will focus on is the primus amor (1,452): the tale of Apollo and Daphne. Its programmatic character is unanimously acknowledged in criticism. Therefore, in order to avoid unnecessary repetitions, my aim is to analyse the link between the explicit hierarchical asymmetry in the relationship between the god and the nymph and the elegiac tone of the episode and its context. Scholars underline the importance of the prolegomena to the primus amor, particularly the struggle between Apollo and Cupid, and refer unanimously to Amores 1,1 as its most immediate intertext¹⁴. Indeed, it is difficult to overlook echoes of the poem that begins Ovid’s elegiac oeuvre, where it is the poet himself who succumbs to Cupid’s arrows:

 On the programmatic nature of the passage and the parallelism with Amores 1,1, see Labate (2005: 33); Armstrong (2005: 140 ff.); Knox (1986: 14 19); Holzberg (2007: 32 34) and idem (1999); Nicoll (1980); Nagle (1988a); Wills (1990); Knox (1990a); Laguna Mariscal (1989); Sal zmann Mitchell (2005: 29, 31 and 91 92); Feldherr (2003: 164); Solodow (1988: 21 and 33); Gil denhard and Zissos (2000: 76); Rosati (2012: 201 ff.); Jouteur (2001: 99 104); and Spahlinger (1996: 333, and n.2), with some additional bibliographical references.

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Arma gravi numero violentaque bella parabam edere, materia conveniente modis. par erat inferior versus risisse Cupido dicitur atque unum surripuisse pedem. ’Quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hoc in carmina iuris?

Am. 1, 1 5

The dispute between Apollo and Cupid, and the ultimate victory of the former clearly evoke this elegiac subtext¹⁵: (…) ’figat tuus omnia, Phoebe, te meus arcus’ ait; ’quantoque animalia cedunt cuncta deo, tanto minor est tua gloria nostra.’ dixit et eliso percussis aere pennis inpiger umbrosa Parnasi constitit arce eque sagittifera prompsit duo tela pharetra diversorum operum: fugat hoc, facit illud amorem

(I 463 469)

As Nicoll (1980: 174) points out, the epic tone preceding the episode utterly changes with the introduction of this tale, where Ovid depicts Apollo with burlesque traits and casts him in a role that entirely contrasts with the gravitas of the gods in the epic framework of the first part of the first book. For Otis (1966: 104), “the divine majesty or dignity (…) is deflated at the first touch of love”¹⁶. In any case, it is necessary to examine Ovid’s purpose when including this passage as an overture to the

 This intertextual association grows stronger if we take into account that dixit (in Met. 1,466) probably echoes dicitur (in Am. 1,1,4), as Chris Witton suggested to me in the framework of my paper at the Rostocker Altertumswissenschaftliches Kolloquium in November 2013. Cupid’s lit eral words (dixit) in the Metamorphoses would, thus, draw on his “previous” performance in the Amores, where he “is said to” have stolen one foot from Ovid’s epic endeavour. Through this transformation of Cupid’s “reported speech” into direct speech, Ovid accomplishes a com plex metatextual tour de force: on the one hand, he draws on an (intertextually) prior passage allowing him to underscore the elegiac tone of the Daphne episode, but, on the other hand, as I suggest, he simultaneously re creates the aetiology of Cupid as a character who “inaugurates” the replacement of epic themes with elegiac themes. Through the transformation of “dicitur” into “dixit” Ovid “actualises” what in his subtext is an “Alexandrian footnote” (see Knorr [n. d.: 2]; and Cristóbal [1992]) and transforms the far intertextual echoes of Hellenistic sources, where Cupid’s laughing predicts doom to the unlucky lover, into a direct quotation of Cupid’s very words, which actually transform Apollo into an unlucky lover. On Alexandrian footnotes, see Ross (1975: 78) and Hinds (1998: 2).  See also Miller (2001: 343) on Ovid’s mocking allusion to various epic beginnings. See fur thermore Spahlinger (1996: 337 338) with some additional bibliographical references on the god’s burlesque characterisation. See also Rosati (2012) for a general view on the image of infa tuated gods in the Metamorphoses.

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primus amor. In fact, as Ovid will show throughout the different narratives of asymmetrical love in the poem, it is possible to read the struggle between the two gods as a kind of aetiology for the morphology of love in the Metamorphoses. The dispute between the two archers is most probably Ovid’s invention, as Le Bonniec (1985: 156– 157) argues. To be sure, the reasons for this innovation relative to the existing mythographic sources are complex, and it is beyond the scope of my arguments to go in depth into the issue of how Ovid handles his sources. However, I propose that this novelty can be also explained as a way of evoking Ovid’s own interpretation of the elegiac phenomenon within the Metamorphoses: the tale of Apollo and Daphne, which is ostensibly elegiac in its tone, is preceded by an agon. Elegy, as understood in the Metamorphoses, could, thus, be read as the result of a struggle (Cupid vs. Apollo), which, in turn, precipitates from a previous struggle (between Apollo and the serpent Python) that significantly led to the celebration of the Pythic Games. Hunc [Pythona] deus arquitenenens (…) perdidit effuso per vulnera nigra veneno. neve operis famam posset delere vetustas, instituit sacros celebri certamine ludos, Pythia de domitae serpentis nomine dictos. hic iuvenum quicumque manu pedibusve rotave vicerat, aesculeae capiebat frondis honorem (…) Primus amor Phoebi Daphne Peneia, quem non fors ignara dedit, sed saeva Cupidinis ira, Delius hunc nuper, victa serpente superbus, viderat (…) filius huic Veneris ’figat tuus omnia, Phoebe, te meus arcus’ ait; ’quantoque animalia cedunt cuncta deo, tanto minor est tua gloria nostra.’

441 445

455

465

Through the plasticity of myth the Metamorphoses reveal something that the internal code of the elegiac genre had only permitted to be discerned through figurative language: an agon (certamen: line 446) is the fulcrum upon which elegy hinges. Like a golden thread, an agonistic register pervades the series of events prior to the primus amor. Apollo first wins and imposes his power over Python¹⁷, then establishes a competition where the best athlete wins and finally, in the same agonistic line, challenges Cupid to a contest, in which he is eventually defeated. Surely, the theme of struggle and contest is present in many episodes of

 On the possible parallel between Apollo’s Pythian victory and Augustus’ victory at Actium, see Miller (2011: 340 ff.).

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the Metamorphoses ―some of them are related to elegiac contexts, but others are not. It is also true that, in and of itself, the subject of agon is closer to the world of epic, which might be considered the generic opposite of elegy. In fact, the thematic strand of proelia is generically idiosyncratic to epos ¹⁸. Specifically, the battle between the two deities draws on the characteristically epic theomachies featuring prominently in the Iliad ¹⁹. Certainly, Cupid is not traditionally associated with epic themes, in contrast, for instance, to Poseidon, whose wrath generates the narrative development of the Odyssey, or Juno, whose anger initiates the action of the Aeneid. Yet, Cupid’s role in Apollonius’ Argonautica and in Vergil’s Aeneid proves that he is not wholly unrelated to epic²⁰. Indeed, his wrath (saeva Cupidinis ira: 443) is described as the cause of the action for the whole episode of Apollo and Daphne, reinforcing, thus, the epic overtones of the context²¹. Nevertheless, however perceptible these epic allusions are, it is probably the elegiac subtext of the Amores that most immediately colours Cupid’s presence at the beginning of the story of Apollo’s primus amor. If not also to be read as mock-epic, the quarrel between the gods certainly calls elegy to mind. In fact, the elegiac subtext further enhances the contrast between the epic expectations that the prolegomena to the passage raise and the content of the narrative that immediately follows the struggle between the gods. Cupid’s ire causes a discourse that is alternative to the traditional discourse of epic. Thus, elegy, as Ovid himself shows in Amores 1,1, also employs the theme of struggle to its own ends. When Ovid composed the Metamorphoses, the semantics of proelia no longer belonged exclusively to the domain of epos. Instead, elegy offered an alternative framework through its sui generis agonistic discourse ―be it explicitly (as in the case of the militia amoris motif), or

 As, e. g., Propertius suggests in 2,10,3 4: the poet has decided to abandon light poetry and to devote himself to epic: iam libet et fortis memorare ad proelia turmas // et Romana mei dicere castra ducis. Moreover, arma (virumque) is conspicuously the central theme of Vergil’s epos.  One can even argue that, following the Homeric theomachies, this one is also meant to al lude to the unbridgeable gap between gods and mortals (or, in our case, between Olympian gods and nymphs): the struggle between Apollo and Cupid is trivial and even ludic compared to Daphne’s desperate fight to escape Apollo. In fact, the characteristically epic theomachies, as is conspicuously evident in Iliad 21, show the gods’ playful attitudes when fighting against each other. Hera’s smile while she slaps Artemis (Il. 21, 491), Athena’s laughter after striking Ares (Il. 21, 408), or Zeus’ joyful amusement when he sees the gods in mutual conflict (Il. 21, 389) illustrate this point.  Still, as Ziogas (2010: 151) rightly observes, Eros is essentially alien to martial epic. His presence is rather typical of “minor” genres, specifically of Latin elegy, where he acts as its patron deity.  On the other hand, as Miller (2011: 344) points out, “the wrathful Cupid (…) assumes Jupit er’s demeanor”. See idem (2011: 343 ff.) on the mock epic tone of Apollo’s struggle with Cupid.

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implicitly (in the systematic struggle between the poet and the poetic moments that are synthesised under the name of the puella). So, the epic (or pseudo-epic) certamina that precede our episode ―the first “elegiac” narrative of the poem― facilitate the interpretation of elegy as a discourse that aetiologically stems from an agon. By this means, I suggest, Ovid aims to anticipate the polarity and the unequal power struggle between lover and beloved in many of the successive erotic tales in the Metamorphoses. Under this hermeneutical prism, the poetic aetiology of the episode of Apollo and Daphne becomes far more comprehensive²²: not only do the characters assume the elegiac roles of lover and beloved, as we will see in the coming pages; moreover, the context itself evokes, through this hyperbolically agonistic setting, one of the conceptual emblems of elegy, in so far as the genre emphasises the struggle between the poet and his puella/oeuvre at a metatextual level. As a consequence, the imagery of agon accompanies the tales of divine love as a quasi-Leitmotiv henceforth in the poem. The primus amor inaugurates a hierarchical pattern of asymmetry in the relationship between lover and beloved and intertextually evokes the power asymmetry in elegy, where, behind the fictional masks, the amator dominates the puella just as a god may impose his will on a nymph or a mortal woman. Certainly, metaliterary competition between the poet and his work is not an exclusively elegiac feature; even less is agonistic imagery an originally or exclusively elegiac trait ―in fact, when it comes to acknowledging the initial generic colour of this feature, it is rather epos where contest-imagery features most conspicuously. Yet, alongside the other thematic strands of elegiac discourse, struggle and competition are a prominent aspects in this genre too. Metaliterary allusion to the agonistic nature of elegy is, of course, not the only reason for the agonistic setting that introduces the Apollo and Daphne episode. But, we cannot disavow the thought that hereby Ovid subtly anticipates the metaliterary implications of employing elegiac forms in his subsequent love narratives. These allusions to the conceptual background of elegy allow readers to recognise Ovid’s move towards elegy’s literary landscape. Daphne’s depiction as a puella who rejects aesthetic refinement and whose only care is keeping her virginal modesty intact echoes precisely the ideal of feminine beauty that Propertius advocates in his poem 1,2, where, as we have seen above, the poeta-amator defends Cynthia’s pudicitia (24) and counsels her to scorn adornments and rich attire:

 See Hardie Barchiesi Hinds (1999: 10) on the Metamorphoses as an aetiological encyclope dia explaining the origin of various poetic genres particularly elegy, whose origin Ovid de scribes in book 1. Cf. Hardie (1999: 264) for Daphne’s story as a foundational aition for poetry.

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Quid iuvat ornato procedere, vita, capillo et tenuis Coa veste movere sinus, nudus Amor formae non amat artificem

(lines 1 2) (line 8)

Although Daphne does not appear, at first sight, to correspond to the pattern of the elegiac beloved, Ovid interestingly endows her with traits that actually reflect Propertius’ precepts about an ideal elegiac puella. This subtle intertextual echo produces a remarkable allusive play, since a chaste appearance, according to Propertius in this same poem (1,2,17– 21), is an excellent erotic lure for male deities, among whom Apollo himself plays a paradigmatic role: non, Idae et cupido quondam discordia Phoebo, Eueni patriis filia litoribus; nec Phrygium falso traxit candore maritum avecta externis Hippodamia rotis: sed facies aderat nullis obnoxia gemmis

Daphne’s rubor verecundus (484) perfectly matches Marpessa’s nec falso candore (19). Moreover, Daphne’s positos sine lege capillos (477²³) and her inornatos capillos (497) are exactly in line with the elegist’s instructions for how an elegiac puella ought to appear (quid iuvat ornato procedere […] capillo: 1). In fact, Ovid himself in Am. 2,4,37²⁴ argues that a mistress who neglects her physical appearance is also attractive for the amator: non est culta—subit, quid cultae accedere possit. This literary background permits the reader to interpret Daphne as an elegiac puella who is perfectly suited to arouse the sexual desire of an amator like Apollo. Moreover, the retrospective reading of the Propertian text through the prism of the Metamorphoses reveals a fine irony with programmatic characteristics: the syntagm cupido Phoebo (17) becomes a generically enriched expression, in so far as Ovid seems to allude to the principle of discors concordia ²⁵ that, henceforth, will be implicitly present in much of the erotic world in the Metamorphoses. In fact, this intertextually polysemous locution seems to unify two traditionally opposed worlds: the domain of epos (represented by Phoebus, the monster-slayer) and the domain of elegy (represented by the light Cupido-Amor). At

 Here I follow Ramírez de Verger (2005: 854), who, in contrast to Tarrant (2004: 19), does not bracket this line.  As Barchiesi (2008: 209 210) notes.  The expression comes from Met. 1,433. This physical principle (which is articulated in the cosmogonic frame at the beginning of the poem) is also applicable to the relations between the characters and even between the literary genres that coexist within the Metamorphoses.

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the same time, it arguably hints at the unevenness of love and at the power play inherent to the erotic tales of the Metamorphoses. In line with Daphne’s description as an elegiac puella, Apollo’s depiction corresponds, in turn, to the general traits of the elegiac lover: on the one hand, because he is a victim of Cupid’s arrows and, on the other hand, because he woos Daphne unsuccessfully²⁶ in lines 504– 524: ’nympha, precor, Penei, mane! non insequor hostis; nympha, mane! sic agna lupum, sic cerva leonem, sic aquilam penna fugiunt trepidante columbae, hostes quaeque suos: amor est mihi causa sequendi! me miserum! ne prona cadas indignave laedi crura notent sentes et sim tibi causa doloris! aspera, qua properas, loca sunt: moderatius, oro, curre fugamque inhibe, moderatius insequar ipse. cui placeas, inquire tamen: non incola montis, non ego sum pastor, non hic armenta gregesque horridus observo. nescis, temeraria, nescis, quem fugias, ideoque fugis: mihi Delphica tellus et Claros et Tenedos Patareaque regia servit; Iuppiter est genitor; per me, quod eritque fuitque estque, patet; per me concordant carmina nervis. certa quidem nostra est, nostra tamen una sagitta certior, in vacuo quae vulnera pectore fecit! inventum medicina meum est, opiferque per orbem dicor, et herbarum subiecta potentia nobis. ei mihi, quod nullis amor est sanabilis herbis nec prosunt domino, quae prosunt omnibus, artes!’

505

510

515

520

Beyond his use of verbal seduction to convince Daphne, critics also focus on the characterisation of Apollo, in so far as his attitude utterly contradicts the gravitas which would be expected from an Olympian. His burlesque and self-humiliating comportment is analogous to the socially heterodox posture of the elegiac lover²⁷. In addition, the god’s entreaties recall the unsuccessful serenade of the elegiac amator in front of his mistress’s closed doors, as Holzberg (2007: 33) indicates. Yet, aside from these allusions, it is necessary to draw attention to some other indirect references to elegy that have not been sufficiently noted

 See Holzberg (2007: 33), Knox (1986: 14 17), Spahlinger (1996: 337 338) or Salzman Mitchell (2005: 29) with further bibliographical references. On elegy as Werbende Dichtung, see Stroh (1971: passim). The lover’s recourse to blanditiae is a Leitmotiv. See, e. g.: Prop. 1,18,39 40; Ov., Am. 1,2,35; Ars 1,439, 455 and 619.  See, e. g., Nicoll (1980: 174) or Otis (1966: 104).

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by criticism. Particularly illuminating is the theme of spes, i. e., the tireless hope of the elegiac lover that the puella will finally yield to his erotic devices. Ovid creates an evident irony from the moment he depicts Apollo, the god of oracles, who is able to reveal “what will be, what was, and what is” (517– 518), as an amator sperans. Given that hope, by nature, derives from uncertainty about future happenings, to make Apollo “foster hope” underscores his undignified character and further identifies him, consequently, with the elegiac lover, who can only long for the reciprocation of his desire. The following table illustrates this point with elegiac passages that exemplify the frequent association of the concept of spes with the amator: Elegiac intertexts

The primus amor

A) Ovid, Am. ,, speremus pariter, pariter metuamus amantes B) Propertius ,b, –  hic unus dolor est ex omnibus acer amanti, speranti subito si qua venire negat C) Propertius ,, –  semper enim vacuos nox sobria torquet amantes; spesque timorque animos versat utroque modo D) Ovid, Am. ,b, –  me modo decipiant voces fallacis amicae; sperando certe gaudia magna feram.

quodque cupit, sperat, suaque illum racular fallunt (Met. ,)

uritur et sterilem sperando nutrit amorem (Met. ,)

sic deus et virgo est, hic spe celer, illa timore (Met. ,)

E) Tibullus ,, Spes facilem Nemesim spondet mihi, sed negat illa

As we can see, Ovid clearly evokes the elegiac topos in his description of Apollo’s attitude. Among the many similar instances, the presence of the spes motif in Amores 2,19,5 – 6 is especially interesting. In this poem the elegiac speaker criticises the vir of his mistress for permitting his wife’s extramarital relationships. With his well-known sarcasm, the amator counsels him to keep her under close vigilance, for inaccessible and forbidden women are precisely what stimulates the amator’s desire most intensely: Si tibi non opus est servata, stulte, puella, at mihi fac serves, quo magis ipse velim!

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quod licet, ingratum est; quod non licet acrius urit. ferreus est, siquis, quod sinit alter, amat speremus pariter, pariter metuamus amantes, et faciat voto rara repulsa locum.

(Ovid, Amores 2,19, 1 6)

Within an erotic framework where the beloved “playing hard to get” arouses the lover’s desire (line 6), the elegiac code demands that the lover have spes (line 5) throughout. In a similar vein, Apollo fosters a hope that, according to his interpretation of Daphne as an elegiac puella, is fueled by Daphne herself: ille quidem obsequitur, sed te decor iste quod optas esse vetat, votoque tuo tua forma repugnat: Phoebus amat visaeque cupit conubia Daphnes, quodque cupit, sperat, suaque illum oracula fallunt,

490

(…) uritur et sterilem sperando nutrit amorem.

496

(…) sic deus et virgo est, hic spe celer, illa timore

539

Although Cupid’s intervention has condemned Apollo’s love to be sterilis (496), the infatuated god faithfully adheres to elegiac conventions, such that Daphne’s disdain, far from discouraging him, further intensifies his passion. Just as the elegiac speaker claims that an occasional rebuff nurtures his hopes (Amores 2,19,6) and, thereby, makes the puella more attractive, so too, in Apollo’s eyes, is Daphne’s beauty enhanced by her flight: aucta forma fuga est (530). Apollo interprets Daphne’s flight according to strictly intertextual criteria, such that he not only considers her an ideal elegiac puella (as we have seen in the echoes of Propertius 1,2), but he also “reads” Daphne as a new Corinna, who knows how to act coy as a means of heightening the amator’s sexual desire²⁸. Apollo seems to follow the precepts of Ars (1,271– 276)²⁹, where the praeceptor contends that the beloved’s modesty and erotic refusal is, in reality, a pretence concealing her true desires. Furthermore, an additional argument corroborating Ovid’s reference to Amores 2,19 in the characterisation of Apollo is the simile in lines 27– 30 of the Amores:  On the beloved’s resistance to love as an additional sexual stimulus, cf. Ruiz Sánchez (1988: 106), Le Bonniec (1985: 160, n. 41), Curran (1978: 227), Richlin (1992: 162) and Fabre (1985: 102).  Vere prius volucres taceant, aestate cicadae, Maenalius lepori det sua terga canis, Femina quam iuveni blande temptata repugnet: Haec quoque, quam poteris credere nolle, volet. Utque viro furtiva venus, sic grata puellae: Vir male dissimulat: tectius illa cupit.

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si numquam Danaen habuisset aenea turris, non esset Danae de Iove facta parens; dum servat Iuno mutatam cornibus Io, facta est, quam fuerat, gratior illa Iovi. quidlibet eveniat, nocet indulgentia nobis quod sequitur, fugio; quod fugit, ipse sequor

(35 36)

It is hardly by chance that Ovid uses the exempla of Danae and Io to how a girl becomes more desirable when access to her is banned or hindered by a series of obstacles. In both cases, these women were victims of an infatuated god’s sexual. Any reader would recognise the striking similarity to Daphne. In other words, is there any better exemplum for Apollo to “construct” an elegiac Daphne? The motto “quod fugit, ipse sequor”³⁰ offers him a perfect intertextual justification for pursuing Daphne. Ovid ingeniously plays with his narrative by making Apollo interpret Daphne’s flight as an erotic stimulus. The god’s intertextual awareness leads him to think that Daphne is performing the role of a dura puella. Yet, for the reader, whose intratextual knowledge permits us to foresee that the god’s plans are doomed to fail, Apollo is exposed as an utterly naïve figure at the mercy of Ovid’s authorial intentions. The whole context allows us to speculate about the possibility that the god’s reference to his prophetic abilities (per me, quod eritque fuitque // estque, patet [516 – 517]) ultimately hides a metaliterary statement. It is tempting to understand Apollo’s failure to recognise the new reality (that is, his inability to see the change that Cupid’s arrows have provoked) as a hint about the difficulty of reading the Metamorphoses. Any reader who merely “looks back” to elegiac conventions, as Apollo does, and thinks that these patterns can be simply integrated into a new context without anything changing is doomed to misinterpret (literary) reality entirely. With his account of the primus amor, Ovid, thus, anticipates that not only the past (understood as the influence of older texts upon the new text) must be taken into account; rather, it is the fusion of past, present and future that enables us to grasp reality. In other words, change, in so far as it symbolises the blurring of the boundaries between past, present and future, is the key to comprehension. In metaliterary terms, it is the blending of continuity and innovation in the frame of a synchronic intratextual context that gives us the clues to read the Metamorphoses.

 For further examples of this theme in Martial, Horace and Ovid, see Ramírez de Verger Li brán Moreno (2004: 211). See also Lateiner (1990: 228), who examines this line as an instance of mimetic syntax.

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Moreover, Ovid interestingly makes Apollo say that “through me, future, past and present are revealed”. In effect, Apollo permits others to understand his proclamations, but he himself is not capable of grasping them. Apollo is a symbol for the reader who is well-versed in elegiac conventions, but is unable to recognise the new literary circumstances. By the same token, Ovid authorially places himself in rank ahead of Apollo, who unmistakably is a symbol of power within the poem: first, because he is an omnipotent god who is hierarchically able to subdue Daphne; secondly, because he recalls and synthesises the figure of the elegiac amator, for whom the whole elegiac genre is the arena where he exercises his power, as I have argued in Section I of this book. Ovid’s play with Apollo and the ultimate exposure of the god’s flaws and follies³¹ can, thus, be understood as an authorial self-assertion, in so far as Apollo, like many other characters in the poem, represents the centripetal, anti-authoritarian forces that seem to defy Ovid as the ultimate holder of authorial power within the poem. Thus, among its many implications, it is also possible to interpret the presence of elegy in the Metamorphoses as a tool whereby Ovid hierarchically stakes out his position in front of the dialogic polyphony enacted by his own oeuvre. In the same way Apollo’s characterisation as an amator sperans is blatantly ironic, his role as an elegiac lover introduces another incongruity. The poetic Ego of elegy is always a pauper poeta, whose only property is his poetry, in sharp contrast to the dives amator, whose erotic success is based on his wealth and lineage³². From his own biased perspective Apollo interprets the conventions of the elegiac genre and decides to adopt an attitude corresponding to what is expected from a dives amator, the elegiac lover’s rich antagonist: ostentatious display of his ancestry and possessions exactly opposes the modus operandi of an elegiac lover. By enumerating his divine attributes and prerogatives (517– 522) and by his boasting that he is the son of Jupiter himself (517) and the patron of the most important Greek oracles (515 – 516), Apollo transforms the conventional blandi-

 Another detail that corroborates Ovid’s authorial assertion in relation to Apollo is “the im position of narratorial perspective”, as von Glinski (2012: 101) calls it, when the narrator assumes the voice at the moment when Apollo would have liked to say more (plura locuturum: 1,525). As the von Glinski argues, the result is a reassertion of “the narrator’s right to control the story, con tradicting his character outright”.  On the motif of the dives amator as a rival of the poet lover, see, e. g., Tibullus 1,5 (particu larly lines 46 ff.); Propertius 1,8; 1,15, 2,8, 2,16. Cf. also Prop. 2,26, 21 ff.; and 2,19,25. On women’s proverbial fascination with wealth, see, e. g., Propertius 2,16; 1,8; 2,20. See Syn dikus (2006: 280, n. 116) for further examples.

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tiae of elegy into self-praise³³. Moreover, the infatuated god contradicts the elegiac lover’s conventional attitude, where the amator, for example, takes pride in not acting like his rival and dignifies his humble family roots, as Propertius asserts in 2,24b,37– 38³⁴. Moreover, Apollo’s insistent self-representation as a “wealthy lover” contradicts the god’s depiction in Amores 1,8,59 – 60, where Dipsas, the bawd who tries to persuade Corinna that the best lover is not a poor poet but a dives amator, uses Apollo himself, the god of poetic inspiration, to illustrate that a wealthy appearance can be treacherous: ipse deus vatum palla spectabilis aurea tractat inauratae consona fila lyrae.

As González Iglesias (2004: 174) argues, Dipsas ironically unveils that, even though Apollo is spectabilis because of his golden robe, his lyre is merely gilded. In other words, Apollo’s wealth is deceptive. As a result, the intertext with the Amores permits Ovid to play ironically with the double-edged image of a god who strives to present a powerful and wealthy image, but who ―as the patron of (quintessentially poor) poets― turns out to be an exemplum of a false rich lover. Although Ovid casts Apollo as a recognisable elegiac character, he simultaneously means for the god to have a certain critical distance from the topoi of the elegiac tradition. This distance is afforded by his implicit depiction as a reader approaching a textual corpus that he conceives of as closed and immutable. By this measure, Ovid allows Apollo to be selective in his choice of the elegiac conventions and to maintain the appearance of gravitas. The god rejects the role of servus to the point that he makes an intertextual recusatio of Tibullus 2,3,11 ff.³⁵, where we encounter the most undignified image of Apollo in the whole elegiac landscape³⁶. In that poem, Tibullus laments that his puella is far away from him in the countryside, whereas he has to stay in the city. In this framework, he affirms that he would be ready to assume rural tasks like a

 As Holzberg (2007: 34) notes, Ovid creates a parodic situation, since he transforms elements that are characteristic of a hymn praising a god into a hymn praising himself. See also Barchiesi (2008: 210), Miller (2011: 345) and Feldherr (2010: 94).  certus eras eheu, quamvis nec sanguine avito // nobilis et quamvis non ita dives eras.  On the contrast between the Ovidian and the Tibullan Apollo, see Knox (1990a: 187, n. 15), Barchiesi (2008: 211 and 294) and Murgatroyd (1975: 79).  Apollos’ characterisation as a pastor/servus amator goes back to Callimachus (Hymn. 2.47 49), as Knox (1990a: 187) notes. However, in the episode of Hyacinthus (Met. 10,72 219), Apollo is closer to the Tibullan model: in this case, the god readily assumes servile tasks and renounces his divine prerogatives for the sake of love. To Schmitzer (2001: 125), Tibullus 1,4 is the most di rect elegiac model for the characterisation of Apollo in the episode of Hyacinthus.

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farm slave, if only to be with her. The poet, then, inserts the exemplum of Apollo, who renounced his divine dignity and moved to the countryside to serve his beloved Admetus as a shepherd. There, neither his unshorn hair, nor his cithara nor his medical arts were of use there, given that his usual task was milking and grazing the cows, whose mooing even dared to interrupt his learned songs: pauit et Admeti tauros formosus Apollo, nec cithara intonsae profueruntue comae, nec potuit curas sanare salubribus herbis: quidquid erat medicae uicerat artis amor. ipse deus solitus stabulis expellere uaccas .......................... et miscere nouo docuisse coagula lacte, lacteus et mixtis obriguisse liquor. (…) o quotiens illo uitulum gestante per agros dicitur occurrens erubuisse soror! o quotiens ausae, caneret dum ualle sub alta, rumpere mugitu carmina docta boues!

11

14a 14b 14c 17

The Ovidian Apollo creates an image of himself that explicitly contradicts the indignity of the Apollo-servus of the Tibullan subtext. Non ego sum pastor, non hic armenta gregesque // horridus observo (Met. 1,513 – 514) deliberately counters the elegiac Apollo-pastor: pavit et Admeti tauros formosus Apollo (2,3,11). Whereas in Tibullus the god is formosus as a shepherd, Ovid’s Apollo “rectifies” the Tibullan text by claiming that shepherding would make him horridus. Moreover, his resistance to the role of servus can also be inferred from his repeated recourse to a lexical register of servitude when he refers to his divine attributes: Claros et Tenedos Patareaque regia servit; // Iuppiter est genitor; per me, quod eritque fuitque // estque, patet; per me… herbarum subiecta potentia nobis… nec prosunt domino… artes (516 – 524). While Apollo in the Tibullan elegy has left his oracles and sanctuaries completely unattended (lines 25 – 26 and 31), in the Metamorphoses the god proudly proclaims that he hegemonically rules over his cult sites; that he monopolises knowledge of past, present and future; and that the medical power of herbs is under his control. In representing himself as a sui generis elegiac amator, Ovid’s Apollo achieves an additional literary play on the Tibullan text, since he performs simultaneously the role of the elegiac Ego and the role of his antagonist, who seems more likely to win the puella and whose position is overtly envied by the pauper amator:

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ferrea non uenerem sed praedam saecula laudant heu heu diuitibus uideo gaudere puellas: iam ueniant praedae, si Venus optat opes: ut mea luxuria Nemesis fluat utque per urbem incedat donis conspicienda meis

(39)

(53 56)

Thanks to his privileged position from knowing the elegiac texts, Apollo expects to become an “elegiac superhero”, a figure who benefits from the prerogatives of the dives amator, but still imitates the manners of the elegiac amator, whose hierarchically advantageous position Apollo intertextually understands. One could even define Apollo as an elegiac lover of epic dimensions. In sum, the relation of the episode of Apollo and Daphne to elegy cannot be reduced simply to verifying an “elegiac veneer” formed by a cluster of elegiac clichés. The ironic incoherence of an Apollo who is not a servus and a Daphne who is not a domina, on the one hand, alludes to the hierarchy governing the relationship between gods and mortals in the Metamorphoses. On the other hand, it also reflects the intertextual complexity of the poem and its capacity to assimilate and adapt preexisting (in this case, elegiac) textual realities to its narrative and metapoetic purposes. The primus amor unveils a position of retrospective literary criticism and, through Apollo’s ambivalent fluctuation between the roles of servus and dominus, hints at the fallacy of the elegiac genre and, by the same token, questions the validity of the domina/servus categories. Ovid creates a “hypertrophic” Apollo ―a character who aware of the latent keys of the genre and able to interpret the elegiac amator’s power machinery then fuses the whole range of the love-poet’s powers into an intertextually abundant self-representation. Apollo is characterised as an omnipotent amator, i. e., as a lover for whom his beloved’s sexual resistance does not imply any hindrance and as a lover who assumes different masks to facilitate the achievement of his designs. In this manner, Ovid unveils “Apollo’s reading” of elegy as an interpretation that blurs the boundaries between two categories that elegiac poets usually attempt to keep clearly separated, namely fiction and supra-fiction. In fact, the elegiac amatores-poetae demonstrate their hierarchical pre-eminence over the puella in a supra-fictional layer, but they always abide by a fictional code where they are servi. Apollo, though, refuses to assume such a humiliating position and reworks the Tibullan subtext depicting him as a slave in order to reaffirm his divine power in front of Daphne. The result is that Apollo transgresses the laws of the genre and reveals what was, in elegiac genre to that point, relegated only to the space of allusiveness, metaphor and non-literalness. The only factor escaping Apollo’s control is that, in spite of his divine patronage over medicine, he is not able to heal his own love-wound: ei mihi,

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quod nullis amor est sanabilis herbis // nec prosunt domino, quae prosunt omnibus, artes!’ (523 – 524). However, the motif of the amor inmedicabilis ³⁷ does not really interfere with Apollo’s power, for it is an inevitable consequence of Cupid’s victory. What matters is that, in relation to Daphne, the god demonstrates himself multifariously to be in an indisputable power-position. In this regard, this episode offers some additional meaningful details: interestingly, although the god affirms that he does not intend to act in a hostile manner against Daphne (non insequor hostis: 504), the fact is that he pursues her continuously the whole the time; indeed, his whole discourse is spoken while running³⁸. The enormous hierarchical distance that separates them is eloquently illustrated by Barchiesi (2008: 212): “quello che per Apollo è un divertimento, paragonabile alla caccia o allo sport, per Dafne è invece un agone disperatamente serio”. Moreover, the kinds of similes Apollo employs implicitly allude to his hostile side: sic agna lupum, sic cerva leonem, // sic aquilam penna fugiunt trepidante columbae, // hostes quaeque suos (505 – 7). Although the god means to emphasise that he is different from the simile’s predators since his motive is utterly different (amor est mihi causa sequendi [507]), in fact, like a wolf, lion or eagle, he violently pursues a target who has no chance in matching her assailant’s power. Moreover, Ovid’s affirmation, sed enim non sustinet ultra // perdere blanditias iuvenis deus (530 – 1), is not only ironic, in so far as Apollo’s blanditiae act rather as selfpraise. It also reveals that Apollo views verbal seduction as a nonessential accessory, a mere concession to generic conventions that a god can do without. Violence, the tactic that Apollo chooses from the beginning, is now explicitly exposed as the god’s true method beneath the guise of elegiac fiction. It is only due to the aetiological/cosmic necessity of Cupid’s arrows that Apollo does not finally achieve his goal. Otherwise, there would have been no obstacles to raping Daphne. Her metamorphosis in extremis, when the god is about to catch her, corroborates the view that Daphne’s transformation, although seeming to save her, cannot be interpreted from her point of view as a positive outcome, given that her new form virtually eliminates her former existence. Feldherr (2003: 173) deftly expresses how Daphne’s metamorphosis is, in reality, a perpetuation of the episode’s erotic hierarchy; for him, Daphne is

 As Knox (1986: 14 19) and Barchiesi (2008: 210) point out, the motif goes back to Gallus’ poetry. See also Fulkerson (2006: 395) on this motif.  The image of Apollo running behind Daphne not only emphasises his hostility and likens him to a predator. It also hints at the god’s burlesque character since, I argue, it hints at the comic figure of the servus currens.

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transformed “into a symbol, yet a symbol that recalls not so much who Daphne was as who Apollo is”³⁹. Correspondence in the episode to the elegiac roles of the amator-poeta and the puella respectively is supported by a supplementary detail, which some critics have noted⁴⁰: interestingly, Ovid specifically speaks of Daphne’s transformation into a liber, a term that means both “bark from a tree” and also “book”⁴¹: vix prece finita torpor gravis occupat artus, mollia cinguntur tenui praecordia libro, in frondem crines, in ramos bracchia crescunt, pes modo tam velox pigris radicibus haeret, ora cacumen habet: remanet nitor unus in illa.

550

In a context that, as we have seen, is profuse in elements linking Apollo and Daphne with the lovers of the world of elegy, Daphne’s metamorphosis into not only a liber, but specifically a tenuis liber is endowed with intertextual connotations that further confirm her connection to the elegiac puella. For, as I have argued in the previous section of this book, elegiac poets often identify their beloveds with their own poetic oeuvre, i. e., the elegiac book, one of whose main stylistic features is precisely tenuitas, in line with Callimachean leptotes. Moreover, the fact that Daphne remains “fixed” and loses her mobility as a consequence of her transformation is, according to Salzman-Mitchell (2005: 91– 92), a symbol of her domination. In other words, her change “realizes his [Apollo’s] desire to control and immobilize her”⁴². What is more, the beloved’s paralysis as soon as she submits to the power of the amator hides, in reality, a hyperbolically plastic allusion to a well-known elegiac trope. In fact Apollo’s position echoes, in a sense, that of Propertius, who, within the framework of his sophisticated visual imagination⁴³, asserts that his goal is ut stupefiat Cynthia nostro versu (2,13,7). Whereas Propertius’ control over Cynthia affects her movement to such a degree that he aims to “stun” her (stupefiat) with his poetic voice, Apol-

 See also Salzman Mitchell (2005: 30), for whom the laurel “will always, with its presence, be a symbol of Daphne’s absence”.  See Salzman Mitchell (2005: 30 31 and n. 23),  See Hardie (2004), for whom Daphne’s transformation into tenuis liber represents “the sub limation of sexual desire into art”. The author concludes that “the relationship between Apollo and this girl text thus figures the narcissistic and incestuous relationship between author and his book”.  Salzman Mitchell (2005: 92).  On this issue, see Maltby (2006: 164) and Reinhardt (2006: 207).

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lo’s power over Daphne is manifest in her literal (in contrast to Cynthia) conversion into an immobile entity, which, meaningfully, is a liber. In similar exegetic terms, the focus on Daphne’s feet can be interpreted as an additional connection to the elegiac beloved, whose manner of walking in some concrete elegiac passages alludes to the metrical “course” of the poem. Here, the allusion is more complex, since Daphne’s pace does not refer to a stylistic trait (the cadence of the elegiac couplet). Rather, it is framed within an intertextual reflection on how the elegiac beloved’s subjection affects her mobility. It is not a coincidence that the slowing rhythm of Daphne’s feet (which over the course of the narration lose their speed and are gradually transformed into sluggish roots: pes modo tam velox pigris radicibus haeret [551]) leads in the end to her transformation into a liber. This fact permits us to draw an evocative link from Apollo and Daphne, respectively, to the poet and the book, as Farrell (1999: 134) argues: “… it is as if the nymph’s body were being turned into a book roll; and when her “swift foot begins to be slowed down by sluggish roots”, a superbly iconic line enacts Daphne’s own footfalls. This suggestion of an equivalency between Daphne’s feet and the dactyls and spondees of Ovid’s poem at the very point when her body is involved in tenuis liber, reads her transformation as analogous to the process of inscribing a poem onto a page.”

Yet, immobilising Daphne’s feet is also associated with the unequal power relation between the lover and the elegiac beloved. In this regard, Propertius’ first elegy in the Monobiblos may explain why Ovid directs the reader’s attention to the nymph’s feet. As I argued in Chapter 2 of Section I, the choice of the exemplum of Milanion and Atalanta to evidence the elegiac speaker’s servitium amoris contains a hidden allusion to the hierarchical imbalance of the relationship between the amator-poeta and his puella. Significantly, as I showed in my discussion on this poem above, Milanion, the amator’s mythical counterpart, manages to tame his swift beloved (velocem potuit domuisse puellam: 15), and to crush her harshness (saevitiam durae contudit Iasidos: 10). Here, it is important to remember that the verb contundere in other contexts refers specifically to the action of “paralysing”, “taming” or “subduing”. Thus, the explicit focus on Daphne’s deceleration and ultimate paralysis in Ovid’s text can be read as an allusion to Propertius poem 1,1. Whereas Propertius resorts to myth to hint at the hierarchical dynamics of the relationship between the poet and his beloved, Ovid does not need find a secondary degree of fiction (i. e., an exemplary myth) to describe the subordinated role of the “elegiac” beloved in his narration. Daphne, the evasive (velox) mistress, is literally paralysed as a consequence of Apollo’s chase. The “elegiac” Apollo of the Metamorphoses, thus, achieves something that only the literary imagination of the elegiac amator can attain.

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Through Daphne’s metamorphosis Ovid amplifies the elegiac reflection on the asymmetrical relationship between the poet and his mistress. When the nymph’s change is complete and Apollo realises that his unfulfilled desire is doomed to remain so, the god decides to transform Daphne into his symbol, making it clear that the laurel-Daphne will henceforth be his property: Hanc quoque Phoebus amat positaque in stipite dextra sentit adhuc trepidare novo sub cortice pectus conplexusque suis ramos ut membra lacertis oscula dat ligno; refugit tamen oscula lignum. cui deus ’at, quoniam coniunx mea non potes esse, arbor eris certe’ dixit ’mea! semper habebunt te coma, te citharae, te nostrae, laure, pharetrae; tu ducibus Latiis aderis, cum laeta Triumphum vox canet et visent longas Capitolia pompas; postibus Augustis eadem fidissima custos ante fores stabis mediamque tuebere quercum, utque meum intonsis caput est iuvenale capillis, tu quoque perpetuos semper gere frondis honores!’ finierat Paean: factis modo laurea ramis adnuit utque caput visa est agitasse cacumen.

555

560

565

The conversion of the laurel-Daphne into Apollo’s tree marks the climax of the series of allusions to the hierarchical dynamics of the world of elegy that pervade this passage. The elegiac poet identifies his puella with his own poetic oeuvre, as I have argued in Chapter 4 of Section I, and makes a symbol for his poetry out of her. As Farrell (1999: 134) observes, the analogy between Daphne and the elegiac puella is now evident; through her metamorphosis into a liber, Daphne materialises the activity of the poet/god. Literally fixed and metaphorically depersonalised, she is transformed into an entity that is existentially subjected to the amator. The fate of Syrinx (in Met. 1,689 – 721) further supports this point: she, like Daphne, becomes the emblem of Pan, another god-poet⁴⁴. In both cases, by transforming their beloveds into their symbols ―their emblems of glory⁴⁵― the gods act in the same manner as the elegiac amatores-poetae. Certainly, as Farrell (1999: 135) concedes, Apollo is not directly responsible for Daphne’s metamorphosis, for it is the river god Peneus, the nymph’s father, who transforms her. Thus, the parallelism between Apollo and the elegiac ama-

 See Farrell (1999: 135).  See Barchiesi (2008: 214): “proprio quando Dafne sembra aver in un certo senso conquistato una forma irraggiungibile per Apollo, a prezzo della sua identità, ma sfuggendo alla violenza, il dio man ifesta il suo potere recuperando la pianta del lauro come simbolo del proprio culto”

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tor is not perfect. Farrell remarks that Apollo does not create Daphne-as-tree; he merely “reads” her, in so far as he interprets her meaning (he understands the movement of her branches as a sign of consent). However, although Apollo is not the author of Daphne’s metamorphosis, his unilateral and authoritative interpretation of the movement at the top of the laurel tree perfectly matches a salient characteristic of elegiac discourse: Ovid alludes to the semantic multiplicity of the elegiac discourse by implying that the laurel shaking is not a sign of consent, but rather its opposite, a sign of reluctance and fear, as Hershkowitz (1999: 187) observes. Barchiesi (2008: 215) neatly remarks on the power of the god to manipulate Daphne, even after her metamorphosis: “… È patetico che il lauro manifesti uno scuotimento il movimento è tipico della pianta, fa parte della sua natura visibile, ma Apollo lo interpreta vittoriosamente come segno di acquiescenza. Ovidio segnala l’ambiguità della situazione attraverso l’incertezza fra essere e sembrare. Apollo opera il suo recupero di Dafne lauro attraverso una manipolazione lin guistica, l’analogia fra campi diversi della realtà in questo caso, fra la natura sempre verde della pianta e la ben nota apparenza sempre giovane del dio (…): non a caso è il dio che ha potere sulla poesia”.

As Barchiesi observes, Apollo achieves a linguistic manipulation of Daphne. Furthermore, I argue that Ovid intends to elicit reflection on the real power of the amator within elegiac discourse by hinting implicitly at the ontological fallacy of the genre, according to which the dura puella seems to have the last word. Ironically, Daphne has now in a literal sense become a dura puella who refuses to be possessed by her amator, just like the elegiac beloved. However, the reader of elegy realises that the puella belongs to the amator, since the last word came already ―not from the beloved, but from the poet. Likewise, before Daphne had the opportunity to make any gesture of reluctance or consent, Apollo already proclaimed “arbor eris certe mea” (558) ―whether Daphne likes it or not. If we understand Apollo as a reader, as Farrell does, we must admit that he is an authoritative reader, or, in other words, a poet who reads his own text and who, being conscious of the fact that it can be read alternatively, imposes his meaning on it. Thus, if we adhere to Farrell’s interpretation, Apollo is not just any reader of the Daphne-book, but the one responsible for her transformation into a liber and, thereby, its first reader. In any case, the most significant detail with respect to the power play of this episode is that Daphne not only transforms into an object possessed by Apollo⁴⁶,

 As Hershkowitz (1999: 187) notes: “For Apollo it does not matter whether Daphne is a nymph or a tree either way he can satisfy his desire, because he is able, in a very real sense, to possess

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but, specifically, into a textual object. Hardie (1999: 264) concludes that the episode is “a foundational aition for poetry”, since “Daphne (…) was transformed into a text as well as into a tree”. An additional argument that further supports and clarifies Daphne’s “textualisation” is the intraliterary echo of the episode in Book 10 (lines 162– 219) about Apollo and Hyacinthus. In this tale, the infatuated god renounces to his divine prerogatives for the sake of love and undertakes servile tasks. In a critical moment during a discus throw, Hyacinthus is fatally struck by Apollo’s discus and dies. The motif of the vulnus inmedicabile, which in the episode of Apollo and Daphne refers metaphorically to the god’s love-wound (1,523 – 524), now becomes a real wound. In spite of the god’s efforts to reanimate him, Apollo cannot heal the lethal wound (et modo te refovet, modo tristia vulnera siccat, // nunc animam admotis fugientem sustinet herbis. // nil prosunt artes: erat inmedicabile vulnus: 10,187– 189)⁴⁷. Ovid does not explicitly describe the asymmetry of the relationship between the youth and the god in this episode. Nor does the poet dwell on sexual violence ―a subject that has already been treated liberally in the in the Daphne-pattern narratives of the previous books. Apollo’s love is not the result of a spontaneous and peremptory desire, but the consequence of constant partnership and a long coexistence⁴⁸. But, despite the obvious discrepancies with the Daphne-episode, Hyacinthus’ “textualisation” and his transformation into a symbol of the god (in this case, a symbol of his sorrow) links the episode with the tale of Apollo and Daphne and, implicitly, with the world of elegy too. As Hardie (1999: 264)⁴⁹ explains, the responsibility that Apollo assumes when Hyacinthus dies is the pretext for the creation of a text that not only pays homage to his death, but also recalls the god’s grief. As Ovid says, Apollo is both funeris auctor (199), and auctor honoris (214). Phoebus ait “videoque tuum, mea crimina, vulnus. tu dolor es facinusque meum: mea dextera leto inscribenda tuo est. ego sum tibi funeris auctor. (…) semper eris mecum memorique haerebis in ore. te lyra pulsa manu, te carmina nostra sonabunt,

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her, even if the possibility of actual sex is gone”. See Hershkowitz (1999: 187, n. 10) for further bibliographical references on Daphne as an object belonging to Apollo.  This transition from a symbolic love wound to a real wound is anticipated in the episode of Co ronis (2,542 632, esp. 617 618). See Jouteur (2001: 102 103), who also notes the parallel.  See 10,173: longaque alit adsuetudine flammas.  Hardie, in turn, builds off of Janan’s (1988) arguments. See also von Glinski (2012: 30 31) and Salzman Mitchell (2005: 93 and n. 8), who also relates the episodes of Daphne and Hyacin thus through the fact that, in both cases, the beloved is “textualised”.

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flosque novus scripto gemitus imitabere nostros. tempus et illud erit, quo se fortissimus heros addat in hunc florem folioque legatur eodem.” (…) non satis hoc Phoebo est (is enim fuit auctor honoris): ipse suos gemitus foliis inscribit, et AI AI flos habet inscriptum, funestaque littera ducta est.

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Not only the term auctor, but many other elements of the episode allude to the metaliterary domain of poetic creation and implicitly identify Apollo with the figure of the author, whereas Hyacinthus is functionally associated with the text⁵⁰. In this regard, lines 198 – 199 (mea dextera inscribenda…), 204 (semper eris mecum memorique haerebis in ore), 205 – 206 (te carmina nostra sonabunt… scripto gemitus imitabere nostros), and 215 – 216 (et AI AI flos habet inscriptum, funestaque littera ducta est) are particularly illuminating. Moreover, these metapoetic themes connect Apollo’s authorial position with the domain of elegy specifically, not only from an intraliterary point of view (for, following the programmatic episode of Daphne, already the image of an infatuated Apollo suggests elegiac subject matter). Moreover, from an intertextual perspective, the passage is conspicuously evokes elegy, if we take into account that elegy as a genre was thought to derive from lamentation (e-legein)⁵¹. AI AI, Apollo’s (215) lament, is an elegiac cry provoked by the absence of a beloved one. As von Glinski (2012: 30) neatly notes, the roles assumed by Apollo and Hyacinthus further reinforce the conceptual connection with elegy, namely: “Apollo’s selfcenteredness recalls Ovid’s own persona in the Amores promising immortality to his beloved through his writing […] (Am. 1.3.25 – 26). In both cases the monument that is meant to recall the beloved in reality eradicates the memory by not naming him or her.” Additionally, the fact that the text re-presenting Hyacinthus is written specifically on the leaves of a flower at the same time alludes to the characteristically elegiac theme of writing the name of the beloved on trees⁵². Thus, it is not only by virtue of the lex fatalis (line 203: Apollo is a god; Hyacinthus a mortal) that Apollo enjoys a manifestly superior power position. Apollo’s

 See Hardie (1999: 265).  On elegy’s initial connection to mourning, see Heinze (1919=1938: 332 338), Hinds (1987: 103 107), James (2003: 250), Sharrock (1991a: 37 38) and Henneböhl (2005: 347 and n. 4) with some useful bibliographical references.  A motif that is particularly present in Propertius 1,18,22 (see also Chapter 4, Section I). As Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 221) or Viarre (2005: 181, n. 141) point out, the topos goes back to Theocritus and Callimachus.

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transformation into an elegiac poet-lover⁵³ enhances the asymmetry of their relationship significantly. Lastly, a meaningful detail linking this episode and the episode of Daphne is, in both cases, the reification of the beloved as a consequence of being loved by a god who assumes the supra-fictional functions of the elegiac poet-lover. In the episode of Hyacinthus Ovid amplifies and reconfigures the “fixation” suffered by Daphne when she is transformed into a tree: whereas the nymph is literally fixed to the soil through her roots (pes modo tam velox pigris radicibus haeret: 1,551), Hyacinthus, before transforming into a flower, has already been turned into a “fixed” immobile object as the product of Apollo’s poetic voice: semper eris mecum memorique haerebis in ore (10,204). The use of figurative language, together with the intratextual connection to the Daphne-episode, creates an image of a transformed Hyacinthus even, so to sepak, ante eventum. In fact, Apollo establishes the content of his mourning song (line 205) before Hyacinthus becomes an elegiac text (AI AI), an expression which is, therefore, just an imitation of a previously existing song (scripto gemitus imitabere nostros: 206). Through a verbal process, Apollo, thus, manages to transform Hyacinthus into his (poetic) object before the physical metamorphosis takes place. This complex range of conceptual associations evoked by the Hyacinthus-episode allows Ovid to reinforce retrospectively the metatextual dimension of Daphne’s “fixation” in the form of a liber. In summary, the presence of elegiac elements in the tale of Apollo and Daphne goes beyond the mere assimilation of established stylistic and thematic clichés. Far from acting as an ornament or a simple concession to the conventions of a genre specialising in in eroticism, the intertextual presence of elegy in this episode and the identification of both characters with the figures of elegy reproduces and amplifies the hierarchical asymmetry of the genre. Ovid shows that Apollo assuming the role of the elegiac amator necessarily implies his transformation into a poet: thereby, the god intertextually dons the mask of the elegiac lover and at the same time “reads” Daphne as an elegiac

 Apollo’s characterisation (his undignified behaviour, as well as the fact that he neglects his “official” tasks and undertakes instead servile labours) further corroborate his links to the figure of the elegiac lover. See particularly Met. 10,167 173: (…) et orbe in medio positi caruerunt praeside Delphi, (…), nec citharae nec sunt in honore sagittae: 170 inmemor ipse sui non retia ferre recusat, non tenuisse canes, non per iuga montis iniqui ire comes …

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puella. It is only the narrative requirement of a story about origins of the laurel tree that prevents Apollo from raping Daphne. Yet, in any case, Apollo’s “authorial manipulation” of Daphne, her transformation into a liber, and the radical difference in hierarchical and ontological levels between the lover and beloved distinguish the primus amor as a hyperbolic representation of the power relations in the elegiac genre.

Io and Jupiter Following the pattern that Ovid outlines in the Daphne-episode, the tale of Jupiter and Io (1,583 – 624) dwells upon the theme of power imbalance between the lovers. However, within the framework of Daphne-pattern, whose motifs vary in sequence throughout the different erotic tales, there are some features in this episode that indicate Ovid’s intent to construct a (partially) new episodic context. In fact, the narration of Jupiter’s attempt to woo Io, her subsequent flight and her ultimate rape is remarkably concise relative to the previous episode. Ovid relays the whole process in only twelve lines, most of which actually focus on the god’s attempted verbal courtship: Viderat a patrio redeuntem Iuppiter illam flumine et ’o virgo Iove digna tuoque beatum nescio quem factura toro, pete’ dixerat ’umbras altorum nemorum’ (et nemorum monstraverat umbras) ’dum calet, et medio sol est altissimus orbe! quodsi sola times latebras intrare ferarum, praeside tuta deo nemorum secreta subibis, nec de plebe deo, sed qui caelestia magna sceptra manu teneo, sed qui vaga fulmina mitto. ne fuge me!’ fugiebat enim. iam pascua Lernae consitaque arboribus Lyrcea reliquerat arva, cum deus inducta latas caligine terras occuluit tenuitque fugam rapuitque pudorem

590

595

600

Jupiter’s blanditiae are his response to the overwhelming sexual desire that he experiences when he catches sight of the nymph, and thus he resorts to a technique that Apollo already used with Daphne. It is important to bear in mind that Jupiter’s role in the first part of Book 1, where Ovid deals with cosmogony, fulfills the epic expectations for his status as ruler over gods and humans. His victory over the Giants (lines 151– 162), as well as his decision to send a flood to punish the impiety of humankind (lines 244– 312), sufficiently demonstrates that his function within the narrative is, first, cosmological. For this precise reason, his

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reappearance as a lover is particularly significant. Ovid emphasises this unorthodox image of the god by contrasting Jupiter’s characterisation as an elegiac amator ⁵⁴ who resorts to the blanditiae typical of a servus amoris with his earlier representation as an omnipotent god who is able to silence the other gods with only his voice and gestures⁵⁵. In this new erotic context, Ovid evidences that Jupiter’s demeanour no longer meets the standards of gravitas. In this regard, the god most remarkably adopts an attitude of veneration before Io, whom he addresses in a nearly hymnic tone ―a manner that produces an unmistakably parodic effect: “o virgo Iove digna tuoque beatum // nescio quem factura toro, pete” dixerat “umbras” (1,589 – 590). Even if this “invocation” is condensed into only two lines, I argue that is possible to recognise in this short speech an echo of a passage that would definitely have been well-known to Ovid’s audience, namely Homer’s Odyssey 6,149 ff., where Odysseus speaks for the first time to Nausicaa. As we shall see, an intertext with the episode of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus in Metamorphoses 4,274– 388 will retrospectively strengthen this textual association. To begin, let us briefly examine the Homeric passage. In so far as it further highlights Jupiter’s (apparent) self-abasement, Odysseus’ humble stance when he is obliged to seek help from the princess after his shipwreck on the island of the Phaeacians forms an interesting parallel. When the hero arrives at the unknown coast, the first sound that comes to his ears is that of girls shouting: nymphs, as Odysseus supposes. Not by chance, when Ovid portrays the nymph Io returning from the banks of her father’s stream (a patrio … flumine: 1,588– 589), he evokes the image of the daughter of Alcinous, Nausicaa ―the “nymph”, in Odysseus’ eyes, who is playing by the seashore of her father’s kingdom: ὤ μοι ἐγώ, τέων αὖτε βροτῶν ἐς γαῖαν ἱκάνω; (…) ὥς τέ με κουράων ἀμφήλυθε θῆλυς ἀυτή· νυμφάων, αἳ ἔχουσ᾽ ὀρέων αἰπεινὰ κάρηνα καὶ πηγὰς ποταμῶν καὶ πίσεα ποιήεντα. (…) ὣς εἰπὼν θάμνων ὑπεδύσετο δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς, ἐκ πυκινῆς δ᾽ ὕλης πτόρθον κλάσε χειρὶ παχείηι φύλλων, ὡς ῥύσαιτο περὶ χροῒ μήδεα φωτός. βῆ δ᾽ ἴμεν ὥς τε λέων ὀρεσίτροφος ἀλκὶ πεποιθώς, ὅς τ᾽ εἶσ᾽ ὑόμενος καὶ ἀήμενος, ἐν δέ οἱ ὄσσε δαίεται· αὐτὰρ ὁ βουσὶ μετέρχεται ἢ ὀίεσσιν

119 122

127

130

 On Jupiter as an elegiac lover, see Armstrong (2005: 145), Salzman Mitchell (2005: 23 26) and Segal (2001).  Postquam voce manuque // murmura conpressit, tenuere silentia cuncti (1,205 206).

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ἠὲ μετ᾽ ἀγροτέρας ἐλάφους· κέλεται δέ ἑ γαστὴρ μήλων πειρήσοντα καὶ ἐς πυκινὸν δόμον ἐλθεῖν· (…) γουνοῦμαί σε, ἄνασσα· θεός νύ τις, ἦ βροτός ἐσσι; εἰ μέν τις θεός ἐσσι, τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσιν, ᾿Aρτέμιδί σε ἐγώ γε, Διὸς κούρηι μεγάλοιο, εἶδός τε μέγεθός τε φυήν τ᾽ ἄγχιστα ἐίσκω· εἰ δέ τίς ἐσσι βροτῶν, τοὶ ἐπὶ χθονὶ ναιετάουσιν, τρὶς μάκαρες μὲν σοί γε πατὴρ καὶ πότνια μήτηρ, τρὶς μάκαρες δὲ κασίγνητοι· μάλα πού σφισι θυμὸς αἰὲν ἐυφροσύνηισιν ἰαίνεται εἵνεκα σεῖο, λευσσόντων τοιόνδε θάλος χορὸν εἰσοιχνεῦσαν. κεῖνος δ᾽ αὖ περὶ κῆρι μακάρτατος ἔξοχον ἄλλων, ὅς κέ σ᾽ ἐέδνοισι βρίσας οἶκόνδ᾽ ἀγάγηται.

149

155

“Woe is me! to the land of what mortals am I now come? (…) There rang in my ears a cry as of maidens, of nymphs who haunt the towering peaks of the mountains, the springs that feed the rivers, and the grassy meadows! (…) So saying the goodly Odysseus came forth from beneath the bushes, and with his stout hand he broke from the thick wood a leafy branch, that he might hold it about him and hide therewith his nakedness. Forth he came like a mountain nurtured lion trusting in his might, who goes forth, beaten with rain and wind, but his two eyes are ablaze: into the midst of the kine he goes, or of the sheep, or on the track of the wild deer, and his belly bids him go even into the close built fold, to make an attack upon the flocks. (…) “I beseech thee, O queen, a goddess art thou, or art thou mortal? If thou art a goddess, one of those who hold broad heaven, to Artemis, the daughter of great Zeus, do I liken thee most nearly in comeliness and in stature and in form. But if thou art one of mortals who dwell upon the earth, thrice blessed then are thy father and thy honored mother, and thrice blessed thy brethren. Full well, I ween, are their hearts ever warmed with joy because of thee, as they see thee entering the dance, a plant so fair. But he again is blessed in heart above all others, who shall prevail with his gifts of wooing and lead thee to his home⁵⁶.

Certainly, although Ovid offers a very concise version of Odysseus’ long “hymn”, the echoes of the Homeric intertext help undermine Jupiter’s gravitas, in so far as the god is implicitly compared to an expatriate who can hardly hide his nakedness with a branch, and who, as a shipwreck survivor, is at the mercy of a young girl. Yet, Jupiter’s initial posturing in the servitium amoris is underscored even further if we consider how Ovid’s use of an intertext with the episode of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus (Metamorphoses 4,320 – 330) multiplies this parodic effect. In this passage, where critics unanimously acknowledge the echoes of the Odyssey episode⁵⁷, the nymph Salmacis, who has fallen in love with Hermaphroditus, attempts to woo him:

 Murray (1919: 215 217).  See Bömer (1976a: 114 115).

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tunc sic orsa loqui: “puer o dignissime credi esse deus, seu tu deus es, potes esse Cupido, sive es mortalis, qui te genuere, beati, et frater felix, et fortunata profecto, si qua tibi soror est, et quae dedit ubera nutrix; sed longe cunctis longeque beatior illa, si qua tibi sponsa est, si quam dignabere taeda. haec tibi sive aliqua est, mea sit furtiva voluptas, seu nulla est, ego sim, thalamumque ineamus eundem.”

320

325

Although Jupiter’s speech is much more concise, the main elements of Odysseus’ words, via the intertext of the Salmacis-passage, are condensed into a set of keyterms: particularly remarkable are the kletic expressions o virgo (1,589) / o puer (4,320) / γουνοῦμαί σε, ἄνασσα (Od. 6,149), as well as the use of the terms beatusbeatior (1,589; 4,322 and 325) / μάκαρες-μακάρτατος (Od. 6,154, 155 and 158) in reference to Io’s and Nausicaa’s hypothetical grooms and Hermaphroditus’ bride. Moreover, the addressee of the “hymn” is compared in the three passages to a deity: whereas Odysseus likens Nausicaa to Artemis (Od. 6,149 – 152), Salmacis says dignissime credi esse deus (4,320 – 321), an expression that, in Io’s case, is concentrated into the phrase virgo Iove digna (1,589), which with tragic irony anticipates the outcome of the story. Lastly, in his “eroticisation” of the Homeric passage, Ovid transforms Odysseus’ request that Nausicaa show him the way to the city (ἄστυ δέ μοι δεῖξον: Od. 6,178) into an invitation for each pair to move to a place that will shelter their love; in Jupiter’s case, the expression is adapted to its new context as pete umbras altorum nemorum (1,590 – 591) and in Salmacis’ case, as thalamumque ineamus eundem (4,328). As we see, the echoes of the Homeric passage, together with the eroticised intertext of Salmacis’ love declaration help undercut the dignity of Jupiter’s image. Assuming this unorthodox position crucially pushes him into the semantic domain of the characteristically elegiac servitium amoris. Moreover, his mockserious “dramatic” monologue further emphasises this burlesque characterisation. On the one hand, the god’s proclivity towards extra-marital affairs “could be regarded as a classic elegiac sentiment”, as Armstrong (2005: 145) observes. On the other hand, his dilemma whether to leave Io at the mercy of Juno’s (his true socia tori: 620) wrath or to save her (617) increases his distance from the expected gravitas of his status: quid faciat? crudele suos addicere amores, non dare suspectum est: Pudor est, qui suadeat illinc, hinc dissuadet Amor. victus Pudor esset Amore,

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sed leve si munus sociae generisque torique vacca negaretur, poterat non vacca videri!

620

Jupiter’s conflict clearly alludes, as Otis (1966: 106) notes, to the well-worn theme of pudor vs. amor ―the serious dramatic conflict experienced by love-stricken women like Medea or Dido⁵⁸. In a distinctly parodic fashion, it is finally pudor that prevails in Jupiter’s decision. Yet, the question remains, what is the purpose of depicting the god in such a manner? To be sure, even if some elements in the episode cast the god in an ostensibly subservient role, a detailed examination of Jupiter’s wooing exposes it as a “theatrical” discourse, which ultimately, like Apollo’s pseudo-blanditiae, becomes selfpraise. The purpose of this self-praise is not only to stress his divine power; it also subtly alludes to the imminent violence that looms over Io if she does not yield to the god’s sexual ambitions: nec de plebe deo, sed qui caelestia magna // sceptra manu teneo, sed qui vaga fulmina mitto (595– 596). Representing Jupiter as the father of gods and the one who wields the lightning bolt, the weapon with which he punishes humankind, “ricorda in modo preocupante come i fulmini di Giove possano far male anche agli innocenti”, according to Barchiesi (2008: 218). Thus, although Jupiter’s burlesque image colours the episode, the allusion to his fulmina unmistakably recalls the first part of Book 1, where the god, as the ruler of the universe, defeated the Giants misso fulmine (1,154– 155). To further emphasise his point, Ovid gestures at another mortal who was loved by Jupiter in a context where his fulmina played a crucial role, namely Semele. In fact, even without Jupiter intending it, Semele became the victim of his inevitabile fulmen (Met. 3,301). These parallels to Io are relevant, since Semele’s story is integrated within a narrative context where, as Barchiesi (2007: 126) observes, Ovid explores the theme of the unequal power relation between gods and mortals ―a feature which, as we will see, is common to both stories. In the case of the episode of Io, however, Jupiter’s assumption of elegiac traits seems at odds with his hierarchical superiority⁵⁹. The result is a play with the conventions of elegy and the revelation, through hyperbole, that the elegiac poet-lover’s power is comparable to Jupiter’s ―even if, like the god, the amator-poeta wears a mask of humility. Moreover, the scene of Odysseus’ encounter with Nausicaa, the passage lurking in the background of the Ovidian episode, substantiates from another per-

 On female dramatic monologues in the Metamorphoses, see Gallego Moya (2000: esp. 227 228). On Medea’s soliloquy at the beginning of book 7, see also Steinberg (1998 99: 212).  Not by chance, Ovid specifically refers to Jupiter as pater omnipotens [Met. 2,401].

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spective the importance of the theme of uneven power and violence. In fact, it offers a further intertextual play underscoring Jupiter’s potential for aggression towards Io and questioning the outward reverence with which the god approaches the nymph. Interestingly, in the Homeric passage, when Odysseus appears for the first time before Nausicaa, he is likened to a wild lion about to leap on its prey (ὥς τε λέων ὀρεσίτροφος…: Od. 6,130 – 134). Odysseus’ comparison to a lion and, in turn, Jupiter’s intertextual association with the hero become particularly meaningful in the context of the Metamorphoses. In so far as Io is implicitly compared to the lion’s potential prey, Ovid hints at the impending violence. Even if this allusion is intertextually more sophisticated, it resembles the technique that Ovid employed in the Daphne-episode, namely the simile where the predator and its prey are implicitly traced to Apollo and Daphne, respectively (sic agna lupum, sic cerva leonem, sic aquilam penna fugiunt trepidante columbae: 1,505 – 6). The obvious power imbalance between the hunter and the hunted denotes the unevenness of the relation between an infatuated god and a nymph. The Homeric subtext, therefore, allows Ovid, on the one hand, to emphasise Jupiter’s degradation when he approaches Io with the attitude of a suppliant⁶⁰ and, on the other hand, to reflect on their unequal power relation. Ovid, thus, creates an ambivalence that evokes the characteristically elegiac play between the fictional and the supra-fictional level. Thus, the bizarre manner whereby Jupiter tries to woo Io or his clumsy tactics to avoid being caught by his wife situate the lover in an elegiac landscape. Yet, assuming elegiac traits is far more than a masquerade. When the god notices that his blanditiae are unsuccessful, he immediately turns to violence. To accentuate the impatience of the god and the awareness that he does not need to resort to flattery, Ovid condenses how Io is trapped and raped into a single line: tenuitque fugam rapuitque pudorem (600). It is necessary to read Jupiter’s initial “elegiac stance” together with the patent reference to his abuse of power. The whole context permits us to infer that it is a metaliterary reflection on the unequal power relation between the amator and his puella in the elegiac genre. Jupiter is the active male subject controlling his beloved and, simultaneously, adopting a “socially” heterodox position ―a plausible allusion to the supra-fictional domain of the elegiac code. But, not only the amator adopts an attitude that associates him with the semantic field of elegy; the beloved, too, displays features that identify her as an elegiac  As Segalá y Estalella (1999:153) notes, Odysseus’ speech and in particular the expression γουνοῦμαί σε (Od. 6,149) fall within the hiketeía motif (whereby a character “beseeches” another who is in an higher power position), which occurs frequently throughout the Iliad and the Odys sey.

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puella. First, the fact that she is put into the inflexible custody of Argus places her implicitly in the position of an elegiac mistress. In fact, Argus is depicted as an elegiac custos, as the intertext of Amores 2,2,45– 46 shows: there the elegiac speaker tries to convince Bagoas, the doorkeeper who does not allow him to approach Corinna, to let him in. To that end, the lover warns him of the risks of being too strict a custos and reminds him precisely of the exemplum of Argus and Io: dum nimium servat custos Iunonius Io, ante suos annos occidit; illa dea est!

As myth shows, Argus paid with his life for his excessive diligence. By implication, not only is Bagoas potentially a new Argus; conversely, in the Metamorphoses Argus himself recalls the image of a new Bagoas, an elegiac guardian⁶¹. By the same token, Io, as the object under lock and key, assumes the role of the elegiac mistress. Moreover, the subtext of Odysseus’ encounter with Nausicaa in Odyssey 6 is once again relevant, in so far as it strenghtens Io’s identification with an elegiac mistress. It is particularly enlightening to pay attention to Nausicaa’s characterisation when she is about to appear before Odysseus’ eyes (Od. 6,102– 109): οἵη δ᾽ Ἄρτεμις εἶσι κατ᾽ οὔρεα ἰοχέαιρα, ἢ κατὰ Τηΰγετον περιμήκετον ἢ Ἐρύμανθον, τερπομένη κάπροισι καὶ ὠκείηις ἐλάφοισι· τῆι δέ θ᾽ ἅμα νύμφαι, κοῦραι Διὸς αἰγιόχοιο, ἀγρονόμοι παίζουσι, γέγηθε δέ τε φρένα Λητώ· πασάων δ᾽ ὑπὲρ ἥ γε κάρη ἔχει ἠδὲ μέτωπα, ῥεῖά τ᾽ ἀριγνώτη πέλεται, καλαὶ δέ τε πᾶσαι· ὣς ἥ γ᾽ ἀμφιπόλοισι μετέπρεπε παρθένος ἀδμής. And even as Artemis, the archer, roves over the mountains, along the ridges of lofty Tayge tus or Erymanthus, joying in the pursuit of boars and swift deer, and with her sport the wood nymphs, the daughters of Zeus who bears the aegis, and Leto is glad at heart

 Feldherr (2010: 17 ff.), in turn, argues that the description of Argus “comes very close to the depiction of the lover in Latin love elegy”. In his view, Argus’ appearance as a mock elegiac lover highlights by contrast Io’s terrible situation. However, even though, as Feldherr shows, there are some linguistic parallels between Argus and the elegiac amator, I argue that the role of the elegiac lover is primarily assumed by Jupiter, as we have seen. Argus’ role as an el egiac lover can only make sense if we consider the possibility that Ovid intends to depict him as a kind of surrogate for Jupiter, i. e., as a figure through which Ovid perpetuates the hierarchical dynamics of the Jupiter Io relation. In any case, what matters in the end is that Io is cast in the role of an elegiac puella with all the hierarchical consequences that this association implies.

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high above them all Artemis holds her head and brows, and easily may she be known, though all are fair so amid her handmaidens shone the maid unwed⁶².

To highlight Nausicaa’s beauty, Homer compares her to the goddess Artemis, and transforms her, avant la lettre, into a puella divina. The simile is particularly remarkable, since it is imitated by Vergil in Aeneid 1,496 – 503, where Dido, in her first appearance before the Trojans, is likened to Diana⁶³. The echo of Odysseus’ words in Jupiter’s speech obliges us to take the whole subtext into particular consideration. Jupiter’s intertextual likeness to Odysseus implies Io’s assumption of Nausicaa’s role, such that, by the same token, Io is also indirectly likened to Artemis. This sophisticated allusion lets Ovid recall the figure of the puella divina. Given that likening a mistress to a goddess⁶⁴ is a commonplace in Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius and his own earlier poetry, Ovid once again creates a subtle link to the world of elegy. His ultimate intention is to allude to the hierarchical implications of comparing Jupiter and Io with, respectively, the elegiac amator and his puella. It is important to keep in mind, as I have argued previously in this book⁶⁵, that the identification of the beloved with a goddess or a heroine from mythology, despite ostensibly confirming her role as domina, in reality transforms her into a literary “subject matter” that is analogous to the poetic themes afforded by mythology. The “mythologisation” of the mistress, therefore, is nothing other than a way of underscoring the ontological difference between the poet and his narrative material. A further argument justifying Io’s connection to the conceptual background of the elegiac world is the nymph’s reification. In fact, it is worth noting Ovid’s insistence on Io’s role as an object, not only in a figurative sense (since she is a sexual object for Jupiter), but also in a literal sense, in so far as she transforms into a heifer and becomes literally an object of transaction between Jupiter and Juno: coniugis adventum praesenserat inque nitentem Inachidos vultus mutaverat ille iuvencam; bos quoque formosa est. speciem Saturnia vaccae, quamquam invita, probat nec non, et cuius et unde quove sit armento, veri quasi nescia quaerit.

610

 Murray (1919: 213 215).  As critics unanimously observe. See, e. g., Segalá y Estalella (1999: 152) or Pöschl (1977: 89 ff.).  On this elegiac convention, see Sharrock (1999b: 170 171) with further bibliographical refer ences.  See particularly Chapter 2 of Section I, passim.

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Iuppiter e terra genitam mentitur, ut auctor desinat inquiri: petit hanc Saturnia munus.

615

In line with the episode of Daphne (who, as a laurel, eventually enters Apollo’s ownership⁶⁶), Io is described as Jupiter’s possession. In fact, in lines 615 – 616, Ovid makes an interesting pun on the word auctor: Juno jealously insists on discovering the origin of the beautiful heifer. Jupiter lies and says that she is born from the earth, ut auctor desinat inquiri. The point is that Jupiter tries to hide the identity of Io’s auctor. Ovid playfully depicts how the god misleads his wife, who asks as if not knowing the truth (veri quasi nescia: 614). Thus, both Jupiter and Juno play with the polysemy of auctor; both know that Juno pretends to inquire after the heifer’s “owner” (or father⁶⁷), when in reality she is asking who is “responsible” for Io’s metamorphosis ―knowing all along that it is Jupiter. In any case, the use of the term auctor not only increases the irony of the whole situation, but also emphasises Io’s reification⁶⁸. The depiction of the nymph’s objectified nature culminates in line 616, where Juno claims Io-the heifer as a gift: petit hanc munus. In combination with the ambiguous reference to Io’s auctor, her association with the act of writing becomes particularly meaningful. It can be understood in the framework of a metaliterary reflection on the dependent relationship between a text (or a character within it) and its author. This reflection, as I have shown in Section I of this book, is one of the distinguishing features of the elegiac genre. As Farrell (1999: 133 ff.) and Barchiesi (2008: 221) point out, it is important to pay attention to the fact that Io, like Daphne, loses her voice as a consequence of her transformation. But, in contrast to Daphne, Io is not transformed into a book (tenuis liber: 1,549), but into a writer. Her foot (1,649) becomes the medium through which she writes her “narrative” on the sand: it is the story of her own body and its transformation: nec retinet lacrimas et, si modo verba sequantur, oret opem nomenque suum casusque loquatur; littera pro verbis, quam pes in pulvere duxit,

 ’at, quoniam coniunx mea non potes esse, // arbor eris certe’ dixit ’mea! (1,557 8).  I.e., to ask who is her ancestor, as the parallel in Met. 6,172 permits us to infer (where Niobe describes her origin with the words mihi Tantalus auctor).  See Bömer (1969: 193), who argues that Juno is primarily concerned with the identity of the heifer’s venditor, her possessor prior (terms which, according to Thes. II 1194, 62 ff. are equivalent to auctor). See also Barchiesi (2008: 219), who contends that the term auctor means “proprietario precedente” and “venditore”, although he also emphasises its ambiguous irony, given that Juno in reality wants to learn the identity of the author of the metamorphosis.

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corporis indicium mutati triste peregit. ’me miserum!’ exclamat pater Inachus inque gementis cornibus et nivea pendens cervice iuvencae ’me miserum!’ ingeminat; ’tune es quaesita per omnes nata mihi terras? tu non inventa reperta luctus eras levior! retices nec mutua nostris dicta refers, alto tantum suspiria ducis pectore, quodque unum potes, ad mea verba remugis!

650

655

As Barchiesi (2008: 221), Hardie (1999: 265) and Farrell (1999: 134) argue, what Io writes on the sand are the letters of her name: IO (or, with Greek letters, ΙΩ). Io writes her own text, i. e., the tale of her own experience as a beloved condensed into two letters. Yet, although her foot (pes: 649) is the instrument that gives rise to the text, Io herself remains in a passive position. The true auctor of her story, the originator of her metamorphosis and the entity who deprives her of her voice is Jupiter. In contrast to Farrell (1999: 135), I argue that Io is not truly the author of her story, but rather a name in a text. Just as the elegiac puella can be the transmitter or the emblem of a text (or even a mere name within it), Io is nothing more than an instrument for writing. Consequently, without the poet’s authorial sanction, the text bears no sense. Even if Io is capable of producing a littera (649), her words do not seem to be her own, since she has been condemned to silence by her auctor, Jupiter. The limitations on Io’s words are reflected in her message, a sequence of letters, fading into a meaningless reflexivity that is similar to an echo, the mechanical repetition of speech. Io’s words are not integrated within a real act of communication; her father merely repeats back her message in a translinguistic wordplay, as Barchiesi (2008: 221) calls it. Indeed, me miserum (651 and 653) is the Latin expression that corresponds to the Greek ἰώ ἰώ⁶⁹: in both cases, it is a pathetic expression of grief ⁷⁰. Moreover, the alliteration me miserum me miserum, which imitates the moo of a cow⁷¹, further demonstrates the inane reflexivity of Io’s attempt to communicate with her father. Io is doomed, thus, to the same fate as Echo⁷²: after outwardly managing

 See Hardie (1999: 265), Barchiesi (2008: 221) and Feldherr (2010: 19).  As Barchiesi (2008: 221) notes. Barchiesi alludes to similar wordplay in Heroides 14, 103 (in the story of Io: quid, io! Freta longa pererras?) and observes that the first time the name of Io appears in the Metamorphoses (in 1,584 585: natamque miserrimus Io / luget ut amissam) the context allows an analogous kind of amphibology.  Likewise, in 1,745 746 the repetition of the sound M also evokes the moo of a cow, according to Barchiesi (2008: 228): … erigitur metuitque loqui, ne more iuvencae // mugiat, et timide verba intermissa retemptat.  See particularly Metamorphoses 3,359 369.

Asymmetrical love in the Metamorphoses

185

to establish communication with her father, his response is a mere repetition of her own message or, in other words, futile echolalia. What is more, Inachus himself understands that Io is not able to communicate, for she is incapable of referre mutua dicta (655 – 656). The nymph has been transformed, thus, into a transmitter of a unidirectional text that merely reflects a lament (IO). Deprived of its author, the text does not have the capacity to convey a meaningful message that may open up a dialogue with its addressee. Io’s text is an ineffective text: she is an elegiac puella who is capable of transmitting a text that reveals her status as such; yet, “there is nothing she or her reader can do to undo her transformation” (Farrell, 1999: 136) and to recover her own identity. The inability to communicate suffered by the victims of divine love, like Io, is a recurrent theme in the Metamorphoses ⁷³. This fact, I argue, is not unrelated to the episode’s elegiac reminiscences. The explicit depiction of Io losing her voice is a hyperbolic expression of the puella’s subordination to the authorial will of the amator-poeta, who has the power to permit or deny her a voice. It is a poetological reflection analogous to the technique employed by Propertius in 2,11 ⁷⁴, where, as I argued above⁷⁵, the poet decides authoritatively whether his puella is docta or not, revealing, thus, that Cynthia’s voice depends on Propertius’ aesthetic choices. With Io, Ovid evokes the elegiac beloveds’ identification with the elegiac text itself and their ensuing existential dependence on the amator-poeta. Io recalls the elegiac puella in so far as she is the transmitter of a text that, without the sanction of its author, cannot produce meaning. Finally, the text that Io writes on the sand further confirms the semantic echoes of elegy pervading the whole passage. First, the allusion to Io’s foot as the instrument that produces her text (littera pro verbis, quam pes in pulvere duxit: 649) evokes the ambivalence of the term pes in Latin elegy, where, as several

 To be deprived of one’s voice is a recurrent consequence of the metamorphosis undergone by women who are victims of sexual violence, as Callisto (2,432, 450 and 484) and Philomela (6,549 562) evidence. However, the example of Acteon (2,138 252), who also loses his voice, demonstrates that not only women suffer this fate. Interestingly, however, his punishment is not devoid of a sexual component, since it is precisely the consequence of having seen Diana naked while she was bathing.  Scribant de te alii vel sis ignota licebit: laudet, qui sterili semina ponit humo. omnia, crede mihi, tecum uno munera lecto auferet extremi funeris atra dies; et tua transibit contemnens ossa viator, nec dicet ’Cinis hic docta puella fuit.’ (1 6)  See Section I, chapter 2.

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poems show⁷⁶, the beloved’s manner of walking (i. e., how she moves her feet) is often identified with the text’s metre. Following his practice of hyperbolically representing elegiac conventions, Ovid literalises the metaphor of the mistress’s pedes, by making Io (IO) a figure in her text through the corporeal (and not metaphorical) vehicle of her foot. With this decision, Ovid ironically plays with the elegiac convention that the body of the puella be read figuratively as the anatomy of the elegiac text. Io almost becomes a “hyper elegiac” puella, for her body is literally the instrument that gives rise to her textual existence. Moreover, Io’s lament contains a semantic allusion to elegiac subject matter itself. Elegy was believed to be connected, at least in its origin, with lamentation, and, in fact, ancient paretymology derived the term elegeia from the expression e-legein from the Greek verb “to say” and the interjection e, which was thought to be an expression of mourning. Interestingly, Io’s name written on the sand, and Inachus’ response to it (me miserum me miserum, which is the Latin version of the Greek lament ἰώ ἰώ) forms a phonic and thematic link with the episode of Hyacinthus⁷⁷. As I have argued above, AI AI (10,215), the inscription on the flower into which Hyacinthus transforms, is the expression of Apollo’s lamentation and is an elegiac text in nuce. In Io’s case, the expression ἰώ reflects an interjection of mourning that is analogous to the inscription on the hyacinth. Thus, on the basis of the Hyacinthus-episode’s intertext and the conceptual background of elegy as a lamentation genre, Io does not merely become a text, but specifically an elegiac text. Although Io tries to recover her lost identity through her message of lamentation, Ovid shows that her only true identity, as an elegiac puella, is a textual object. In a way, Io is, thus, a scripta puella: her efforts to have her own voice are thwarted, such that, at best, her words seem to be a quotation from somewhere else: from an elegiac text. Once the auctor (Jupiter) intervenes and transformes Io into an object, the nymph permanently loses her identity and has no choice but to present herself as a text of lamentation (ἰώ). She is thus reduced to the category of a wordplay. Io’s identity becomes just a name in a text or, in other words, a flatus vocis. This is the last stage in a process of “onomatopoeia” that through the plasticity of metamorphosis evokes and expresses the existential degradation that the elegiac puella suffers, as the author deconstructs her humanity and reveals her nature as a discursive artifact.

 See Section I, Chapter 3, on Catullus 68b,70; or Chapter 4, on Propertius 1,2,1.  A link that can obviously only be recognised if Ovid’s audience/readership recalls retrospec tively the story of Io when hearing/reading the episode of Hyacinthus in book 10.

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Callisto and Jupiter In keeping with Ovid’s continuous variation of similar motifs in his magnum opus, Jupiter’s next intervention as an amator alludes to the conceptual background of elegy by partially new means. Whereas in the Io-episode we can already observe the importance of blanditiae decreasing, especially in comparison to its role in the primus amor, the episode of Callisto and Jupiter (2,401– 495) definitively obviates courtship as a means for the male lover to attain his sexual desire⁷⁸. Instead, Ovid points to the hierarchical dynamics of elegy by explicitly emphasising the enormous power asymmetry in the relationship between lover and beloved. First, it is enlightening to note how the amator is presented: after the cataclysm caused by Phaethon, Jupiter, in his role as a cosmic ruler, restores order to the elements of nature. This is the context that leads to Jupiter’s “metamorphosis” into an amator: At pater omnipotens ingentia moenia caeli circuit et, ne quid labefactum viribus ignis corruat, explorat. (…) dum redit itque frequens, in virgine Nonacrina haesit, et accepti caluere sub ossibus ignes. non erat huius opus lanam mollire trahendo nec positu variare comas; ubi fibula vestem, vitta coercuerat neglectos alba capillos; et modo leve manu iaculum, modo sumpserat arcum, miles erat Phoebes: nec Maenalon attigit ulla gratior hac Triviae; sed nulla potentia longa est

401

410

415

Jupiter’s portrayal as pater omnipotens (401) is clearly ironic in its new erotic context, particularly if we take into account that Ovid used this same epithet in the previous episode to characterise Jupiter at the moment when he is about to bring salvation to a world whose existence was seriously threatened by Phaethon’s ride⁷⁹. The god’s omnipotence, which enabled him to restore the  As Barchiesi (2008: 271) notes.  at pater omnipotens, superos testatus et ipsum, qui dederat currus, nisi opem ferat, omnia fato 305 interitura gravi, summam petit arduus arcem, unde solet nubes latis inducere terris, unde movet tonitrus vibrataque fulmina iactat (Met. 2, 304 308). See also Wheeler (2000: 45), who notes that Ovid, in intertextual contrast to Lucretius’ ac count of the Phaethon myth, emphasises that Jupiter’s intervention is not caused by anger, but

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world, now becomes the force permitting him to subdue Callisto sexually. In turn, when Ovid depicts Callisto, he aligns her with other nymphs like Daphne, i. e., the kind of young maiden who refuses any contact with her male suitors and who neglects to care for her body⁸⁰. Yet, there is one meaningful difference: by characterising her as a miles (415), Ovid dramatically foreshadows the struggle awaiting her. Moreover, the expression nulla potentia longa est (line 416) ambiguously refers, on the one hand, to Callisto’s (endangered) “pre-eminence” over the other nymphs, a happy consequence of being Diana’s favourite; on the other hand, it simultaneously anticipates Jupiter’s omnipotentia about to overwhelm her own potentia. With respect to the previous episodes of sexual violence, it is particularly noteworthy that in the narration of Callisto’s rape Ovid offers a detailed description of the nymph’s combative attitude. In this regard, it is enlightening to observe that Ovid insists on the fact that Callisto is unarmed and defenceless at the moment when the god approaches her: Ulterius medio spatium sol altus habebat, cum subit illa nemus, quod nulla ceciderat aetas; exuit hic umero pharetram lentosque retendit arcus inque solo, quod texerat herba, iacebat et pictam posita pharetram cervice premebat. Iuppiter ut vidit fessam et custode vacantem, ’hoc certe furtum coniunx mea nesciet’ inquit, ’aut si rescierit, sunt, o sunt iurgia tanti!’ protinus induitur faciem cultumque Dianae atque ait: ’o comitum, virgo, pars una mearum, in quibus es venata iugis?’ de caespite virgo se levat et ’salve numen, me iudice’ dixit, ’audiat ipse licet, maius Iove.’ ridet et audit et sibi praeferri se gaudet et oscula iungit, nec moderata satis nec sic a virgine danda. qua venata foret silva, narrare parantem inpedit amplexu nec se sine crimine prodit. illa quidem contra, quantum modo femina posset (adspiceres utinam, Saturnia, mitior esses), illa quidem pugnat, sed quem superare puella,

420

425

430

435

by a desire to bring salvation. I argue that this insistence on Jupiter’s role as a constructive cos mic ruler further underlines the ironic use of the epithet pater omnipotens in the episode of Cal listo.  As Ovid demonstrates with Daphne and Syrinx, female celibacy is usually seen as a sexual stimulus for the male lovers. On this issue, see Fabre (1985: 104).

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quisve Iovem poterat? superum petit aethera victor Iuppiter: huic odio nemus est et conscia silva; unde pedem referens paene est oblita pharetram tollere cum telis et quem suspenderat arcum.

440

Ovid recounts in detail how the nymph takes off her quiver, unstrings her bow, lies down on the grass and rests her head on the quiver (419 – 421). Interestingly, when Ovid describes how Jupiter falls in love, he reworks the pattern “vidit et incaluit”, modifying a meaningful detail that is common to the previous love episodes⁸¹. In fact, Jupiter falls in love with Callisto when he sees her in the forests of Arcadia, (dum redit itque frequens, in virgine Nonacrina // haesit: 409 – 410); yet, only in the moment when he sees that she is exhausted and unprotected (ut vidit fessam et custode vacantem: 422) does he decide to intervene. Ironically, Ovid conveys the impression that Callisto, as an armed miles, may threaten Jupiter’s power. In order to carry out his sexual attack without risks, the god prefers to wait until she has laid down her arms. The effect is clearly parodic, particularly if we take into account that the god has explicitly been characterised as pater omnipotens. Moreover, the fact that Jupiter waits until Callisto is no longer guarded by her custos forms a subtle link with the elegiac genre, where the custos-figure is often a hindrance that the lover must overcome. Ovid himself offers two interesting intertextual parallels in Amores 1,9,26– 27⁸² and Amores 2,12,1 ff.: custodum transire manus vigilumque catervas militis et miseri semper amantis opus

(Am. 1,9,26 27)

Ite triumphales circum mea tempora laurus! vicimus: in nostro est, ecce, Corinna sinu, quam vir, quam custos, quam ianua firma, tot hostes, servabant, nequa posset ab arte capi! (…) non humiles muri, non parvis oppida fossis cincta, sed est ductu capta puella meo!

(Am. 2,12,1 4 and 7 8)

The first passage is particularly remarkable, since it is the poem where the theme of militia amoris is treated most specifically: militat omnis amans is the motto

 This pattern of infatuation is also common in many other episodes of “vertical love” later on in the Metamorphoses. See, for instance, the cases of Apollo (1,490), Pan (1,699), Jupiter with Io (1, 588), Neptune (2, 574), Echo (3,371), Salmacis (4, 315), Perseus (4, 676) or Tereus (6, 455). For the pattern of “love at first sight”, see Garson (1976: 9 ff.), and Myers (2009: 118) with further ref erences.  Other interesting parallels are, e. g., Tibullus 1,2,5 6; 1,6,10; 2,1,75; Ovid, Amores 1,6,6 7; or Propertius 1,11,13 15.

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Ovid uses to introduce this elegy. Jupiter’s choice to approach his puella when vigilance is low closely emulates the tactics of the elegiac amator’s militia amoris. In the second passage, the victorious lover who circumvents the tight surveillance over Corinna is also a model for Jupiter. But, in contrast to Ovid’s elegiac Ego of Amores 2,12, Jupiter does not seduce his puella with his skillful tactics (ductu meo: line 7); instead, he “captivates” Callisto using a strategy that demonstrates his power far more explicitly: first, a disguise, and, later, violence. Thus, the allusion to the militia amoris motif and the particular focus on the theme of power struggle are the two features that most transparently link this episode to elegy⁸³. To reinforce this point, Ovid intentionally remarks that, once Jupiter unveils his true identity, Callisto fights him with all her strength (lines 434 ff., esp. line 436: pugnat), even though she eventually succumbs to his power. Ironically, the reference to Callisto’s struggle alludes to Amores 1,5, where the elegiac speaker describes how the beloved’s resistance in moments before a sexual encounter is yet another erotic ploy; whereas she pretends to refuse sexual contact, in reality, she wants to be “defeated”: pugnabat tunica sed tamen illa tegi. quae cum ita pugnaret, tamquam quae vincere nollet, victa est non aegre proditione sua

15

Ovid depicts Jupiter and Callisto’s struggle against the intertextual backdrop of the erotic manoeuvres of the elegiac amatores of Amores 1,5. Yet, with dramatic irony the reader/audience recognises that for the nymph this encounter is not a ludic-amatory fight (Met. 2,435 // Am. 1,5,14– 15), but a desperate conflict with an almighty god. Actually, Ovid includes a profuse number of terms belonging to the semantic field of potentia: first, the epithet omnipotens (401), then the term potentia itself (416), as well as the significant repetition of the verb posse in lines 434 and 437. In this same line, the terms superare and superum ⁸⁴ also reinforce the pervasiveness of power asymmetry in this passage.

 Additional lexical and stylistic devices reinforce the echoes of elegy in this episode. See, par ticularly, the use of the term puella for Callisto (436) (as observed by Knox (1986: 54) and Barch iesi (2008: 227), as well as the term furtum (423) to designate Jupiter’s affair (see Álvarez Igle sias (1999: 180 82), Armstrong (2005: 145), Knox (1986: 35), Barchiesi (2008: 272), and Bömer (1969: 347)).  On the ironic echoes of the term superum, depending on how the text is punctuated, see Ro sati (1983: 157 159) and Barchiesi (2008: 272): the location of the question mark after superum (instead of before it) conveys that the adjective refers to Jupiter, not to aethera. The result is a “lascivious wordplay” (as Barchiesi puts it), since the meaning: “who can overwhelm Jupiter, when he is above you?” is slyly intimated.

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Once the rape is accomplished, Jupiter sets off towards heaven; by explicitly calling him victor (437), Ovid dwells on the agonistic character of the whole episode. Interestingly, the use of this particular term contributes to the repeated allusions to elegy in this episode, since the motif of the “erotic triumph” is a wellknown elegiac topos ⁸⁵. Among the many elegiac poems that treat the subject of an erotic victory⁸⁶, one elegy is particularly enlightening, in so far as it illustrates how Jupiter’s erotic triumph intimates and at the same time hyperbolically recreates this characteristically elegiac motif. As I have argued in Section I, Chapter 2, Propertius in elegy 1,8 celebrates that he has been able to seduce Cynthia with his verses; to extol his achievement, he specifically uses an agonistic terminology of victory: Hic erit! hic iurata manet! rumpantur iniqui! vicimus: assiduas non tulit illa preces

(27 28)

(…) hanc ego non auro, non Indis flectere conchis, sed potui blandi carminis obsequio.

(39 40)

It is important to remember that this Propertian poem itself alludes explicitly to the hierarchical dynamics the elegiac genre; the puella is depicted with traits associating her with an enemy that must be defeated ―an enemy that eventually succumbs to the power of the amator’s poetic words. Thus, Propertius’ subtext on its own already reflects on the fallacy of the domina // servus masks and encourages the reader to recognise that, under a supra-fictional reading, the whole power play at the fictional level is subverted. Jupiter’s depiction as victor is the corollary to the whole set of allusions to elegy: the tale how an omnipotent god with elegiac guises defeats an unarmed and off-guard puella expresses hyperbolically the power-imbalance of the elegiac genre. Whereas Propertius still adheres to the fictional conventions of the erotic world, Jupiter does not “conquer” Callisto through his blandum carmen (cf. Prop. 1,8,40); he simply obviates any kind of wooing and, as an omnipotens lover, utterly vanquishes his beloved.

 See Murgatroyd (1975: 59 ff.). This same motif recurs in other tales of the Metamorphoses with elegiac features, like, for instance, the episodes of Sol and Leucothoe (4,233), Aesacus and Hesp erie (11,779), Salmacis and Hermaphroditus (4,356; and cf. 14,718 and 721 apropos of Iphis and Anaxarete). See Bömer (1976a: 142). In regard to the erotic connotations of the term vincere (as well as pugnare), see Nagle (1988a: 48, n. 7).  On this motif, see Murgatroyd (1975: 70 ff.). Some instances are Propertius 2,14,23 ff.; Ovid, Amores,1,2,19 ff.; and 1,7,35 ff; and Tibullus 1,10, 53 ff.

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Herse and Mercury In the episode of Mercury and Herse Ovid resumes his dialogue with the conventions of elegiac discourse. Yet, in accordance with his poem’s characteristic variation on the sequence and kind of intertextual allusions, this time Ovid engages with the hierarchical dynamics of elegy from a moderately fresh perspective. Moreover, as I will argue, with this episode Ovid simultaneously hints at a reflection on his own authorial supremacy over his narrative material, in so far as his elegiac characters, Mercury and, especially, Herse, are implicitly shown to be literary “pretexts” subordinated to his narrative goals. However, the most evident link with elegy, as noted by many critics⁸⁷, is Mercury’s depiction, which clearly recalls the figure of the elegiac lover. This association is achieved mainly in two ways: the first consists in describing the god as a character who explicitly distances himself from the gravitas expected of his status ―a feature that clearly evokes the characteristically elegiac social heterodoxy of the amator. Secondly, the god is openly identified with a would-be elegiac lover, in so far as he adheres to the counsel of the praeceptor amoris in Ars 1,514 ff., namely, that pupils should care for their physical appearance in order to increase their likelihood of erotic success. The beginning of the episode unmistakably presents the reader with the telltale signs of the Daphne-pattern. Indeed, in the same manner as in the previous tale of Jupiter and Callisto, Mercury’s infatuation results from a fortuitous sighting of the puella: while he is flying over Athens, he comes across a parade of girls taking part in the festival of Pallas (Met. 2,708 – 736): Hinc se sustulerat paribus caducifer alis, Munychiosque volans agros gratamque Minervae despectabat humum cultique arbusta Lycei. illa forte die castae de more puellae vertice supposito festas in Palladis arces pura coronatis portabant sacra canistris. inde revertentes deus adspicit ales iterque non agit in rectum, sed in orbem curvat eundem: ut volucris visis rapidissima miluus extis, dum timet et densi circumstant sacra ministri, flectitur in gyrum nec longius audet abire spemque suam motis avidus circumvolat alis, sic super Actaeas agilis Cyllenius arces inclinat cursus et easdem circinat auras. quanto splendidior quam cetera sidera fulget

710

715

720

 See, e.g., Knox (1986: 28), Barchiesi (2008: 298 299) and Salzman Mitchell (2005: 185, n. 58).

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Lucifer, et quanto quam Lucifer aurea Phoebe, tanto virginibus praestantior omnibus Herse ibat eratque decus pompae comitumque suarum. obstipuit forma Iove natus et aethere pendens non secus exarsit, quam cum Balearica plumbum funda iacit: volat illud et incandescit eundo et, quos non habuit, sub nubibus invenit ignes. vertit iter caeloque petit terrena relicto nec se dissimulat: tanta est fiducia formae. quae quamquam iusta est, cura tamen adiuvat illam permulcetque comas chlamydemque, ut pendeat apte, collocat, ut limbus totumque adpareat aurum, ut teres in dextra, qua somnos ducit et arcet, virga sit, ut tersis niteant talaria plantis.

725

730

735

In alignment with the previous episodes of divine love, Mercury shows burlesque traits, as we see for instance in lines 732– 736, where, with an unmistakably comic tone⁸⁸, Ovid describes the god as a youngster in love who tries to make a good impression on his first date. Further clearly parodic details include Mercury praising himself and enumerating all of his divine attributes in lines 742– 747 ― behaviours that draw on Apollo’s (1,512– 519) and Jupiter’s (1,590 ff.) example in the episodes of Daphne and Io respectively: Mercurium nomenque dei scitarier ausa est et causam adventus; cui sic respondit Atlantis Pleionesque nepos ’ego sum, qui iussa per auras verba patris porto; pater est mihi Iuppiter ipse. nec fingam causas, tu tantum fida sorori esse velis prolisque meae matertera dici: Herse causa viae; faveas oramus amanti.’

745

Mercury’s use of a “hymnic tone” of self-glorification to dignify his divine stature when he confronts Aglauros, Herse’s sister, is corroborated by a meaningful allusion to the incipit of Horace’s ode to Mercury in Od. 1,10,1: Mercuri, facunde nepos Atlantis⁸⁹. Here, by partially assuming the prerogatives of the dives amator Mercury, like Apollo earlier, transforms into a “hypertrophic” elegiac lover. In the same way Apollo is represented as an omnipotent elegiac lover capable of fusing the characteristics of the elegiac amator and those of his antagonist, so too does Mercury, on the one hand, assume the typical stance of an elegiac lover, while, on the other hand, he

 See Griffin (1977: 62) and Knox (1986: 28) on the comic tone of the god’s characterisation.  As Barchiesi (2008: 300) notes.

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showcases the advantages of being a dives amator, a fact which we can infer from his self-praising “hymnic” discourse, as well as from line 734 (ut limbus totumque adpareat aurum), where the god intentionally flashes his gold before his beloved’s eyes. Indeed, as Barchiesi (2008: 299) argues: “l’attenta esibizione dell’oro fa pensare che Mercurio voglia giocare la carta della ricchezza nel corteggiamento, impersonando quindi il tipico dives amator”. Additionally, critics unanimously point in lines 732 ff. to the echo of Ars 1,514 ff.⁹⁰, where Ovid recalls the praeceptor’s advice to his pupils on how to improve their physical appearance for erotic encounters with the puella: Sit bene conveniens et sine labe toga: Lingula ne rigeat, careant rubigine dentes, Nec vagus in laxa pes tibi pelle natet:

515

Mercury seems to “have read” Ovid’s erotodidactic treatise; he knows that a spotless image is a necessary condition for erotic success. In turn, Herse, despite her concise depiction, is also implicitly linked to the semantic sphere of the elegiac puella, mainly through her characterisation as a puella divina. Just as in the Ioepisode (though this time without recourse to intertextual references), a simile of epic proportions presents the beloved as a transcendent beauty (quanto splendidior… 722– 725) and heightens her desirability. It is interesting to compare Herse’s depiction with Propertius in 2,29,17 ff. portraying his mistress as a creature to whom Amor himself has gifted the most sublime features: i. e., a puella divina ⁹¹: afflabunt tibi non Arabum de gramine odores, sed quos ipse suis fecit Amor manibus

(2,29a,17 18)

obstipui: non illa mihi formosior umquam visa, neque ostrina cum fuit in tunica, ibat et hinc castae narratum somnia Vestae, neu sibi neve mihi quae nocitura forent: talis visa mihi somno dimissa recenti. heu quantum per se candida forma valet!

(2,29b,25 30)

Just like the elegiac amator is astonished when he sees his beautiful puella (obstipui: 25), so too does Mercury obstipuit (726) when he sees Herse for the first time. Interestingly, Herse’s likening to the goddess Phoebe (quanto quam Lucifer aurea

 See, e. g., Knox (1986: 28), Galinsky (1975: 167) or Barchiesi (2008: 298 299). Cf. Salzman Mitchell (2005: 185), where the author points out the intertext from the Ars too, but also applies it to Polyphemus trying to woo Galatea (Met. 13,837 ff.).  On the mistress as a god like creature, see Lieberg (1969: 328).

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Phoebe, // tanto virginibus praestantior omnibus Herse: 723– 724) lets Ovid forge an additional link to the poem’s primary “elegiac” reference, namely to the episode of Daphne, for whom Phoebe is the goddess she wishes to emulate (innuptaeque aemula Phoebes [1,476])⁹². Thus, the allusion to the elegiac motif of the divina puella not only extols Herse’s beauty; it also implies the transfer of its metapoetic function, as I have shown apropos of the Io-episode. As I argued in Section I of this book, the representation of the beloved as a puella divina is in reality a rhetorical device that effectively identifies the beloved as a “mythological character” ―in other words, functionally it places her on the same level as the poet’s literary/narrative material. In the end, it is an instrument for emphasising the crucial ontological and hierarchical gap that separates the amator-poeta from his literary puella. Another element adding to the elegiac echoes of this episode is the presence of Aglauros as a mediator in the erotic relationship between Mercury and Herse. When Herse’s sister sees Mercury coming, she stands guard at the front door of the house she shares with her sisters (737– 739⁹³) and asks the god his name and his reason for visiting (741– 742). As Barchiesi (2008: 300) observes, Aglauros assumes a function that clearly echoes the elegiac custos-figure ―the mistress’ doorkeeper. Moreover, she also takes on the function of the lena, the bawd who ostensibly represents the girl’s economic interests and tries to profit in the transaction between the puella and the dives amator. Aglauros recalls one of the most famous lenae of Latin elegy, namely Dipsas, to whom Ovid devotes poem 1,8 of the Amores. As part of the counsel that the procuress gives to the puella, Dipsas advises her to yield to the erotic desires of the beati ―the wealthy suitors⁹⁴―, as a means of ensuring her personal profit: ’scis here te, mea lux, iuveni placuisse beato? haesit et in vultu constitit usque tuo. (…) non ego, te facta divite, pauper ero.

(Am. 1,6,23 24 and 28)

 See also Met. 2,415, where Callisto is also associated with Phoebe (as an extended denomi nation of Artemis).  Pars secreta domus ebore et testudine cultos tres habuit thalamos, quorum tu, Pandrose, dextrum, Aglauros laevum, medium possederat Herse. quae tenuit laevum, venientem prima notavit 740 Mercurium nomenque dei scitarier ausa est et causam adventus; (…)  Gale (1990: 227) [OLD] confirms that one of the meanings of the term beatus is “rich, weal thy”. A relevant elegiac example is provided by Propertius 2,24b,49: noli [me] conferre beatis.

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Although Mercury overtly intends to avoid being branded as a pauper amator (through his presentation as a wealthy and noble suitor, in lines 734 and 743 – 744), Aglauros is also well aware of elegiac conventions and therefore distrusts those amatores who boast about their ancestry: nec te decipiant veteres circum atria cerae. tolle tuos tecum, pauper amator, avos!

(Am. 1,6,65 66)

Thus, Herse’s sister ignores Mercury’s divine lineage and instead demands economic compensation for her services as a lena/custos ⁹⁵: proque ministerio magni sibi ponderis aurum postulat: interea tectis excedere cogit

750

Aglauros places the god in the position of an elegiac exclusus amator. In fact, in line 814 Ovid explicitly refers to her as exclusura deum, a term that, alongside limine (814), is typical of the jargon for the paraclausithyron motif, as Barchiesi (2008: 305) shows. In the face of Aglauros’ inflexibility, the amator has no choice other than resorting to the characteristically elegiac blandimenta and preces (815) to gain her favour: denique in adverso venientem limine sedit exclusura deum. cui blandimenta precesque verbaque iactanti mitissima ’desine!’ dixit, ’hinc ego me non sum nisi te motura repulso.’

815

Mercury’s flattery emulates the elegiac lover’s tactic in Amores 1,6 ―a poem entirely devoted to the figure of the ianitor who impedes the lover from approach his beloved: Ianitor indignum! dura religate catena, difficilem moto cardine pande forem! quod precor, exiguum est (…) omnia consumpsi, nec te precibusque minisque movimus, o foribus durior ipse tuis.

(1 3) (61 62)

However, in spite of the obvious similarities, there is one crucial difference between Mercury and the elegiac lover: whereas the latter is condemned to remain

 See also line 759, where Aglauros is, in Minerva’s eyes, avara an adjective that Ovid himself employs in Amores 1,10,23 to describe the leno, the male version of the lena.

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excluded from the puella’s house (since the uninhibited access to the beloved would contravene the conventions of elegiac fiction), the god reforms his role as an elegiac amator, so that he can open the doors of the house without any difficulty and take revenge on the unwanted ianitor: he transforms Aglauros into a stone and literalises, thus, the duritia for which the elegiac lover reproaches the doorkeeper (o foribus durior ipse tuis: Am. 1,6,62): ’stemus’ ait ’pacto’ velox Cyllenius ’isto!’ caelestique fores virga patefecit: at illi surgere conanti partes, quascumque sedendo flectimur, ignava nequeunt gravitate moveri: (…) saxum iam colla tenebat, oraque duruerant, signumque exsangue sedebat; nec lapis albus erat: sua mens infecerat illam.

820 830

Therefore, although Mercury puts on the mask of the elegiac lover adopting a burlesque attitude and initially submitting to the will of an inflexible custos, the crucial point is that at the end of the episode Mercury reveals his true power-status, which allows him to overcome any obstacle, even the “intertextual hindrance” of an elegiac doorkeeper. Here, in contrast to the previous episodes of divine love, Ovid does not express the hierarchical pre-eminence of the elegiac lover with an explicit depiction of the god’s sexual supremacy over the puella. Instead, Mercury’s power is visible in the effortless manner whereby he overcomes the ―traditionally inviolable― limen that would prevent him from approaching the puella. Yet, Ovid expresses the hierarchical dynamics of the relationship between the god and Herse through other subliminal devices. Alongside Mercury’s selfrepresentation as a dives amator (which, as I have argued, underscores his omnipotence from a metatextual perspective), it is interesting to focus on another feature that alludes to the power asymmetry between both characters: namely, the important ambiguity in Ovid likening Mercury first to a kite and then to an incandescent leaden missile hurled from a sling. The first comparison illustrates the erotic eagerness of the god, whom Ovid explicitly calls avidus, i. e., greedy (line 719): ut volucris visis rapidissima miluus extis, dum timet et densi circumstant sacra ministri, flectitur in gyrum nec longius audet abire spemque suam motis avidus circumvolat alis, sic super Actaeas agilis Cyllenius arces inclinat cursus…

720

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As I demonstrated for the predator/prey similes pertaining respectively to Apollo and Daphne (1,505 – 507), Mercury’s comparison to a carrion bird helps emphasise the asymmetry between the god and his beloved, in so far as Herse becomes the object of Mercury’s greed by implication. The implicit representation of lover and beloved as subject and object respectively is further supported by the humorous detail that “the sacrificants become the sacrificed in the simile, an inversion that is underlined by sacra in line 717 recalling the sacra of line 713”, as Galinsky (1975: 165) neatly observes. Moreover, there is another significant detail in this simile, as Barchiesi (2008: 297), shows: the expression circumvolat alis (719) acquires a sinister undertone if we consider the echo of Horace Serm. 2,1,58: mors atris circumvolat alis. This intertext further underscores the ineluctable nature of Mercury’s erotic intervention, as well as the futility of any attempt to counter it⁹⁶. The semantic multiplicity of the second simile, moreover, questions the naïve image of Mercury like an elegiac amator before his first date. Ovid describes the god as a “burning projectile”, like those that are hurled from a Balearic sling (727– 729): non secus exarsit, quam cum Balearica plumbum funda iacit: volat illud et incandescit eundo et, quos non habuit, sub nubibus invenit ignes.

The simile links the god’s erotic temperment to the semantic field of violence, in so far as Mercury is implicitly compared to a missile⁹⁷ and Herse to its target. Just as the load of a slingshot is intended to strike an object, so the god reveals the hostile side of his sexual approach to Herse. In this way, the reader is able to foresee the outcome of the story, given the precedents provided by the other episodes of the Daphne-pattern. Another echo that reinforces this cluster of subtle allusions to Mercury’s threat of violence is the intraliterary reference to Mercury’s last achievement in the poem, namely his killing of Argus in the Io-episode. Interestingly, how

 In the characterisation of Mercury as avidus, von Glinski (2012: 49) recognises a parallel to the other infatuated gods: “the fact that the bird is a scavenger, and his imagined motive, name ly snatching meat from the altar (716), neatly align Mercury with the other gods coming to earth in order to rape a girl”.  The hostility of the god’s approach towards his target grows clearer if we take into account Barchiesi’s (2008: 298) observation, namely that Ovid surely knew the Greek etymology of the term Baliarides/Baleares from βάλλω (“to throw”), as Diodorus V 17,1 testifies. Moreover, the vi olence implied in the semantics of the term funda (728) is further emphasised by the origin of the sling: the Balearic Islands, a territory evoking barbarianism and savagery, as the character isation of the Balearic slingers in Lycophron’s Alexandra (633 641) shows.

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Ovid describes the god on the cusp of slaying the monster clearly resembles Mercury’s depiction when he is about to descend from heaven and approach Herse. Compare: Elegiac Mercury killing Argus

Mercury approaching Herse

natumque vocat, quem lucida partu Pleias enixa est letoque det imperat Argum parva mora est alas pedibus virgamque potenti somniferam sumpsisse manu tegumenque capillis. haec ubi disposuit, patria Iove natus ab arce desilit in terras (, – )

vertit iter caeloque petit terrena relicto nec se dissimulat: tanta est fiducia formae. quae quamquam iusta est, cura tamen adiuvat illam permulcetque comas chlamydemque, ut pendeat apte, collocat, ut limbus totumque adpareat aurum, ut teres in dextra, qua somnos ducit et arcet, virga sit, ut tersis niteant talaria plantis. (, – )

In both cases Ovid refers to Mercury with the same patronymic (Iove natus, in 2,726 and 1,673) and with the same metronymic⁹⁸. Moreover, the description of Mercury’s accoutrements as he is about to approach Herse strikingly echoes the god’s earlier intervention: in both cases he descends from heaven (desilit in terras [1,669]// petit terrena [2,730]), puts on his winged sandals (alas pedibus [1,671] // talaria [2,735]), and takes up his caduceus (virgamque … somniferam [1,671– 672] // virga … qua somnus ducit et arcet [2,734– 735]). The only difference is that, in the first passage, he wears his cap (tegumenque capillis [1, 672]), whereas in the second he does not and instead smoothes his hair (permulcetque comas [2,732]). The most plausible reason for this divergence is that a cap would impede him from following the magister amoris’ advice to care for his physical appearance, as we have seen above. In this context, a crucial directive is to wear a decent haircut: Nec male deformet rigidos tonsura capillos: Sit coma, sit trita barba resecta manu

(Ars 1,517 518)

Alongside these meaningful echoes of Mercury’s prior violent achievements, which Ovid intentionally brings against the backdrop of a recognisable elegiac setting, it is possible to see a further allusion to Mercury’s threat of violence. In fact, the combined reference to Mercury’s cap/helmet (1,672), to his gold (2,734) and to the staff he bears in his right hand (which is indirectly the instru-

 The god is the son of Maia, one of the Pleiades, and, therefore, the grandson of Pleione (cf. 1,670 and 2,743: Pleionesque nepos ’ego sum).

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ment he used to kill Argus [1,671]) interestingly evokes how the rich rival in Amores 3,8,11– 19 is depicted. There the elegiac speaker warns the puella against the deceptive appearance of her new gold-wearing lover (line 15), whose head ―like Mercury’s― was covered with a helmet during his earlier life as a soldier (line 13) and whose right hand was stained with blood (line 16): hunc potes amplecti formosis, vita, lacertis? huius in amplexu, vita, iacere potes? si nescis, caput hoc galeam portare solebat; ense latus cinctum, quod tibi servit, erat; laeva manus, cui nunc serum male convenit aurum, scuta tulit; dextram tange – cruenta fuit! qua periit aliquis, potes hanc contingere dextram? heu, ubi mollities pectoris illa tui? cerne cicatrices, veteris vestigia pugnae

In so far as Mercury is implicitly linked to this rich lover, the intertextual echo reinforces the readers’ awareness of the god’s violent past and ―through the whole set of narrative vestigia of Mercury’s veteris pugnae― foreshadows the probable outcome of the story, in alignment with Daphne-pattern from earlier. However, Ovid surprisingly shifts his attention from the expected corollary of the story (namely Mercury’s violent sexual assault of Herse) and focuses instead on Aglauros. Galinsky (1975: 168) interprets this unexpected turn as a testimony to Ovid’s humour⁹⁹. Furthermore, it provides evidence for Ovid intentionally shifting to different narrative subjects in the sequence of events of the Metamorphoses, as Otis indicates¹⁰⁰. Yet, not in the least, it is also an instrument for facilitating the comprehension of the erotic dynamics in the Daphne-pattern. Through this deliberate omission of the story’s outcome, Ovid creates an aposiopesis of the type “cetera quis nescit”¹⁰¹. In other words, the antecedents of pre-

 “Ovid transforms our strained expectations into nothing. This is precisely what, by Kant’s famous definition, causes laughter” (Galinsky, 1975: 168).  According to Otis (1966: 317), Ovid’s intention in this episode is to emphasise the motif of divine vengeance, rather than divine love; for this reason, the bulk of the narrative space is de voted to Aglauros and Envy.  Ovid does not need to tell the rest of the story, just as his decorum excuses him from nar rating “the rest” of the details from his siesta with Corinna (in Amores 1, 5,25): ut stetit ante oculos posito velamine nostros, in toto nusquam corpore menda fuit. (…) Singula quid referam? nil non laudabile vidi et nudam pressi corpus ad usque meum. Cetera quis nescit? lassi requievimus ambo (Am. 1,5,17 18 and 23 25)

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vious erotic episodes in the Metamorphoses allow Ovid this narrative economy¹⁰². The power asymmetry between the god and the puella is so blatant that it is not necessary to narrate the outcome of Mercury’s sexual assault. The reader takes for granted that, regardless whether Herse wishes it or not, the sexual encounter is bound to take place. Indeed, Ovid hints at the reader’s expectation for Mercury’s erotic success when Envy poisons Aglauros’ heart with the “flash-forward” image of Herse’s coniugium with the god¹⁰³ ―a term that functionally stands for the consummation of the erotic process¹⁰⁴. Ovid completely omits any reference to Herse’s reaction to the god’s sexual intentions. Whereas for Daphne, Io and Callisto, Ovid depicts (or, at least, hints at) their feelings as sexual victims, here it seems that we do not even need to read the outcome of the story. The previous love episodes fill the narrative gap. This ellipse has led some critics to interpret Mercury’s erotic pursuit as a failure. Anderson (1997: 320), for instance, states that Mercury is “content with vengeance rather than Herse’s beauty”. More emphatically, Simpson (2001: 290) argues that “Mercury leaves abruptly when the metamorphosis [of Aglauros] is complete without satisfying his lust for Herse”. However, the fact is that the narrative simply turns in another direction ― we cannot infer from this manoeuvre that Mercury’s love is thwarted. Rather, this narratological choice supports the image of the beloved as an utterly passive ―and, in this case, even voiceless― element. Herse’s reification and passivity, thus, extend even to the narrative level, where she is depicted as just a stage in Mercury’s (or Ovid’s) flight to the next narrative goal, which here is represented by Aglauros and her punished impiety. Curran (1978: 236) compellingly argues that, although in this episode Ovid does not explicitly narrate the sexually violent phase of the encounter,

 We find a similar pattern in lines from the Jupiter and Europa episode below in book 2, where Ovid alludes to the well known “rest” of the narrative with the expression vix cetera dif fert (2,863): gaudet amans et, dum veniat sperata voluptas, oscula dat manibus; vix iam, vix cetera differt (Met. 2,862 863) “Cetera” (the dénouement which Jupiter impatiently pines for after deceiving the girl) ellip tically alludes to the same pattern of sexual aggression that Ovid repeatedly narrated in the first two books of his poem. See also Amores 3,2,84, as well as Ars 1,667, where Ovid uses a similar ellipse with sexual undertones. See González Iglesias (2004: 298, n. 12).  See lines 804 5: germanam ante oculos fortunatumque sororis // coniugium pulchraque deum sub imagine ponit.  See Bömer (1969: 173 4) on the use of the term coniunx in the episode of Apollo and Daphne.

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the framing¹⁰⁵ “aptly mirrors the manner in which the future victim’s freedom is circumscribed by the flight of the god”. Finally, it is possible to see a further allusive element that corroborates this whole set of references to the power asymmetry between Mercury and Herse. In fact, through his particular narrative treatment of Herse, Ovid alludes to the metapoetic background of the elegiac genre ―that is, to the (supra-fictionally) ancillary nature of the puella. As we have seen, Herse’s presence in this episode is reduced to the minimum; her narrative function seems, therefore, to be little more than a pretext for Ovid’s transition to the next narrative focus. For that reason, I argue that, within the whole framework of subtle references to a stylistically and thematically elegiac landscape, it is not by chance that Ovid associates her twice with the term causa: nomenque dei scitarier ausa est et causam adventus; cui sic respondit Atlantis Pleionesque nepos ’ego sum, qui iussa per auras verba patris porto; pater est mihi Iuppiter ipse. nec fingam causas, tu tantum fida sorori esse velis prolisque meae matertera dici: Herse causa viae; faveas oramus amanti.’

745

In lines 742 and 747 the beloved is identified with the concept of “motive” or “pretext”: causa (adventus) and causa (viae). Moreover, Ovid deliberately calls attention to the semantic ambiguity of the term causa in reference to Herse, given that in line 745 Mercury uses it with the explicit meaning of “pretext/excuse”: nec fingam causas. If we take into account the larger context of the episode, Herse is exposed as a literary pretext for introducing the story of Aglauros, Minerva and Envy (2,752– 811). Herse’s subordinate role from a narrative perspective is supported by the fact that, after Aglauros’ metamorphosis, Ovid immediately leads the narrative plot to the next episode, without any further reference to Mercury and Herse’s love story. Treating the beloved merely as a literary argument at the behest of the poet’s narrative goals resembles a common elegiac technique where the puella is depicted as the poet’s literary causa. As I argued particularly in Chapter 3 of Section I, there are a number of passages where the elegiac poets represent the beloved as a literary fiction that they manipulate for their artistic purposes. In the frame of this self-reflexive stance, Ovid’s Amores 2,4 is enlightening: there the

 I.e., the simile structure (namely, the two similes associating Mercury with violence/speed/ pursuit, which frame the placid simile highlighting Herse’s beauty).

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amator-poeta claims that any “cause” captivates him (causa tangor ab omni [31]), or, in other words, that any puella fits his desires. The term causa emphasises the beloved’s reification and specifies that she functions as a pretext for the creation of the erotic discourse of elegy. Against this backdrop, the term causa in the episode of Mercury and Herse evokes the ontological distance separating the elegiac amator-poeta from the puella. Moreover, one could argue that Ovid puns on the metaliterary content of the term fingere in the expression nec fingam causas (745), which calls to mind the poet’s task as a creator of fiction. The elegiac poet especially creates a seemingly real literary world where the puella turns out to be nothing more than a causa, a simple fictional pretext. Not for nothing does Propertius’ famous line finge elegos, fallax opus (4,1,135) tell us that fiction is the elegiac poet’s task par excellence. Furthermore, we can extend the association of the term causa with Herse to the programmatic expression amor est mihi causa sequendi, which Apollo utters during his pursuit of Daphne (1,507). Aside from its meta-narrative content¹⁰⁶, the expression elicits a characteristically elegiac reflection on the beloved ―or, metonymically, love― as the literary pretext for a poet to attain his literary aims. Thus, causa, alongside its obvious aetiological meaning¹⁰⁷, can also be considered an intertextual reference to elegy. In this regard, a parallel with Metamorphoses 5,258 and 5,260 may shed further light on the poetological content of the term causa. In the passage, whereby Ovid introduces the contest between the Pierides and the Muses and its accompanying inset narratives, we again find the expression causa viae and, later on, causa videndi: ’fama novi fontis nostras pervenit ad aures, dura Medusaei quem praepetis ungula rupit. is mihi causa viae; volui mirabile factum cernere; vidi ipsum materno sanguine nasci.’ excipit Uranie: ’quaecumque est causa videndi has tibi, diva, domos, animo gratissima nostro es.

260

 The meta narrative content of the expression consists in the reflection on love as a recur ring theme throughout the Metamorphoses. Through this hermeneutical prism, the “causa se quendi” refers to the “causa perpetuitatis carminis”, such that the erotic subject matter is estab lished as the Leitmotiv of the whole narrative. For the aetiological nature of the episode of Apollo and Daphne, see Myers (1994b: 227) with further bibliographical references.  See Fernández Corte Cantó (2008: 142), on the aetiological slant of the narratives that in corporate terms like auctor, causa, origo, unde or nomen, as Myers (1994a, passim) demonstrates.

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Hearing the tale about the origin of the new fountain that has sprung up on Mount Helicon is the reason (causa) for Minerva’s journey. Thus, the term causa is associated with reflexivity: just as the puella is the causa for the elegiac poets, the pretext for the creation of their discourse, so is the explanation of the origin of a fountain that provides poetic inspiration is the causa for Minerva, the pretext for her journey. This journey (via, line 258) is a metaphor for the expedition that Ovid-as-narrator takes through the landscape of myth: each stage is for him a pretext (causa) for lingering until it gives rise to a new narration¹⁰⁸. Through this intratextual echo, together with the allusions to elegy that pervade the first part of the Herse-episode, the metatextual weight of the term causa is strongly underscored: by applying the term causa to Herse, Ovid hints at the elegiac trope where the puella is depicted as a pretext that is ontologically subordinated to the poet’s self-conscious narrative will. Whereas from the hierarchical perspective that rules the mythological world of the Metamorphoses the relationship between a god and a mortal is itself hyperbolically asymmetrical, Ovid emphasises Herse’s ancillary status through a poetological prism; she is exposed as a narrative “excuse” for introducing another episode which is more important with respect to the hierarchy of narrative levels. In sum, Ovid makes use of a strategy that he had not employed in the previous episodes of the Daphne-pattern, namely, the expression of the beloved’s reification through allusion to her “supporting role” in his narrative. Therefore, through these indices to her secondary and specifically fictional nature, Herse is unveiled as a paradigmatically ancillary character. However, Ovid does not content himself with the depiction of the beloved as a hierarchically subservient persona. Rather, he also hints that Mercury (whose hierarchical pre-eminence over Herse has been diversely demonstrated) is not the ultimate authority in the narrative. As we have seen throughout the different narratives of the Daphne-pattern, characterising the lover as an elegiac amator is not merely a stylistic ornament; it is a clear allusion to his power. But, as I have argued apropos of Apollo and Daphne, Ovid discreetly undermines the god’s power with an allusion to his infallibility (being the god of oracles, he fails to recognise what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen) and with his “misinterpretation” of the inter- and intratextual context intertwined around his own narrative. With similar means, Ovid now uses the figure of the amator to assert himself authorially ―once again― relative to his narrative. Although he has explicitly alluded to the power asymmetry between Mercury and

 For a detailed analysis of the metapoetic tone that pervades the narrative of the Heliconian spring, see Hinds (1987: 3 24).

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Herse, his narrative “manipulation” of the character of the elegiac lover is meaningful. Ovid allows the reader to fill the narrative gap (i. e., the outcome of the love story) with the gratification of the god’s desire, as Envy prospectively depicted¹⁰⁹. However, Mercury’s erotic success occurs at an extra-textual level, so to speak, since the narrative sequence of events does not dwell further on Mercury’s passion, but focuses instead on the next episode, the story of Jupiter and Europa ―another erotic narrative where the amatory content is only elliptically suggested. Thus, Ovid indirectly alludes to his ultimate authorial control over his narrative, where not only Herse but also Mercury ―his “elegiac characters”― are ancillary narrative figures subordinated to the poetic purposes of his magnum opus. Leaving Mercury’s passion unfulfilled at a textual level insinuates a blatant challenge to Mercury’s power, or in other words, it conveys that the delimitation of his power is effective only at the fictional level. The audience/readership acknowledges, in the end, that it is Ovid who self-consciously pulls the strings of the narrative.

Philomela and Tereus According to some critics¹¹⁰, the fifteen books of the Metamorphoses are divided into three pentads, each with a different dominant theme. Thus, the first section is dominated by gods, the second by heroes and in the third the chief actors are historical figures. The episodes of the Daphne-pattern are chiefly located in the first pentad, where, as we have seen, narratives about infatuated gods in elegiac guise are easy to find. If we follow the aforementioned book arrangement, the episode of Tereus and Philomela is a liminal narrative, in that it inaugurates the second pentad. In this frame, critics argue that Ovid intends to depict Tereus as a sui generis “imitator” of the behaviour we witnessed in the enamoured gods of the Daphne-pattern. Rosati (2012: 198), for instance, defends the idea of a “legittimazione del desiderio erotico attraverso un modello mitico”, according to which human characters in the Metamorphoses try to emulate the sexual behaviour of gods. Through this emulation Ovid further scrutinises the theme of power relations, as I will argue. However, the narrative of Tereus and Philomela is simultaneously endowed with a number of distinctive features that clearly mark it out as a foil to the previous episodes of the Daphne-type. Thus, as we will

 germanam ante oculos fortunatumque sororis // coniugium […] ponit. [2,804 805].  See primarily Kenney (1986: XXVI). See also Holzberg (2007: esp. 24 ff.) and Fernández Cor te Cantó (2008: 81 ff.; and 85, n. 193 for further bibliographical references).

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see, Ovid’s play with differences and similarities relative to the established Daphne-pattern pervades the episode significantly. The most obvious contrast consists in the generic shift that Ovid accomplishes in this episode. Whereas the divine love stories of the first pentad are characterised by a predominantly comic tenor (apart from the obvious elegiac influences), the episode of Tereus takes a clear turn in its narrative register. With the exception of important elegiac undertones, the dominant generic tone is now tragic¹¹¹. As Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 5) observe, with the story of Tereus and Philomela, “Ovid radically expands the literary and thematic horizons of his poem”. Although we still perambulate the terrain of amor, we have now passed from the domain of the powerful Olympians to the domain of disturbing human passions¹¹². Indeed, if we compare the paradigmatic primus amor with the tale of Tereus and Philomela, we can readily observe some important differences, as Spahlinger (1996: 336 ff.) and Jacobsen (1984/85) underline. Certainly, according to Spahlinger, both Apollo and Tereus are consumed by an overwhelming passion. Indeed, the language describing their infatuation is very similar: whereas Apollo “is inflamed with passion”, Tereus, too, “burns” when he sees Philomela¹¹³.The simile of the wolf and the lamb, as well as the simile of the dove and the hawk that we find in the episode of Tereus (velut agna pavens, quae saucia cani // ore excussa lupi nondum sibi tuta videtur, // utque columba suo madefactis sanguine plumis: 6,527– 29) clearly evoke the simile in the primus amor: sic agna lupum, sic cerva leonem // sic aquilam penna fugiunt trepidante columbae (1,505 – 6)¹¹⁴. But, in spite of these similarities, Spahlinger (1996: 339) contends that one of the main differences between Tereus and Apollo is their different attitude towards love; Apollo’s erotic experience is not a source of suffering, since he ―in contrast

 See Martín Rodríguez (2002) and idem (2001), Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 2), Solodow (1988: 19) and Otis (1966: 206).  According to Otis’ (1966) thematic division of the Metamorphoses, the episode of Tereus and Philomela is the first in the section on “the pathos of love”. See also Jacobsen (1984/85: 51) on the episode introducing a cycle of stories centred on human passion or heroism.  Compare in flammas abiit // sic pectore toto uritur [1,494 ff.] (on Apollo) with non secus ex arsit conspecta virgine Tereus, // quam si quis canis ignem supponat aristis [6,455 456] (on Ter eus). The term exarsit (cf. a few lines later aestuat [491]) also recalls the phraseology employed by Ovid when describing other “sexual predators”, like, conspicuously, Mercury in Met. 2,708. On the symbolism of fire in the Tereus episode, see Kaufhold (1997), Rosati (2013: 325 326) and Martín Rodríguez (2002: 60).  See Rosati (2013: 333), as well as Jacobsen (1984/85: 47 49), who notes some nuances when establishing parallels between these two similes.

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to any infatuated mortal― is able to overcome his passion¹¹⁵. Moreover, regarding the similes, Spahlinger (1996: 337) argues that in Apollo’s case Ovid presents a contrasting simile, whereas in Tereus’ case the poet really intends to describe the man’s truly ferocious nature. Furthermore, Jacobsen (1984/85: 52) concludes that the essential difference between Apollo’s and Tereus’ erotic experiences is that gods do not come into contact with the tragic side of passion. Yet, reading of these episodes from a power-play perspective reveals a crucial similarity, despite their different tone; namely, that both Apollo and Tereus are active subjects in asymmetric love relationships. Thus, in contrast to Spahlinger’s point of view, it can be readily argued that Ovid has the same intention for both similes. As I demonstrated above, likening Apollo to different predators alludes to the violence of his sexual assault. Although the god alleges that his motive is different (amor est mihi causa sequendi: 507), in reality Apollo, just like Tereus, is a predator who pursues a victim powerless to resist her assailant. The fact that amor prompts the god to chase his beloved does not significantly distinguish him from Tereus, since Tereus is driven by the same impulse: et nihil est, quod non effreno captus amore // ausit (6, 465– 6); facundum faciebat amor (6, 469). Leaving aside cultural apriorisms, amor has the same meaning in both passages, even though Tereus’ actions are characterised with an unprecedented brutality. Therefore, apart from the most visible contrast between these episodes, a number of conceptual connections have not been considered by all those critics who examine the narrative in terms of a manichean opposition between a supposedly “ethically legitimate” and an “illegitimate” amor ¹¹⁶. A far more nuanced analysis is necessary, and intertextuality plays, in this regard, a crucial role. In fact, the main feature linking Tereus to the infatuated gods of the first pentad is his characterisation with traits that are generically associated with the elegiac amator. Among the studies that have focused on these intertextual connections¹¹⁷, Gildenhard’s and Zissos’ (2007: 14 ff.) contribution is particularly remarkable, in so far as it not only examines some of these elegiac echoes, but it also tries to integrate them into a reflection on the nomological consequences of Tereus’ brutality, which extends over both formal and thematic levels.

 See also Jacobsen (1984/85: 52). Cf. Fulkerson (2006) on the essential differences between human and divine emotions, as instantiated by Apollo.  In this regard, some of the most important examples are Otis (1966: passim; and esp. 71 ff.; 201; 209 ff.; 332 333) and Jacobsen (1984/85: 45). See also Martín Rodríguez (2002) and idem (2001), as well as Segal (1992) and idem (1994).  See Holzberg (2007: 21 and 63 64), idem (2000: 444), Jacobsen (1984/85), Spahlinger (1996: 336 337 and 265, n. 5), and Salzman Mitchell (2005: 139 149 and n. 51) with a review of the most relevant bibliographical references.

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First, it is necessary to analyse the most notable allusions to the elegiac genre in Tereus’ and Philomela’s characterisation, some of which, as I indicated above, have already been highlighted by recent criticism. A close examination of the story’s two main figures reveals that Ovid intends them to recall the elegiac amator and the puella. On the one hand, it is remarkable that Philomela, at the moment when she first appears before the eyes of the reader, meaningfully calls to mind the presentation of the elegiac beloved as a puella divina: ecce venit magno dives Philomela paratu, divitior forma; quales audire solemus naidas et dryadas mediis incedere silvis, si modo des illis cultus similesque paratus. non secus exarsit conspecta virgine Tereus, quam si quis canis ignem supponat aristis aut frondem positasque cremet faenilibus herbas. digna quidem facies (…)

455

Extolling the beauty of the girl who is about to be a victim of sexual violence is a common motif in the Metamorphoses. As we have seen above, both in Io’s and in Herse’s case Ovid deliberately alludes to the elegiac motif of the puella divina. But his aim is much more complicated than merely praising their beauty, since, as I have argued, the use of an elegiac trope also conveys its metapoetic value. In this case, comparing the beloved to the goddesses and heroines of literature further emphasises her reification. The poetological content of this reflection, far from disappearing when the trope is transfered into the Metamorphoses, is further amplified as a consequence of the generic transition. Moreover, if we consider her intraliterary precedents, Philomela’s presentation conjures up the feeling of a repeated motif ―as if we had already read something similar before. In fact, some critics¹¹⁸ rightly observe that the expression audire solemus (452) is meant to recall previous episodes of sexual violence suffered by nymphs who dwell in the woods, like Syrinx, Callisto or Daphne, thus permitting the reader to forsee or conjecture what will happen next¹¹⁹. With this metatextual marker, Ovid places Philomela on the same level as the female characters of the Daphne-pattern. Philomela becomes, therefore, a puella who is doubly linked to the world of elegy: not only by virtue

 Particularly Hardie (2002: 260 262), Wheeler (1999: 104) or Salzman Mitchell (2005: 140 141).  See also Hardie (2002: 261 ff.) and idem (2004: 96 98), who notes the intra and intertex tual depth of the simile. Intratextually, it recalls the tale of Apollo and Daphne as a thematic pattern. Intertextually, as Hardie argues, the comparison alludes to the model of Aeneid 1, when Dido appears before Aeneas’ eyes for the first time.

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of her intertextual association with the elegiac mistress (through the motif of the puella divina), but also through the intratextual echoes of the previous puella-like beloveds evoked by her portrayal. Intertextually, Philomela’s presentation alludes to one of the most famous “theophanies” of the elegiac genre, namely Corinna’s appearance in Amores 1,5, as Hardie (2002: 261– 262) observes¹²⁰: ecce, Corinna venit, tunica velata recincta, candida dividua colla tegente coma qualiter in thalamos famosa Semiramis isse dicitur, et multis Lais amata viris. Deripui tunicam nec multum rara nocebat; pugnabat tunica sed tamen illa tegi. quae cum ita pugnaret, tamquam quae vincere nollet, victa est non aegre proditione sua.

10

15

The verbal echo of the expression ecce venit and the subsequent description of the beloved’s beauty create a literary reminiscence that would hardly have remained unnoticed by Ovid’s readers/audience. Moreover, the expression quales audire solemus (452), beside its intratextual allusiveness (as we saw above), is also intended to induce a metatextual effect that is already present in the expression qualiter in thalamos famosa Semiramis isse dicitur of the elegiac subtext (lines 11– 12). In both cases, the elegiac puella comes from a literary tradition that facilitates ascribing her to some specific thematic coordinates: on the one hand, the raped nymphs of the previous books and, on the other hand, Semiramis and Lais¹²¹. For both Philomela and Corinna, Ovid describes the reputation of the puella-figure in terms of an indirect method of information-transfer (dicitur // audire solemus). This effectively multiplies the textual horizon, in so far as associating one literary figure (Philomela or Corinna) with another creates a mirror-like image helping the reader to recognise crucial information about that character prior to the outcome of events. In Philomela’s case, the effect is exponentially amplified, since through Corinna she is also indirectly likened to Lais and Semiramis. The simile qualiter Semiramis (…) ―which functions as a subtext of the simile quales audire solemus (…)― projects Philomela into a position of erotic accessibility that is highly compromising in the face of Tereus’ sexual ea-

 See also Keith (1994: 29 31), who argues that Corinna’s appearance specifically recalls the divine epiphany of Elegia herself in Amores 3,1.  Semiramis was an Assyrian queen whose beauty was legendary, whereas Lais was a famous name for an Athenian courtesan of the fifth century BC. On these characters as paradigms of beauty and erotic liberality, see González Iglesias (2004: 155).

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gerness. The content and tone of lines 452– 454 show Ovid focalising the action from Tereus’ perspective, through whose eyes the reader witnesses Philomela’s appearance. Thus, the simile, alongside the expression si modo des illis cultus similesque paratus (454), represents the interpretation of events from the angle of Tereus’ personal vision¹²². Tereus, as both an intra- and an intertextual reader, assimilates the previous Daphne-pattern as well as the elegiac subtext to his new context and thereby “transforms” Philomela not only into a new nymph who is exposed to the menace of sexual predators, but also into a new Semiramis and a new Lais. Emulating the tactics of other amatores in the Daphne-pattern from the previous books, Tereus makes a “slanted” reading of the elegiac intertexts to create a context that favours his erotic interests: in this case, Philomela is implicitly characterised as an easily accessible elegiac courtesan, offering, thus, a perfect excuse for Tereus’ sexual assault. In a typical Ovidian fashion, however, Philomela’s appearance is “kaleidoscopic”: thus, in contrast to an elegiac courtesan, Ovid explicitly remarks that Philomela is a virgo (virgine: 6,455). Unlike a courtesan, she is a marriageable girl. This fact certainly seems to call the text’s spectrum of allusions to an elegiac puella into question. However, the elegiac echoes of Philomela’s portrayal are not necessarily undermined by her characterisation as a virgin. This apparent contradiction should rather be interpreted, I argue, as a consequence of a different focalisation: in lines 451– 454 Tereus’ vision “irrupts” into the narrative¹²³ and ascertains Philomela through an elegiac lens. For him, she is a new Corinna ―a sexually accessible girl. The reader, however, that she is a virgo, because from line 455 onwards Ovid “retakes” the narrative and counterbalances Tereus’ slanted vision. The narrative meaningfully shifts from the emphatic “ecce” (451) and the first and second person “solemus” (452) and “des” (454) to the third person “exarsit Tereus…” (455). Thus, Philomela is once again envisioned through Ovid’s authorial eye¹²⁴. In any case, as Rosati (2013:

 On focalisation as a narratological device in the Metamorphoses, see Feldherr (2010: esp. 92 94 and also 229 230 on focalisation in the Philomela episode). See also Peek (2003: esp. 43 ff.) and Salzman Mitchell (2005: passim, esp. 29 31 and 140 141 on the paradigmatic primus amor, as well as 16 17 and 139 149 on Philomela and Tereus).  This change of narrative perspective is corroborated by introducing the shift to Tereus sub jective vision with the term “ecce”, which, I argue, not only marks Philomela’s triumphal en trance into the scene (see Rosati (2013: 325 and 278), but also signals the “irruption” of Tereus’ vision into the narrative. As noted by Lewis (1894), the term introduces “(i)n a transition, em phatically (…) a new object or thought”.  The connotations of the word virgo can even be understood to provide a sort of moral coun terpoint to Tereus’ depraved character. A possible parallel can be drawn from Pygmalion’s ivory beloved’s designation as virgo (virginis, 10,250), a word that, as Reed (2013: 224) notes, stands “in contrasto con le donne lascive che Pigmalione respinge”.

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325) notes, the word virgine is surely meant to call to the reader’s mind the image of nymphs who have previously been victims of sexual violence. Therefore, whether by virtue of her likeness to an elegiac girl or her resemblance to nymphs previously coveted by infatuated gods, Philomela’s appearance forecasts her role as the victim of Tereus’ sexual eagerness. These elegiac resonances are further reinforced if we take into account a few additional echoes of Amores 1,5 in our passage. The siesta-poem describes a typically elegiac scene of “amatory struggle” (pugnabat… cum ita pugnaret … victa est…: 14– 16) in the context of the militia amoris motif. In specific contrast to the siesta-poem, Ovid distorts the elegiac metaphor by literalising the hostile and violent nature of the amator’s sexual experience. Instead of the playful love-struggles of the elegiac intertext, Tereus’ passion leads to Philomela’s rape and glossectomy, which, in turn, unleashes a sequence of atrocities including infanticide, cannibalism, as well as Procne’s, Philomela’s and Tereus’ transformation into three birds whose natures perpetuate their human hostility. The amplification of the militia amoris motif, which per se already alludes to the power imbalance of the relationship amator-puella, creates a grotesquely hyperbolic effect aimed at disclosing Tereus’ ―intra- and intertextually― transgressive nature. Tereus initially abides by the elegiac script, such that he, too ―like, for instance, the “eroticised” Achilles of Propertius’ poem 2,3,32 ff.―, is ready to wage war for the sake of love (impetus est illi… aut rapere et saevo raptam defendere bello: 461– 464). However, he ultimately takes up arms, in a literal sense (vagina liberat ensem: 551), not against an enemy, but against Philomela herself. The reinterpretation of the militia amoris-motif from his intra-narrative perspective allows him to justify the use of violence against Philomela and, ultimately, permits Ovid, from a metaliterary perspective, to reflect on the power relations and the hierarchical unevenness at the heart of the elegiac code of values. Another meaningful nexus with elegy is provided by the reference to the woods inhabited by the nymphs to whom Philomela is compared (quales audire solemus // naidas et dryadas mediis incedere silvis: 452– 453). This too alludes to the context of Amores 1,3. In fact, here Ovid resorts to an image of the woods as a simile to describe the dim light of the room in which the erotic encounter with Corinna takes place (lines 3 – 4): pars adaperta fuit, pars altera clausa fenestrae; quale fere silvae lumen habere solent

Yet, what in the Amores is merely an exemplum from nature, once again, is literalised in the Tereus-narrative: the sombrely illuminated woods become the real space where Tereus’ particular erotic encounter takes place:

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Iamque iter effectum, iamque in sua litora fessis puppibus exierant, cum rex Pandione natam in stabula alta trahit, silvis obscura vetustis, atque ibi pallentem trepidamque et cuncta timentem et iam cum lacrimis, ubi sit germana, rogantem includit

520

In so far as the landscape accompanies and reflects the events of the narrative, the intertextual comparison further strenghtens the gloomy vision of the woods where Tereus undertakes his barbarian act. Indeed, even the silvae, which in the siesta-poem are associated with a joyful crepuscular light that invites the lovers to commence their amatory amusements, have now transformed into a deeply dark place¹²⁵ ―a consideration that is emphasised particularly through the hypallage of the expression stabula alta silvis obscura vetustis (521). According to a pattern with clearly recognisable elegiac reminiscences Ovid purposefully moulds Tereus’ image, which grows all the more grotesque when it is juxtaposed with the brutality of his actions. Under this same premise, Tereus distortedly mirrors an image of elegiac love. Just as the elegiac Ego of Ovid’s Amores is not able to fall asleep because Amor has invaded his heart, so too does Tereus emulate this typically elegiac behaviour as he restlessly lies in bed, disturbed and kept awake by his passion. Compare: Amores ,, – 

Metamorphoses , – 

Esse quid hoc dicam, quod tam mihi dura videntur strata, neque in lecto pallia nostra sedent, et vacuus somno noctem, quam longa, peregi, lassaque versati corporis ossa dolent?

hinc placido dant turgida corpora somno. at rex Odrysius, quamvis secessit, in illa aestuat et repetens faciem motusque manusque qualia vult fingit quae nondum vidit et ignes ipse suos nutrit cura removente soporem

Elegy 1,2, the first love poem of the Amores, after the programmatic overture of 1,1, is, according to Fernández Contreras (2002: 32), “un solemne reconocimiento del poder inflexible del amor”. However, in sheer contrast to the Ovidian amator and generally in contrast to the amatory topos of insomnia as a symptom of love-

 The reference to the woods as an ominous setting is anticipated by the mention of nymphs (who are often depicted as victims of sexual violence) dwelling mediis … silvis in line 453, as Ro sati (2013: 325) notes. Moreover, as idem (333) observes, the sinister undertones of the stabula alta grow stronger in so far as they evoke Aeneas’ katabasis (Aen. 6,179: itur in antiquam silvam, stabula alta ferarum).

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sickness¹²⁶, the consequence of Tereus’ sleepless night is his resolution to perpetrate his horrible crime against Philomela. This fact further reinforces the image of Tereus as a generically perverse character. Indeed, while he imitates behaviour typical of the infatuated elegiac amator when he is in the grip of love-sorrow¹²⁷, he ultimately acts in a manner that is blatantly at odds with the values of the elegiac erotic fiction. In this frame, it is particularly remarkable that Tereus’ wakefulness not only alludes to the elegiac motif of the sleepless lover¹²⁸; it also echoes an epic code of values, since his insomnia results in taking hostile action against an enemy. Ovid, thus, hints at the motif of the vigilia in armis, whose origin goes back to Homer. As Fernández Contreras (2000: 12) notes: “la víspera de la entrada en acción el héroe se mantiene ἄυπνος”. Among the many Homeric passages where the hero decides to take up arms after the ruminations of a sleepless night¹²⁹, one of the most remarkable is Odyssey 20,1 ff. There Homer describes how Odysseus cannot fall asleep because thoughts on the injuries committed by Penelope’s suitors torment him. This restlessness occurs on the last night before the slaying of the suitors: ἔνθ᾽ Ὀδυσεὺς μνηστῆρσι κακὰ φρονέων ἐνὶ θυμῶι κεῖτ᾽ ἐγρηγορόων (…) … ἀτὰρ αὐτὸς ἑλίσσετο ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα. ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε γαστέρ᾽ ἀνὴρ πολέος πυρὸς αἰθομένοιο, ἐμπλείην κνίσης τε καὶ αἵματος, ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα αἰόλληι, μάλα δ᾽ ὦκα λιλαίεται ὀπτηθῆναι, ὣς ἄρ᾽ ὅ γ᾽ ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα ἑλίσσετο, μερμηρίζων ὅππως δὴ μνηστῆρσιν ἀναιδέσι χεῖρας ἐφήσει μοῦνος ἐὼν πολέσι.

(20,5 6)

(20,24 30)

There Odysseus, pondering in his heart evil for the wooers, lay sleepless (…). But he himself lay tossing this way and that. And as when a man before a great blazing fire turns swiftly this way and that a paunch full of fat and blood, and is very eager to have it roasted quickly, so Odysseus tossed from side to side, pondering how he might put forth his hands upon the shameless wooers, one man as he was against so many¹³⁰.

The distant echo of the Homeric intertext featuring the motif of insomnia preceding the hero’s ἀριστεία allows Ovid to amplify semantically the theme of the lov-

 See Fernández Contreras (2000) for a global overview of this literary motif from Homer to Augustan poetry.  In fact, as Fernández Contreras (2000: 28) notes, sleeplessness is a concomitant element of the elegiac paraclausithyron. See also McKeown (1989: 34) and Ziogas (2010: 154).  As Rosati (2013: 329) notes.  See Fernández Contreras (2000: 12 ff.).  Murray (1919: 275 277).

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er’s nocturnal anxiety having been struck by the arrows of love. The result is that the narrative sequence of events displaces Tereus not only in relation to the elegiac model, but also in relation to the epic pattern. He becomes a grotesque elegiac lover and a vile epic hero, for he takes hostile action against an “enemy” who is not only at clear hierarchical disadvantage, but whom he defeats using a dishonest strategy. Tereus’ elegiac posturing is, thus, unveiled as a metatextual manoeuvre for elucidating, through a collection of distortions and excesses, the intertextual and intratextual expectations inherent in assuming the active male role in an asymmetrical love-narrative. Yet, by revealing the hostility and violence of Tereus’ grotesque elegiac interpretation, Ovid ultimately emphasises that Tereus’ mistake consists, at a metatextual level, in an obsessively literal reading of his literary models. Alongside the intertextual play with subjective love-elegy, Ovid also evokes a number of elements that belong to the repertoire of motifs from his erotodidactic past, as Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 14 ff.)¹³¹ argue. Particularly, Tereus follows the advice of the Ars Amatoria on how to capere puellam and, thus, becomes an odd pupil of the magister amoris. From the moment that Tereus sees Philomela for the first time, he abides by the prescriptions of Ovid’s treatise. According to the magister’s counsel, a key element is gaining the favour of the mistress’ nursemaid, whose co-operation is fundamental to the success of the amator’s erotic intentions. Compare the passage of the Ars with Tereus’ stratagems: Ars , – 

Metamorphoses , – 

Sed prius ancillam captandae nosse puellae Cura sit: accessus molliet illa tuos. Proxima consiliis dominae sit ut illa, videto, Neve parum tacitis conscia fida iocis. Hanc tu pollicitis, hanc tu corrumpe rogando: Quod petis, ex facili, si volet illa, feres

impetus est illi comitum corrumpere curam nutricisque fidem nec non ingentibus ipsam sollicitare datis totumque inpendere regnum aut rapere et saevo raptam defendere bello; et nihil est, quod non effreno captus amore ausit, nec capiunt inclusas pectora flammas

Just as a proper elegiac lover ought to know how shedding tears will strengthen the dramatic and persuasive effect of his “performance” on the puella (et lacrimae prosunt: lacrimis adamanta movebis: // Fac madidas videat, si potes, illa genas: 1,659 – 660), so Tereus, too, addidit et lacrimas, tamquam mandasset et illas (6,471). Furthermore, in accordance with the magister’s erotic precepts that the lover should hide his intentions behind false pretexts (neve aliquis verbis odiosas offerat auris, // qua potes ambiguis callidus abde notis: 1,489 – 490), Tereus conceals his true ambitions under the pretext of satisfying Procne’s and Phil See also Hardie (2002: 267 ff.) and Rosati (2013: 327 328).

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omela’s sisterly will: ipso sceleris molimine Tereus // creditur esse pius laudemque a crimine sumit: 473 – 474. Even in the moment of departure from Athens, when Pandion entrusts his daughter to Tereus¹³², the Thracian king seems for his particular situation to adapt the magister’s recommendation to make false promises and deceive the puella if necessary: Nec timide promitte: trahunt promissa puellas; Pollicito testes quoslibet adde deos. Iuppiter ex alto periuria ridet amantum, Et iubet Aeolios inrita ferre notos. Per Styga Iunoni falsum iurare solebat Iuppiter; exemplo nunc favet ipse suo. Ludite, si sapitis, solas impune puellas

(Ars 1,631 636 and 643)

However, although he conforms quite faithfully to the praeceptor’s counsels, Tereus showcases a crucial feature distinguishing him from the would-be elegiac lover, namely, the fact that he is ready to pay any price to seduce his beloved. In contrast to the pupil of the Ars, who prefers verbal courtship to spending money (quaque aliquid dandum est, illa sit atra dies: Ars 1,418), Tereus omits any attempt at wooing and resorts instead to bribery ―a tactic that actually brings him closer to the dives amator, the elegiac lover’s antagonist. Certainly, as critics note¹³³, the Thracian king follows the script of Ovid’s erotodidactic treatise and, indeed, takes pains to prove himself eloquent when it comes to convincing Pandion to put his daughter in his charge: The elegiac apprentice’s facundia Conloquii iam tempus adest; fuge rustice longe Hinc pudor; audentem Forsque Venusque iuvat. Non tua sub nostras veniat facundia leges: Fac tantum cupias, sponte disertus eris. (Ars ,  – )

Tereus’ facundia

facundum faciebat amor (Met. , )

 ’hanc ego, (…) do tibi perque fidem cognataque pectora supplex, per superos oro, patrio ut tuearis amore et mihi sollicitae lenimen dulce senectae quam primum (omnis erit nobis mora longa) remittas; (…) utque fide pignus dextras utriusque poposcit  See, for instance, Rosati (2013: 327).

496

500 506

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Continued The elegiac apprentice’s facundia

Tereus’ facundia

Quam populus iudexque gravis lectusque senatus, Tam dabit eloquio victa puella manus (Ars ,  – )

Yet, Tereus’ verbal persuasion is exclusively aimed at Pandion. Once he has overcome this obstacle, Tereus no longer needs to play the role of a diligent elegiac apprentice. As soon as he leaves Athens and Philomela is, without any obstacle, at the mercy of his desire, he has no further need to perform the part of an elegiac lover. This does not mean that there are no more allusions to the elegiac genre. Still, Tereus’ “self-characterisation” as an elegiac lover is exclusively restricted to the phase where he pursues his mistress. Once this objective has been attained, he keeps his elegiac traits, although they become, as we will see, gradually more distorted. His brutal sexual attack on Philomela, which blatantly exposes the unevenness of the relationship, is the transgressive and hyperbolic corollary to his emulation of the intra- and intertextual elegiac models. To return once again to Tereus’ “courtship”, the Thracian’s modus operandi, i.e. bribery, intriguingly corresponds to the tactics used by some of the infatuated gods in the previous books, as we saw particularly with Mercury and Apollo. By virtue of their retrospective readings of elegy, they also aimed to appropriate the advantageous characteristics of the dives amator, who usually wins the puella in the end to the detriment of the pauper poeta. However, Tereus proves himself hyperbolically overt in his indiscriminate use of the resources of the wealthy lover. The gods resort to the advantages of performing the role of the dives amator in a subtle manner: Apollo refers to his divine lineage, whereas Mercury takes pains to make his luxurious clothing visible¹³⁴. Yet, in none of these cases does Ovid explicitly mention money or bribes. In contrast to these comparatively more restrained attitudes, Tereus is moved by an outburst (impetus: 461) to corrupt whomever Philomela trusts, or even to bribe Philomela herself, in order to attain his goal. Through this divergence from the most obvious inter- and intratextual models of the narrative, Ovid evinces that Tereus’ behaviour is essentially transgressive. At this point, it seems particularly appropriate to recall Gildenhard’s and Zissos’ (2007: 14– 17) argument that the main figure’s barbarous character not only infringes upon anthropological principles (since he rapes and mutilates her wife’s sister); it also induces a generic

 See 1,513 ff., in the case of Apollo; and 2, 733 734, in the case of Mercury.

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dissonance into the narrative, in so far as it generates a poetics of perversion, paradox and transgression. After Tereus arrives at the coast of Thrace with his prey, echoes of king’s depiction as an elegiac lover and as an imitator of the gods from the first pentad are still perceptible, even though they become increasingly deformed. Now he celebrates his erotic victory: Ut semel inposita est pictae Philomela carinae, admotumque fretum remis tellusque repulsa est, ’vicimus!’ exclamat, ’mecum mea vota feruntur!’ exsultatque et vix animo sua gaudia differt

(6, 511 514)

The motif of love-victory, which has elegiac roots¹³⁵, is also present in previous tales of divine love, as I showed apropos of Callisto’s rape and Jupiter’s subsequent return to the Olympus as a victor (2,437). The expression vix animo sua gaudia differt (6,514) offers another interesting parallel to the Daphne-pattern, arguably evoking the narrative of Jupiter and Europa¹³⁶, where the amator, disguised as a bull, demonstrates the same sexual impatience as Tereus: gaudet amans et, dum veniat sperata voluptas, // oscula dat manibus; vix iam, vix cetera differt (2,862– 3). This intraliterary echo is reinforced by the simile likening Tereus to a bird that has captured its prey: non aliter quam cum pedibus praedator obuncis deposuit nido leporem Iovis ales in alto; nulla fuga est capto, spectat sua praemia raptor

(6, 516 518)

Interestingly, the Thracian king does not resemble just any bird, but specifically the Iovis ales (517). Not only the explicit reference to Jupiter, but also the allusion to the god’s strategy of kidnapping his sexual prey (carrying it off through the air) creates an interesting congruity between Jupiter and Tereus. Moreover, labelling Tereus a praedator clearly echoes Met. 2,873, where Europa is depicted as Jupiter’s praeda (inde abit ulterius mediique per aequora ponti // fert praedam). But, despite the similarities, Ovid does not fully equate Tereus with the lovers of the Daphne-pattern; instead, he highlights discrepancies even more than resemblances. As Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 16) observe, Tereus’ appropriation of the elegiac militia amoris motif in celebration of his victory distorts the role of

 See Bömer (1976b: 142) and Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 15). For a detailed examination of this elegiac motif, see Murgatroyd (1975: 59 ff.).  Rosati (2013: 332) also notes this parallelism.

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the lover as a soldier and far exceeds the limits of the elegiac genre. This ultimately underscores the king’s transgressive violence. Tereus, a descendant of Mars, (genus a magno ducentem forte Gradivo: 427)¹³⁷, “‘concretizes’ the metaphoric discourse of militia amoris, reducing the subtle gender dialectic of love poetry to simplistic (epic) brutality”¹³⁸. Tereus is grotesque because he is a hyper-real interpreter of the elegiac genre, as we can infer from the comparison between his violent sexual attitude and, in particular, the intertext of Amores 1,5. We have seen that Tereus uses the amatory struggle between the lover and his puella divina as a pretext for legitimising, from his narrative perspective, his particular militia amoris. Moreover, if we consider, as Pavlock (1991: 47) notes¹³⁹, that the simile of the hare and the eagle (6,516 – 517) goes back to the Iliad 22,306 – 311 ―a passage inscribed within the final combat between Achilles and Hector― we recognise Tereus appropriating a martial code of values for his erotic purposes and thereby transforming the puella implicitly into an enemy to be overcome. But the episode offers still more “generic perversions”, as Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 16) call them. In a further sui generis emulation of the elegiac savoir faire taught by the Ars Amatoria, Tereus, while cutting out Philomela’s tongue, grotesquely re-interprets the behaviour of the elegiac lover having sex with his mistress. In Ars Amatoria 2,719 – 724 we read how the lover ought to act during the preliminaries of sexual intercourse: Cum loca reppereris, quae tangi femina gaudet, Non obstet, tangas quo minus illa, pudor. Aspicies oculos tremulo fulgore micantes, Ut sol a liquida saepe refulget aqua. Accedent questus, accedet amabile murmur, Et dulces gemitus aptaque verba ioco.

720

 Interestingly, Ovid subtly uses the periphrasis ducentem genus, I argue, to question Tereus’ divine ascendency. In fact, it is Tereus, not the narrator, who names Mars as the supposed an cestor of his family. On the one hand, Ovid employs this familiar association to form a slight thematic link with the gods of the previous books. But, on the other hand, the poet’s periphras tic expression simultaneously distances Tereus from the sphere of the gods. This subtle “author ial discrediting” applied to Tereus grows stronger a few lines later, when Ovid explicitly under lines the absence of the gods in the marriage of Tereus and Procne and during the conception of their son, as Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 6 and 12 13), Otis (1966: 209), and Marder (1992: 157) observe.  Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 16).  See also Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 16).

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Moans, tender murmurs and sweet sighs belong to the vocabulary of erotic play. Moreover, in 3,795 – 796 the magister advises women not to refrain from these same joyful murmurings and tender words: Nec blandae voces iucundaque murmura cessent, Nec taceant mediis improba verba iocis

Tereus seems to follow the modus operandi prescribed for the elegiac lover ―with the crucial difference that he applies it as he performs a horrendous glossectomy: Talibus ira feri postquam commota tyranni nec minor hac metus est, causa stimulatus utraque, quo fuit accinctus, vagina liberat ensem arreptamque coma fixis post terga lacertis vincla pati cogit; iugulum Philomela parabat spemque suae mortis viso conceperat ense: ille indignantem et nomen patris usque vocantem luctantemque loqui conprensam forcipe linguam abstulit ense fero. radix micat ultima linguae, ipsa iacet terraeque tremens inmurmurat atrae, utque salire solet mutilatae cauda colubrae, palpitat et moriens dominae vestigia quaerit.

550

555

560

First, the expression “quo fuit accinctus, vagina liberat ensem” (551) has unmistakable sexual connotations. The use of weapons as a metaphor for male sexuality is a common trope in previous love poetry¹⁴⁰. Ovid, thereby, evokes the “pseudo-erotic” background of Tereus’ performance and reinforces the king’s “intertextually per-

 See, e.g., Am. 2,2,64, or 1,9,25; Ars 1, 694 and 700; 2,741 and 743. Cf. Maltby (2006: 160), Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 160), Veyne (1983: 58, n.3) and González Iglesias (2004: 182, n. 8). The episode of Tereus offers another instance of this same trope. In 6,673 Ovid refers to Ter eus’ inmodicum rostrum after his transformation into a hoopoe. We can read this reference as a sexual innuendo, in so far as his crests recall his prominent sexuality. As is the case in other transformations in the poem, the metamorphosis is a figurative extension and a reminder of the transmogrified character’s nature. Thus, the hoopoe’s inmodicum rostrum evokes Tereus’ weapons before his transformation and, specifically, his prominent and unrestrained (inmodi cum) sexual behaviour. Another reference that admits a reading as a sexual metaphor is the ex pression sequitur nudo ferro (line 666). Apart from these examples from the episode of Tereus, the most evident parallel is 10, 473 75, in the episode of Myrrha and Cinyras: inlato lumine vidit // et scelus et natam verbisque dolore retentis // pendenti nitidum vagina deripit ensem. The image of Cinyras pursuing his daughter with his unsheathed sword clearly echoes Tereus chasing Procne and Philomela in the last mo ments before their transformation into birds.

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verse” use of his erotic models. Tereus not only appropriates the sexual metaphor, but he also literalises the allusion to his sword, since it is the instrument with which he mutilates Philomela. Additionally, regarding the joyful scenes of mutual pleasure in the Ars Amatoria, Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 16) neatly note that “the grotesque image of the dislocated tongue, twitching helplessly on the ground and murmuring into the black earth (terraeque tremens immurmurat atrae) […] emerges as a perverse substitute for the erotic ideal”. Certainly, phono-stylistic concerns support the lexical choice of the word immurmurat ¹⁴¹. Moreover, the image of a severed limb trembling on the ground (Philomela’s tongue, or Orpheus’ head, in Met. 11,52– 53) “è notoriamente di origine epica”, as Rosati (2013: 336) notes. Thus, the term alone would not suffice as an intertextual allusion to the Ars. However, as Gildenhard and Zissos convincingly argue, the whole web of textual resonances from Ovid’s erotodidactic treatise intimates that Tereus’ transgressive behaviour should evoke comparisons to the elegiac counsels of the Ars specifically¹⁴². As we can see, the Thracian king not only “emulates” Ovid’s teachings on how to capere puellam ―by extension, he also reinterprets the advice on how to be a “good lover” once he has “gained” Philomela. An additional intertextual echo not mentioned by Gildenhard and Zissos (2007) supports this point further. In Ars 2,465 – 466 the magister advises the amator that, if the beloved is angry, he should make peace with her, so that after the hostilities sexual desire grows stronger: Cum bene saevierit, cum certa videbitur hostis, Tum pete concubitus foedera, mitis erit. Illic depositis habitat Concordia telis: Illo, crede mihi, Gratia nata loco est. Quae modo pugnarunt, iungunt sua rostra columbae, Quarum blanditias verbaque murmur habet

465

To support his arguments, Ovid uses the tender cooing of doves as an exemplum in a simile that presents an interesting hypallage between the human and the animal: in fact, the expression blanditias verbaque cannot be literally applied to the doves, whereas murmur is the pivotal term, in so far as it is valid for

 On the onomatopoetic nature of this term, see Rosati (2013: 336).  The whole web of allusions to elegiac intertexts and , specifically, the pattern of references to the Ars, whose erotodidaxis Tereus distortedly interprets, form an example of what Conte (2014) considers an empirically verifiable allusiveness. Contextual markers that make the reader aware of deliberate imitation (here, e. g., Tereus’ repeated emulation of the elegiac know how from the Ars) signal the importance of this allusiveness.

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both the doves’ cooing and the soft whisperings of the lovers. In any case, Ovid intertextually plays with the passage of the Ars, such that Philomela, previously identified with a dove in the simile of lines 529 – 530¹⁴³, sinisterly retains this avian identity ―here, however, through the oblique reference to the murmur of lovers. The narration of Philomela’s rape gloomily recalls these genuinely erotic passages¹⁴⁴. The intertextual reference is distorted, since the sweet murmurs of the lovers, which are likened to the cooing of doves, transform grotesquely into the hissing of Philomela’s severed tongue. Her only resemblance to a dove is her status as the victim of a predator. We should, moreover, note that Ovid alludes to erotic murmurs in the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe (which we will discuss in the next chapter): the first tale of human mutual love. Here, the lovers’ whisperings (murmure blanditiae minimo transire solebant: 4,70) are not only a metaphorical allusion to their mutual affection ―moreover, their physical separation entails that shared murmura are the culmination of a gradual progression of “erotic signifiers” that began with nods and gestures (4,63)¹⁴⁵. The black humour¹⁴⁶ resulting from the intertextual comparison of these passages (particularly the Ars-passage) is stressed even further if consider the reference in the Ars (line 464) to Gratia, the divine personification of mutual sympathy and of the favours that the lovers grant each other¹⁴⁷. Given the explicit absence of Gratia from Tereus’ and Procne’s wedding night (non Hymenaeus adest, non illi Gratia lecto: 6, 429), casting Tereus and Philomela via intertext against an elegiac love-scene where Gratia is explicitly present achieves a tour de force of irony. Omnia turbasti (537): Procne’s accusation against Tereus becomes, as Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 14) note, not only a reproach of the king’s ethical perversion. It also exposes Tereus challenging the essentialism and immutability of the concept of literary genre. One could say that Tereus, by laying bare elegy’s semantic core of violence and hierarchical imbalance, is a reader who resorts to a hermeneutics of deformation. He has no respect for anything: not the authority of his intraliterary models, nor the authority of his intertextual paradigms. Self-

 utque columba suo madefactis sanguine plumis // horret adhuc avidosque timet, quibus hae serat, ungues.  Moreover, Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 16), drawing on Pavlock (1991: 40), do not omit the detail that the terms dominae and vestigia (line 560) reinforce the links between the glossecto my passage and elegiac discourse.  See Jouteur (2001: 105) on these features belonging to the code of erotic poetry.  On black humour as the distinctive mark of the episode, see Peek (2003: 32 34).  See González Iglesias (2004: 468).

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reflexively, Ovid uses Tereus to question the contingency of meaning within a literary work and to contemplate the constant threat of semantic distortion at the hands of a transgressive reader. Tereus both evinces a poetics of deformation as the literary key of the episode and affirms that the principle of metamorphosis pervades all aesthetic layers of the poem. To return to the question that opened the discussion of this episode, we now have a plausible explanation why Ovid chose to characterise Tereus as an elegiac amator ―who is both similar and dissimilar to the infatuated gods of the first pentad: by exposing the conceptual connection between elegy and violence, the story of Tereus alludes, with an unprecedented transparency, to the pivotal role power asymmetry plays in Latin love elegy. The amator’s abusive power relationship with his puella is, thus, a crucial feature of this episode. The story’s ethical dimension, where the vast majority of critics have focused their efforts, in fact, is tied subordinately to a metaliterary issue. Although Tereus emulates a god’s sexual pattern of action, Ovid alienates him from his intraliterary models; Tereus silences his puella by cutting out her tongue ―an act that transgresses any previous attempt by the amatores of the Daphne-pattern to impose silence. In the cases of Io, Callisto and Daphne, silencing is accomplished through their metamorphoses. This manner of depriving the victim of her speech is not comparable to Tereus’ brutal aggression against Philomela’s ability to communicate. Together with the glossectomy, Tereus’s anxious and distorted attempt to model himself on a mirror-image of the elegiac lover reflects his aim to reach the height of the gods. His actions bespeak an obsession with being “the most elegiac” of all the poem’s amatores; yet, the results, as we have seen, are a grotesque perversion. The difference between Tereus and the other Daphne-pattern lovers lies, in sum, in their different relations to power. Whereas Apollo has no obstacle to exerting his power over Daphne, Tereus distortedly imitates the gods’ erotic stance, performing, therefore, a hyper-elegiac role. He exaggerates attitudes that, by themselves, already reproduce in hyperbole the hierarchical imbalance between elegiac lovers. Thus, the ethical rationale of the narrative is inextricably intertwined with poetology. One can admit that the ethics in the Metamorphoses is tied to the theme of moderatio; however, against the traditional interpretation of criticism¹⁴⁸, Tereus’ unbounded (cf. inmodicum ¹⁴⁹) nature is not (or, at least,

 See particularly Otis (1966: 209 216), Jacobsen (1984/85) or Spahlinger (1996: 331).  Cf. his inmodicum rostrum [6,673] after the metamorphosis.

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not only) a moral assessment. Beyond the image of an Ovide moralisé ¹⁵⁰, the ethics that emerges from contrasting the Tereus-episode with other episodes in the Daphne-pattern is intricately tied to the concept of modus ¹⁵¹, in so far as we accept it as the intra- and intertextual decorum violated by the immoderate Tereus. We can say that he exceeds both ethical and aesthetic boundaries because his cosmological transgression (brutality that surpasses the violence of the gods themselves) derives from an excessively scrupulous ―and, therefore, inadequate― reading of his literary models. Ovid, thus, launches an open metaliterary reflection on the relation between elegy and power. However, Tereus’ exposure of the literary arcana does not remain unpunished: by eating the flesh of his own child, he suffers a figurative rape and becomes the victim of a transgression like his own¹⁵². With this “retaliation” Ovid guarantees not only an ethical equilibrium, but also the semantic stability of his work.

Byblis and Caunus Having analysed some of the most prominent episodes of sexual violence, I conclude this chapter by examining two additional episodes that offer more complete and nuanced insight into the concept of power and its relation to the elegiac genre. The first of these episodes is the narrative of Byblis’ fateful love for her brother Caunus. The second is the story of Pygmalion, the artist who falls in love with a statue of his creation and happily manages to bring her to life. In both cases, critics have duly examined the most important elegiac echoes. Thus, my main aim will be to set the conclusions of these studies within the intraliterary frame of the previous sexually violent episodes while considering the pivotal role played by power relations in reading. The inclusion of these two episodes within this chapter may seem, a priori, surprising, since neither Byblis’ nor Pygmalion’s erotic experience can be considered sexually violent. The plot of Byblis’ story follows the thematic guidelines of other episodes concerned with illicit sexual desire and, thus, finds broad precedent in Myrrha’s (10,298 ff.) or Scylla’s (8,6 ff.) abnormal passion. In turn, the story of Pygmalion represents, in a way, a counterpoint to the tales of sacrilegious love, since the

 See Spahlinger (1996: 331), on the Metamorphoses as an epos of passions and the similarity of this interpretation to the medieval Ovide moralisé. For a critical revision of this moralised in terpretation of Ovidian poetics, see Holzberg (1998: 314).  The term can be understood as “measure”, but also, from a metaliterary perspective, as “poetic pattern”. See Feldherr (2010: 46).  See Gildenhard and Zissos (2007: 18).

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metamorphosis of his ivory beloved into a “flesh-and-blood” woman is a gift granted by the gods as a reward for his piety. Certainly, the bond with the Daphne-pattern episodes or with the transgressive version (Tereus) is not yet thematically evident. However, the pervading presence of elegiac elements should remind us that formal and thematic traits are entwined. Although we are not dealing with episodes of sexual violence, a contextualised analysis reveals, in both cases, reflection on the hierarchical dynamics of elegy, which not only illustrates key-themes in the Daphne-pattern episodes, but also offers intertextual arguments on the relationship between the elegiac amator and his puella. The episode of Byblis is located within the narrative frame of Book 9 of the Metamorphoses. Far from the thematic core of the stories about divine love in the first pentad, the narrative belongs to the section of the poem whose Leitmotiv, according to Otis (1966: 166 ff.), is the theme of amatory pathos. Criticism has tended to follow two alternative interpretative lines: some critics focus on the episode’s thematic aspects, particularly in an ethical dimension¹⁵³, whereas others concentrate on the episode’s stylistic traits¹⁵⁴. Yet, as Raval (2001) demonstrates, this distinction between form and content artificially splits an exegetical problem that should be treated as a unity. Raval contends that Byblis is a transgressive character because her erotic attitude questions the cultural construct of elegiac love, in which, despite the lover’s “feminising pose”, the puella is always a ―sexually and artistically― passive object¹⁵⁵. By assuming the role of the active loving subject, Byblis subverts the hierarchical model of elegy. But, as we shall see, her transgressive attempt fails. As I argued in the introductory pages of this book, my focus is not gender per se; instead, my approach aligns more with a post-feminist paradigm, in so far as this advocates “a more general reflection on the discursive use of power where gender represents one of a plurality of possible sites of negotiation and contestation”, as Fear (2000a: 154) puts it. Nevertheless, Raval’s (2001) approach remains highly interesting for my aims. Even though the author begins from the premise that the erotic experience in elegy hinges primarily on sexual hierarchy, her reading of the Byblis episode as a metaliterary reflection on the power play between the elegiac amator and the puella is enlightening. Raval’s ultimate argument is that the protagonist is characterised by a frustration that results from her

 Otis (1966: 205 ff. and 217 ff.), Nagle (1982 83: 301 315) or Erbse (2003: 329 330) are some illustrative instances.  See particularly Tränkle (1963: 460 465).  Thus, Raval (2001: 290), drawing on Wyke (1994: 119 (= Wyke, 2002: 155 191)), argues that “the genre is more concerned with exploring male servitude than female sexual mastery”.

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being both a woman and the active element in the love-relationship; the combination of these two contradictory facts makes her desire impossible to satiate. The boundary that Byblis dreams of transgressing is not so much that she loves her brother; rather she fantasises about breaking the boundaries of her gender role, for she recognises that this boundary implies a radically different relation to power. For this reason, she adopts a masculine role that transforms her into a pseudo-amator. Yet, the futility of her insistence on becoming what she is not, in the end, provokes her eventual metamorphosis as a natural reflection of her erotic frustration¹⁵⁶. Among the studies that examine the elegiac models of this episode¹⁵⁷, Raval (2001) carefully analyses the different elegiac intertexts that Byblis “reads” and emulates in her desperate attempt to become a successful “amatrix”. In what follows, I will summarise Raval’s main arguments for Byblis’ “appropriation” of the elegiac modus operandi as a pattern of behaviour. First, the monologue where she recognises her feelings recalls a typical elegiac monologue, as we can see, for instance, in Amores 1,2. For Byblis, just like the elegiac Ego of Amores 1,2, it is her “erotic symptomatology” (physically and psychologically manifest) that lets her understand that she is in love (Raval, 2001: 287). The protagonist, not knowing why she is experiencing these feelings, can only identify the origin of her passion in her dreams: Spes tamen obscenas animo demittere non est ausa suo vigilans; placida resoluta quiete saepe videt quod amat: visa est quoque iungere fratri corpus et erubuit, quamvis sopita iacebat.

470

This attitude draws on the tribulations of the elegiac speaker of Amores 1,2, who recognises his infatuation through the symptoms he suffers: nam, puto, sentirem, siquo temptarer amore. an subit et tecta callidus arte nocet? sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae, et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor

5

 Otis (1966: 217 8, and 415) argues that the representation of Byblis’ metamorphosis as a direct consequence of her sexual frustration is a genuinely Ovidian feature. Ovid altered the sui cide version of his sources and replaced it with Byblis’ spontaneous transformation as a physical consequence of her psychological state. For alternative explanations of Byblis’ metamorphosis, see Erbse (2003: 339) and Salzman Mitchell (2005: 113 115).  Alongside Raval (2001), see Janan (1991), Holzberg (2007: 82 83), Tränkle (1963: 460 465) and Jouteur (2001: 114 123), who particularly insists on the echoes of the Heroides.

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Byblis’ characterisation clearly echoes the typical elegiac amator. For instance, when she laments, in 9,485 – 86, that her nighttime dreams of her brother have come to an end (ut meminisse iuvat! quamvis brevis illa voluptas // noxque fuit praeceps et coeptis invida nostris), her stance recalls the elegiac topos of the lover lamenting the brevity of the night, as Ovid depicts it in Amores 1,13¹⁵⁸ (Raval, 2001: 288). Byblis makes a slanted reading of the elegiac models to adapt them to her particular situation and even manipulates the use of language to that end. Thus, she calls Caunus her dominum (466), instead of her fratrem ¹⁵⁹, adopting, implicitly, the role of the amator (Raval, 2001: 292– 295). Byblis claims the role of the amator even further by writing a letter to her beloved. Flouting the elegiac convention where men are always the active writers while women passively receive letters¹⁶⁰, she follows the counsel of the magister in Ars 1,455 – 458: Ergo eat et blandis peraretur littera verbis, Exploretque animos, primaque temptet iter. Littera Cydippen pomo perlata fefellit, Insciaque est verbis capta puella suis.

455

Moreover, even the disdain of her brother, after he reads her letter and learns of her feelings for him, does not make her desist from her purpose. In fact, following the advice of the praeceptor in the Ars ¹⁶¹, she persists with reinforced vehemence: vincetur! repetendus erit, nec taedia coepti // ulla mei capiam, dum spiritus iste manebit (9,616 – 7). Byblis internalises the elegiac discourse to such an extent that Caunus appears before her eyes as a depersonalised entity, as the ob-

 ’Quo properas, Aurora? Mane! 1 (…) nunc iuvat in teneris dominae iacuisse lacertis; 5 si quando, lateri nunc bene iuncta meo est. (…) quo properas, ingrata viris, ingrata puellis? roscida purpurea supprime lora manu! 10  Similarly, she designates herself as her own father’s daughter in law (nurus), and Caunus as his son in law (gener) (9,487 88).  As Raval (2001: 295 298 and 302) argues, Byblis’ attitude is characteristically masculine, be cause, in contrast to the female “writers” of the Heroides, she uses writing as a means of persuasion in order to win her object of desire, whereas the women as writers in the epistles of the Heroides never aim to initiate a possible relationship with a letter, but they respond to an already established erotic situation. Only Phaedra in Heroides does not fit this pattern, as Kenney (2011: 452) notes. On the other hand, Ovid simultaneously plays with the allusiveness of the name Byblis itself, which is etymologically related to βύβλος the receptacle of writing par excellence. Thus, Ovid contrasts the allusive meaning of her name with her being an active writer. For the etymological play on Byblis / βύβλος, see also Janan (1991: 240 and 253) and Kenney (2011: 451).  See Ars 1,269 74; 343; 469 78; 485 86. See Raval (2001: 304) and Janan (1991: 247).

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ject of her desire. Yet, as Holzberg (2007: 82– 83), notes, her attempts are bound to fail, since the typical outcome of elegiac love is frustration due to the beloved’s harshness. Holzberg also observes that Byblis’ final monologue, where she laments her plan’s failure, has clear elegiac undertones, evoking Amores 1,12¹⁶². In fact, in this poem the elegiac Ego laments the inefficacy of his writing tablets, which have proved powerless to woo his mistress. The speaker blames the maid Nape for stubbing her toe on the threshold when she was about to leave ―a definitively bad omen: Flete meos casus tristes rediere tabellae infelix hodie littera posse negat. omina sunt aliquid; modo cum discedere vellet, ad limen digitos restitit icta Nape.

(1 4)

Faithfully following the script of the Amores, Byblis, too, is convinced that Caunus’ negative response precipitates from her servant’s ominous ineptitude in accidentally dropping the tablets: deque suis unum famulis pudibunda vocavit, et pavidum blandita ’fer has, fidissime, nostro’ dixit, et adiecit longo post tempore ’fratri.’ cum daret, elapsae manibus cecidere tabellae. omine turbata est, misit tamen

570

In short, Byblis laments that her writing tablets are as ineffective as the tablets of the elegiac speaker in Amores 1,12. This is the reason why she is convinced that her servant’s clumsiness causes her plan to fail. As I have noted above, Holzberg (2007) contends that Byblis’ monologue lamenting the tablets’ inefficacy should be read against the background of Amores 1,12. But, I would push the association Holzberg draws even further. I suggest that Ovid is playing with his readership’s literary expectations by allusively proposing that Byblis’ literary memory “has let her down” and that she has, consequently, engaged with the “wrong” subtext. A good connoisseur of elegy surely would have avoided alluding to a text in which the poet curses the inefficacy of his tablet. The bad omen of dropping the tablets is not only superstition; it is essentially an “intertextual premonition”, since it makes Byblis immediately fear that she may be as unsuccessful as the amator of Amores 1,12. Thus, her poor decision to send the tablets is a lapsus calami provoked by her mistaken choice of literary model. It would have been more useful,

 See also Kenney (2011: 459) on this intertextual echo.

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as she herself recognises a posteriori¹⁶³, to follow the advice of Ars (1,659 – 664), where the praeceptor recommends tears and smooth words as the best way to move the beloved: Et lacrimae prosunt: lacrimis adamanta movebis: Fac madidas videat, si potes, illa genas. Si lacrimae (neque enim veniunt in tempore semper) Deficient, uda lumina tange manu. Quis sapiens blandis non misceat oscula verbis?

660

Nor does Byblis take into account another elegy where the writing tablets succeed even without the sender’s signature, for the lover/poet’s words alone have the ability to make anyone reading them fall in love. I refer to Propertius 3,23, the “hidden” subtext that does not fit into Byblis’ profuse missive. Her ineffective verbal exuberance has left her no room for further arguments that may have helped her: Talia nequiquam perarantem plena reliquit cera manum, summusque in margine versus adhaesit

(9,564 565)

The wax of the tablet does not allow any more space for what Byblis would have liked to write. Her trite arguments, as Ovid subtly describes them, produce a fruitless discourse. Byblis’ epistle reiterates, or, in other words, ploughs repeatedly (perarantem) through strategies already demonstrated to be unsuccessful in previous texts, particularly if we recall the result of Amores 1,12, a major source for Byblis’ monologue. Ovid deliberately chooses the word perarantem as an iterative term for the act of arare, which, in this context, evokes the ploughing of a “literary furrow”¹⁶⁴ undertaken by other texts prior to Byblis’ letter¹⁶⁵. She fol-

 (…) nec me committere cerae debueram, praesensque meos aperire furores. vidisset lacrimas, vultum vidisset amantis. (9,601 603)  According to Gale (1990: 173) [OLD], the simple term, arare, without prefix, also designates the act of writing on a wax tablet. Thus a Latin speaker would surely have recognised the inten sifying/iterative nuance of per arare, even if its use was a common manner to describe simply writing on a tablet. Ovid himself uses the term perarare in Amores 1,11, the first of the two poems dedicated to the unsuccessful wax tablets. There he gives his servant the tablet with the message he has written (peraratas tabellas: Am. 1,11,7). Thus, Byblis’ act of perarare is al ready an (intertextually) reiterative act.  Janan (1991) reflects on the Byblis episode as an expression of the poet’s conflict with lit erary tradition, and his subsequent need to create a text that combines difference and repetition. In Byblis’ case, her distinction is her inability to avoid repetition.

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lows, thus, the track of a pre-established pattern leaving her no space to plough new and potentially more fruitful furrows. Propertius’ poem 3,23 would have helped her: Ergo tam doctae nobis periere tabellae, scripta quibus pariter tot periere bona! has quondam nostris manibus detriverat usus, qui non signatas iussit habere fidem. illae iam sine me norant placare puellas, et quaedam sine me verba diserta loqui. (…) semper et effectus promeruere bonos.

1

5 10

Given that the background of elegiac poetry was well known to Ovid’s readership, one can argue that this Propertian elegy is a “failed subtext”, or in other words, a literary model whose latent presence Ovid intentionally evokes with the subject of Byblis’ writing tablets. Yet, precisely because it is a “failed” subtext, it does not function as a usual subtext; therefore, whereas the external reader (Ovid’s audience/readership) recognises its membership in the group of texts hovering in the passage’s literary background, Byblis herself, the “internal reader”, is not aware of its presence, since it does not belong to her reading experience. Thus, she cannot “learn” anything from it. Although Byblis tries to amend her intertextual mistake by dismissing all epistolary courtship as ineffective¹⁶⁶, the external reader recalls that not all wax tablets are useless; if she had “remembered” the text where writing tablets are described as infallible, she would have had a more suitable intertextual foundation ―or, at least, more conviction. Moreover, it is possible to see a witty play with the meta-narrative situation of the absent tablets in the Propertian elegy. The miraculous writing tablets lost by Propertius have not yet been found. Ovid humorously alludes to the Propertian elegy and, I propose, wittily suggests the loss of the tablets as the reason why Byblis does not find a valid intertextual argument that may help her woo Caunus. The tablets are simply missing. Thus, Byblis, whose name is, paradoxically, associated with the act of writing, does not follow Propertius’ dictum: al quid, quae celanda fuerunt, tam cito commisi properatis verba tabellis? ante erat ambiguis animi sententia dictis praetemptanda mihi. (9,586 589) (…) et tamen ipsa loqui, nec me committere cerae debueram, praesensque meos aperire furores. vidisset lacrimas, vultum vidisset amantis; plura loqui poteram, quam quae cepere tabellae. (9,601 604)

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though she displays a certain degree of eloquence, she is not able to write verba diserta (Prop. 3,23,6) that may placate her beloved. Ovid manages to give a voice to a subtext in absentia, only availing it to a perceptive reader with sufficient intertextual memory ―but not to Byblis, an encyclopedic compiler of elegiac texts whose error consists in exceeding the margins of narrative decorum (as Ovid hints at in lines 564– 565) and in hesitating in her arguments: incipit et dubitat, scribit damnatque tabellas, et notat et delet, mutat culpatque probatque inque vicem sumptas ponit positasque resumit. quid velit ignorat; quicquid factura videtur, displicet.

525

Byblis cannot create a convincing text because she does not even know what she wants (quid velit ignorat: 526). She contravenes, thus, the Catonian motto rem tene, verba sequentur. As Raval (2001)¹⁶⁷ rightly argues, Ovid demonstrates that, for Byblis, love is a discursive phenomenon construed upon the textual model of previous erotic experiences, which, in turn, are discursive constructs as well. The passage implies that Byblis’ courtship strategy fails, in fact, because she hesitates (and subsequently errs) in choosing her textual model. Thus in this metaliterary reflection, Ovid exposes the artificiality of all erotic discourse ―including, obviously, elegiac discourse itself and the erotic discourse of the “elegiac characters” in the Metamorphoses. Ovid’s intertextual play with the conventions of erotic poetry gains further support if we also consider an echo of Catullus, which underscores Byblis’ transgressive identification with the amator. After expounding to her brother ―to avoid an accusation of careless concupiscence― that she has struggled in vain to escape her passion and has not lightheartedly yielded to Cupid’s weapons¹⁶⁸,

 As Raval contends, Ovid creates a character that, avant la lettre, is in line with Roland Barthes’ (1977) reflection that every amatory discourse is a repository for cultural conventions.  Interestingly, Byblis refers repeatedly to Cupid’s arrows or, in general, to love as an external force that has overwhelmed her (9,540 544 and 515). This fact corroborates her intent to assume the erotic role of the amator and, at the same time, permits her to identify, at an intraliterary level, with the love pattern initiated by Apollo in his primus amor. Byblis, as a reader of the Met amorphoses, is well aware of the consequences of Amor as the originator of love. This is even more evident if we take into account that, as the alternative versions of the myths inform us, Ovid deliberately eliminated external elements as the cause of love in the episodes of Medea, Scylla and, later on, Myrrha (see Anderson, 1972: 524; and Nagle, 1982 83: 315, n. 35). Thus, By blis distances herself from these transgressive characters and prefers identifying, rather, with characters who can satisfy their erotic desires with impunity.

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Byblis exhorts Caunus both to enjoy his youth and the pleasures of Venus and to let old men censure them and make legal disquisitions about their love: iura senes norint, et quid liceatque nefasque fasque sit, inquirant, legumque examina servent. conveniens Venus est annis temeraria nostris. quid liceat, nescimus adhuc (…)

(9,551 554)

Byblis unmistakably draws on the lover’s example in Catullus’ poem 5, where he also incites Lesbia to enjoy love disregarding the rumours of stern old men¹⁶⁹: Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus, rumoresque senum seueriorum omnes unius aestimemus assis!

(5,1 3)

Byblis indirectly assuming the role of the Catullan amator confirms Raval’s (2001) argument that the figure’s transgression consists in systematically appropriating the behaviours of the active male lovers of erotic poetry. With respect to the hierarchical dynamics, this implies that Byblis tries to situate herself on the side of power. As we see, Byblis displays a meticulous knowledge of love poetry; not for nothing, her name etymologically puns on βίβλος/βύβλος, the book, the product par excellence of literary creativity. However, an exclusively intertextual analysis of her failed elegiac posturing does not explain the episode’s function within the erotic world of the Metamorphoses. Taking Raval’s arguments one step further, I argue that Byblis not only “reads” the conventions of elegy intertextually; she is also an internal reader of the Metamorphoses. Comparison with the Daphne-pattern episodes reveals Byblis trying to emulate the pattern of “vertical love”. Her (intended) transformation into an elegiac amator is not merely a formal concession to elegiac discourse, nor is it an abstract metaliterary reflection. It is also a literary maneuver that contributes to the narrative coherence of the Metamorphoses. Given that the infatuated gods whose love-stories belong to Byblis’ “textual corpus” also disguised themselves as elegiac lovers and subsequently achieved their objectives with impunity, she expects to follow the same path. As an encyclopedic anthologist of tales (herself a βίβλος) she aspires to emulate the characters from her readings and to employ the same tactics as

 This thought crystallised as an erotic topos in Augustan poetry, as we see, e. g., in Tibullus 1,1,69 70; Propertius 2,15,23 24 (cf. Catullus 5, 5 6) and 2,30,13 ff.; and Ovid, Am. 2,9,42. See Kenney (2011: 456), Maltby (2006: 165) and Syndikus (2006: 307) on this issue.

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the gods, whose ultimate aim is to subdue the beloved. For this reason, Byblis also utters her desire literally to defeat Caunus: vincetur! repetendus erit, nec taedia coepti ulla mei capiam, dum spiritus iste manebit. nam primum, si facta mihi revocare liceret, non coepisse fuit: coepta expugnare secundum est

(9,614 619)

Just like the lovers of the Daphne-pattern, Byblis resorts to the discourse of militia amoris. However, in contrast to them, Byblis, consequential to her hierarchical limitations, is not able to literalise the metaphor of love as war and thereby subjugate her beloved. Certainly, as Raval (2001) argues, she is a frustrated elegiac lover; yet, the main reason for her frustration is not so much the fact that her wooing-text is unsuccessful. Byblis’ failure is evident not only because she cannot achieve her erotic objective, but also because her doomed attempt to assume an amatory pattern that is unattainable (due to her status) ultimately leads to her metamorphosis into a fountain, virtually annihilating her existence. Byblis’ frustration results from her feeling of powerlessness, which, in turn, stems from her awareness of an inviolable boundary that she cannot cross. Apollo himself, in the primus amor, fails to satisfy his erotic desire; yet, this fact does not endanger his identity, nor does the failure of his ambitions even cause suffering. Moreover, the reason why his desires are thwarted is the cosmic necessity of Cupid’s intervention ―not Daphne’s unwillingness. In contrast, Byblis is an amator of the Daphne-pattern who is not able to be victorious in an amatory struggle where the beloved’s reluctance is the only force to be overcome. Regardless whether the cause of this hierarchical limitation is her status as a woman (as Raval [2001] argues), the whole passage tellingly articulates the relation between elegiac traits and hierarchical asymmetry. Indirectly assuming the place of the elegiac puella, Caunus is “feminised”. This is particularly evident if we consider parallels between his reaction to Byblis’ love and the characteristic reactions of victims of sexual violence in the previous episodes of divine love: Caunus flees¹⁷⁰: mox ubi finis abest, patriam fugit ille nefasque, inque peregrina ponit nova moenia terra

(9,633 634)

 Compare how the poet describes the flights of Daphne (1,501): fugit ocior aura; Arethusa (5,602): fugio sine vestibus; Syrinx (1,701): precibus spretis fugisse per avia nympham; or Hesperie (11,771): visa fugit nymphe. On flight as a typical reaction of sexual victims, see Fabre (1985: 96 97).

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However, in contrast to the other beloveds in the Daphne-pattern episodes, Caunus has the power to decide actively whether the erotic union takes place or not. His reluctance is, thus, an insurmountable obstacle for Byblis. Her failure illustrates the ineluctable requirement for any elegiac amator: hierarchical superiority in relation to the beloved. The particular features of Byblis’ erotic defeat show Ovid endowing the episode with transitional traits. In fact, its protean characteristics are recognisable in so far as Byblis reproduces, on the one hand, the pattern of action from the Daphne-stories¹⁷¹; yet, simultaneously, she belongs with Myrrha and Scylla to the group of infatuated women whose thwarted love results in frustration. Byblis is not like Apollo or Jupiter, even though she systematically compares herself with the gods within the Metamorphoses and with those of the literary tradition as a whole. As a result, she uses the examples of gods, Jupiter in particular, to justify her incestuous passion: di melius! di nempe suas habuere sorores. sic Saturnus Opem iunctam sibi sanguine duxit, Oceanus Tethyn, Iunonem rector Olympi.

(9,497 499)

Gods are models to be emulated in so far as they provide a “literary backdrop” to justify incest. In fact, as Raval (2001: 289) notes, Byblis “draws upon an entire literary and mythic tradition that Ovid exploits in Heroides 4, [where] Phaedra tries to persuade her stepson Hippolytus that a relationship between them would not be a sin by saying that Jupiter set the standard for morality when he married Juno (Her. 4.133 – 34)”. Yet, Byblis’ feelings significantly differ from those of the gods. For, although she recognises that assuming the role of an elegiac amator implies being on the side of power, she longs for an impossible reciprocity: et tamen arbitrium quaerit res ista duorum! finge placere mihi: scelus esse videbitur illi.

505

(…) si tamen ipse mei captus prior esset amore, forsitan illius possem indulgere furori.

 As Kenney (2011: 461) notes, it is surely not a coincidence that Byblis begins her second monologue with the expression “et merito” (9,585): “il lettore attento a questo punto potrebbe percepire un contrasto ironico con un corteggiamento precedente: Borea usa, infatti, le stesse parole per introdure un soliloquio in cui considera che era stato un errore aver trattato con gen tilezza Orizia: avrebbe dovuto usare la forza dall’ inizio (VI 687)”. Apta mihi vis est (690) are Bor eas’ words. This intratextual parallel reinforces that Byblis’ lack of power is what crucially dis tinguishes her from the amatores of the Daphne pattern.

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ergo ego, quae fueram non reiectura petentem, ipsa petam!

(511 514)

Caunus’ feelings are much more important to Byblis than the puella’s feelings are to any lover of the Daphne-pattern. She explicitly states that love requires the willingness of two parties (arbitrium quaerit… duorum) ―not just one. As they make their sexual incursions, the infatuated gods do not particularly care about their beloved’s thoughts. However, these are Byblis’ literary models, such that her appropriation of elegy represents a desperate maneuver to achieve an impossible love. The tension between her desire to be loved and her simultaneous appropriation of a painstakingly literal elegiac role leads to her tormented fluctuation between different erotic models ―a fluctuation that, in the end, transforms her into a fountain. Through Byblis, Ovid illustrates the naïveté of a reader who thinks that merely assuming an elegiac discursive register makes one an amator like the infatuated gods of the first pentad. Exposing Byblis’ attitude as a psittacistic imitation of the lovers in her “readings” underscores, by contrast, that elegy is an agon where the most powerful wins. This is the reason why Byblis fails as an elegiac amator.

Pygmalion In contrast to the Byblis-episode, the tale of Pygmalion has a happy outcome and demonstrates a triumph of love. As I argued above, it is not a narrative of sexual violence, and, at first sight, the connection with the Daphne-pattern episodes is loose. However, analysing the protagonist’s characterisation and his relationship with his ivory beloved will reveal the unmistakable elegiac echoes of the episode. Even though Ovid uses a new perspective (relative to the “canonical” narratives of the Daphne-pattern), he nevertheless dwells on the imbalances in the relationship between the amator and the puella. Critics have focused with great interest on this episode¹⁷². Its markedly selfreflexive character and status as an inset tale within the song of Orpheus have

 Some of the most notable critics to discuss the story of Pygmalion are Bauer (1962), Elsner (1991), Sharrock (1991a and b), Elsner Sharrock (1991), Knox (1986: 52 54), Viarre (1969), Salz man Mitchell [(2005: 68 75) and (2008)], Liveley (1999), Janan (1988), as well as Rosati (1983: 51 93).

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235

featured strongly in this critical attention¹⁷³. As Elsner and Sharrock (1991: 149) argue: “the story of Pygmalion is a story of perception, a story of creating, reading and responding to a work of art, whether it be Pygmalion’s statue or Ovid’s Metamorphoses”. If, as Sharrock (1991a: 36) contends, all the tales about artists in the Metamorphoses have a poetological function¹⁷⁴, Pygmalion, in particular, suggests a close connection with the figure of the elegiac amator-poeta, since the sculptor’s puella is also the product of his creativity as a lover-artist. Moreover, faced with the dilemma whether love or metapoetics is the main subject of the story, as Rosati (1983: 64) sets it out, we would more easily accept that both themes constitute an inseparable unity. Elegy conveys this idea with particular clarity, since here the love-theme inseparably imbricates a reflection on the ontological priority of the poet over his work. As such, Pygmalion, who, according to Rosati’s insightful reading, clearly recognises that he is living an illusion (in contrast to the self-deceiving Narcissus), is the character in the Metamorphoses most akin to the elegiac poet. This story about an artist falling in love with his own oeuvre has produced an interesting variety of hermeneutical approaches. Among these studies, analyses of the power relations between the artist-as-subject and his beloved-as-object are particularly interesting for examining Ovid’s handling of the elegiac paradigm. Methodologically, my reading tends to agree with the most common view among critics, namely that the woman-statue “has no autonomy or identity beyond that of Pygmalion”¹⁷⁵. In any case, critics unanimously note that Pygmalion represents the archetype of an elegiac lover. Although other lovers in previous episodes also adopted elegiac manners as a part of their courtship strategies, Pygmalion is the only amator who is specifically and exclusively an artist ―even before being a lover. A

 Some authors underline the importance of Orpheus’ song within the Metamorphoses, since, as they argue, it is a carmen perpetuum in miniature version. See Nagle (1988c), Viarre (1969), as well as Wheeler (2010: 162).  See also Elsner (1991: 154), Segal (1972: 491), Holzberg (2007: 87 88) and Bauer (1962: 21), who describes the episode as “one of the finest apologues on the marvel of creative imagina tion”.  Hershkowitz (1999: 189). In contrast to this view, some feminist critics ascribe a feminine subjectivity to the ivory beloved counterbalancing Pygmalion’s authorial masculine voice. See Liveley (1999) and Salzman Mitchell (2005: 68 75) and (2008). Methodologically, both authors adopt a balanced hermeneutical position of both “releasing” and “resisting” (see esp. Salzman Mitchell [2005: 19 21] and Liveley [1999: 197 200]). This feminist paradigm aligns with the “positive vision”, as Miller Platter (1999: 405) define it, in so far as it detects subversive ele ments unsettling received modes of thought. See also Sharrock (2002: 95 107 and 99 101), who questions the validity of a “releasing” reading.

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close reading of the passage reveals some unmistakable parallels to elegy, as, in particular, Knox (1986) and Sharrock (1991a) note neatly. My arguments on the elegiac echoes of the episode are, thus, mainly based on their conclusions. Yet, I shall further place the story and its reflections on the power asymmetry of elegy within the wider framework both of the whole erotic world of the Metamorphoses. According to Bauer (1962: 12– 13), the episode has a bipartite design, with two halves of 27 lines each (10,243 – 269 and 10,271– 297). Venus is located in the central section, and divides the narrative into a “before” and “after” description of Pygmalion. The first part depicts his disdain for women, resulting from his contempt for the Propoetides (whom Venus condemned to prostitute themselves in payment for their impiety). In the second part, the passionate artist witnesses his ivory beloved miraculously transformed into a “flesh-and-blood” woman. As Sharrock (1991a: 38 – 39) notes, the beginning of the episode itself, before Pygmalion starts his artistic project, clearly hints at an elegiac recusatio, a device that is programmatic in the genre. Due to the vitium and crimen of the Propoetides (two terms frequently used in elegy to refer to infidelity), Pygmalion rejects love and re-enacts, thus, the elegiac topos where the elegiac amator decides to cultivate serious poetic genres and abandon love poetry because of his beloved’s shameless conduct¹⁷⁶. His disdain for womankind leads Pygmalion to create an oeuvre that is characterised by its forma (10,248) and reverentia (251): interea niveum mira feliciter arte sculpsit ebur formamque dedit, qua femina nasci nulla potest, operisque sui concepit amorem. virginis est verae facies, quam vivere credas, et, si non obstet reverentia, velle moveri:

250

Although the artist has rejected love, Pygmalion’s Eburna¹⁷⁷ displays, from the beginning, traits that associate her with the ideal elegiac puella. For instance, Propertius (in poem 1,2) contends that modesty (pudicitia: line 24) and beauty (forma: line 8) ought to be the main assets of a puella. Propertius’ ideal of beauty, founded on naturalness and opposed to artificiality¹⁷⁸, seems incompatible

 Cf., e. g., Ovid, Am. 3,2; Propertius 3,25; or the first lines of Tibullus 1,5. See Sharrock (1991: 38).  For the sake of simplicity, I will henceforth use the name Eburna for Pygmalion’s beloved. The name Galatea (another version found in later sources) is not based on ancient testimonies. See Sharrock (1991: 42).  Nudus Amor formae non amat artificem (8).

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with a work of art. However, as I have argued above¹⁷⁹, poem 1,2 (like many others in the elegiac corpus) alludes to the ontological fallacy of elegy, which disguises the artful literary construct of a self-aware elegiac poet under the human face of the beloved. Moreover, the adjective niveum with the word ebur/eburneus (Met. 10,247– 248), here in reference to Pygmalion’s beloved, often describe the puella in elegy¹⁸⁰. Thus, although Pygmalion’s initial contempt for love ostensibly distances him from the typical attitude of an elegiac amator, his ensuing infatuation clearly induces him to adhere to the elegiac canon. Sharrock (1991a: 39) thoughtfully interprets this fluctuation between two opposing views in life and literature as a poetological statement: “If Pygmalion is subliminally a metaphor for the elegist, he is perhaps quite precisely Ovid, the elegist writing epic. Epic is perfect art, but lifeless. Elegy, with her unequal feet and, according to official rhetoric, poor morals, is imperfect, flawed, but all the more seductive because of her very flaws. As Ovid/Pygmalion falls in love with his own art, he breathes the life of flawed elegy into the frozen beauty of epic”.

Knox (1986: 52– 54) further examines the elegiac origins of additional elements in the episode, first noting the elegiac undertones of the love-gifts from Pygmalion to his beloved: et modo blanditias adhibet, modo grata puellis munera fert illi conchas teretesque lapillos et parvas volucres et flores mille colorum liliaque pictasque pilas et ab arbore lapsas Heliadum lacrimas; ornat quoque vestibus artus, dat digitis gemmas, dat longa monilia collo, aure leves bacae, redimicula pectore pendent: cuncta decent; nec nuda minus formosa videtur. conlocat hanc stratis concha Sidonide tinctis adpellatque tori sociam adclinataque colla mollibus in plumis, tamquam sensura, reponit

260

265

Shells (260), little birds (261), flowers (261– 262) and even balls (262)¹⁸¹ are presents that draw on the conventions of elegiac love poetry¹⁸², calling to mind passages like Propertius 3,13,25 – 32:

  also  

See Section I, Chapter 4. As Sharrock (1991a: 40) observes. See additionally Salzman Mitchell (2005: 70 72), who notes the parallels between Eburna and Lucretia as depicted in Fasti 2,763 765. See Propertius 2,24b,12. See Knox (1986: 53), Reed (2013: 225 226) and Sharrock (1991a: 44 45).

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felix agrestum quondam pacata iuventus, divitiae quorum messis et arbor erant! illis munus erat decussa Cydonia ramo, et dare puniceis plena canistra rubis, nunc violas tondere manu, nunc mixta referre lilia vimineos lucida per calathos, et portare suis vestitas frondibus uvas aut variam plumae versicoloris avem.

As Knox (1986: 53) observes: “convention requires that rustic gifts such as these go unappreciated. For Propertius the days when women responded to such offerings are situated in the idyllic past”¹⁸³. However, Knox does not continue asking why Eburna is a “unique” elegiac puella: in contrast to Cynthia, for whom these gifts are clumsy and rustic, because they are simply too cheap, Pygmalion gets his puella “to accept” the presents¹⁸⁴. Ovid ironically literalises the motif of the dura puella¹⁸⁵: Eburna, the ivory girl, is ―literally― harder than any other puella; however, despite her insensitivity (tamquam censura: 269) to Pygmalion’s blanditiae (259) and his munera (260), she does not at all object to the amator’s wooing tactics. Knox (1986: 53 – 54) notes a number of additional lexical and stylistic parallels to elegy¹⁸⁶. Still, his analysis does not advance the exegetical possibilities of these echoes, as Sharrock (1991a: 36) also observes. Merely confirming the elegiac tone of the passage is clearly insufficient. Sharrock (1991a) bridges this hermeneutical lacuna deftly. Her main premise is that the link between Pygmalion and the elegiac amator-poeta is, in reality, related to a metaliterary phenomenon: both love women who are products of their artistic craftsmanship, such that there is a clear imbalance in the power relations. Thus, the story of Pygmalion

 As Fantuzzi (2003) notes, elegists (particularly Propertius) regard the pastoral world as an ideal past of erotic happiness in contrast to the urban “reality” where elegiac fiction takes place.  Yet, as Reed (2013:225 226) notes, Pygmalion also offers expensive gifts and approaches, thus, the domain of the dives amator. As the author argues, this characterisation can arguably be explained as a reminiscence of previous versions of the myth in which Pygmalion was a king of Cyprus.  See Holzberg (2007: 88) on the relation between Pygmalion’s beloved and the elegiac hard mistress.  The fact that Eburna is called his socia tori (10,268) is, according to Knox (1986: 54), an el egiac idiom familiar from Ovid’s elegies. Moreover, the reference to her forma alludes to the beauty that is typical of an elegiac mistress, formosa being a term that is “rigorously avoided by the epic poets” (Knox, 1986: 53), “almost a vox propria of beloveds” (Sharrock, 1991a: 45). See also Sharrock (1991a: 45 46), who notes the irony of the term forma as referred to Eburna. Finally, the term puella (10,280) itself is, as Knox (1986: 54) notes, rare in epic diction and, in stead, very common in elegy and epyllion (cf. Axelson (1945: 58)).

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reflects on the asymmetrical eroto-artistic relationship between the elegiac poet and his beloved. Ovid’s ironic play with the fallacious code of elegy is particularly evident in the fact that Pygmalion’s oeuvre reaches such a degree of aesthetic perfection and realism that “even the creator’s eye is deceived by the appearance of “reality”“¹⁸⁷: (…) quam vivere credas, et, si non obstet reverentia, velle moveri: ars adeo latet arte sua. miratur et haurit pectore Pygmalion simulati corporis ignes. saepe manus operi temptantes admovet, an sit corpus an illud ebur, nec adhuc ebur esse fatetur.

250

255

The extreme realism of Pygmalion’s puella/oeuvre and finally her animation reflect Ovid’s art criticism and his deconstruction of elegiac realism “by hinting that the puella is an art-work which is so lifelike that it deceives the eye” (Sharrock [1991a: 41]). In fact, Ovid playfully undermines the elegiac topos from a distinctively self-conscious position. By creating, through Pygmalion, a puella-as-oeuvre so perfect that she seems real, Ovid subverts the elegiac fiction of a “flesh-and-blood” beloved so perfect that she resembles a work of art. Evoking the association of the puella with a work of art, a common a link in elegy (particularly in Propertian poetry¹⁸⁸), Pygmalion transforms the simile of the beloved “like an artwork” into a beloved who is “a real artwork”. Ovid, thus, literalises an elegiac symbol, the kind which we see, for instance, in Propertius’ poem 1,3¹⁸⁹, where the poet-lover gazes at Cynthia while she is asleep and imagines her like a statue of Ariadne. As Rosati (1983: 80) argues, a reality based on fiction becomes in the story of Pygmalion the only acceptable reality, since ars surpasses and replaces nature. At the same time, Ovid uses Pygmalion to reveal another “deceit” of elegy: his beloved is a simulacrum puellae (280), and her body is an imitation ―of a real one (simulati corporis [253]); yet, there is no original of which this simulacrum is a copy. At this point, I cannot but agree with Sharrock (1991a: 46 ff.)¹⁹⁰: despite

 Sharrock (1991a: 41).  See, e. g., Prop. 1,3,7 8; Ovid, Am. 1,7,51 52. See Sharrock (1991a: 41 42).  Qualis Thesea iacuit cedente carina languida desertis Cnosia litoribus; (…) talis visa mihi mollem spirare quietem Cynthia consertis nixa caput minibus (lines 1 2 and 7 8). Sharrock (1991a: 42) contends that Propertius probably had a particular work of art in mind: the sleeping Ariadne which is now in the Vatican Museums.  Cf. idem (1999b: 175).

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the absence of an external “reality” informing the simulacrum, “the text seduces the reader (…) into thinking (…) that there is. Such, quite precisely, is the seduction effected by elegy”, namely, making the audience/readership believe that there is a preceding “extra-textual” reality. By transforming Eburna into a symbol of the elegiac puella, Ovid demonstrates that the puella’s “life”, like Eburna’s, is an animation brought about by art. Sharrock also notes that the terms describing how Pygmalion brings his statue to life (temptare: 283; (re)tractare: 285 and 288) have the double sense of “vivifying” and of “arousing sexually”. The difference between Pygmalion and Propertius (who also yearns to temptare the statue-like Cynthia as she lies on her bed [1,3,15: subiecto leviter positam temptare lacerto]), is that the former is more powerful than the elegiac poet. “His superior control over his creation allows him actually to do what Propertius only desires”¹⁹¹ but does not dare to do (non tamen ausus eram dominae turbare quietem: 17). Pygmalion has no obstacles to pressing her body and touching her: temptatum mollescit ebur positoque rigore subsidit digitis ceditque, ut Hymettia sole cera remollescit tractataque pollice multas flectitur in facies ipsoque fit utilis usu. dum stupet et dubie gaudet fallique veretur, rursus amans rursusque manu sua vota retractat. corpus erat!

285

The passage projects the fantasy of total possession: “the beloved’s life and sexuality are a gift from her lover-creator” (Sharrock: 1991a: 47). This observation teaches us how Ovid reflects on the eroto-artistic power play of elegy in the Metamorphoses. Pygmalion reproducing the asymmetrical relationship between the elegiac lover and his beloved illustrates Ovid’s retrospective view of a discourse uniquely fraught with reflections on power. Examination of both the Pygmalionepisode and the whole elegiac genre allows us to conclude that elegy’s chief metapoetic aim is the glorification of the artist-creator as the ultimate holder of power. The markedly agonistic discourse of elegy dramatises the power-struggle between the fictional sphere (represented by the puella-as-domina) and the supra-fictional (represented by the amator-as-poeta). In sum, although clearly, sensu stricto, the Pygmalion-episode differs thematically from the narratives of sexual violence, I have included it in this chapter because it broadens the conceptual spectrum for reflecting on the hierarchical

 Sharrock (1991a: 47).

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241

dynamics of love elegy. Certainly, Pygmalion does not exert violence on Eburna; yet, the explicit depiction of her existential dependence on her lover-creator draws on the episodes of sexual asymmetry from the previous books. The artist’s ontological priority and his supremacy over his sculpture are unveiled as the most efficacious modes of domination. Pygmalion does not need violence because his authority as a creator allows him to mould a beloved in accordance with his desires. Thus, even though the ostensible subject matter diverges from the Daphne-pattern episodes, the metaliterary and intertextual reflection is analogous. In both cases, the ultimate aim is to reflect on the power imbalance in the relationship between the elegiac amator-poeta and his puella. Pygmalion, the artist, becomes more powerful than all the amatores in the Daphne-patterned episodes. One can say that his eroto-artistic actions mark the zenith of asymmetrical love in the Metamorphoses. His omnipotence over his beloved-as-oeuvre is even more explicit than the gods’ supremacy over their erotic victims. At the same time, however, Ovid indirectly begins to transition towards a new erotic paradigm that is characterised by erotic reciprocity¹⁹². Pygmalion’s “artificial woman” ―before being animated― is insensitive to love and behaves, thus, literally, like an elegiac dura puella. Yet, when she finally comes to life, Pygmalion achieves what no other elegiac lover has attained: he has created a beloved who yields unconditionally to love and who adores her lover-creator as if he were a god. The description of the moment when Eburna comes to life is enlightening: (…) timidumque ad lumina lumen attollens pariter cum caelo vidit amantem

(10,293 294)

The beloved beholds Pygmalion and sees the sky. Although outwardly the expression may be a mere turn of phrase to indicate that Eburna lying on the bed (line 281) “looks up” at Pygmalion, the verticality of the image hints at a more complex meaning. Salzman-Mitchell (2005: 216, n. 41) proposes that the image of Eburna looking up from below denotes submission ―the submission of an ideal woman¹⁹³ created according to the desires of the artist-lover. Moreover, the detail that she “sees the sky” (pariter cum caelo) when looking at Pyg-

 This observation finds its foundation in the “erotic polyptoton” of lines 291 292 (oraque tandem // ore suo…), which, as Reed (2013: 229 230) notes, underlines the reciprocity, “quasi la ridondanza, dell’ amore di lei”.  As Reed (2013: 230) notes, Eburna “looking up” marks the culmination of her becoming human, in so far as Ovid draws on the Platonic etymology of ἄνθρωπος as derived from “guar dare in su”.

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malion may even suggest that Eburna experiences a sort of “theophanic” vision. Pygmalion appears to her as a god-like creature. As Reed (2013: 230) observes, “Pigmalione per lei è il dio della creazione”. Other passages where gods and mortals communicate exhibit the same positional relationship: the god always looks down from above, and the mortal looks up from below. As Salzman-Mitchell (2005: 39 – 40) shows, the Metamorphoses offers several examples underpinning this observation. Mercury, for instance, looks down on Herse from the sky, just as Jupiter, whose “flight of inspection” after the cataclysm caused by Phaethon leads him to discover Callisto. Salzman-Mitchell (2005: 39) rightly observes that “the positioning of the onlooker from above is in Metamorphoses characteristic of gods who control the human world from Olympus (…). More specifically, it is what male gods do before raping a girl”. The scholar illustrates the meaning of a “vertical gaze” through the episode of Aglauros (2,559 ff.), whose intrusive gaze led her to behold from above the baby Erichthonios in his box; although Minerva explicitly prohibited Aglauros and her sisters from peeking at her secret, Aglauros cannot resist curiosity. Thus, she is punished, not only for glancing at something forbidden, but also for adopting a perspective that is inappropriate to her status. As SalzmanMitchell (2005: 216, n. 41) observes, Eburna’s perspective is the opposite of Aglauros’, since her gaze from below at the artist who created her transforms her into a “submissive and ideal wife”. By creating a beloved who worships him like a god, Pygmalion achieves something that no other amator of the Daphne-pattern has managed: overcoming the duritia of his beloved. But still, to what extent can we understand the story of Pygmalion as an instance of mutual love? The metamorphosis of the dura puella should be integrated within the frame of a broader examination of the reflection on elegy within the Metamorphoses. The Pygmalion-episode is, in fact, the thematic link to the episodes of mutual love, in that it is a transitional moment in the poem’s sequence of transformations pertaining to desire: the first stage is the desire to control the beloved (Daphne-pattern); the second is the desire for a beloved who is deprived of autonomy to consent and respond to love (Pygmalion); the third phase is the autonomous and voluntary reciprocity of two desiring subjects. I will devote the last chapter of this book to analysing this erotic model.

3 Mutual love in the Metamorphoses: towards the ultimus ardor of Latin elegy In the last chapter we have seen that Ovid uses differences in sexual (male // female), mythological (god // mortal) or ontological status (artist // oeuvre) to expose the crucial role of power relations in elegiac love. A close reading of these “elegiac episodes” has shown Ovid’s deep concern with the expression of the hierarchical dynamics in the relationship between an almost omnipotent amator who disguises himself as an elegiac lover and a puella-like beloved who is entirely subjected to his power. All these episodes are faithfully consistent with the elegiac script, in so far as they reproduce the dynamics of desire in elegy, whose axiological base is an imbalance in erotic longing. The very illusoriness of fides pinpoints the idiosyncrasy of elegiac discourse: the genre’s dramatic key is that the beloved does not yield to the lover’s erotic ambitions. Although there are sporadic moments of erotic fulfilment, a stable love relationship is an axiomatically unattainable desideratum in elegy. The episode of Apollo and Daphne paradigmatically encapsulates this conceit: Whereas Apollo is shot by an arrow that makes him fall in love, Daphne is shot by another one that makes her spurn love entirely. The impossibility of erotic reciprocity in the primus amor inaugurates the pattern of all the other episodes that follow this scheme. Another key element of the story is the theme of spes: the longing for a requited love is a pivotal concept in the elegiac genre, as Ovid reveals in Amores 2,19 (line 5) (speremus pariter, pariter metuamus amantes). Hope and fear lie at the heart of elegiac lover’s discourse. Stable, unchallenged, placid and requited love is, therefore, not elegiac love. Ars Amatoria 2,717– 732 illustrates, according to Schmitzer (2001: 82– 83), that amor mutuus is actually the elegiac ideal. In fact, Ovid enjoins his pupils to keep pace with the female beloved in love making. Both male and female should obtain the same pleasure: neque tu dominam velis maioribus usus Desere, nec cursus anteat illa tuos; Ad metam properate simul: tum plena voluptas, Cum pariter victi femina virque iacent.

725

Schmitzer (2001: 87) argues that amor mutuus is, therefore, the expected and desired culmination in the world of elegiac love and contends that the composition of Book 3 of the Ars, which is exclusively addressed to women, corroborates this idea. Labate (1975 – 76: 116 and 122– 123), in turn, notes that the desire for reciDOI 10.1515/9783110490282 010

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procity is present in Latin love poetry from Catullus on. Certainly, this desire is present throughout elegy. Yet, the key of elegiac fiction is precisely the continuous deferral of this yearning, making fides, thus, a utopian arrangement. Elegy dramatises the lover’s frustration at the systematic futility of his longing for a casta and pudica puella ¹⁹⁴. In sum, erotic reciprocity is, in fact, an elegiac adynaton ¹⁹⁵. Conte (1991: 62) demonstrates elegy’s idiosyncratic semantics of “crisis” and suffering through the trope of love as a wound: “la medicina toglierebbe la malattia, ma insieme toglierebbe la possibilità stessa di fare poesia in forma elegiaca, giacché la forma dell’esperienza elegiaca sta anche nella costrittività di questo binomio: malattia e rifiuto dl guarigione”. Tibullus 2,2 provides an illustrative example. This elegy is a birthday-poem dedicated to Cornutus, to whom Tibullus addresses his bona verba (1), in the hope that all his wishes may be granted. It is particularly noteworthy that the good auguries that the poet envisions for his friend reflect a characteristically Tibullan Weltanschauung: the author projects upon Cornutus the desire for a life far from material wealth; moreover, Tibullus wishes him conjugal fidelity in a love relationship that may last a lifetime: auguror, uxoris fidos optabis amores: iam reor hoc ipsos edidicisse deos. nec tibi malueris, totum quaecumque per orbem fortis arat ualido rusticus arua boue, nec tibi, gemmarum quidquid felicibus Indis nascitur, Eoi qua maris unda rubet. uota cadunt: utinam strepitantibus aduolet alis

11

15

 See, e. g., Propertius 1,11, or Tibullus 1,6.  This stance is defended by several critics. See, for example, Lee Stecum (2000: 198): “Spes, in the poet/lover’s case, is the desire for presence, but that presence is perpetually deferred by the intransigence of the beloved (or, as the reader may think, by the generic requirements of the elegiac amor relationship)” [italics are mine]. See also Keith (1992: 334 335) [apud James (2003: 250, n. 77], who explains that elegy, as a genre thematically rooted in lamentation and mourn ing, dramatises the lover’s frustration at the beloved’s systematic erotic resistance: “what is there to write about, after all, when a love affair goes smoothly? All too often, the genre seems to depend upon the frustration of the lover/poet”. James (2003: 7 8) neatly synthesises the dynamics of desire in elegy: “[elegy] requires a gendered structure of partnered opposition, in which the lover and his puella engage in their strategic tactics in a complex choreography of regular opposition balanced by occasional union” (…) “[E]legy pretends to want its men and women to be on the same side, as it were, and indeed sometimes they are, but if they were al ways or even often in unison, there would be no elegy”. James, furthermore, defines the prospect of marriage as “an elegiac adynaton” (2003: 90). See also Connolly (2000: 75), who con siders “the necessity to defer the consummation of desire” as a distinguishing feature of elegy. See also Konstan (1994: 150 159), who corroborates this viewpoint.

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flauaque coniugio uincula portet Amor, uincula quae maneant semper dum tarda senectus inducat rugas inficiatque comas

20

Only in so far as Cornutus does not belong to the world of elegiac love and its hierarchical dynamics, can he aspire to fidelity and stability in love (fidos amores: 11; uincula quae maneant semper: 19). But Tibullus cannot, because the laws of the genre in which he plays the role of the amator prevent the realisation of this desire. The yearnings that Tibullus projects upon his addressee reflect the most recurrent desideratum in his poetry: a life of mutually fulfilled love in which he can reach the old age together with his faithful puella. Tibullus voices this utopian reflection meaningfully in 1,6,85 – 86: Haec aliis maledicta cadant; nos, Delia, amoris Exemplum cana simus uterque coma.

85

However, the constant scorn of Tibullus’ puella ¹⁹⁶ relentlessly defers the realisation of this desire towards a longed-for future. The testimony of authors at the genre’s margins who, thus, see elegy “from outside” supports viewing mutual love as an elegiac adynaton. In this regard, Horace’s Ars Poetica 76 is particularly enlightening. Although the poet does not specifically refer to the theme of love, he describes elegy as a genre that expresses lament and mourning, but also gratitude for the accomplishment of a desire: Versibus impariter iunctis querimonia primum, post etiam inclusa est uoti sententia compos

75

With the expression voti sententia compos ¹⁹⁷ Horace denotes his conception of elegy as a literary form originally linked with an expression of thanks for granted prayers. Horace does not need to mention specifically the erotic content that had become the predominant theme of elegy in his time, since both lament and happiness were still part of the genre. The point is that, if the erotic desire for the beloved were always fulfilled in a situation of long-lasting stability, elegy would be utterly different in its nature. The poetic occasions giving rise to elegies are, on the one hand, mourning and, on the other hand, expressions of jubila-

 As we see, for instance, in poems 1,2 (esp. line. 65); 1,4; 1,5; 1,6; or 1,9.  As critics note, Horace uses this expression to evoke votive epigram, which was initially the most important manifestation of elegy (alongside the mourning theme), as we can infer from book 6 of the Palatine Anthology. See Silvestre (1996: 571), Moralejo (2008: 388), Brink (1971: 165 167) and Rudd (1989: 163).

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tion in a moment of happiness (a night of love, for instance¹⁹⁸). If mutual love were the norm, the opposition between the desires of the lover and the beloved would disappear, and, consequently, the elegiac form would be radically altered. Other passages evince this same idea. Horace himself, in the Ode 1,33, commiserates precisely with Tibullus over the pains of the addressee’s unrequited love. In this framework, the lyric poet explains that the law of Venus is to join a lover and a beloved with opposing desires: Sic uisum Veneri, cui placet imparis formas atque animos sub iuga aenea saeuo mittere cum ioco

10

Indeed, Horace’s “law of Venus” neatly articulates the dynamics of desire in Latin love elegy. As Ovid expounds in Amores 2,9,9 – 10, it is the principle of the pursuing what resists us and the refusing what is easily available: venator sequitur fugientia; capta relinquit // semper et inventis ulteriora petit. This same idea finds further focus in the aforementioned elegy 2,19, where Ovid contends that his relationship with Corinna is desirable precisely because of her elusive character. She would non longer be desirable, if she faithfully returned his love: quod licet, ingratum est; quod non licet acrius urit. (…) et faciat voto rara repulsa locum. quo mihi fortunam, quae numquam fallere curet? nil ego, quod nullo tempore laedat, amo!

(3)

(6 8)

The beloved’s hardness augments the lover’s desire (votum: 6). Alternatively, just as oversweet food harms the stomach, requited love is a pinguis amor that should be avoided. pinguis amor nimiumque patens in taedia nobis vertitur et, stomacho dulcis ut esca, nocet.

(25 26)

Therefore, the elegiac lover will only go after a puella who shuns him. Thus, stable mutual love is definitively omitted from the erotic imagery of the elegiac discourse. nocet indulgentia nobis quod sequitur, fugio; quod fugit, ipse sequor

 See, for instance, Ovid’s siesta poem (Amores 1,5).

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This idea, which is present in other passages of love poetry as well¹⁹⁹, is one of the most conspicuous generic marks of elegiac discourse. The idiosyncrasy of elegiac love virtually obliterates the possibility of an irenic erotic pattern. The agonal tension between lover and beloved is, thus, a distinctive concept in elegy. According to the conventions of elegiac discourse, the amator desparately yearns for a foedus amoris. However, precisely the breach of this contract and the lover’s subsequent feeling of adikia²⁰⁰ imbue elegy with its characteristic narrative dynamics. This doomed vision of love can even be traced to its philosophical origins, as Labate (2005: 38 – 39) demonstrates²⁰¹. The author repairs to Lucretius’ epicurean consideration of love and uses the example of Salmacis’ frustrated love for Hermaphroditus to illustrate that, from a philosophical point of view, eros is a disturbing force that condemns to suffering those who cannot escape it. As Labate argues: “Per Lucrezio (…) l’amore-passione (…) è necessariamente fonte di turbamento e di sofferenza. Il piacere degli amanti è irrimediabilmente guastato dal dolore”. Therefore, based on some passages from the Book 4 of Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura, the author concludes that: “In una concezione rigorosamente materialistica, il desiderio amoroso è costituzionalmente destinato alla frustrazione. (…) [I]l desiderio d’amore può appropriarsi fisicamente soltanto dei simulacra del corpo amato, strutture atomiche così sottili e inconsistenti che non po tranno mai “riempire” e suscitare sazietà”.

Interestingly, Labate, thus, defines love as an agonistic reality (italics are mine): “una lotta destinata a una perpetua dolorosa sconfitta perché trova un limite invalicabile nella legge fisica dell’ impenetrabilità”. The elegists dramatise this agonistic vision of love by making unhappy love a central conceit of the genre. Ovid transfers this desire- structure to all those episodes in the Metamorphoses that are semantically in line with the “Apollo and Daphne” pattern. As we have

 As Rosati (2012: 202) argues: “[l]a congenita, naturale asimmetria della copia amorosa è un tema che ha una lunga storia nella tradizione della poesía erotica”. Ars 3,577 610, also supports this conceit. There, the magister advises women that the best stimulus for passion is to yield very sparingly to the desires of the lover; as a general rule, women should reject men. See also Conte (1991: 84 85), who also mentions Horace Serm. 1,2,107 ff., in which the poet caricatures the el egiac type of the “foolish” lover. As the Conte observes, Ovid’s motto draws on Callimachus’ ep igrammatic tradition. For further examples of this theme in Martial, Horace and Ovid, see Ram írez de Verger Librán Moreno (2004: 211). See also Nisbet Hubbard (1970: 368 370) for a succinct review of the motif of imperfectly matched lovers from Sappho onwards.  On the Greek origins for the theme of unrequited love as a breach of the “just” norm, see Bonanno (1973).  See additionally Rosati (2012: 202), who refers to Lucretius (De rer. nat. 4,1094 1104) too.

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seen in the previous chapter, this pattern hyperbolically reproduces the hierarchical and desiderative dynamics of elegy. Problematically, however, “the elegiac” is not a homogeneous reality in the Metamorphoses. The protean world of Ovid’s hexametric poem admits other “elegiac” episodes where the erotic asymmetry of the Daphne-pattern (and, hence, of the whole elegiac genre) undergoes a significant alteration. In fact, in juxtaposition against the “vertical” erotic pattern, Ovid presents an erotic pattern that is characterised by reciprocity. Passages of this type are numerous enough to be relevant²⁰². Far from being a marginal experiment or an embryonic offshoot of elegiac discourse, the axial position of certain episodes of mutual love, themselves endowed with elegiac traits, indicates their intended importance within Ovid’s poem. In this regard, it is notable that the episode of Cephalus and Procris, which presents this typology, falls at the end of Book 7, i. e., in a programmatically central position within the Metamorphoses. Moreover, it is surely significant that the mutual love episode of Pyramus and Thisbe is the first narrative of human love after a long sequence of divine loves spanning the first three books of the poem. Another illustrative instance is the mutual love story of Ceyx and Alcyone: some critics consider this episode, the second longest in the Metamorphoses ²⁰³, one of the most important episodes in the whole work. To Otis (1966: 266), for example, this story marks the “ethical apex” of the Metamorphoses. Certainly, Ovid did not “invent” e nihilo mutual love in the Metamorphoses. In this regard, some important literary antecedents presumably served as his models. Propertius already made a significant contribution to the theme in poems 3 and 11 of his fourth book of elegies²⁰⁴. Moreover, not least, Ovid himself anticipated the literary treatment of mutual love in some epistles from the Heroides. The relation between this work and the Metamorphoses has incited a complex scholarly debate worthy of specific examination. However, since the main focus of my study is the relation between the Metamorphoses and subjective elegy²⁰⁵, it is not possible to engage this question in further detail. Nevertheless,  A number of episodes incorporating elegiac themes and motifs in an erotic context can be broadly labelled as mutual. For reasons of space, these episodes cannot be analysed in detail in this study. Yet, as a general overview, criticism has drawn attention to different elegiac traits in the episodes of Deucalion and Pyrrha [1,313 415], Venus and Adonis [10,503 559] (see Knox [1986: 58 62]), Cylarus and Hylonome [12,393 429], Picus and Canens [14,308 434], Philemon and Baucis [8,611 724] and Apollo and Hyacinthus [10,162 219].  With 338 lines, it is only surpassed in length by the episode of Phaethon.  See Cristóbal (1994: 26 27).  The Heroides belongs to the category of non subjective poetry to the extent that it presents a narrative context where the poet does not create a discourse intended to be read as autobio graphical.

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the Heroides ²⁰⁶ is significant insofar as it marks the first stage in a process of metaliterary re-reading of elegy that anticipates Ovid’s systematic exploration of the genre’s limits in the Metamorphoses ²⁰⁷. On the one hand, the Heroides encapsulates the reflection on the agonistic nature of subjective elegy²⁰⁸. On the other hand, by showcasing a non-agonistic pattern of mutual love, the work crucially anticipates the transformation of elegy that Ovid fully dramatises in the episodes of mutual love in the Metamorphoses ²⁰⁹. Additionally, Ovid’s treatment of mutual love episodes may have drawn inspiration from novelistic forms of Hellenistic origin. A detailed analysis of this wide-ranging issue would surpass the scope of this study. Yet, in short, there is some evidence that Ovid engaged with Hellenistic novels and that, regarding episodes like Pyramus and Thisbe, “romance was probably among the models of reading”, as Due (1974: 126) points out²¹⁰. It is also out of the scope of the present study to enter with detail into the highly interesting debate on the originality of mutual love in Antiquity. Konstan (1994) asserts that the Greek novel was the first literary form whose protagonists show total erotic reciprocity. Yet, given that originality (as modern literature understands it) was not a primary concern in literature of Antiquity, this study’s aims do not require indentifying who actually “created” mutual love. It is, therefore, not of crucial interest whether mutual love was an object of literary elaboration in Hellenistic novels prior to Ovid’s Metamorphoses. What really matters is that Ovid diametrically subverted the power dynamics of elegy, which was, in his time, the erotic genre par excellence.

 On the Heroides and its relation to the rest of Ovid’s literary work, see, e. g., Anderson (1973), Knox (2002), Harrison (2003) and Kennedy (2003), together with Schmitzer (2003: 157 and 159).  On the Heroides as a liminal poem in relation to the tradition of subjective elegy, see Barch iesi (2001: 124) and Hintermeier (1993: 197).  As, for example, we saw above (Chapter 2 of Section I) for the Acontius and Cydippe epis tles (ep. 20 and 21), where Ovid alludes to the hierarchical dynamics of the amator / puella re lationship at a supra fictional level of reading.  On mutual love and the “happy end” of certain epistles in Ovid’s collection, see Schmitzer (2003: 152) and Kenney (1996: 3). See also Baeza Angulo (2010) and (2008) on the Heroides as an antecedent to the theme of conjugal love in Ovid’s exile poetry.  In this regard, see also Barchiesi (2007: 257 259) and, particularly, Due (1974: 124 126), who stresses the importance of the Hellenistic novel as a precursor to the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe. In this framework, the Due (1974: 24) remarks that, while Xenophon Ephesius’ An theia et Habrocomes, Achilles Tatius’ Leucippe and Cleitophon, Heliodorus’ Theagenes and Car icleia and Longus’ Daphnis and Chloe are much later than Ovid, Chariton’s Chaereas and Callir hoe “is probably contemporary or earlier and the so called Ninus romance, which the fragments show to have been a regular erotic romance, certainly belongs to the first century B. C.”.

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Even if Ovid did not “invent” mutual love²¹¹, he reflected pivotally on love’s literary construction and created, with a degree of literary self-consciousness evident in none of the (in part, earlier) Greek novel-writers, a complex inter- and metatextual semantic network in the Metamorphoses that emphasises power relations as a key factor in the literary representation of love. Regardless whether or not the episodes of mutual love in the Metamorphoses emerge as the true harbinger of symmetrical love relations in ancient literature, Ovid crucially “enriches” (to use Harrison’s term²¹²) elegiac conventions by creating a new elegiac situation where both characters are lovers (making, thus, the categories of lover and beloved obsolete) and where unhappiness no longer stems from opposition to one another, but from an external force endangering the lovers’ unity. Even if, at first sight, Ovid’s narrative about mutual love ending poorly appears to align with elegiac conventions, the key point is that mutual love is an elegiac adynaton. Importantly, moreover, unhappiness in elegy does not originate from external elements interfering with the lovers’ happiness, but from the structural opposition between an elusive mistress and her unhappy lover. An intertextual examination of Ovid’s Metamorphoses will uncover the poet’s highly sophisticated play with the conventions of elegiac discourse. We need not resort to ethical categories, as Otis (1966: 266 ff.) does, to explain Ovid emphasising mutual love in the Metamorphoses. In this regard, Labate (1999) cogently contends that the play with generic transformations within a given genre is a characteristically Ovidian phenomenon. Labate shows that Ovid recurrently uses his elegies to reflect on new poetic orientations (tragedy, heroic poetry …) that seem to challenge the pre-eminence of the amatory theme. Adapting Labate’s arguments to the context of the Metamorphoses, we can arguably reason that, just as Ovid speculates in his elegiac poetry about generic changes, so too does he accomplishes a new generic μετάϐασις by altering the elegiac discourse in the Metamorphoses and transforming it into ἄλλο γένος. Labate (1999: 138) understands Ovid’s ultimate motivation for the successive changes in his poetic course as the wish to offer “novelties” to his readers. If we recall, moreover, that Ovid in the proemial elegy of his Amores explicitly and programmatically announces his purely aesthetic-creative motivation for un-

 Otis (1966: 266 ff.) contends that the literary representation of mutual love is a genuinely Ovidian creation. Otis argues that Ovid resorted to mutual love as a means to emphasise the con trast with the episodes of sexual libido. In this framework, conjugal love becomes, according to Otis, the culmination of the Ovid’s ethical values. For criticism of Otis’ reading, see Bömer (1980: 93). See also Solodow (1988: esp. 157 202), and cf. Gildenhard Zissos (2007: passim).  See Harrison (2007: 1 33).

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dertaking his elegiac project²¹³, it is possible to extend this same premises to his transformation of “the elegiac” in the Metamorphoses. If, not his passion for Corinna, but the allure of new literary endeavors (epitomised in the figure of Cupid stealing a foot from his hexameter) drove him to compose elegies, it is arguable that Ovid’s proclivity for poetic experimentation also impelled the poet to “invent” mutual love. In Section I of this book, I have argued that the power asymmetry in elegiac love alludes figuratively to a poetological contemplation of the artist’s superiority over the poetic products he created. In the previous chapter I have tried to show how the Daphne-pattern hyperbolically recreates the power relations at the conceptual heart of the elegiac genre. In this chapter I will attempt to show that by juxtaposing a vertical love pattern with one where elegiac traits do not imply asymmetrical power Ovid pivotally transforms the elegiac discourse before the eyes of his readers. In structural opposition to the Daphne-model, this new elegiac paradigm, on the one hand, calls attention, by way of antithesis, to the power asymmetry uniquely characterising elegy. Yet, on the other hand, it also marks a “point of no return”: Ovid shows that the elegiac forms are also mutable and that, like most metamorphoses, this mutation is irreversible. By transforming the elegiac discourse into a novum corpus, the poet challenges the stability of the very concept of literary genre. Lastly, we require a brief clarification at this point: the label “fides-pattern”, which will be used throughout the present chapter, is nothing more than a convention for referring to this erotic paradigm. It is, therefore, not based on strict lexical criteria. This name is chiefly intended to demarcate a thematic pattern whose main characteristic is a relationship of erotic symmetry where both lovers are equally subject and object. Fides is, thus, in a broad sense, faithfulness in love ―and, consequently, erotic reciprocity―, and confidence in the equality of the wishes and desires of both parties ―in other words, power symmetry. Occasionally, due to concrete narrative necessities, Ovid plays with the boundaries of this narrative pattern, as we will see apropos of the episode of Pomona and Vertumnus. In other cases, the lovers’ fides must overcome challenges and difficulties, as in the case of the episode concerning Cephalus and Procris. Yet, even in these cases mutual love finally prevails and, what is even more significant, no hierarchical difference separates the lovers.

 Labate (1999: 138).

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Pyramus and Thisbe The story of the fateful love of Pyramus and Thisbe falls within the framework of the tales told by the daughters of Minyas at the beginning of Book 4. The expression vulgaris fabula non est (53), with which Ovid ―through the voice of his narrative surrogate― refers to the episode, not only seems to forecast the celebrated survival of the narrative in literary history²¹⁴. Its programmatic undertones also anticipate Ovid presenting an episodic pattern that has not yet been treated in the Metamorphoses. This episode is not only novel relative to the other tales that the Minyad mentions²¹⁵. The novelty of the narrative of Pyramus and Thisbe consists in its thematic features differing from the erotic pattern established in the first three books of the poem²¹⁶. Particularly in the first two books, Ovid includes a heavy concentration of episodes pertaining to divine loves²¹⁷. Book 3, with its narrative focus on the Theban cycle of Cadmus and his descendants, redirects the reader’s attention to the theme of violence with marked tragic overtones. Ovid’s move from the light tone of the divine amores, instead, to stories evoking pathos is recognisable in the narrative of Narcissus and Echo (3,339 – 510), where Ovid first alludes to the impasse to which elegiac forms are being driven. Narcissus, who behaves, in his self-love, like an elegiac lover²¹⁸, represents the elegiac aporia of love without alterity. Rosati (1983: 1– 50), arguing that Narcissus’ illusion and self-deception is the main theme of the passage, sees Narcissus’ distinguishing feature in his simultaneous status as love-object and –subject²¹⁹. An illuminating instance is found in 3,469 – 473, where Narcissus realises that his passion is consuming him. At this point, as Rosati (1983: 34) observes, the youth

 Particularly noteworthy is the reception of the story in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, for which it provided the underlying structure, and his Midsummer Night’s Dream, among many other works of European art, literature and music. See Fowler (2000: 156 157) or Schmitzer (1992: 520).  See Met. 4,43 51. With a praeteritio, the narrator alludes to eastern legends likely going back to Hellenistic sources, as critics argue. See Álvarez Iglesias (1999: 314 and 325). Cf. 4,276, where Alcitoe, another daughter of Minyas, also uses a similar praeteritio to justify the omission of some stories with the argument that they are well known tales: ’vulgatos taceo’ dixit ’pastoris amores (…).  As Otis (1966: 154) states: “[t]he Pyramus Thisbe (…) is obviously not an ordinary story (…): it is in every respect unlike the Pentheus which has just preceded it and unlike, also, all the di vine amores of the first section”.  Apollo and Daphne, Pan and Syrinx, Jupiter and Io, [B. 1]; Jupiter and Callisto; Neptune and Corone, Mercury and Herse, Jupiter and Europa [B. 2].  See Pavlock (2009: 14 37) or Knox (1986: 19 23).  See Rosati (1983: 38).

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abides by the elegiac topos that happiness can only be achieved in the joint death of the lovers. Yet, in Narcissus’ case this thought is paradoxical, since he has no beloved with whom he can die together. With this quandry, Ovid implicitly leads the reader to question to what extent the desideratum “nunc duo moriemur animae in una” (473) is at all feasible in elegiac poetry. Certainly, this is a Leitmotiv of the genre; but are the puella and the amator equally ready to sacrifice themselves on the altar of love? In a way, this antecedent prefigures the new morphology of elegiac love that we encounter in the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe²²⁰. The narrative contains some elements that clearly evoke the world of elegy. Yet, in contrast to the Daphne-pattern, the relationship between the lovers is not asymmetrical. Although Pyramus showcases elegiac traits that, in a sense, associate him with the amatores of the Daphne-pattern ―for instance, with Apollo in the primus amor ²²¹―, the hierarchical dynamics of his relationship with Thisbe are characterised by a reciprocity that is alien to elegy and to the love episodes of the Daphne-type. As Barchiesi (2007: 243) argues, with the story of Pyramus and Thisbe Ovid inaugurates a new thematic pattern, namely the theme “degli amori regolari, reciproci e fra umani (diversamente da quelli divini, che sono di fatto, come denuncerà Arachne, atti di violenza degli dèi nei confonti di donne mortali)” [italics are mine]. Moreover, the other love tales within the framework of the Minyads’ narrative also question the homogeneity of those elegiac forms appearing in the first books of the Metamorphoses: in fact, the Minyads, in their weaving-song, significantly juxtapose a tale of joyous and light-hearted mutual love (the love

 As a further “transitional passage” between the work’s two main elegaic patterns, the char acterisation Polyphemus (13,738 897) as an elegiac lover is illustrative [on Polyphemus as an elegiac character see Farrell (1992), Knox (1986: 34) or Salzman Mitchell (2007)]. Polyphemus’ and Galatea’s characterisations are “transitional”, since, on the one hand, they follow the topoi of elegiac love (in his courtship the Cyclops behaves like an elegiac amator trying to woo a dura puella). Yet, on the other hand, the tale does not accord with the hierarchical pattern of the Apollo and Daphne model, since Galatea refuses, as Salzman Mitchell (2007) argues, to assume the role of the elegiac puella. Through Galatea’s unwillingness to yield to the Cyclops’ subliminal threat of violence (as the intratextual reading of the previous episodes of sexual vio lence shows) and through her implicit refusal to accept the role of the elegiac puella, Ovid subtly paves the way for a new erotic pattern, where the amator no longer prevails over the puella.  For instance, recourse to blanditiae is a common feature. However, in Apollo’s case, Ovid emphasises that his flatteries are blanditiae perditae (1, 530), whereas in Pyramus’ case the blan ditiae are mutually exchanged love flatteries. Other examples of the infatuted gods using blan ditiae include Neptune (2,574) and Boreas (6,685). See Knox (1986: 29), who argues that the term is deeply rooted in the language of elegy and is alien to the domain of epos.

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of Mars and Venus: 4,167– 189) with an episode of sexual violence and pathos (the tale of the Sun, Leucothoe and Clytie: 190 – 270). Interestingly, the last tale of the Minyads’ song is the episode of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus (271– 388), which reduces ad absurdum the elegiac lover’s desire to be united perpetually with his beloved²²². Therefore, not only the main traits of the Pyramus and Thisbe episode but also its narrative context hint at a novel thematic pattern that is programmatically distinct from the other “elegiac episodes”. Nevertheless, a number of studies on the episode have merely demonstrated the “elegiac veneer” of its various elements. Barchiesi (2007: 257– 259), for instance, acknowledges that elegy is the main generic referent of the episode ―besides Hellenistic novels. Likewise, Holzberg (2007: 49) recognises that the scenery of the episode evokes the context of Hellenistic and Roman comedy, but emphasises that lovers’ mode of communicate and the theme of thwarted love clearly allude to the world of elegy. Yet, it remains necessary to investigate further the meaning of this “elegiac tone” in relation to elegy itself and within the whole context of the Metamorphoses. A tiny crack in the wall between their houses is the only means through which Pyramus and Thisbe can share their mutual love: fissus erat tenui rima, quam duxerat olim, cum fieret, paries domui communis utrique. (…) et vocis fecistis iter, tutaeque per illud murmure blanditiae minimo transire solebant. saepe, ubi constiterant hinc Thisbe, Pyramus illinc, inque vices fuerat captatus anhelitus oris, “invide” dicebant “paries, quid amantibus obstas? quantum erat, ut sineres toto nos corpore iungi aut, hoc si nimium est, vel ad oscula danda pateres?

65

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The wall separating the lovers unmistakably recalls the elegiac paraclausithyron, as criticism has pointed out²²³. The image of the amator separated by a wall or a door from his beloved is a recurrent motif in elegy²²⁴, as Tibullus 1,1,55 – 56 evi-

 Fowler (2000: 158 ff.) argues that the main link between the episodes of Pyramus and Thisbe, Sol Leucothoe Clytie and Salmacis and Hermaphroditus is the desire for shared presence and union.  See, e. g., Bömer (1976a: 43), Holzberg (2007: 49), Perraud (1983 84), Barchiesi (2007: 260), Knox (1986: 35 37), Salzman Mitchell (2005: 65 66), Jouteur (2001: 104 107) and Fowler (2000: 157 and 160).  On the elegiac paraclausithyron motif, see Bömer (1976a: 42 43), McKeown (1989: 121 123) and Knox (1986: 36, n. 64).

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dences (me retinent vinctum formosae vincla puellae, // et sedeo duras ianitor ante fores). Another enlightening example is Amores 1,6, where Ovid addresses his lamentations to the ianitor who impedes him from seeing his beloved: Ianitor indignum! dura religate catena, difficilem moto cardine pande forem! quod precor, exiguum est aditu fac ianua parvo obliquum capiat semiadaperta latus.

1

In turn, Propertius 1,16 develops the motif, this time from the “subjective” perspective of the door, which bitterly complains about the trouble caused by the amatores exclusi (quae fueram magnis olim patefacta triumphis, // ianua (…) nunc ego, (…) pulsata indignis saepe queror manibus: 1– 5). The ianua remembers the lover’s desperate weeping and his imprecations against the door itself: ’ianua vel domina penitus crudelior ipsa, quid mihi tam duris clausa taces foribus? cur numquam reserata meos admittis amores, nescia furtivas reddere mota preces?

20

The wall of Pyramus and Thisbe, thus, manifestly evokes the door of the elegiac paraclausithyra. However, not everything coincides. As Knox (1986: 36) judiciously observes, the conventions for this type of lament (vituperations against the door, mourning and entreaties to open up and let the lover in) are deftly altered: this time, both lovers, ex aequo (62), vituperate the wall and address their lamentations to it from both sides. Knox does not further examine Ovid’s play with the elegiac paraclausithyron. Yet, as we will see, this transformation of a wellknown elegiac motif impacts the interpretation of the whole passage, particularly if we read it together with another “mutated” elegiac motif. Ovid unmistakably alludes to elegy when he describes the alternative means (gestures, whisperings, etc.: nutu signisque loquuntur…; murmure blanditiae minimo [63 ff.]), through which Pyramus and Thisbe solve their communication difficulties, as some critics observe²²⁵. In fact, love elegy features a topos where the amator arranges a secret code to communicate with his beloved ―a code no one else can understand, particularly not her vir. However, Pyramus and Thisbe once again alter the conventional elegiac motif: in the elegiac passages where the amator and the puella agree on their “conspira-

 See Jouteur (2001: 105) and Barchiesi (2007: 259).

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torial” secret language²²⁶, in the end, something always thwarts the communication or makes it ineffective. Tibullus (1,2,21– 22) neatly illustrates this point: the poet encourages Delia to be stout-hearted and to exchange secret messages with him through gestures ―defying even the presence of her husband: [docet] illa [Venus] viro coram nutus conferre loquaces // blandaque conpositis abdere verba notis. Yet, the lover’s attempts to engage her in such complicity are vain, and thus the poem in its conclusion becomes a lament against Delia’s disdain. In a similar manner, in Amores 1,4 Ovid tries to persuade Corinna to follow his instructions during the banquet that they will both attend and to engage in an erotic language based on gestures ―evading, thus, the unpleasant vigilance of the husband: me specta nutusque meos vultumque loquacem; // excipe furtivas et refer ipsa notas (17– 18). However, just as in the Tibullan text, the lover’s intentions are truncated, since, at the end of the banquet, it is ultimately the vir who rejoices in the pleasures that the amator had envisioned achieving through his secret language. Once again, gestural communication is ineffective. The only passage where the communication between the lovers succeeds is Amores 2,5,15– 20. Yet, here, in an ironically self-reflexive outcome, it is not the elegiac amator who attains the coveted complicity with his puella, but precisely his rival: multa supercilio vidi vibrante loquentes; nutibus in vestris pars bona vocis erat. non oculi tacuere tui, conscriptaque vino mensa, nec in digitis littera nulla fuit. sermonem agnovi, quod non videatur, agentem verbaque pro certis iussa valere notis.

Comparing these passages with the Metamorphoses, where the gestural communication between Pyramus and Thisbe is effective, obliges us, once again, to examine carefully the vague attempts to verify the “elegiac tone” of the episode. The lovers adopt behavioural patterns that clearly come from elegy, but, in contrast to the usual outcome of this situation in the genre, they communicate mutually and effectively. Along these lines, the motif of the crack in the wall is also enlightening. Critics agree on the elegiac background of this theme²²⁷. Nevertheless, Ovid plays with the situation’s elegiac echoes, cleverly altering the elegiac convention that we find, for instance, in Propertius 1,16,26 – 27. There, the lover dreams of finding a crack in the beloved’s wall through which they can commu-

 See, e. g., Tibullus 1,2,21 22; Ovid, Amores 1,4,17 ff; or 2,5,15 20. See Barchiesi (2007: 259) for additional examples.  See Bömer (1976a: 41), Barchiesi (2007: 260), Fowler (2000: 157), or Knox (1986: 36).

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nicate and exchange their love-whisperings: o utinam traiecta cava mea vocula rima // percussas dominae vertat in auriculas. Yet, Propertius merely voices a desire and, so to speak, dreams of a situation that is prohibited by the laws of the genre. To overcome the generic obstacle of the ianua by means of a crack in the wall is an unattainable dream in elegy, as Propertius himself recognises in 2,17,15 – 16, where he laments that such communication is ―as one may say, generically― not permitted: nec licet (…) // per rimosas mittere verba fores. Not only is communication through a crack in the wall (or the door) a desideratum that the elegiac lover rarely achieves, as Barchiesi (2007: 260) observes. Another similarly unattainable wish consists in deceiving the guardians who watch over the puella. Pyramus and Thisbe’s plan involves getting rid of the doorkeepers who guard their houses: statuunt, ut nocte silenti // fallere custodes foribusque excedere temptent (4,84– 85). The lovers’ plan is effective because they share a desire to meet one another. However, this situation is very rare in elegiac poetry, as Tibullus 1,2,15 – 16 shows²²⁸. There, the amator laments the presence of the custos. Although he encourages Delia to evade her inflexible guardian (tu quoque ne timide custodes, Delia, falle, // audendum est), the poem ultimately laments Delia’s disdain, as we have seen above. In 1,6,9 – 10 Tibullus ironically illustrates the ineffectiveness of the amator’s desire to see his puella after deceiving the custodes. Keeping with the theme of 1,2, here the poeta-amator bitterly laments that his beloved used the advice he gave her on how to fallere custodes ―however, not in order to see him, but his rival: ipse miser docui, quo posset ludere pacto // custodes: heu heu nunc premor arte mea. Once again, the promise of the elegiac lover’s longed-for erotic union with his puella, after they together plan how to evade the obstacles separating them, is ultimately a chimera. Thus, although the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe certainly thrives on the conventions of elegy, Ovid subtly moves beyond them, since he presents an erotic situation that is generically unattainable in the elegiac code. Both Pyramus and Thisbe beg the obstacle separating them to allow their union; they establish effective non-verbal communication; they succeed in whispering through a crack in the wall; and, lastly, by mutual agreement, they deceive the guardians who shield against their union. Schmitzer (1992: 537) rightly observes that Thisbe, who is characterised as callida [4,93] (a term of unmistakable elegiac origin²²⁹), does not employ her cunning to deceive the amator, as we would expect according to the conventions of a characteristically ele-

 For other elegiac instances, see Barchiesi (2007: 262).  See Anderson (1997: 421) and Knox (1986: 37) on the elegiac roots of the term. See Barchiesi (2008: 263) on the elegiac passages where the puella is designated as callida.

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giac fallax puella ²³⁰. Instead, all of her actions intend exactly the opposite, namely ne fallat amantem (4,128). Thus, if we take the entire intra- and intertextual context into account, the crack in the wall seems to allude to a fissure in the conventions of the elegiac genre whose presence Ovid slowly intimates. Omitting for now additional stylistic and thematic elements linking this episode with the elegiac genre²³¹, we should note that in Pyramus and Thisbe Ovid realises the culmination of the most powerful desire in elegiac poetry, namely death. Papanghelis (1987: 1, et passim) argues that, particularly in Propertius’ poetry, the potential of elegiac love reaches its most complete realisation within the framework of death fantasies. Death is, thus, an ideal moment where love may reach perfection²³². The recurrent elegiac fantasy holds death as the best means to prove the depth of one’s love. Certainly, the consummation of love in death is, then, a unanimously acknowledged elegiac motif. However, Ovid’s tale of Pyramus and Thisbe cleverly poses the question: to what degree does the lovers’ shared death really accord with the elegiac pattern? A close reading reveals a crucial difference: Thisbe satisfies the elegiac lover’s persistent desire for a puella who is ready to die for love. The lover’s Liebestod ²³³ is a regular elegiac motif, but, in contrast to Thisbe, the puella does not engage in so great a self-sacrifice. Propertius 3,13,15 – 24 neatly

 See Rosati (1983: 101).  These elements have been conveniently highlighted by different studies. Thus, for instance, the fact that Thisbe is dressed with leves amictus (104) hints at the tenderness and urbanity of an elegiac puella, particularly if we take consider the contrast between Thisbe’s clothing and the wild lioness sullying her fine veil with blood (Barchiesi, 2007: 264). Another characteristically elegiac stylistic trait is the allusion to the aesthetic principle of tenuitas, which Ovid uses to de pict the crack in the wall (an element of elegiac origin, as we have seen): “like their elegiac sen sibility, this crack is tenuis” (Fowler, 2000: 159). The lovers’ impatience at the slow passage of time before the erotic encounter also exhibits elegiac echoes, as Propertius 3,20,11 ff. evidences (Barchiesi, 2007: 262 263). Moreover, Pyramus’ apostrophe to nature, the forest and the wild an imals (4,112 114) is also a typical reaction of elegiac amatores who are frustrated by the belo ved’s absence, as Propertius 1,18 neatly shows (see Section I, Chapter 4 above). Lastly, as Schmit zer (1992: 530) observes, Pyramus’ late arrival (serius egressus: v. 105) for his “rendezvous” with Thisbe is an ironic reworking of Ovid’s praeceptum amoris in Ars 1,715 723, where he counsels the amator not to show excessive haste when he is about to join his beloved, as a tactic for stok ing her desire.  As Gómez Pallarés (2003: 420) appropriately points out, death functions, particularly in Propertius, as “un espacio virtual (…) más allá de la realidad, en que se pueden realizar todos sus sueños de amor porque no existen, allí (tras la muerte), trabas ni obstáculo alguno. Se trata de un camino para evadirse de la realidad que comprime su relación”.  On Liebestod in Greek and Latin poetry, see Copley (1940), Tränkle (1963: 472) and Papan ghelis (1987), who focuses on Propertius especially.

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illustrates this point. The poet laments that luxury and greed are the only things that rule women’s (like Cynthia’s) lives and yearns for eastern customs, according to which women cannot live on without their dead husbands; in their grief, they are ready to throw themselves onto the funeral pyre: felix Eois lex funeris una maritis, quos Aurora suis rubra colorat equis! namque ubi mortifero iactast fax ultima lecto, uxorum fusis stat pia turba comis, et certamen habent leti, quae viva sequatur coniugium: pudor est non licuisse mori. ardent victrices et flammae pectora praebent, imponuntque suis ora perusta viris. hoc genus infidum nuptarum, hic nulla puella nec fida Euadne nec pia Penelope.

But the reality is that Cynthia is neither Evadne nor Penelope, nor a woman from the Far East who is willing to follow her beloved in death. Pyramus and Thisbe show elegiac traits but, in contrast to Propertius and Cynthia, both willingly sacrifice their lives on the altar of love. First, Pyramus kills himself, believing that his beloved has been devoured by a lioness: serius egressus vestigia vidit in alto pulvere certa ferae totoque expalluit ore Pyramus; ut vero vestem quoque sanguine tinctam repperit, “una duos” inquit “nox perdet amantes, e quibus illa fuit longa dignissima vita; nostra nocens anima est. ego te, miseranda, peremi,

105

(…) sed timidi est optare necem.” velamina Thisbes tollit et ad pactae secum fert arboris umbram, utque dedit notae lacrimas, dedit oscula vesti, “accipe nunc” inquit “nostri quoque sanguinis haustus!” quoque erat accinctus, demisit in ilia ferrum,

115

110

Pyramus’ death evokes the typical elegiac scene of the amator who is unable to live on without the love of his puella. But then, in a culmination of the elegiac desideratum, Thisbe cannot bear the loss of her beloved and immolates herself too: est et mihi fortis in unum hoc manus, est et amor: dabit hic in vulnera vires. persequar extinctum letique miserrima dicar

150

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causa comesque tui: quique a me morte revelli heu sola poteras, poteris nec morte revelli. (…) dixit et aptato pectus mucrone sub imum incubuit ferro, quod adhuc a caede tepebat.

162

Given Propertius’ claim that, apart from in myth (Evadne and Penelope), only at the eastern edges of the world do women sacrifice their lives for love, it is probably not by chance that the first “elegiac episode” of mutual love is located precisely to the east in Babylon (Pyramus et Thisbe, iuvenum pulcherrimus alter, altera, quas Oriens habuit, praelata puellis: 4, 55 – 56). In any case, in contrast to the conventions of the puella // amator relationship of elegiac poetry, Pyramus and Thisbe cannot tolerate the prospect of a life without each other. Propertius 1,15 provides another enlightening example. The poet reproaches Cynthia for her indifference to his sufferings and laments that she does not emulate the models of mythology’s faithful women. The poet employs the exempla of Calypso, Alphesiboea and Hypsipyle (lines 9 – 20), until culminating this gradatio with Evadne, who was incapable of bearing the loss of her husband Capaneus and threw herself onto his pyre: coniugis Euadne miseros delata per ignis // occidit, Argivae fama pudicitiae (21– 22). Propertius is ready to undergo his Liebestod (nunc pereo: 40) ―but Cynthia is not. The poet can only pine in vain for such a sacrifice: quarum nulla tuos potuit convertere mores, // tu quoque uti fieres nobilis historia (23 – 24). The world of myth is ruled by a different code of values; but the necessary condition for the elegiac fiction’s continuation is the opposition between the beloved’s actions and the amator’s desires. Likewise, in poem 2,8 Propertius again contrasts a longed-for mythology with the hard life of the elegiac lover. The amator, whom Cynthia does not love anymore, is ready to die (1– 20). Furthermore, his death fantasies are not confined to a desire for his own death, but also include Cynthia’s. He uses the exemplum of Haemon, who killed himself before the bier of Antigone, to illustrate his point. By assuming the role of Antigone for himself, he thus places Cynthia indirectly in the role of Haemon: sic igitur prima moriere aetate, Properti? sed morere; interitu gaudeat illa tuo! exagitet nostros Manis, sectetur et umbras, insultetque rogis, calcet et ossa mea! quid? non Antigonae tumulo Boeotius Haemon corruit ipse suo saucius ense latus, et sua cum miserae permiscuit ossa puellae, qua sine Thebanam noluit ire domum? sed non effugies: mecum moriaris oportet;

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hoc eodem ferro stillet uterque cruor. quamvis ista mihi mors est inhonesta futura: mors inhonesta quidem, tu moriere tamen.

(17 28)

The tale of Pyramus and Thisbe calls to mind the coveted mythical Liebestod, but radically differs from the elegiac conventions. Ovid intentionally subverts the elegiac principles, since Pyramus and Thisbe achieve what is beyond the generic boundaries of elegy: a joint death as a consummation of love. In crucial contrast to Cynthia, Thisbe takes her life with the same sword as her beloved: Ov. Met. , – 

Propertius ,, – 

aptato pectus mucrone sub imum incubuit ferro, quod adhuc a caede tepebat

mecum moriaris oportet; hoc eodem ferro stillet uterque cruor

As Propertius states in 2,9,51– 52, the most powerful proof of love is that the puella takes her life after seeing him dead²³⁴. Yet, in elegy, love is doomed to be unrequited and, thus, the beloved’s Liebestod is generically unattainable. Lastly, among the various passages that dwell on this theme²³⁵, Propertius 1,19 can further help us to appreciate Ovid’s crucial transformation of elegiac conventions. Once again, Propertius imagines his own death, but fears that Cynthia will not remain faithful to him. In this framework, it is illustrative to examine the exemplum used by the poet for conveying the intensity of his love, which transcends even the limits of death: Propertius identifies himself with Protesilaus, the Greek hero who, having died at Troy, was temporarily brought up from Hades to see his beloved wife, whom he could not forget: illic Phylacides iucundae coniugis heros non potuit caecis immemor esse locis, sed cupidus falsis attingere gaudia palmis Thessalis antiquam venerat umbra domum.

10

As is usually the case in Propertius, myth, beyond serving as an example, also semantically amplifies the comparandum. The mythological parallel of Protesi-

 Mihi si media liceat pugnare puella, // mortem ego non fugiam morte subire tua. For a de tailed discussion of this passage, see Moya Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 276 277).  Other instances of the elegiac Liebestod include Propertius 2,1,47 ff.; 2,13b; 2,17,13; the final lines of poems 2,13b; 14; 15; 24 and 26 (as argued by Barchiesi, 2007: 198); Tibullus, 1,1,57 ff.; or Ov. Am. 2,10,35 38, where Ovid recreates the motif with his usual irony (see Keith, 1994: 36 37). See also Tränkle (1963: 472), for some additional passages.

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laus alludes to the poet’s desire that his puella will follow him into death, as Laodamia did for her husband, according to the most common version of the myth²³⁶. Thinking about the background of the story further distances the situation of the elegiac lover and his puella from myth, the longed-for time ―optato tempore ²³⁷― where women followed their husbands to death. Yet, the erotic reality for the elegiac lover is radically different: Propertius fears that Cynthia will not remain faithful to him²³⁸, whereas Catullus, who in carmen 68b²³⁹ also uses Laodamia and Protesilaus to articulate his feelings for Lesbia, assumes that he must share her with other men. Consequentially, if the elegiac puella cannot even promise fidelity, she will hardly be willing to sacrifice her life for love. Finally, in the image of the lovers’ funereal embrace, Ovid presents a corollary to the series of elegiac adynata/desiderata that Pyramus and Thisbe here realise. The simile of Pyramus’ blood spurting out from the wound has sexual connotations, and, indeed, some critics contend that sexual overtones are present throughout the episode’s depictions of death²⁴⁰: quoque erat accinctus, demisit in ilia ferrum, nec mora, ferventi moriens e vulnere traxit. ut iacuit resupinus humo, cruor emicat alte, non aliter quam cum vitiato fistula plumbo scinditur et tenui stridente foramine longas eiaculatur aquas atque ictibus aera rumpit. arborei fetus adspergine caedis in atram vertuntur faciem, madefactaque sanguine radix purpureo tinguit pendentia mora colore

120

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The expression quoque erat accinctus, demisit in ilia ferrum (119) evokes the erotic connotations of the sword in other passages, where this weapon (ferrum) is a

 Incapable of being without him, Laodamia commits suicide, as Ovid tells in Ars 3, 17. For a review of the main sources, see Lyne (1998: 201 ff.)  As Catullus puts it at the beginning of carmen 64 (line 22).  quam vereor, ne te contempto, Cynthia, busto abstrahat a nostro pulvere iniquus Amor, cogat et invitam lacrimas siccare cadentis! flectitur assiduis certa puella minis (1,19,21 24)  See in Section I, Chapter 3. On the relation between Catullus 68b and Propertius 1,19, see Lyne (1998: 210) for further bibliographical references.  As Segal (1969: 50), apud Perraud (1983: 137), notes, blood is a sexual symbol throughout the episode. See also Fowler (2000: 160 161) and Álvarez Iglesias (1999: 319, n. 418). Schmitzer (1992: 538 9) argues that the simile, rather than acting as a burlesque comment or a sexual symbol, reflects Pyramus’ hasty character.

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metaphor for the phallus²⁴¹. Fowler (2000: 160 – 161) underlines the deliberate similarity between the act of driving a sword into the body and penetration. He moreover emphasises the sexual overtones of the broken-pipe simile (4,121– 127). Yet, the erotic allusion gains particular significance if we also consider the image of Thisbe positioned over her beloved’s lifeless blood as she takes her life: (…) aptato pectus mucrone sub imum incubuit ferro, quod adhuc a caede tepebat

(4,162 163)

The blood of the lovers mingles and thereby satisfies what Propertius 2,8,21 ff. considers the most supreme proof of love. According to Sharrock (2000: 278), the mingling of the lovers’ blood exhibits clear sexual connotations (et sua cum miserae permiscuit ossa puellae: 23; hoc eodem ferro stillet uterque cruor: 26): “the lovers were joined (sexually) in death”. Propertius dwells on this same idea in poem 1,19, where, as we have seen above, Protesilaus represents the culmination of the longed-for union with the beloved. The hero’s description as cupidus attingere gaudia (9), according to Papanghelis (1987: 11– 12), is a euphemism for his wish to join Laodamia sexually: a union that is only completely satisfied in a funereal context ―since Protesilaus was obliged to return to the world of the dead after joining his spouse. Lastly, we find a similar image in Propertius 4,7,94 (mixtis ossibus ossa teram). According to Papanghelis (1987: 23), this reference to the union of the lovers in a common death hints at a sexual union. The moment that Propertius so desperately yearns for becomes true in the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe: vulnera supplevit lacrimis fletumque cruori miscuit et gelidis in vultibus oscula figens

140

The death of Pyramus and Thisbe in an eternal love embrace fulfils the frequent but systematically unattainable aspiration of elegiac poetry. All in all, even though the lovers’ iuncta mors is a common motif in love poetry²⁴², particular care is required when drawing parallels with Pyramus and Thisbe. We should recall that lovers sharing in death is generically precluded by the puella’s duritia, her infidelity or her general averseness to mutual love. The iuncta mors is only part of the elegiac imagery insofar as it remains an axiomatically impossible desideratum.

 See, e. g. Metamorphoses 6,551 and 10,473 75.  As Barchiesi (2007: 264) and Lyne (1998) argue.

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Although Pyramus and Thisbe only unite physically in death, an essential component of the episode is their indissoluble union. Far from being a paradox, this element is used by Ovid, on the one hand, to intensify the pathos of the fatal misunderstanding that leads to their death, and, on the other hand, to underline crucial thematic differences from the Daphne-pattern. In fact, a meaningful feature of the episode (and also a common thread throughout the episodes of the fides-pattern, as we will see in this chapter) is the recurrence of terms and expressions from the semantic field of union or reciprocity. Conspicuously, from the beginning of the narration Ovid emphasises the mutual nature of this love: ex aequo captis ardebant mentibus ambo (4,62)²⁴³. Moreover, he meaningfully describes the wall separating them as a shared object (paries domui communis utrique: 66). Lastly, we should note the many verbs indicating the lovers’ mutual action or confluence (coiissent: 60; coiere: 83; conveniant: 88), as well as the frequent use of the verb iungere ²⁴⁴ and the ample presence of the correlation unus (idem)-duos (geminus) ²⁴⁵. The confluence of all these elements lets us view the tale as a programme for a new vision of love. For the first time²⁴⁶ in his hexametric poem Ovid presents a non-agonistic love-pattern. Interestingly, Pyramus and Thisbe, who have been  Anderson (1997: 421) observes that “this entire line, with its slow spondaic rhythm, empha sises the perfect match of their feelings”.  Quantum erat, ut sineres toto nos corpore iungi: 74; quos certus amor, quos hora novissima iunxit: 156.  Una duos (…) nox perdet amantes: 108; at tu quae ramis arbor miserabile corpus // nunc tegis unius, mox es tectura duorum: 158 9; signa tene caedis pullosque et luctibus aptos // sem per habe fetus, gemini monimenta cruoris: 160 1; conponi tumulo non invideatis eodem: 157.  To be more precise, we should note that the mutual love pattern was foreshadowed themat ically in the episode of Deucalion and Pyrrha (1,313 415), where Ovid prefigures some elements that will be recurrent in the “fides model”. Thus, Ovid anticipates here the motif of the lovers’ impotence in the face of a fate that threatens to separate them (see particularly 1,358 362). Al though, from an episodic point of view, the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha cannot be considered strictly a love episode, the protagonists are, in fact, the first characters in the Metamorphoses who express love, as Sharrock (2003a: 97, n. 9) also observes. Thus, although, from a narratolog ical standpoint, the episode has primarily a cosmogonic function, it also acts as a prelude to the primus amor, insofar as it anticipates that the “Daphne pattern” is not the only erotic paradigm in the Metamorphoses. In fact, a lexical and semantic examination of the episode reveals terms alluding to the unity of the couple (352 3: commune mihi genus (…) / deinde torus iunxit, nunc ipsa pericula iungunt), in addition to the term coniunx itself (395, 351, 362, and 319, where Ovid employs the congruous expression consorte tori), which, as we will see, features exclusively in tales of mutual love. Furthermore, among other minor allusions to elegy, the motif of the desire for a iuncta mors with the beloved (see 1,351 353 and cf., for instance, Propertius 1,11,23 24) and the hope to reach the old age together with the beloved (cf. Tibullus 1,6,85 86 and 1,1,37 ff.) evoke certain central conceits in elegy, the amatory genre par excellence.

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physically separated throughout the episode, achieve their final union by means of a wound. In fact, as we have seen, their blood mingling makes their love unbreakable, for their common blood survives in the stained colour of the mulberry fruits: at tu quae ramis arbor miserabile corpus nunc tegis unius, mox es tectura duorum, signa tene caedis pullosque et luctibus aptos semper habe fetus, gemini monimenta cruoris.”

160

If we consider the most conspicuous literary and philosophical antecedents of the representation of love, it is probably not a coincidence that their wound is a symbol of their love “made flesh”. On the one hand, we have seen that Pyramus and Thisbe’s symmetrical love deliberately contrasts with the agonistic nature of love in elegy, the amatory genre par excellence. On the other hand, the new love-pattern incarnated by Pyramus and Thisbe programmatically echoes Lucretius’ philosophical view of love as a struggle. As we have seen above in this chapter, Lucretius explains love as a source of physical suffering and pain. In Lucretius’ description, passionate love provokes wounds: etenim potiundi tempore in ipso fluctuat incertis erroribus ardor amantum nec constat quid primum oculis manibusque fruantur. quod petiere, premunt arte faciuntque dolorem corporis et dentes inlidunt saepe labellis osculaque adfigunt, quia non est pura voluptas et stimuli subsunt, qui instigant laedere id ipsum, quod cumque est, rabies unde illaec germina surgunt.

(4,1076 ff.)

Moreover, love engenders frustration arising from the impossibility of fully possessing the beloved: sic in amore Venus simulacris ludit amantis, nec satiare queunt spectando corpora coram nec manibus quicquam teneris abradere membris

(4,1101 ff.)

(…) adfigunt avide corpus iunguntque salivas oris et inspirant pressantes dentibus ora, ne quiquam, quoniam nihil inde abradere possunt nec penetrare et abire in corpus corpore toto; nam facere inter dum velle et certare videntur.

(4,1108 ff.)

I argue that Ovid plays with the reminiscence of Lucretius’ passage in order to call attention to his revision of the literary and philosophical view of love as

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an essentially agonistic phenomenon. The Daphne-pattern and its model in the elegiac genre are certainly in line with Lucretius’ description of love as an agon (certare videntur: 1112). Yet, Pyramus and Thisbe’s final union is not a source of pain, as Lucretius implies. Rather, their separation makes them suffer. Therefore, Ovid seems to hint at the Lucretian vision of love, only to prove in contrast that a non-agonistic form of eros is possible. In this framework, Labate’s (2005: 38 – 39) arguments advance our discussion. The scholar claims that Lucretius’ tragic representation of the lovers’ anxious impulse to be united evokes and demythologises the fantastic anthropology of love that Plato, through Aristophanes’ demi-burlesque fantasy, details in the Symposium (189 ff.): “l’attuale natura fisica dell’uomo deriverebbe dalla separazione chirurgica di antiche creature doppie e rotonde (…); l’unirsi dei corpi nell’amore rappresenta perciò l’insopprimibile desiderio di sanare quell’antica ferita, ricostituendo l’originaria natura intera”²⁴⁷. The fact that the blood of their common wound finally unites Pyramus and Thisbe echoes Aristophanes’ view of love as the pursuit of lost wholeness²⁴⁸. From this, we may think that Pyramus and Thisbe’s separation and ultimate union through their mingled blood evokes the Platonic idea of a wound and a physical separation as the origin of love. Yet, this interpretation goes even further: Pyramus and Thisbe achieve the longed-for union with the “other half”, which mankind desperately covets, according to the Aristophanic account in Plato’s Symposium. The new colour of the mulberry fruits symbolises their perpetual union through a wound, and their common urn (quodque rogis superest, una requiescit in urna: Met. 4,166) evokes the longed-for unity, whose pursuit Aristophanes calls Love. Through his play, on the one hand, with elegiac conventions and his complex allusions, on the other hand, to Lucretian and Platonic visions of eros, Ovid seems to defy the philosophical and literary foundations for understanding love. Rather than engaging in any kind of serious philosophical discussion, Ovid’s main intention is to show the extent to which Pyramus and Thisbe incarnate a crucial transformation of the traditional erotic paradigms. Their love is, programmatically, symmetrical. ***

 Labate (2005: 39).  As Aristophanes tells in his account, what mankind yearns is “to be so joined and fused with his beloved that the two might be made one”. He then explains that the cause is “that our original form was as I have described, and we were entire; and the craving and pursuit of that entirety is called Love” (Symp. 192e, translated by Fowler, 1925).

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The lovers’ desperate efforts to unite and the story’s tragic finale have led some critics to concentrate on frustration and absence as key themes in the narrative. Along these lines, Fowler (2000) interprets the story of Pyramus and Thisbe as the expression of the frustrated desire for presence. For her part, Salzman-Mitchell (2005: 66) argues that we are dealing with “a failed attempt at mutuality”. The scholar, analysising the symbolic meaning of the gaze as a vector for power relations, concludes that the lovers’ reciprocity is frustrated insofar as they only manage to see each other at the moment of death: ad nomen Thisbes oculos a morte gravatos // Pyramus erexit visaque recondidit illa (145 – 146). Indeed, circumstance thwarts the happy consummation of mutual love ―a fact that, at first sight, seems to corroborate the liaison of this episode with both elegiac conventions and the Daphne-pattern. As a matter of fact, Holzberg (2007: 49) claims that the theme of thwarted love is one of the most typically elegiac elements in the story. However, we should consider the whole intratextual context of the Metamorphoses and, in particular, the relation between this episode and the other episodes of mutual love, which I will examine further on in this chapter. A reading of Pyramus and Thisbe as the first stage in a sequence of representations of erotic reciprocity that unfolds over the course of Ovid’s hexametric poem can give us a clue about the interpretative difficulties involved in the episode’s labile relation to elegy. As the first stage of amor mutuus in the evolving continuum of the Metamorphoses, Pyramus and Thisbe’s love is not fulfilled in life, in contrast to the other episodes of mutual love. Yet, this story marks a programmatic precedent for the later episodes by representing for the first time a love relationship that, on the one hand, is thematically rooted in elegy, and, on the other hand, is not based on a hierarchical asymmetry between the lovers. Furthermore, even Salzman-Mitchell’s (2005) arguments can be reinterpreted and used to demonstrate that, through his characterisation of Pyramus and Thisbe, Ovid deliberately subverts conventional erotic power dynamics and opens space for a new erotic pattern. Even if, as the Salzman-Mitchell rightly argues, the pair does not achieve a happy union in life, their unhappiness does not originate from the asymmetry or from the unrequitedness of their love. Although external circumstances hinder the concrete consummation of their passion²⁴⁹,

 In fact, in contrast to the Daphne pattern, where the agonistic tension between two char acters with opposing desires dramatises the stories, another kind of struggle dramatises the ep isode of Pyramus and Thisbe, namely the struggle against external forces threatening the lovers’ union. The pathos of their situation stems from their impotence: first, they are unable to confront the superior power impeding the realisation of their love, namely their families: taedae quoque iure coissent, // sed vetuere patres (4,60 61). Second, the wall itself that separates them also

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their love is mutual from the beginning of the story. Consequently, the tale cannot be conceived, at any rate, as a failed attempt at reciprocity. What matters is that in Pyramus and Thisbe Ovid incarnates the possibility of an “elegiac” erotic union that is not governed by a power difference between the lovers. In this framework, we may observe that the gaze directed from Pyramus towards Thisbe is, as Salzman-Mitchell (2005: 216, n.41) argues, an “upward” look, which, according to the author’s interpretation of the gaze as a power vector, denotes his loss of power and masculinity. Nevertheless, the image of Pyramus looking up as he dies in Thisbe’s bosom can also be understood programmatically to symbolise the change in the pattern of erotic power relations occurring within the poem. According to the most obvious intertextual model (love elegy), as well as to the most immediate intratextual model (the episodes of the Daphne-pattern), the amator is expected to be the dominant party in his relationship with the beloved. Yet, far from casting Pyramus in such a role, Ovid shows that his protagonist can also adopt a feminine gaze: the image becomes a metaphor for Pyramus’ access to a domain with a non-agonistic code of values. By implicitly distancing Pyramus from a traditionally masculine role, Ovid introduces a love pattern that is not ruled by power and, thereby, draws a clear contrast to the philandering of the omnipotent gods whose sexual victims are unable to oppose them. Pyramus and Thisbe have paved the way for an alternative elegiac model in the Metamorphoses.

Cephalus and Procris The episode of Cephalus and Procris, which Otis (1966: 174) considers “the climax of book VII”, evidences Ovid’s definitive commitment to mutual love, following his programmatic “metamorphosis” of the hierarchical dynamics of elegiac love in the Pyramus and Thisbe narrative. From an intra-narratively diachronic perspective, the episode of Deucalion and Pyrrha already prefigures an alternate amatory pattern to the (“Daphne-patterned”) tales of “vertical” love. Later on in Book 4, the story Cadmus and Harmonia²⁵⁰ again evokes the

dwells on the semantics of power/impotence, since it physically prevents the consummation of their love “invide” dicebant “paries, quid amantibus obstas” (4,73). And, lastly, the impotence of the lovers is most clearly expressed in their inability to defeat the most ineluctable obstacle: death.  The motif of mutual love threatened by an external factor is present in the story of Cadmus and Harmonia (4,563 603). Even though love is not the central theme of the episode, it contains some elements that are thematically linked with the iuncta mors motif, which was first intro

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theme of mutual love, which Ovid fully develops for Pyramus and Thisbe at the beginning of the book. As we have seen, this narrative is the first time in the hexametric poem Ovid links an ostensibly elegiac register with reciprocal love, creating, thus, a sharp contrast to the sexual violence that overwhelmingly pervades the first books of the Metamorphoses. In this context, narrating the tragic love story of Cephalus and Procris allows Ovid to return to the themes anticipated by the previous episodes of mutual love and to underscore, thus, the importance of this alternative erotic pattern. The whole episode is set within the frame of Cephalus’ autodiegetic narrative. The hero recalls the sequence of events involving him and his wife. Cephalus’ narration begins as a response to Focus’ curiosity, who asks about the origin of Cephalus’ extraordinary spear. The narrator then tells how he was abducted by Aurora and how he refused any erotic contact with the goddess, since he firmly wanted to remain faithful to his wife. Aurora lets him go, but spitefully instigates Cephalus to distrust Procris’ fidelity. As a consequence, he decides to test his wife’s faithfulness by disguising himself and trying to seduce her. At the first sign of her hesitating he unveils his true identity, and ashamed, she flees into the woods. Cephalus regrets his despicable behaviour, and she finally returns to him. Moreover, as a proof of their reconciliation, she gives him a marvellous javelin that never misses its mark. Some time later, the situation changes. Now, Procris has doubts about his husband’s fidelity, for she heard that a certain “Breeze” (aura) has captured Cephalus’ heart. Determined to verify the rumours, she follows him secretly to the woods where he goes hunting. Then, Cephalus narrates the fatal outcome of his story: thinking an animal was moving behind the bushes, he accidentally kills Procris with his unerring javelin. While she is dying, Procris begs him not to marry aura. Cephalus then realises the fatal misunderstanding, since Procris mistook his yearning for fresh air (aura) as a love serenade. However, Cephalus insists on projecting an image of amatory harmony at the end of his narration, such that Procris appears to perish only after reconciling with reality and with her ever-faithful husband.

duced in the episode of Deucalion and Pyrrha. In fact, the similarities between these two cou ples are noteworthy (compare 1,358 362 with 4,581 585 and 590 603). The amatory pattern embodied by Cadmus and Harmonia is inscribed, thus, within an erotic register where love is the result of a long lasting mutual cohabitation (see 4,598 adsueta colla, in line with Pyramus and Thisbe [4,59 60]), and where the union of the lovers, in spite of the external threats, is the only thing that matters. Meaningfully, the recurrence of the term iungere and allusions to the couple’s inseparable unity are notably present in all the episodes that abide by this amatory pattern (in the case of Cadmus and Harmonia, see 4,600: subito duo sunt iunctoque volumine serpunt).

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A number of studies have focused on an episode whose axial position in the Metamorphoses ―at the end of Book 7, in the centre of the poem― lends it additional importance. Among these manifold approaches, some contributions are particularly interesting to my purposes. I refer to the studies that analyse the amalgam of generic registers within the episode and that, simultaneously, compare this narrative with the version that Ovid himself presents in Ars Amatoria 3,685 – 746. Daams (2003), for instance, notes the differences and similarities between the two versions and, based on criteria of arrangement, style and subject matter, concludes that the version in the Metamorphoses cannot be considered entirely epic, but a generic mixture where elegiac elements are particularly conspicuous²⁵¹. In fact, an analysis of the Cephalus-narrative attests to several elements of elegiac origin, as Jouteur (2001: 251– 256), Pöschl (1959)²⁵², Pechillo (1990)²⁵³ and Labate (1975 – 76) neatly note. Labate particularly observes that Procris is characterised with traits that unmistakably recall an elegiac puella. Specifically, the scholar (1975 – 76: 120) notes as a typically elegiac reminiscence the fact that she remains beautiful even in a situation that normally alters physical traits adversely (such as sorrow, weeping, anger, etc.), as we see in Met. 7,730 – 731: tristis erat (sed nulla tamen formosior illa esse potest tristi) desiderioque dolebat coniugis abrepti: tu collige, qualis in illa, Phoce, decor fuerit, quam sic dolor ipse decebat!

730

 Even though Daams follows the methodological approach of analysing the Erzählweise of the Metamorphoses, which goes back to Heinze (1919), she argues that the rigid assertion of the poem’s epic character, as Heinze contends, cannot be sustained. In a similar vein, Segal (1978: 188) makes the case for a fusion of epic and elegiac tones as the episode’s most remarkable sty listic feature.  Pöschl’s (1959: 332 333) main argument is that the episode exhibits a predominantly “el egiac character”, as he infers from the characterisation of Procris and, in particular, Cephalus, who feels a “sweet guilt” (“die Süße der Verschuldung”: Pöschl, 1959: 333) evoking the attitude of a typical elegiac amator, as demonstrated in Propertius 1,3 and, especially, 4,7. Segal (1978: 181) also observes that the tone of inner emotion characterising Cephalus’ narration recalls the attitude of the elegiac lover. In contrast to this approach, Ruiz de Elvira (2001b: 166) under scores the “epic character” of the narrative (by virtue of the “manifiesto predominio de lo obje tivo o fáctico sobre la subjetiva expresión de sentimientos”), compared to the version in the Ars, where, as Ruiz de Elvira argues, a lyric tone of personal effusion is predominant.  Pechillo underlines the use of elegiac motifs and, on the basis of thematic and stylistic cri teria, concludes that the episode, being generically integrated within the structure of an epyllion, has an essentially elegiac tone.

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A number of elegiac parallels reveal this characterisation of the mistress as almost a topos in the genre, as the following passages show²⁵⁴: Ov. Am.1,14,19 22: saepe etiam nondum digestis mane capillis purpureo iacuit semisupina toro. tum quoque erat neclecta decens, ut Threcia Bacche, cum temere in viridi gramine lassa iacet. Ov. Am. 2,5,43 44: spectabat terram terram spectare decebat; maesta erat in vultu maesta decenter erat Ov. Am. 1,7,12 – 13: ergo ego digestos potui laniare capillos? nec dominam motae dedecuere comae.

Labate (1975 – 76: 120) rightly observes that “il cliché viene rivitalizzato e risemantizzato”, in so far as it bestows a touch of decorum to Procris’ conjugal sorrow. Yet, Ovid does not merely adapt an elegiac cliché to the needs of the new context’s plot; this action, furthermore, contributes to a larger process of metaliterary reflection, as I will argue. In turn, Cephalus’ “pseudo-serenade” to Aura also evidences a close liaison with the language of love elegy, as Labate (1975 – 76: 126 – 127) notes: aura petebatur medio mihi lenis in aestu, auram exspectabam, requies erat illa labori. “aura” (recordor enim), “venias” cantare solebam, “meque iuves intresque sinus, gratissima, nostros, utque facis, relevare velis, quibus urimur, aestus!” forsitan addiderim (sic me mea fata trahebant), blanditias plures et “tu mihi magna voluptas” dicere sim solitus, “tu me reficisque fovesque, tu facis, ut silvas, ut amem loca sola: meoque spiritus iste tuus semper captatur ab ore.”

815

820

There are some particularly remarkable features in this passage: aestus (811, 815), the key-word on which the fatal misunderstanding pivots; the verb uror (815); the expression veni-venias (813), which is a usual way for the lover to express his erotic invitation; and also the allusion to Cephalus’ blanditiae (816). The simultaneous presence of these terms demonstrates the close thematic

 Other instances are present in Ars 1,533; 2,570; or 3,429 ff.

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and stylistic links to elegy in the protagonist’s speech²⁵⁵. Even the invocation of Aura in the solitary forests recalls the elegiac motif of the amator addressing the woods and crying the name of his beloved aloud, as Propertius conspicuously does in 1,18, so that it resounds in the forests. These literary echoes illustrate Ovid’s manifest intention to situate his audience/readership before a distinctly recognisable elegiac register. Beyond merely listing these elegiac topoi, Labate aims to demonstrate that, against Otis’ (1966: 266 ff.) view, the erotic aequalitas at the conceptual heart of the episode is not actually a specific innovation of the Metamorphoses; instead, as Labate (1975 – 76: 122) argues, it developed previously in amatory poetry from Catullus on. Labate, therefore, concludes that, next to the usual elegiac register for the insidious and frivolous aspects of love (the elegiac nequitia), Catullan/elegiac poetry already makes use of conjugal imagery. Thus, the Cephalus-narrative of the Metamorphoses shows Ovid resuming and developing this “conjugal erotic register”. For example, the Catullan/elegiac foedus amoris –motif ²⁵⁶ is clearly echoed in our episode (7,714– 716): cum redeo mecumque deae memorata retracto, esse metus coepit, ne iura iugalia coniunx non bene servasset

The depiction of mutual love, as Labate (1975 – 76: 122– 123) argues, was anticipated in neoteric-elegiac poetry. Thus, the internal narrator remarks that an amor socialis solidified their union: i. e., a mutual love so deep that not even Jupiter or Venus themselves could be placed before the beloved (7, 800 – 804): mutua cura duos et amor socialis habebat, nec Iovis illa meo thalamos praeferret amori, nec me quae caperet, non si Venus ipsa veniret, ulla erat; aequales urebant pectora flammae.

800

The elegiac undertones of these lines receive further emphasis if we take into account²⁵⁷ the echoes of Catullus’ poem 70,1– 2 and poem 72,1– 2, where the firstperson speaker uses the figure of Jupiter as a foil to highlight the durability of love:

 For other parallel examples in elegy, see Labate (1975 76: 126 127).  See Labate (1975 76: 110 and 116 117). For additional instances of this motif, see Moreno Soldevila (2011: 305 310).  See Labate (1975: 117) and Álvarez Iglesias (1999: 460), who also note this parallel.

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carmen ,  – 

carmen ,  – 

Nulli se dicit mulier mea nubere malle quam mihi, non si se Iuppiter ipse petat

Dicebas quondam solum te nosse Catullum, Lesbia, nec prae me uelle tenere Iouem

However, Labate omits a crucial fact: although love elegy often employs images of conjugal love, the puella’s fidelity is the absolute exception to the generic rule. In other words, amor mutuus is a utopia very rarely realised in elegy. To be sure, Labate discusses the concept of paritas as an “ideal”²⁵⁸ in Latin erotic poetry; yet, his study does not sufficiently emphasise that, despite the foedus amoris and occasional conjugal motifs, mutual love is axiomatically alien to elegy. Catullus’ poems 70 and 72, which Labate cites as precedents for Cephalus’ and Procris’ mutual devotion, eloquently show how erotic reciprocity is, de facto, unattainable according to the conventions of Catullan/elegiac poetry. In fact, in both cases, the poems’ development, paradoxically, contradicts explicitly the affirmation “our love will last, even if Jupiter himself were my rival-lover”: carmen 

carmen 

Nulli se dicit mulier mea nubere malle quam mihi, non si se Iuppiter ipse petat. dicit: sed mulier cupido quod dicit amanti, in uento et rapida scribere oportet aqua.

Dicebas quondam solum te nosse Catullum, Lesbia, nec prae me uelle tenere Iouem. dilexi tum te non tantum ut uulgus amicam, sed pater ut gnatos diligit et generos. nunc te cognoui: quare etsi impensius uror, multo mi tamen es uilior et leuior. qui potis est, inquis? quod amantem iniuria talis cogit amare magis, sed bene uelle minus.

Both poems have a bipartite arrangement: the first half expresses an ideal situation, which is either placed in a distant past (poem 72) or is withdrawn from the speaker’s reality/experience by the explicit reference to Lesbia’s reported speech (poem 70). In the second half the speaker unveils the harsh reality of his erotic situation, namely, the perfidy of his beloved. Thus, the expectations raised by the first half of the poem are thwarted in the second half, where it becomes clear that Lesbia is bound to break the foedus amoris. These examples show that reciprocity is virtually impossible in elegiac love, according to expectations of the genre. Thus, the mutual love and enduring fidelity depicted between Cephalus and Procris, protagonists characterised with un-

 See Labate (1975 76: 116 and 123, n.3).

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mistakably elegiac traits, cannot be explained away as a mere decorative matter. It is a remarkably anomalous constellation. Cephalus insists that their love was so strong that not even a god could interfere with their mutual devotion. And, in fact, such is the case: in spite of Aurora’s erotic offerings, Cephalus remains faithful; just like Procris, who also keeps their amatory vows. Consequently, while considering the the broader intra- and intertextual context, we need to examine and reasonably explain why Ovid includes a formally elegiac love-story with symmetrical power relations between lovers at a conspicuously central position in the poem. The previously mentioned studies still leave considerable hermeneutical space. We need not, I argue, dwell further on the generic definition of the Metamorphoses ―an ambition lurking in the exegetical background of the aforementioned studies demonstrating the long-reaching impact of Heinze’s (1919) project. Terminological consensus seems to me the most sensible way to assuage a debate whose very scopes are highly questionable. Epos sui generis is one label among a variegated set of alternative possibilities, as Galinsky (1975: VIII) neatly illustrates²⁵⁹. Yet, as I argued in the introductory pages of this book, examining the process of mutation for the literary forms occurring within the Metamorphoses is more fruitful than trying to categorise the results of this process within the generic taxonomy of literary tradition. In the particular case of the Cephalus-narrative, it is necessary to focus from a new perspective on the so-called “elegiac character” of the episode: beyond the mere verification of elegiac topoi or stylistic features, the text and context demand a complementary analysis of the desiderative dynamics of Cephalus’ and Procris’ relationship. A close reading of elegy demonstrates that, despite occasional conjugal imagery, mutual love is essentially alien to the genre. This seems to support Otis’ (1966) argument that the literary treatment of erotic reciprocity is a genuinely Ovidian “invention” in the Metamorphoses ²⁶⁰. However, in contrast to Otis, who argues this in ethical terms (namely, that Ovid intends to situate “normal” love at the apex of his scale of values²⁶¹), I would explain the central presence of mutual love as an eminently metatextual process. As he foregrounds in the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe, Ovid reflects in the Cephalus-narrative on the erotic dynamics of elegy and endeavours to re-semanticise elegiac forms. Indeed, Cephalus and Procris are endowed with distinctively elegiac traits, but they cru-

 See also Jouteur (2001: esp. 89 92) for an overview of the different generic categories pos sibly inscribing the Metamorphoses.  Nonetheless, it is important to confer due value to the Heroides in this process, in so far as this work actually prefigures the elegiac expression of mutual love (as I have argued before).  In a similar interpretative vein, see also Ruiz de Elvira (2001b: 162).

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cially alter the conventions of the genre, since the distinguishing feature of their relationship is love-symmetry and enduring faithfulness, the adynaton whose inaccessibility constitutes the very essence of the elegiac code. We are dealing, in sum, with a metaliterary question: the poet demonstrates that creating a “horizontal” elegiac world is possible and thus, simultaneously underscores, through antithesis, the hierarchical asymmetry of the traditional elegiac pattern. In this way, Ovid ultimately evinces the lability of generic forms. Ovid does not limit himself to transferring only amatory topoi to his narrative: a close comparison between the episode and passages from the elegiac corpus reveals that the story of Cephalus and Procris challenges some crucial elegiac conventions. Interestingly, Procris is an unconventional elegiac puella, in so far as her unswerving loyalty to Cephalus distances her from the usual profile of an elegiac beloved. Indeed, the story’s version in Ars Amatoria 3,685 – 746 is a precise exemplum of how a would-be elegiac mistress should not behave. Book 3 of his erotodidactic handbook describes the conventions of the elegiac code from the female beloved’s point of view. Here, one of the duties of a good would-be puella is to flatter her amator by pretending that she loves him²⁶² ―since the ultimate purpose is to profit most from the suitors, as the magister states in 3,525 – 554. In any case, the puella should not make the mistake of loving him as zealously as Procris loved Cephalus, for precisely this excessive diligence led to her fatal suspicion. Procris’ extraordinary faithfulness, thus, transforms her into a utopian puella. The reality of elegiac discourse is quite otherwise, as we can infer from the many poems where the mistress’ infidelity is exposed. Even if the ideal of erotic reciprocity is present in Latin love poetry from Catullus on, the essence of elegiac discourse consists precisely in the frustration and lament that this longing for mutual love is impossible to fulfil in a stable and enduring manner. Propertius’ poem 1,11 illustrates this point: the lover exhorts his beloved ―in vain― to be chaste and modest: Ecquid te mediis cessantem, Cynthia, Baiis,

1

(…) nostri cura subit memores adducere noctes? ecquis in extremo restat amore locus? an te nescio quis simulatis ignibus hostis sustulit e nostris, Cynthia, carminibus,

5

(…) ut solet amoto labi custode puella, perfida communis nec meminisse deos?

 See James (2003: 208).

8 15

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non quia perspecta non es mihi cognita fama, sed quod in hac omnis parte timetur amor.

The expression in hac parte (18) is semantically ambiguous: as Moya and Ruiz de Elvira (2001: 153) observe, it can be understood as “in this place” (i. e., in Baiae, a place famous for the dissolute morals of its visitors), or “in this regard”, i. e., “in matters of fidelity”. Still, I would add another possibility, namely, understanding the deictic expression as an allusion to the conventions of the elegiac code. “In hac parte omnis timetur amor” would be, thus, meta-discursive commentary on the peculiarities of elegiac love: in this type of poetry/in this discourse (in hac parte), by generic law, love is always a source of suffering and fear (omnis amor timetur). Hence, a chaste puella would infringe the rules of the genre. Even if, as Propertius hints at in line 17, Cynthia could be chaste (in a hypothetical extra-textual reality that, as fama implies, is a second-degree of fiction relative to the “reality” of elegiac fiction), she is, in fact, at Baiae, that is, she is actually inscribed within the conventions of elegiac love. She is destined to be unfaithful because love elegy is precisely the poetic discourse whose subject is the puella’s systematic infidelity and elusiveness. Another interesting poem is Amores 2,5, where the amator-poeta laments Corinna’s infidelity and illustratively exclaims: o utinam arguerem sic, ut non vincere possem! (v. 7). The lover utters a desiderative lament, namely “I wish my mistress would be faithful!” and “I wish I had no arguments to demonstrate her guilt!”. Yet, in reality he has many such evidence; and this is precisely what gives rise to the typical elegiac situation. Thus, the amator’s wish rather becomes a regretful realisation that his puella’s chastity is, owing to the rules of the genre, impossible. Procris, therefore, is an ideal elegiac puella, in so far as Cephalus, in contrast to the elegiac speaker of Amores 2,5²⁶³, cannot find any evidence of his beloved’s infidelity: esse metus coepit, ne iura iugalia coniunx non bene servasset: facies aetasque iubebat credere adulterium, prohibebant credere mores; sed tamen afueram, sed et haec erat, unde redibam, criminis exemplum, sed cuncta timemus amantes. quaerere, quod doleam, statuo donisque pudicam sollicitare fidem; favet huic Aurora timori inmutatque meam (videor sensisse) figuram. Palladias ineo non cognoscendus Athenas

715

720

 See Moreno Soldevila (2011: 307 308) for further examples of a woman’s infidelity to a love pact as a theme.

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ingrediorque domum; culpa domus ipsa carebat castaque signa dabat dominoque erat anxia rapto: vix aditus per mille dolos ad Erecthida factus. ut vidi, obstipui meditataque paene reliqui temptamenta fide; male me, quin vera faterer, continui, male, quin, et oportuit, oscula ferrem. tristis erat (sed nulla tamen formosior illa esse potest tristi) desiderioque dolebat coniugis abrepti: tu collige, qualis in illa, Phoce, decor fuerit, quam sic dolor ipse decebat! quid referam, quotiens temptamina nostra pudici reppulerint mores, quotiens “ego” dixerit “uni servor; ubicumque est, uni mea gaudia servo.”

725

730

735

Moreover, in contrast to the elegiac puellae, who accept gifts in exchange for their erotic favours (as the amator so often laments), Procris refuses any kind of munus amoris ²⁶⁴. Cephalus disguises himself as a dives amator and fails to bribe Procris; he only manages to make her hesitate ―a fact upon which Cephalus’ narrative insists: cui non ista fide satis experientia sano magna foret? non sum contentus et in mea pugno vulnera, dum census dare me pro nocte loquendo muneraque augendo tandem dubitare coegi.

740

Procris’ beauty and youth, along with Cephalus’ absence and his personal experience are weighty arguments towards the suspicion of infidelity; however, Procris not only challenges Cephalus’ experience, but even the readership’s mythological erudition²⁶⁵ and literary expectations: in contrast to the elegiac girls, she has remained faithful. Thus, Cephalus’ fears (cuncta timemus amantes [719]²⁶⁶) are fully unjustified, since Procris’ behaviour demonstrates that there is no reason to doubt her chastity.

 For elegiac passages depicting the puella’s fondness for expensive erotic presents (luxuri ae), see James (2003: 67) and Moreno Soldevila (2011: 31 32).  Even if Ovid does not explicitly mention it, his audience/readership was surely aware of the version of the myth according to which Procris, avenging her husband’s outrage in turn, com mits adultery while she stays in Crete at Minos’ court. See Fontenrose (1980) and Kenney (2011: 296).  This expression further supports the connection with elegy, since, as Anderson (1972:317 318) remarks, it echoes the outcries of elegiac lovers. Moreover, the term dolos (726) also reinfor ces the episode’s elegiac undertones, since it suggests “the usual devices by which the elegiac lover wins an audience with the woman he desired”.

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A meaningful intertextual parallel supports Procris’ distance from the conventional elegiac puella. As Labate (1975 – 76: 110 ff.) shows, Cephalus refusing Aurora’s erotic propositions evokes Odysseus’ stance towards Calypso²⁶⁷, since both heroes insist on keeping their conjugal fidelity at the expense of an affair with an immortal woman. Implicitly, this intertext situates Procris in the place of Penelope. And this, in turn, lets us notice something which Labate does not further explicate: if we examine the figure of Penelope within Propertian elegy in particular, we can aptly define her as the antithesis of an elegiac puella: Propertius often refers to her fidelity as an exemplum of how Cynthia ought to act. Yet, an elegiac puella is, by virtue of the laws of the genre, unfaithful and elusive and is, thus, destined to be an anti-Penelope. We find an illustrative instance in Propertius’ poem 3,13 (lines 23 – 24), where, as I mentioned above, the poet criticises the custom of Roman puellae to demand money in exchange for love. Subsequently, he refers precisely to Penelope as an antithetical example: hoc genus infidum nuptarum, hic nulla puella nec fida Euadne nec pia Penelope.

In poem 2,9 too, Propertius alludes to the proverbial fidelity of Odysseus’ wife, a radical contrast from Cynthia’s behaviour: Penelope poterat bis denos salva per annos vivere, tam multis femina digna procis; coniugium falsa poterat differre Minerva, nocturno solvens texta diurna dolo; visura et quamvis numquam speraret Vlixem, illum exspectando facta remansit anus. at tu non una potuisti nocte vacare, impia, non unum sola manere diem!

(3 8) (19 20)

Unlike most the elegiac puellae, Procris does match the prototype of Penelope, since, despite the long-lasting absence of her husband²⁶⁸, she remains faithful to their foedus amoris ―a fact that the narrator explicitly notes when Procris pronounces her novissima verba before dying: (…) “per nostri foedera lecti perque deos supplex oro (…)

(7, 852 853)

 See Homer, Odissey 5,209 ff.  (…) facies aetasque iubebat / credere adulterium, prohibebant credere mores; / sed tamen afueram (7,716 718).

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Procris is not only an extraordinarily faithful puella; she posesses another trait that marks her as a heterodox elegiac beloved: in radical opposition to the elegiac canon, she forgives the amator’s infidelity²⁶⁹: (…) tacito tantummodo victa pudore insidiosa malo cum coniuge limina fugit; (…) orabam veniam et peccasse fatebar et potuisse datis simili succumbere culpae me quoque muneribus, si munera tanta darentur. haec mihi confesso, laesum prius ulta pudorem, redditur et dulces concorditer exigit annos;

(743 744)

750

After Cephalus ignominiously tests his beloved, Procris flees; but she eventually comes back and pardons her husband, despite his fault. At this point, it is illuminating to observe the contrast here to certain elegiac poems whose subject is the fearsome ire of the puella when she suspects that her lover has been unfaithful to her. Among the many passages that discuss the saevitia of the beloved²⁷⁰, Ovid is particularly explicit in Ars 2, 373 – 380: (…) Sed neque fulvus aper media tam saevus in ira est, Fulmineo rabidos cum rotat ore canes, Nec lea, cum catulis lactentibus ubera praebet, Nec brevis ignaro vipera laesa pede,

375

 Or, rather, she forgives the suspicions that her husband has been unfaithful. In fact, as Keogh (2010: 3) notes, Ovid deliberately omits the versions of the myth in which the infidelity actually occurs: “Ovid eliminates the homosexual aspect of ‘Procris and Cephalus’ and the dou ble infidelity on Procris’ part and chooses to focus on the couple’s doomed love while still cast ing hints at what may have been going on outside of the story’s narrative”. See also Pöschl (1959: 330 ff. and 341.), Ruiz de Elvira (2001b: 161 and 170 ff.) and Tarrant (1995: 100 ff.). Cf. Fontenrose (1980) who lays out some alternative versions of the myth, where Procris flees and remains ab sent for some time because Cephalus had indeed been unfaithful to her. Fontenrose considers it to be an evidentiary fallacy that these alternative versions of the myth are hinted at in the epi sode of the Metamorphoses. However, the hermeneutical line followed by Green (1979 80) and Keogh (2010) seems to me more convincing: although Ovid does not explicitly mention alterna tive versions of the myth, in all likelihood he plays with the reader’s knowledge of the story’s mythological background. Thus, it is a coincidence, I claim, that all elements related to the con summation of infidelity (on Cephalus’ and on Procris’ part) are omitted from Ovid’s account of the myth, since he ultimately intends to underscore, in contrast to the backgrounded versions of the myth, the protagonists’ unswerving mutual love.  See particularly Tibullus 1,6,69 72; Propertius 1,3,18; 1,5,7 ff.; 3,15; 4,8; and 3,8. On this last poem, see Marina (2010), who discusses the theme of female violence and the poem’s power re lations.

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Femina quam socii deprensa paelice lecti: Ardet et in vultu pignora mentis habet. In ferrum flammasque ruit, positoque decore Fertur, ut Aonii cornibus icta dei. (…) Hoc bene compositos, hoc firmos solvit amores; Crimina sunt cautis ista timenda viris.

380 385

Following the intertextual teachings of Ovid’s treatise, Procris remains moderate in expressing the grief that Cephalus’ outrage provoked. Thus, aware that excessive fury would rupture amatory stability (hoc bene compositos, hoc firmos solvit amores: 385), she opts for reconciliation. Procris seems to have “learned” the keys to preserving love and not endangering it with disproportionate anger. This attitude further underpins that she is an ideal elegiac puella. A close comparison with other elegiac subtexts reveals additional features unveiling Procris as a utopian elegiac puella. On the one hand, Procris not only remains chaste, but also rewards her husband with a javelin and a dog as proof of love: dat mihi praeterea, tamquam se parva dedisset dona, canem munus; quem cum sua traderet illi Cynthia, “currendo superabit” dixerat “omnes.” dat simul et iaculum (…)

755

Procris’ munera can be interpreted as an allusion to the characteristically elegiac pignus amoris, i.e, the pledge of love that the amator ²⁷¹ is ready to give ―and whose counterpart the beloved so seldom offers. Ovid, thus, alters elegiac conventions by making the puella ―and not the amator― grant the pledge of love. On the other hand, additional evidence of Procris’ love includes her anxiety and grief at Cephalus’ absence. Her characterisation echoes Cynthia’s image in Propertius’ poem 3,6 (lines 9 – 18) ―with the crucial difference that here Propertius fantasises about his beloved’s sadness: (…) incomptis vidisti flere capillis? illius ex oculis multa cadebat aqua? nec speculum in strato vidisti, Lygdame, lecto, scriniaque ad lecti clausa iacere pedes, ac maestam teneris vestem pendere lacertis? ornabat niveas nullane gemma manus? tristis erat domus, et tristes sua pensa ministrae carpebant, medio nebat et ipsa loco,

 See, e. g., Ov. Ars 2,247 248; Amores 2,15; and Propertius 1,3,24.

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umidaque impressa siccabat lumina lana, rettulit et querulo iurgia nostra sono?

Propertius asks his servant Lygdamus if it is true that Cynthia really laments his absence. Subsequently, the poet catalogues the entire repertoire of love-tokens that he wishes Cynthia would give him: weeping, neglect for her appearance, sorrow, moaning … Yet, all these “signs of love” remain suspended in the domain of hypothesis and wishing (in other words, in the domain of the unnarrated and extra-textual), since Propertius cannot demonstrate whether Cynthia has really adopted such an attitude. However much the amator may wish it, there is no evidence proving that his mistress is actually sad because of his absence. Within the elegiac code, fides is, at best, uncertain. In contrast to Cynthia, Procris really experiences the feelings that the Propertian speaker so intensely covets: all the signs and evidence of worry that Cephalus finds in her demonstrate that her love is true: (…) culpa domus ipsa carebat castaque signa dabat dominoque erat anxia rapto: vix aditus per mille dolos ad Erecthida factus. (…) tristis erat (sed nulla tamen formosior illa esse potest tristi) desiderioque dolebat coniugis abrepti: tu collige, qualis in illa, Phoce, decor fuerit, quam sic dolor ipse decebat! quid referam, quotiens temptamina nostra pudici reppulerint mores, quotiens “ego” dixerit “uni servor; ubicumque est, uni mea gaudia servo.”

725 730

735

If we compare the passage with the aforementioned elegiac subtext, we see that Procris acts out the entire repertoire of elegiac desiderata that the amator has never seen (and will never see) fulfilled. In fact, Procris is sad (730) and, metonymically, exhibits her chastity through the casta signa (725) of her house. In contrast to the Propertian poem, where significantly all the signs of love (sadness, anxiety, etc.) are expressed in interrogative sentences (lines 9 – 18), Cephalus confirms his wife’s fidelity and her sincere sadness with his own eyes. In turn, Cephalus, too, is depicted as an atypical elegiac amator. He follows the elegiac script by revealing that he is a jealous lover²⁷². However, in contrast

 As a parallel, see, e. g. Ov. Amores 3,14,37 40. For further instances of the jealous amator motif, see Moreno Soldevila (2011: 90 91).

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to the usual elegiac behaviour, Cephalus does not have an outburst of wrath where he harms his beloved, as happens to Tibullus’ elegiac Ego in 1,6,73 – 76: Non ego te pulsare velim, sed, venerit iste Si furor, optarim non habuisse manus; Nec saevo sis casta metu, sed mente fideli, Mutuus absenti te mihi servet amor.

75

Even though the amator admonishes Delia that her faithfulness should arise from their mutual love and not from fear, his threat of violence is quite explicit²⁷³. In the same vein, Ovid narrates in Amores 1,7 that he has exerted violence against his beloved due to an excess of wrath provoked, in all likelihood, by jealousy: Adde manus in vincla meas meruere catenas dum furor omnis abit, siquis amicus ades! nam furor in dominam temeraria bracchia movit; flet mea vaesana laesa puella manu

(1 4)

In contrast to the elegiac canon, Cephalus limits himself to accusing Procris with mere words: exclamo male victor: “adest, mala, fictus adulter! verus eram coniunx! me, perfida, teste teneris.”

(7,741 742)

Moreover, Cephalus insists that his outburst of jealousy ―with its fatal consequences― came at Aurora’s spiteful instigation. Thus, the narrator implicitly “corrects” the alternate versions of the myth, according to which he had the initiative to test Procris’ fidelity²⁷⁴, and exonerates himself from the guilt of shamefully testing his wife: mota dea est et “siste tuas, ingrate, querellas; Procrin habe!” dixit, “quod si mea provida mens est,

 For further examples, see Moreno Soldevila (2011: 90).  For a broader review of the alternative versions of the myth, including the stage when Cephalus and Aurora live together, see Tarrant (1995), Otis (1966: 176 180 and 410 413), Pöschl (1959), Ruiz de Elvira (2001b: 159 182), Fontenrose (1979 80) or Sabot (1985). Cephalus delib erately omits from his narration any information related to his infidelity, but meaningfully re marks that it was his absence (7,717) that made him doubt Procris. Through his carefully ambig uous account of the impetus for seducing Procris, he deftly manages to keep intact his religious reverence towards Aurora, while simultaneously justifying his own behaviour.

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non habuisse voles.” meque illi irata remisit. cum redeo mecumque deae memorata retracto, esse metus coepit, ne iura iugalia coniunx non bene servasset (…)

715

(…) favet huic Aurora timori ( line 721)

With this important specification, Cephalus deliberately distances himself from the conventional modus operandi of the elegiac amator and excuses his jealousy by attributing his behaviour to an external agent, in this case, to Aurora. Cephalus’ narration contains another feature of great interest, which emphasises, on the one hand, the links between the protagonist and the elegiac amator, and, on the other hand, the crucial divergence from the elegiac conventions. As I noted above, Cephalus verifies his wife’s signs of fidelity and sorrow with his own eyes when the goddess Aurora provoked a change in his appearance. His “disguise” permits him to enter his own house without being recognised: Palladias ineo non cognoscendus Athenas ingrediorque domum; culpa domus ipsa carebat castaque signa dabat dominoque erat anxia rapto: vix aditus per mille dolos ad Erecthida factus. ut vidi, obstipui meditataque paene reliqui temptamenta fide; male me, quin vera faterer, continui, male, quin, et oportuit, oscula ferrem. tristis erat (sed nulla tamen formosior illa esse potest tristi) desiderioque dolebat coniugis abrepti: tu collige, qualis in illa, Phoce, decor fuerit, quam sic dolor ipse decebat!

725

730

The privileged voyeuristic position permitted by Cephalus’ disguise alludes to a recurrent elegiac fantasy. In fact, a common desire for the elegiac amator is to spy on his puella with impunity and to verify first-hand that he does not have any rival lovers while he is absent. Propertius illustrates this elegiac reverie in poem 1,3, where the amator describes his fascination while gazing at the sleeping Cynthia: Qualis Thesea iacuit cedente carina languida desertis Cnosia litoribus; (…) talis visa mihi mollem spirare quietem Cynthia consertis nixa caput manibus, ebria cum multo traherem vestigia Baccho, et quaterent sera nocte facem pueri. hanc ego, nondum etiam sensus deperditus omnis, molliter impresso conor adire toro;

(1 2)

10

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et quamvis duplici correptum ardore iuberent hac Amor hac Liber, durus uterque deus, subiecto leviter positam temptare lacerto osculaque admota sumere tarda manu, non tamen ausus eram dominae turbare quietem, expertae metuens iurgia saevitiae; sed sic intentis haerebam fixus ocellis, Argus ut ignotis cornibus Inachidos. (…) et quotiens raro duxti suspiria motu, obstupui vano credulus auspicio

15

20 (27 28)

Propertius describes the ability to spy on the puella without being seen as a moment of extreme pleasure, the lover fixing his gaze on her like Argus on Io (line 20). However, elegiac conventions stipulate elusiveness to characterise the puella, such that any happy moment for the lover is doomed to be thwarted. So it happens in this poem, where the lover’s contemplation of Cynthia is suddenly interrupted when she wakes up and scorns the unwanted onlooker: donec diversas praecurrens luna fenestras, luna moraturis sedula luminibus, compositos levibus radiis patefecit ocellos. sic ait in molli fixa toro cubitum: ’tandem te nostro referens iniuria lecto alterius clausis expulit e foribus? namque ubi longa meae consumpsti tempora noctis, languidus exactis, ei mihi, sideribus?

35

Propertius narrates a similar anecdote in poem 2,29b, where, once again, the amator arrives at Cynthia’s house to check whether she is sleeping alone in her bed: Mane erat, et volui, si sola quiesceret illa, visere: at in lecto Cynthia sola fuit. obstipui: non illa mihi formosior umquam visa, neque ostrina cum fuit in tunica, ibat et hinc castae narratum somnia Vestae, neu sibi neve mihi quae nocitura forent: talis visa mihi somno dimissa recenti. heu quantum per se candida forma valet! ’Quid tu matutinus,’ ait ’speculator amicae, me similem vestris moribus esse putas? non ego tam facilis: sat erit mihi cognitus unus, vel tu vel si quis verior esse potest. apparent non ulla toro vestigia presso, signa volutantis nec iacuisse duos. aspice ut in toto nullus mihi corpore surgat

25

30

35

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spiritus admisso notus adulterio.’ dixit, et opposita propellens savia dextra prosilit in laxa nixa pedem solea. sic ego tam sancti custos deludor amoris: ex illo felix nox mihi nulla fuit.

40

In a similar manner as poem 1,3, the unhindered vision of the beloved sleeping is described as a moment of delightful satisfaction; yet, once again, the pleasure is frustrated abruptly when the puella realises the presence of the speculator (31) and leaves (lines 39 – 40). A detailed comparison between the passage in the Metamorphoses (7,723 – 733) and the two Propertian poems shows Ovid alluding intentionally to both subtexts as a means to underline how the Cephalus-passage crucially diverges from the elegiac lover’s voyeuristic experiences. With respect to the elements common to the passages, in all cases the action takes place in the puella’s house (or in the house that she shares with the amator). Moreover, the amator manages to enter the house and spy on the puella without being seen ―in Cephalus’ case, thanks to his disguise; in Propertius’ case, thanks to Cynthia being asleep. A close comparison pinpoints a relevant detail in the lover’s reaction to the sleeping puella: in Metamorphoses passage, as well as in both Propertian poems, the first-person narrator employs the same expression, namely obstipui (Met. 7,727; Prop. 1,3,28; Prop. 2,29b,25)²⁷⁵. The narrator’s fascination at the beloved’s beauty (Met. 7,730: nulla tamen formosior illa // Prop. 2,29b,25: non illa mihi formosior umquam) leaves him hardly able to resist the desire to kiss her (Met. 7,729: continui, male, quin, et oportuit, oscula ferrem // Prop. 1,3,16: osculaque admota sumere tarda manu). Cephalus’ reaction as he sees his beloved further connects this episode with the typical situation of elegiac discourse. Yet, Ovid compels his readership to notice a crucial difference: in contrast to the events in both Propertian elegies, Cephalus is not discovered by his beloved; instead, he consciously decides the moment when he wants to be seen by Procris. Only after finding what he considers definitive proof of Procris’ infidelity, does he unveil his true identity or, in other words, “become visible”: (…) non sum contentus et in mea pugno vulnera, dum census dare me pro nocte loquendo muneraque augendo tandem dubitare coegi.

740

 Cf. Her. 16,135, where Ovid, through the voice of Paris, uses the same expression (obstipui) to describe his astonishment when he saw Helen for the first time who functionally assumes the role of an elegiac puella divina (indeed, Paris compares her with Venus two lines later).

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exclamo male victor: “adest, mala, fictus adulter! verus eram coniunx! me, perfida, teste teneris.”

In sum, Cephalus assumes a position wished for by any elegiac amator: on the one hand, he can behold his beloved (whose chastity and sorrow for his absence make her doubly beautiful) with impunity; on the other hand, he gazes at Procris while autonomously controlling when he wants to be seen. Thus, Ovid hints at the fulfilment of the elegiac desideratum; Cephalus experiences a situation that is systematically precluded from love elegy, namely spying on a beloved who is truly faithful. This entirely unconventional mutual love framed within an (elegiacally) utopian erotic situation corroborates the trend that the narrative of Pyramus and Thisbe already anticipated: elegiac discourse is also a mutable reality. Framed in this transformed version of elegiac love, a last “mutated link” between Cephalus and the canonically elegiac amator-poeta emerges. Cephalus autodiegetically narrating the whole sequence of events crucially influences their arrangement and tone. Consequently, as a number of critics argue²⁷⁶, he offers a “slanted version” of the story stemming from his authorial “manipulation” of features that differ in the alternative versions of the myth²⁷⁷. In fact, Ovid’s (i. e. Cephalus’) account supresses or even fully omits those features of the story that, in other sources, are related to perversion, excesses in passion and curiosity or even the desire for retaliation on Cephalus’ and Procris’ part, as Otis (1966: 176 – 177) observes. The ultimate aim of this unique narrative focus (relative to alternate versions of the myth) is, as Otis rightly argues, to underscore the reciprocity of their love. Thus, Ovid’s version chiefly differs in the motivation behind the tests²⁷⁸, namely an anxious mutual passion that, by virtue of its very intensity, leads the pair to absurd jealousy, as Pöschl (1959: 332) formulates it. In this episode Ovid demonstrates that a tale whose features make it inadequate to illustrate a story of mutual love can be sufficiently manipulated and transformed into a “paragon of mutual marital affection” (Green: 1979 – 80: 16). The narrator

 See Otis (1966: 179 181), Labate (1975 76: 114), Ruiz de Elvira (2001b: 168 and 170 75), Pöschl (1959: 339), Fontenrose (1980), Segal (1978), Keogh (2010: 18), Tarrant (1995) and, partic ularly, Peek (2004).  The main literary sources are Hyginus (Fab. 189), Apollodorus (III 197 8 and II, 57 9), An toninus Liberalis (41), Pherecydes in a scholium to the Odyssey (ad XI 321), Servius (Aen. VI 445) and Eustathius (1688, 29 55, ad X 320). Ovid himself treats the subject in Ars 3,687 746. See Ruiz de Elvira (2001b: 159) and Otis (1966: 176 7 and 410 13).  Procris may also have submitted her husband to a similar test of fidelity, as the narration intimates, according to Tarrant (1995).

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dignifies his behaviour by obviating, among other things, the price he paid for the spear that Procris gave him: tum vero iuvenis Nereius omnia quaerit, cur sit et unde datum, quis tanti muneris auctor. quae petit, ille refert, sed enim narrare pudori est, qua tulerit mercede, silet

685

As Tarrant (1995), argues, Cephalus remains silent about a detail conveyed by other versions of the myth; namely, as revenge for Cephalus testing her, Procris disguises herself as a young man and seduces her husband, who consents to this “infidelity” in order to secure the marvelous spear and the dog. Cephalus does not only resemble the elegiac narrator because his discourse is an “autodéploration et celebration pathétique de l’épouse aimée”, as Jouteur (2001: 251) argues. Furthermore, the mechanisms of “authorial manipulation” used by Cephalus as the narrator of his own tragic love story can be understood as an allusion to the elegiac narrator’s hegemonic position over his discourse. Indeed, the lover-narrator Cephalus wilfully amplifies or obliterates elements of the previous versions of the myth (which, to be sure, were known to Ovid’s readership) in order to dignify his own behaviour. The motive for this remarkable manoeuvring is not to be attributed to reasons of “epic decorum”, as Rohde (1929: 41) and Ruiz de Elvira (2001b: 170) do. Beyond the necessities of self-justification before his internal audience²⁷⁹, Cephalus’ privileged assumption of an authorial position that allows him to tell his love story from a “personal” perspective can be understood, at a metaliterary level, as an allusion to the narratological stance of the elegiac amator-poeta. Like Cephalus, the elegiac poetlover creates an erotic discourse whose plot and characters are entirely under his authorial control. Cephalus’ “emendation” of his narrative material evokes the power position of the elegiac narrator, whose meta-discursive strategies ultimately assert his authorial pre-eminence over the fictional realities of his discourse, as I argued in Section I of this book. Through Cephalus’ “modification” of the narrative, Ovid hints at the “elegiac heritage” of his protagonist. Just like the elegiac poet, Cephalus is a “creator of realities”, since he autodiegetically narrates an event in which he himself took part. Thus, following the modus operandi of the poeta-amator, Cephalus too feels obligated to insist on the veracity of his narration: liceat mihi vera referre (704). His insistence on the reliability of his words echoes a pervasive motif in Ovid’s poetry, namely an appeal to the truth of what is to be told or has been  On this issue, see Peek (2004).

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told. The introductory passage to Book 1 of the Ars Amatoria, where the poet feels the need to justify his erotodidactic discourse as being truthful, is only one example of this preoccupation: Non ego, Phoebe, datas a te mihi mentiar artes, Nec nos aeriae voce monemur avis, Nec mihi sunt visae Clio Cliusque sorores Servanti pecudes vallibus, Ascra, tuis: Usus opus movet hoc: vati parete perito; Vera canam: coeptis, mater Amoris, ades!

25

30

The reference to the poet’s own creativity is, as I demonstrated in Section I of this book, a recurrent feature in elegiac discourse. To be sure, this does not mean that it is an exclusively elegiac feature ―and, certainly, we need not see a direct allusion to this particular passage of the Ars in Cephalus’ words. The purpose of this (both Cephalus’ and the magister amoris’) metatextual phrase is to reflect on the veracity of poetic fiction and, indirectly, to extol the poet (or, in Cephalus’ case, the narrative voice) as the force that pulls the strings in his theatre of fictions. As Miller (1982: 397– 398) notes concerning the aforementioned passage of the Ars, Ovid parodies the traditional poetic invocation, specifically the Hesiodic invocation of the Muses as being able to tell lies that sound like truth²⁸⁰ (and the Callimachean version in Aetia fr. 2,1– 5 Pf.). The magister amoris re-adapts the Hesiodic-Callimachean metapoetic reflections in order to call attention to his power to create “truth and fiction”²⁸¹. If we consider the clear intertextual dialogue between the Cephalus-narrative and the conventions of elegy, the narrator’s allusion to the veracity of his tale should be read as a reference to the fact that, as a sui generis elegiac narrator, he shares with the elegiac amator-

 See Hesiod, Theogony 27 28: ἴδμεν ψεύδεα πολλὰ λέγειν ἐτύμοισιν ὁμοῖα, // ἴδμεν δ᾽ εὖτ᾽ ἐθέλωμεν ἀληθέα γηρύσασθαι. I specifically follow Heiden’s (2007: 153) translation of line 27 of the long discussed expression to mean “lies that sound like truth”. For a detailed discussion of the riddling passage, see Heiden (2007) and Stoddard (2004: 79 ff.).  There are further instances in elegiac poetry where a similar metaliterary reflection is sug gested. For example, Tibullus argues in 2,4,51 (vera quidem moneo, sed prosunt quid mihi vera?) for the veracity of his discourse in a similar vein. See also Tibullus 1,4,82 ff., whose metapoetic content I have discussed in Section I, Chapter 3. The allusion in line 82 (deficiunt artes, deficiunt que doli) to poetry (artes) and deceit (doli) recalls the reflection on the fictionality of poetic cre ation and its not necessarily truthful nature (in line with Hesiodic poetics). The erotic world of the amator belongs to the domain of fabula (parce, puer, quaeso, ne turpis fabula fiam: 83); it is a self consciously constructed fiction.

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poeta an awareness about the multilayered semantics of his discourse and the instability of the very concept of “truth”²⁸². However, there is one crucial difference between Cephalus and the elegiac amator-poeta. Cephalus’ ultimate intention is to emphasise, by any narrative means (even at the expense of raising suspicion about the veracity of his account), the symmetry of his love-relationship with Procris. In contrast, the elegiac poet-lover aims to underscore precisely that his status as a servus is merely a fictional mask; and that, in reality, he holds absolute power in the supra-fictional domain. Ovid transforms Cephalus into an elegiac narrator whose discursive fallaciousness, far from emphasising his hierarchical pre-eminence over the puella, serves to dignify his and Procris’ erotic behaviour, underscoring, ultimately, the symmetry of their love. To be sure, the fact that he is the narrator grants Cephalus power over the events and characters of his narrative (including Procris, obviously). It enables him to “edit” his plot and even to focalise the action from the perspective of the characters of his narrative, particularly Procris’ perspective, as I noted above apropos of the term dominus (line 725). Certainly, Cephalus’ account is, thus, a biased version of the events, since the only voice of the narrative is his own. Yet, Ovid crucially points out that Cephalus’ ultimate goal is not his authorial self-assertion (as is the case for the elegiac poet-lover). Extolling his power is not his aim (actually, he tries to conceal his authorial prerogatives); instead, Cephalus exploits these authorial prerogatives only as a desperate means to defend his love of Procris as a relationship of mutual reciprocity. Finally, the narrator’s firm resolution to emphasise the power-symmetry of the relationship can even be gleaned from a lexical / semantic analysis of the episode. As we saw with the first tale of amor mutuus in the Metamorphoses

 Furthermore, one can even see a broader metaliterary allusion in Cephalus’ insistence on tell ing the truth. If we accept that Ovid echoes Hesiod’s notion of the Muses “telling truths” when they want to, we may even find a pun on vera / ἀληθέα. Even though this subject would require more detailed analysis (on the relation between Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Hesiod, see Ziogas [2013]), the notion of Ovid playing with the Hesiodic ambiguity of Muses’ phrase is perhaps not too far fetch ed. As Stoddard (2004: 84) argues, the term ἀληθέα refers to “unforgettable, eternal truths”, as op posed to τὰ ἔτυμα, which refers to the “perishable realities of physical worlds (…), which, being mor tal and thus subject to constant change and eventual death are, from the goddesses’ perspective, ‘lies’”. Ironically, Cephalus’ whole narrative, which he claims belongs to the domain of vera, is per vaded by miraculous transformations (particularly, Cephalus’ own transformation, as well as the petrifaction of the fox and the hound Laelaps in 7,759 795) and illustrates precisely the false nature of reality (as Procris’ fatal misunderstanding evidences). His narrative, thus, instead bears witness to the changeability of things. Cephalus’ account may be factual (corresponding, thus, to the Hesiodic ἔτυμα), but its pretension to be “true” in the Hesiodic sense of τὸ ἀληθές is undermined by the very content of its plot.

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(the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe), the Cephalus-narrative, too, exhibits the meaningful recurrence of terms and expressions belonging to the semantic field of union and/or reciprocity. First, the terms coniunx and iugalis ²⁸³ themselves are repeatedly used. This fact is significant, since it not only strengthens the semantic liaison with the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe, but it also permits establishing a prospective thematic connection with the tale of Ceyx and Alcyone ―which, as I will argue, should be considered the climax of love reciprocity in the Metamorphoses. Among the other expressions related to the semantic field of “union”, lines 697– 8 are particularly remarkable due to the repetition of the verb iungere twice, in a parallel structure: (…) pater hanc mihi iunxit Erechtheus, hanc mihi iunxit amor. Cephalus strives to emphasise that, above all, love spurred the development of events (on both his and Procris’ part). For this reason, at the beginning of his narrative (which includes lines 697– 8), he almost programmatically claims that, beyond the customary agreement of a family-alliance, it was love that brought them together²⁸⁴. In this regard, lines 704– 711 are noteworthy: Cephalus explicitly praises the beauty and power of the goddess Aurora, only to emphasise, in a priamel-like figure²⁸⁵, the intensity of his love for Procris: (…) liceat mihi vera referre pace deae: quod sit roseo spectabilis ore, quod teneat lucis, teneat confinia noctis, nectareis quod alatur aquis, ego Procrin amabam; pectore Procris erat, Procris mihi semper in ore. sacra tori coitusque novos thalamosque recentes primaque deserti referebam foedera lecti: mota dea est

705

710

Cephalus refers to all those things that join him to his beloved: the sacred laws of matrimony (709), their recent wedding (709) and their love treaty (710). In turn, Procris, when her fidelity is tested, matches Cephalus’ earlier exalting of their reciprocal love, by arguing that she holds herself for one man only and that all her joy is only for him:  These are the recurrences: a) coniunx: 689, 692, 715, 732, 742, 744, 799, 844; b) iugalis: 700, 715. Moreover, the term maritus is repeated twice as a synonym of coniunx in 7,799 and 7,833 834. Lastly, Ovid uses the term coniunx to refer to Cephalus in 6,681 2, when, within the story of Orithyia, he alludes to her sister, Procris, being happily married to Cephalus.  Interestingly, line 698 (hanc mihi iunxit amor), echoes Thisbe’s last words: quos certus amor, quos hora novissima iunxit (4,156).  As Pöschl (1959: 336) notes.

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quid referam, quotiens temptamina nostra pudici reppulerint mores, quotiens “ego” dixerit “uni servor; ubicumque est, uni mea gaudia servo.” cui non ista fide satis experientia sano magna foret? non sum contentus et in mea pugno vulnera

735

This is the reason why Cephalus understands the love-test for his wife as a struggle against himself (in mea pugno // vulnera: 738 – 9), creating, thus, a metaphoric image that strengthens the lovers’ mutual identification. At the end of the episode when the metaphorical wounds turn into real into real wounds, the narrator returns, in Ringkomposition, to the shared identity of the lovers through the motif of the vulnus amoris: Procris erat medioque tenens in pectore vulnus “ei mihi” conclamat! (…) et sua (me miserum!) de vulnere dona trahentem invenio corpusque meo mihi carius ulnis mollibus attollo scissaque a pectore veste vulnera saeva ligo (…)

(842 843)

(846 849)

As Segal (1975: 194– 199) notes, mea vulnera (the narrator’s wounds) occur now, with tragic irony, to Procris, ―yet this time literally. To emphasise unity and shared identity of the lovers, the narrator uses a symbol (in mea pugno vulnera) to prefigure reality (vulnera saeva ligo). Cephalus’ wounds (mea vulnera) become Procris’ wounds; just like the javelin with which Cephalus kills his wife is, in fact, a present that she herself gave him (sua dona: 846) ²⁸⁶. Whereas Cephalus is metaphorically hurt by the test of Procris’ love, in the end, he himself causes her real harm. In turn, Procris gives a gift that her husband eventually returns to her (in ignominious fashion). Interchanging the roles of subject / object not only increases the dramatics of the narrative; it also underlines the reciprocity of the relationship and reveals that the categories “subject vs. object” are no longer valid in this episode. Segal (1975: 196 – 198) observes that Cephalus’ and Procris’ erotic characterisation, which is marked by their excessive possessiveness and their extreme jealousy, “is also a critique of the literary conventions in which it is usually enshrined. The episode can thus be read, in part, as a kind of criticism of the extreme ‘romanticism’ of the elegiac style”. While I agree with Segal’s view that Ovid questions the traditional elegiac love pattern, I argue, furthermore, that Ovid ponders, from a meta-literary perspective, the agonistic nature

 Segal (1975: 193 194) also notes this fact.

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of the elegiac genre. He does this by creating, here, an “elegiac episode” where the dominating subject is the lovers’ fides. Certainly, as Segal (1975: 198) remarks, the traditional imagery of elegiac love “has no place in the realities of a long-lasting marriage”. What is more, the very fact that Ovid creates in this story a “mutated version” of elegiac love demonstrates that the process of transforming elegy into a novum corpus is in full swing.

Ceyx and Alcyone The episode of Ceyx and Alcyone has been considered by some critics one of the most important narratives within the Metamorphoses. With its 338 lines, it is only surpassed in length by the episode of Phaethon²⁸⁷. On the other hand, its position within the book-arrangement of the poem as a whole also reveals the importance of this episode²⁸⁸: in fact, occupying the whole second half of book 11, the love story of Ceyx and Alcyone marks the transition towards the Trojan cycle and yields, thus, to the “historical” section of the Metamorphoses, which will culminate in mea tempora ²⁸⁹. Moreover, as Otis (1966: 231 ff.) notes, the episode is elaborately preceded and followed by the amatory tales of, respectively, Thetis and Peleus (11,221– 265)²⁹⁰ and Aesacus and Hesperie (11,749 – 795)²⁹¹, two episodes that reproduce the erotic pattern of sexual violence, which pervades the first books of the poem. This framing emphasises, by contrast, the radically different tone of Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s love and helps to increase the thematic importance of the episode.

 Sabot (1985: 395) even argues that, if we include the episodes within the Ceyx macro nar rative, it becomes the longest such section in the Metamorphoses. See also Álvarez Iglesias (1999: 603).  See particularly Otis (1966: 231) and Stadler (1985: 201).  See Met. 1,4: ad mea perpetuum deducite tempora carmen.  The story presents the typical features of a vertical love pattern: the female character is cov eted by many suitors, and, in the end, the male character advances upon her with violence to achieve his sexual goals (potitur votis: 11, 265); Thetis is literally defeated despite resisting (lines 242, 250, 263).  In this case, too, the lover uses his superior force to assault Hesperie sexually, who, in the fashion typical for Daphne type beloveds, flees (11,771 774). Yet, the outcome of the story evin ces a contaminatio of different episodic models, since Hesperie dies during her flight, which in turn provokes Aesacus to throw himself from a cliff, unable to endure the loss of his beloved. These thematic features lead Otis (1966) to categorise the episode under the thematic label of the “Pathos of Love” unlike the stories strictly abiding by the Daphne pattern, which the au thor labels “Divine Comedy”.

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According to Otis (1966: 231– 233), the episode culminates a sequence of love tales whose central theme is the pathos of love. The episode is, therefore, crucial in the ethical and aesthetic composition of the Metamorphoses. Ovid offers here the most extensive and complete treatment of mutual love within the poem ― a theme that, as we have seen, has gradually gained prominence throughout the previous books. Thematically, the episode responds to the pattern of “symmetrical love” between two mortals whose love is endangered by an external element threatening to separate them. Otis (1966: 232) considers the ethical characterisation of the protagonists the defining feature of the narrative. In fact, in contrast to the versions provided by alternative sources, Ovid presents the metamorphosis of both lovers at the end of the narrative as a reward for their pious conjugal love. Otis (1966: 266) argues that, in comparison to the “pathological, isolating eros” of the previous episode, the Ceyx and Alcyone-narrative is a story of “normal, human love of two mutually responsive personalities” and constitutes, for that reason, the “ethical apex” of the Metamorphoses. Before I begin the proper examination of this complex episode, I shall offer a brief summary of the narrative. To that end, I follow Otis’ (1966: 234– 263) analysis, according to which the episode is structured in four thematically clear-cut sections: 1) After the omens that have affected his brother Daedalion and his guest Peleus, Ceyx decides to go overseas to consult the oracle at Claros, in spite of Alcyone’s resistance (lines 410 – 473). 2) Once his ship reaches the open sea, a terrible storm arises and Ceyx suffers a shipwreck and drowns (474– 572). 3) In response to Alcyone insistently beseeching the gods for Ceyx’s safe return, Juno decides to inform her about the tragic destiny of her husband and assigns this mission to Morpheus, the son of Dream (573 – 709). 4) Alcyone, in profound grief, returns to the seashore where she bade farewell to her husband. She then sees Ceyx’s corpse floating in the distance and decides to throw herself into the sea to join her husband in death. But the miraculous metamorphosis of both into halcyon birds ensues (710 – 748). As Otis (1966: 256) argues, the whole episode showcases a “symphonic balance” of alternative stylistic tonalities ultimately purposed towards asserting the ethical principles of the Metamorphoses. According to Otis, after the long sucession of erotic tales, the episode of Ceyx and Alcyone represents the pinnacle of glorifying Ovid’s amatory values, namely conjugal love. Otis’ arguments on the episode as the ethical zenith of the Metamorphoses are based on comparing Ovid’s version with the alternative versions of the

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myth²⁹². Most remarkably, in contrast to previous variants, Ovid omits the pair’s impiety against Jupiter (Zeus) and Juno (Hera) ―the reason why, in other versions of the myth, Ceyx and Alcyone are punished²⁹³. Instead, Ovid accentuates their piety in particular, specifically in the amatory domain, such that their most characteristic feature is their pietas erga amantem. As Otis (1966: 232) notes, Ovid does not aim to create a new episode of divine vengeance; on the contrary, his goal is to underscore the centrality of the conjugal love motif by replacing the impietas erga deos from alternative versions with an amatory piety that is sanctioned by the ruling forces of the cosmos²⁹⁴, who endorse, through Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s metamorphosis, the eternal perpetuation of their love. However, as I noted above for the episode of Cephalus and Procris, in contrast to the exegetical stance adopted by Otis and other critics²⁹⁵, Ovid’s literary innovation can be explained from a perspective that does not necessarily resort to ethical valuations. Along the same hermeneutical line traced in the analysis of the previous episodes in this chapter, I argue for a metaliterary reading of mutual love in the Metamorphoses. Against the teleological and culturally aprioristic interpretation of Ovid as a herald of western culture’s traditional values ―conspicuously, heterosexual conjugal love―, I rather opt for opening the exegetical horizons towards an approach that accounts for Ovid’s play with literary tradition. Although, to be sure, lit On Ovid’s sources and alternative versions of the story, see Otis (1966: 232 ff. and 421 423), Keogh (2010: 27 28), Sabot (1985), Tränkle (1963: 467 ff.), Fantham (1979: 331 ff.), Griffin (1981), Reed (2013: 343 344) and Bömer (1980: 344). The primary source goes back to Hesiod Fr. 15 M W, although the elaboration of the plot is properly Hellenistic. Ovid follows a version that fuses dif ferent Hellenistic sources (presumably Nicander Fr. 64, whose version is probably found in Apol lodorus (I, 52), Eustathius (Il. IX, 538) and the Homeric scholia AB: Il IX, 562; as well as the al ternative version transmitted by Hyginus (65), pseudo Lucian (Halkyon), Theocritus [7. 51 ff, with the scholium ad loc.) and Dionysius paraphr. [Didot, 1862: 218]). Ovid’s version is presumably the same that is reproduced in a scholium on Aristophanes’ Birds [L. 250 and MSS Ambrosianus L 39 suppl. = M, as well as the second hand of Laurentianus XXXI 15 = Γ, as Otis (1966: 422) specifies]. In this version, in contrast to other variants, Ceyx and Alcyone commit an act of impiety against the gods. In punishment, the husband drowns; yet, there is final a metamorphosis that is attrib uted to divine pity.  In the Homeric Scholia, Eustathius and Apollodorus Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s impiety consists in boastfully calling each other Zeus and Hera, leading to the punishment of both mortals.  In fact, as Otis (1966: 233) observes, in contrast to the previous versions, Ovid reduces to a minimum the presence of gods as the guiding forces behind the sequence of events: “gods (…) have nothing to do with the tragedy; (…) [they] are mentioned only to be discounted”.  See Otis (1966: 263 and 266 ff.). Otis (1966: 276) contends that “Ovid’s conception of true love has certainly no surprises for us. It is, indeed, very close to what we may call the western ideal”. Later on (in p. 277), he defines Ovid as “West’s first champion of true, normal, even con jugal love”. Along similar hermeneutical lines, see Griffin (1981: esp. 153 154) and Sabot (1985: esp. 403). Cf. Curran’s (1972: 74) critical attitude towards this interpretative trend.

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erature is a dynamic category that encodes, among many other practices and assumptions, ethical values too, the importance of mutual love in the poem has not been sufficiently highlighted from a broader metaliterary and intertextual perspective. Alongside (or, perhaps, beyond) an ethical stance, the centrality of symmetrical love should rather be understood to express Ovid’s deep concern with defining and simultaneously destabilising the generic boundaries of elegy (the amatory genre par excellence). Not least, this adumbrates the metamorphic nature of any entity (including genre) within his poem. To that end, it is necessary to note a crucial and inescapable fact, which Otis (1966) does not fully consider in his examination of the episode. I refer to the literary features (pertaining to the characterisation of the protagonists and their circumstances) that have an unmistakable elegiac origin. Critics already have amply documented the “elegiac tone” of the narrative. Therefore, I shall merely summarise the text’s most conspicuous elegiac echoes, before undertaking a deeper critical survey of the episode’s “elegiac veneer”. Tränkle (1963: 470 ff.) mainly emphasises the episode’s liaison with the Heroides, particularly regarding the scene in which Alcyone bids Ceyx farewell in a fashion that clearly evokes the adieux of Ovid’s heroines²⁹⁶. Here is the passage from the Metamorphoses: quod tua si flecti precibus sententia nullis, care, potest, coniunx, nimiumque es certus eundi, me quoque tolle simul! certe iactabimur una, nec nisi quae patiar, metuam, pariterque feremus, quicquid erit, pariter super aequora lata feremur.’ (…) horruit Alcyone lacrimasque emisit obortas amplexusque dedit tristique miserrima tandem ore ’vale’ dixit conlapsaque corpore toto est; ast iuvenes quaerente moras Ceyce reducunt ordinibus geminis ad fortia pectora remos aequalique ictu scindunt freta: sustulit illa umentes oculos stantemque in puppe recurva concussaque manu dantem sibi signa maritum prona videt redditque notas; ubi terra recessit longius, atque oculi nequeunt cognoscere vultus, dum licet, insequitur fugientem lumine pinum;

440

460

465

 At the same time, Tränkle (1963: 471) observes the innovation in the scene’s emotional tone relative to the conventions of epic, particularly Jason’s farewell to Hypsipyle (in Argonautics 1,866 ff.), as well as the good bye between Odysseus and Calypso (in Odyssey 5,262 ff.). Epic fare wells are clearly more sober and pragmatic.

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(…) ut nec vela videt, vacuum petit anxia lectum seque toro ponit: renovat lectusque torusque Alcyonae lacrimas et quae pars admonet absit.

471

A number of authors²⁹⁷ note the parallels between this passage and various epistles of the Heroides where female protagonists recall wishing farewell to their beloveds on the seashore. In the following table I summarise the passages of the Heroides that are closely related to Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s farewell: Phyllis and Demophon (, ff.)

Briseis and Achilles (, ff.)

Illa meis oculis species abeuntis inhaeret, cum premeret portus classis itura meos. ausus es amplecti colloque infusus amantis oscula per longas iungere pressa moras cumque tuis lacrimis lacrimas confundere nostras,’

ibis et—o miseram!—cui me, violente, relinquis? quis mihi desertae mite levamen erit? devorer ante, precor, subito telluris hiatu aut rutilo missi fulminis igne cremer, quam sine me Pthiis canescant aequora remis, et videam puppes ire relicta tuas!

Oenone and Paris (, ff.)

Hypsipyle and Jason (, ff.)

Caesa abies sectaeque trabes et classe parata caerula ceratas accipit unda rates. flesti discedens. hoc saltim parce negare; praeterito magis est iste pudendus amor. et flesti et nostros vidisti flentis ocellos; miscuimus lacrimas maestus uterque suas. non sic appositis vincitur vitibus ulmus, ut tua sunt collo bracchia nexa meo. ah quotiens, cum te vento quererere teneri, riserunt comites—ille secundus erat. oscula dimissae quotiens repetita dedisti! quam vix sustinuit dicere lingua “vale!” Aura levis rigido pendentia lintea malo suscitat et remis eruta canet aqua. prosequor infelix oculis abeuntia vela, qua licet, et lacrimis umet arena meis,

tertia messis erat, cum tu dare vela coactus inplesti lacrimis talia verba tuis: “abstrahor, Hypsipyle. sed dent modo fata recursus; vir tuus hinc abeo, vir tibi semper ero. quod tamen e nobis gravida celatur in alvo, vivat et eiusdem simus uterque parens!” Hactenus. et lacrimis in falsa cadentibus ora cetera te memini non potuisse loqui. Ultimus e sociis sacram conscendis in Argon; illa volat, ventus concava vela tenet. caerula propulsae subducitur unda carinae: terra tibi, nobis adspiciuntur aquae. in latus omne patens turris circumspicit undas; huc feror et lacrimis osque sinusque madent. per lacrimas specto cupidaeque faventia menti longius adsueto lumina nostra vident.

 See Tränkle (1969: 471), Bömer (1980: 344, 350 351, and 357 ff.), Holzberg (2007: 93), Jou teur (2001: 182) and Hardie (2002: 275).

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Laodamia and Protesilaus (, ff.) solvor ab amplexu, Protesilae, tuo (…) iamque meus longe Protesilaus erat. dum potui spectare virum, spectare iuvabat sumque tuos oculos usque secuta meis; ut te non poteram, poteram tua vela videre, vela diu vultus detinuere meos. at postquam nec te nec vela fugacia vidi, et quod spectarem, nil nisi pontus erat, lux quoque tecum abiit, tenebrisque exanguis obortis succiduo dicor procubuisse genu. vix socer Iphiclus, vix me grandaevus Acastus, vix mater gelida maesta refecit aqua (lines  – )

There are many common elements: Alcyone’s desire to join her husband in his voyage (me quoque tolle simul: lines 441 ff.) evokes Briseis’ words to Achilles (cui me, violente, relinquis?…: 3,61). Alcyone’s tears and embraces (lacrimasque emisit obortas amplexusque dedit: lines 458 – 9) draw on those of Phyllis and Demophon (Her. 2,93 ff.); Oenone and Paris (flesti discedens: 5,45; oscula dedisti: 53; miscuimus lacrimas: 48); Laodamia and Protesilaus (solvor ab amplexu… tuo: 13,12); and Jason and Hypsipyle (inplesti lacrimis talia verba tuis: 6,58). Moreover, Ceyx tries to delay his departure as long as possible (quaerente moras Ceyce: 11, 461), just like Demophon (per longas moras: 2,94) or Jason, who last boards the ship whose crew is awaiting him (6,65)²⁹⁸. Lastly, Alcyone follows Ceyx with her gaze until the ship fades away in the distance (463 – 470) and goes thereupon to her empty bedroom (471– 473), thus imitating the behaviour of Oenone (5,57– 58), Hypsipyle (6,68 – 72) and Laodamia (13,17– 26). As we can see, in so far as their farewell draws on the elegiac conventions of the Heroides, Ceyx and Alcyone are cast as elegiac personae. The narrative’s marked elegiac undertones are further augmented by a number of additional parallels to subjective love elegy. In this regard, the initial premise of lovers separated by an ocean voyage²⁹⁹, which Hardie (2002: 273) deems “a standard motif

 In clear divergence from Apollonius’ Argonautica, where Jason is the first to go on board, as Tränkle (1963: 471) observes.  On this motif, see Holzberg (2007: 93) or Bömer (1980: 357 ff.). For Propertius’ particular treatment of the subject, see Manuwald (2006: 233). As James (2003: 111 and 132 ff.) argues, the main representatives of this motif (which falls within the thematic frame of the propempti kon) are Ovid Am. 2,11, Propertius 2,26 or Tibullus 1,3.

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of love elegy”, is one of the main arguments for characterising the episode as “elegiac”³⁰⁰. The nomen in ore-motif also reinforces the thematic liaison with elegy, as Álvarez and Iglesias (1999: 615) note. During the storm, Ceyx only has Alcyone on his lips (Alcyone Ceyca movet, Ceycis in ore // nulla nisi Alcyone est [11,544– 545]); hers is the only name he utters in the fateful moments before death (sed plurima nantis in ore // Alcyone coniunx [11,562– 563]). Ovid evokes, thus, an image that expressively demonstrates the elegiac lover’s devotion to his puella. The appearance of this motif ³⁰¹ is particularly remarkable in Heroides 19,40 (nil nisi Leandri nomen in ore meo est)³⁰², as well as in Propertius’ poem 2,26,11– 12³⁰³, where the poet-lover imagines Cynthia in a shipwreck calling out his name: (tu vix primas extollens gurgite palmas // saepe meum nomen iam peritura vocas). We can even see a deliberate reference to the elegiac amator in Ceyx’s characterisation as a heterodox hero who seeks peace and amatory happiness and disdains war: culta mihi pax est, pacis mihi cura tenendae coniugiique fuit, fratri fera bella placebant

(11,297 298)

Ceyx is, above all, a peaceful man: regnum sine vi, sine caede regebat (11, 270). As Griffin (1981: 152) notes, even as he decides to confront the wolf attacking Peleus’ cattle, Ceyx arms his soldiers, but not himself (induere arma viros violentaque sumere tela // rex iubet Oetaeus: 11,382). His rejection of any form of violence becomes evident in the fact that “he has no intention of allowing his men to use the weapons: as a good pacifist he regards prayer as more effective”³⁰⁴. This attitude emulates the socially heterodox behaviour of the elegiac amator, as many poems from the elegiac corpus show³⁰⁵.  Sometimes the puella embarks on a journey (as in Propertius 1,8; 1,11 and 1,12; or Ovid, Am. 2,11), whereas on other occasions it is the amator who ponders whether to set out on a voy age (as in Tibullus 1,3; or Propertius 1,6; 1,8 and 1,17). This latter situation yields the topos of the naufragus as a paradigm of the lover who is condemned to separation. The origin of this motif is likely a reinterpretation of the naufragus par excellence, Odysseus, for whom the sea is a barrier forestalling his reunion with Penelope. See Mills (1974) and Bright (1971).  Ovid also incorporates this motif in the episodes of Cephalus (7,707) and Hyacinthus (10,204). Other elegiac examples are provided by Propertius 2,1,2 and 1,18,18. For additional par allel passages, see Bömer (1980: 382 383.).  In this case, it is Hero who has the name of her beloved on her lips.  As Tränkle (1963: 475) and Bömer (1980: 383) observe.  Griffin (1981: 152). See Met. 11,391 392: non placet arma mihi contra nova monstra moveri; // numen adorandum pelagi est!  See, for instance, Propertius 2,15:

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Alongside these elegiac echoes, critics also note that, framed in the scene where Ceyx and Alcyone bid each other farewell, Alcyone’s desire to die together with her husband recalls the elegiac motif of the iuncta mors. Tränkle (1963: 471– 473)³⁰⁶ mentions a number of different elegiac passages where the lover utters his desire that his beloved would remain with him until the end and that a common fate awaits them. Propertius recurrently expresses this wish, as we see, for example, in poem 2,20,18 (ambos una fides auferet, una dies); or in poem 2,28,39 ff.: una ratis fati nostros portabit amores caerula ad infernos velificata lacus. sed non unius, quaeso, miserere duorum! vivam, si vivet; si cadet illa, cadam.

Ovid himself, in Amores 2,13,15 ff., alludes to the elegiac conceit of the lovers’ unity in both life and death: huc adhibe vultus, et in una parce duobus! // nam vitam dominae tu dabis, illa mihi. As Tränkle (1963: 471 ff.) notes, the Ceyx-episode resumes this theme and readapts it to the new narrative context ―in fact, Ovid transforms it into a Leitmotiv within the narrative. Alcyone conceives physical separation from her husband as an unbearable thought. When Ceyx decides to command the expedition against the marauding wolf, Alcyone appears full of grief and disturbed at the possibility that her husband may leave her alone: mittat ut auxilium sine se, verbisque precatur et lacrimis, animasque duas ut servet in una

(11,387 388)

In Heroides 18,125 – 126, Leander expresses this same theme and wishes to remain joined to Hero even in death: cur animis iuncti secernimur undis // unaque mens, tellus non habet una duos? In this same line, the combination of the terms unus-duo, which, as I have shown throughout the present chapter, is a common O me felicem! o nox mihi candida! (1) (…) quantaque sublato lumine rixa fuit! (4) (…) qualem si cuncti cuperent decurrere vitam et pressi multo membra iacere mero, non ferrum crudele neque esset bellica navis, nec nostra Actiacum verteret ossa mare, nec totiens propriis circum oppugnata triumphis lassa foret crinis solere Roma suos.(41 46) For further examples, see Moreno Soldevila (2011: 275 286).  See also Stadler (1985: 203) and Hardie (2002: 273).

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feature in the episodes of erotic reciprocity, is also pervasive within this episode³⁰⁷. Thus, in lines 440 – 443, where Alcyone begs to accompany Ceyx in his voyage, the text presents a particular concentration of expressions that are integrated within this semantic framework: care, potest, coniunx, nimiumque es certus eundi, me quoque tolle simul! certe iactabimur una, nec nisi quae patiar, metuam, pariterque feremus, quicquid erit, pariter super aequora lata feremur.’

440

The lover is understood as a part of the unbreakable unity comprising them both. Thereby, when Alcyone remembers the absence of her husband, she refers to her missing half: seque toro ponit: renovat lectusque torusque // Alcyonae lacrimas et quae pars admonet absit (11,472– 3). And, in the same vein, when Alcyone in her dream learns that Ceyx has died, she wishes to share his sad fate and to perish together (una: 676) with him: ingemit Alcyone lacrimans, motatque lacertos // per somnum corpusque petens amplectitur auras // exclamatque: ’mane! quo te rapis? ibimus una’ (11,674– 676). Thus culminating this reflection with a gradatio-like construction, Ovid goes beyond the image of the part and the whole and makes Alcyone say that she is nothing without her husband: ’nulla est Alcyone, nulla est’ ait. ’occidit una // cum Ceyce suo (11,684– 5). Yet, the final section of the episode fuses most of the terms and expressions from the semantic fields of union, reciprocity and common death. Before heading for the beach where she saw Ceyx for the last time, Alcyone laments her fate in a final monologue. On the verge of collapse, she bitterly deplores that her ominous premonitions have come true and that the physical separation she feared has led, in fact, to Ceyx’s death. She thus expresses her firm resolve to die too: ’hoc erat, hoc, animo quod divinante timebam, et ne me fugiens ventos sequerere rogabam. at certe vellem, quoniam periturus abibas, me quoque duxisses: multum fuit utile tecum ire mihi; neque enim de vitae tempore quicquam non simul egissem, nec mors discreta fuisset. nunc absens perii, iactor quoque fluctibus absens,

695

700

 Bömer (1980: 335) signficantly remarks apropos of the term unus/una: “in keiner Geschichte der Metamorphosen so oft betont wie in dieser”. In this regard, Bömer also draws attention to the recurrence of the noun coniunx (or of the denominative adjective coniugalis), which Ovid em ploys thirteen times in his narrative (lines 298, 440, 445, 563, 580, 655, 658, 660 [twice], 671, 721, 725, 727, 743 [coniugale]). See also Stadler (1985: 203) for an examination of the semantic mo tifs related to the couple’s union.

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et sine me me pontus habet. crudelior ipso sit mihi mens pelago, si vitam ducere nitar longius et tanto pugnem superesse dolori! sed neque pugnabo nec te, miserande, relinquam et tibi nunc saltem veniam comes, inque sepulcro si non urna, tamen iunget nos littera: si non ossibus ossa meis, at nomen nomine tangam.’

705

As Pyramus and Thisbe anticipated, separation by death (mors discreta: 699) is the worst calamity for lovers; a one partner’s solitary existence after the death of the other makes no sense. Alcyone’s feeling of her indissoluble union with Ceyx is expressively illustrated through the fact that, as his comes (705), she feels as if she too were tossed by the waves that drowned him, despite not being there at the moment of his death (700)³⁰⁸. *** As we can see, examining the episode confirms that the narrative is pervaded by topoi of elegiac origin: the motif of the sea-voyage; the fear of a mors discreta; and certain traits in Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s characterisation conspicuously come from elegy. As I noted above, scholarship has appropriately emphasised this elegiac tone. However, this episode requires doing more than mere verifying an “elegiac veneer”. The open allusion to elegy merits a careful analysis of how the Ovidian text confronts its intertextual past. This examination will demonstrate that labelling the episode “elegiac” only on the basis of amatory motifs and stylistic traits is not only overly reductive, but even paradoxical to a certain extent. In fact, the lovers’ unity and the depiction of a love capable of overcoming physical barriers and even death situates us within a thematic sphere of mutual love and unbreakable fides. This is a radical departure from the typical image of elegiac love ―which, by virtue of its generic laws, is unstable and mostly alien to the notion of reciprocity. This fact provokes a conceptual dissonance, if we consider how evoking elegiac discourse raises, a priori, the expectation of vertical power dynamics, as Ovid has shown through the episodes of the Daphne-pattern. Although Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s love-story emulates many elegiac topoi, it alters the patterns of desire and hierarchy on which subjective

 For the symbolic play with the concepts of absence and presence in this episode, see Har die (2002: 272 ff.).

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love elegy hinges. Certainly, some epistles in the Heroides ³⁰⁹, together with some isolated poems of Propertius (4,3 and 4,11) already anticipated converting elegy’s power pattern from characteristically “vertical” to “horizontal”. Yet, the context of the Metamorphoses explores this transformation to its fullest extent ―a level which the Heroides, given its thematic limitations, has only prefigured. Particularly, the Ceyx and Alcyone episode culminates the metamorphosis of the elegiac paradigm that Ovid outlined in his previous tales of reciprocal love. My present task is to examine a few important elegiac passages cited by scholarship as subtexts for the elegiac filiation of the episode. Among other poems, Bömer (1980: 357) refers to Tibullus 1,3 as one of the main “elegiac sources” exemplifying the motif of the amator who embarks on a journey and leaves his puella behind. The poet-lover has accompanied Messalla to the east and now he lies ill at Corcyra (which he calls Phaeacia). Although the elegiac speaker does not present himself as a shipwreck survivor, his distance from the fatherland and, particularly, his distance from Delia because of his voyage liken him to the paradigm of the naufragus par excellence, namely Odysseus, as Mills (1974) and Bright (1971) show. Overseas and separated from his puella by the barrier of the waves, the amator longs for and remembers the last moments he shared with Delia as they bade each other farewell before his journey: (…) Me tenet ignotis aegrum Phaeacia terris, Abstineas avidas, Mors, modo, nigra, manus. Abstineas, Mors atra, precor: non hic mihi mater Quae legat in maestos ossa perusta sinus, Non soror, Assyrios cineri quae dedat odores Et fleat effusis ante sepulcra comis, Delia non usquam; quae me cum mitteret urbe, Dicitur ante omnes consuluisse deos. Illa sacras pueri sortes ter sustulit: illi Rettulit e trinis omina certa puer. Cuncta dabant reditus: tamen est deterrita numquam, Quin fleret nostras respiceretque vias. Ipse ego solator, cum iam mandata dedissem, Quaerebam tardas anxius usque moras. Aut ego sum causatus aves aut omina dira, Saturni sacram me tenuisse diem. O quotiens ingressus iter mihi tristia dixi Offensum in porta signa dedisse pedem! Audeat invito ne quis discedere Amore,

5

10

15

20

 Particularly, the double epistles of Helen and Paris (ep. 16 and 17); and of Hero and Leander (ep. 18 and 19); as well as Laodamia’s letter to Protesilaus. In these cases the mutual love rela tionship is cut short by an external factor, not by the amator’s unfaithfulness.

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Aut sciat egressum se prohibente deo. Quid tua nunc Isis mihi, Delia, quid mihi prosunt Illa tua totiens aera repulsa manu, Quidve, pie dum sacra colis, pureque lavari Te memini et puro secubuisse toro?

25

A parallel reading of the Tibullan passage and the Ceyx and Alcyone-episode reveals, in fact, a number of similar elements: the lover’s fear of dying without receiving obsequies from his beloved (lines 4– 9) is evoked in Metamorphoses 11,563 – 565: (…) illam meminitque refertque, illius ante oculos ut agant sua corpora fluctus optat et exanimis manibus tumuletur amicis

Like Tibullus, who remembers his mother and his sister, but, above all, Delia (lines 5 – 9), Ceyx, too, remembers his father and his brother (11,542 – 545), but Alcyone especially: (…) subeunt illi fraterque parensque, huic cum pignoribus domus et quodcumque relictum est; Alcyone Ceyca movet, Ceycis in ore nulla nisi Alcyone est

Moreover, just like the Tibullan speaker (lines 16 ff.), Ceyx, about to board his ship, follows the elegiac convention (which we have also seen in the Heroides) of trying to delay his departure while he is saying good-bye to his beloved: ast iuvenes quaerente moras Ceyce reducunt (11,461). Another evident parallel is that Alcyone, like Delia (10 ff.) prays to the gods for her beloved’s safe and sound return (11,577– 579): omnibus illa quidem superis pia tura ferebat, ante tamen cunctos Iunonis templa colebat proque viro, qui nullus erat, veniebat ad aras

Ostensibly, the episode faithfully follows the conventions of the elegiac genre and consequently may claim Tibullus’ poem as a transparent subtext. The label “elegiac” seems to be, thus, fully justified and unproblematic, as Tränkle (1963), for instance, contends. However, Ovid playing with elegy’s generic boundaries throughout the poem’s previous love-episodes makes the careful reader suspicious of any simplification. Any trace of the elegiac discourse within the Metamorphoses implies a metatextual reflection far exceeding the mere reference

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to generic topoi. Ovid incorporating a host of elegiac topoi within the episode is not a simple literary echo per se, but a way to call attention to the semantic transformation of these generic conventions within their new context in a poem about change. Beyond just verifying commonplaces, a close reading of Tibullus’ poem in juxtaposition with the episode in the Metamorphoses discovers some meaningful divergences. In this regard, the second part of the Tibullan poem is especially thought-provoking. After mentioning his beloved’s prayers for his safe return, Tibullus expresses in a long sequence of lines his longing for a Golden Age when trade and wars did not exist; this leads him to imagine his own death. In this framework, he fantasises about the different places of the underworld and predicts that Elysium is the destiny awaiting him as a love poet: At mihi contingat patrios celebrare Penates Reddereque antiquo menstrua tura Lari. Quam bene Saturno vivebant rege, priusquam Tellus in longas est patefacta vias! (…) Sed me, quod facilis tenero sum semper Amori, Ipsa Venus campos ducet in Elysios. Hic choreae cantusque vigent, passimque vagantes Dulce sonant tenui gutture carmen aves, Fert casiam non culta seges, totosque per agros Floret odoratis terra benigna rosis; Ac iuvenum series teneris inmixta puellis Ludit, et adsidue proelia miscet Amor.

35

60

First, the allusion to the Golden Age inevitably calls to the reader’s mind passages like the very first poem of Tibullus’ elegiac corpus (1,1). There, the Golden Age programmatically refers to a yearned-for erotic plenitude, to an oneiric time where the puellae contented themselves with humble gifts from nature or with the poetry of their amator ―in radical contrast to the present, where the mistress demands expensive material gifts in exchange of love. This contrast between a happy Golden Age and the harsh present is recurrent in elegiac poetry, as Propertius 3,13 further evidences. There, the poet bitterly complains about present commoditisation of love ―in contrast to the happy times when women were ready to die with their husbands (lines 15 ff.). On the other hand, Tibullus’ profuse allusions to his afterlife, as well as the detail that Venus herself will lead him to the Elysian Fields, confer a metapoetic slant to poem 1,3. Ultimately, it subtly calls attention to the supra-fictional consequences of the fact that the lover is the poet. Implicitly, Tibullus considers his status as poet the reason why his name will be perpetuated in Elysium. The de-

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scription of Elysium, which as Houghton (2007: 153 – 158) shows is replete with metaliterary allusions to elegiac discourse, further accentuates the eminently metaliterary function of referring to Tibullus’ celebrity after death³¹⁰. Thus, Tibullus’ poetic self-assertion through the reference to his admission to Elysium obliges the reader to read the fictional discourse of Tibullus and Delia’s amatory world through a different prism. This fact, together with the escapist imagery of the Golden Age, itself an indirect allusion to his unhappiness at the duritia of his puella, crucially destabilises the fictional hierarchies and transforms an outwardly univocal poem into a much more complex reality, to such an extent that it severly undermines the poem’s once unambiguous patterns of desire and hierarchy. This interpretative perspective obliges us to reconsider the firstlines of the poem, which we connected to the Ceyx and Alcyone-episode. As I have mentioned above, Delia, just like Alcyone, prays for the return of her beloved. Yet, interestingly, in contrast to Alcyone³¹¹ (pia tura ferebat… templa colebat… veniebat ad aras: 577– 579), who insistently beseeches the gods again and again (as the iterative value of the imperfect underscores), Tibullus employs the meaningful specification “dicitur” when he refers to Delia’s sadness and prayers: dicitur ante omnes consuluisse deos (10). The estrangement implied by the impersonal formula “she was said to…” clearly contrasts with Alcyone’s anxious perseverance and indisputable preoccupation. Although Delia was said to have consulted the gods before Tibullus’ departure (ante: line 10), the lover-poet has no direct evidence of it. The text subtly awakens suspicions about the extent to which Delia reciprocates Tibullus’ love. In this exegetical framework, another arguably relevant detail is that, in contrast to Alcyone (and in contrast to the puellae of the Heroides as well), Delia contents herself with biding him farewell in the city, not at the seashore: quae me cum mitteret urbe (line 9). Tibullus explicitly reporting that she said goodbye in the city means that she did not accompany him to the port and, therefore, that she did not follow him with her gaze until his ship faded into the distance (as a loving woman would have done). Again, suspicions about Delia’s feelings lurk in the background. Whereas the amator does not have any first-hand evidence for Delia’s prayers to the gods, he knows well the long period of sexual abstinence that he suffered before his journey. The poet laments that he could not sleep with Delia be-

 In this same line, Burck (1952: 188) considers it “eine Äußerung seines Dichterstolzes”.  Otis (1966: 257) thinks that precisely this stubborn insistence induces Juno to send Mor pheus to her: “All that Juno wanted Alcyone to do was to stop her tiresome prayers”.

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cause she offered her vows to the goddess Isis, alleging this as a means of praying for his safe return: Quid tua nunc Isis mihi, Delia, quid mihi prosunt Illa tua totiens aera repulsa manu, Quidve, pie dum sacra colis, pureque lavari Te memini et puro secubuisse toro?

25

The parenthetical remark memini (line 26) (“yes, this I do remember”), which specifically refers to the nights that the amator spent alone, contrasts with the uncertainty about Delia’s prayers for his return (dicitur). Was it worth the pain ―Tibullus laments― to renounce to their nights of love while they were together? If we consider the context and Delia’s well-known levitas, one can hardly overlook Tibullus’ bitter irony ―even more so, given the recurrent locus in elegy that evasive puellae often claim the cult of Isis as a (false) pretext for escaping the amator for a couple of days³¹². These allusions to the desire-imbalance between the Tibullan amator and his puella are substantiated in particular at the end of the poem, when a stable, mutual love is definitively unveiled as a chimera. Tibullus seems to awaken from the febrile lethargy that led him through the underworld and induced him to dwell on a foregone Golden Age; and suddenly he returns to the harsh reality: during his absence, Delia may have been unfaithful to him: At tu casta precor maneas, sanctique pudoris Adsideat custos sedula semper anus. Haec tibi fabellas referat positaque lucerna Deducat plena stamina longa colu, At circa gravibus pensis adfixa puella Paulatim somno fessa remittat opus. Tum veniam subito, nec quisquam nuntiet ante, Sed videar caelo missus adesse tibi. Tunc mihi, qualis eris, longos turbata capillos, Obvia nudato, Delia, curre pede. Hoc precor, hunc illum nobis Aurora nitentem Luciferum roseis candida portet equis.

85

90

 See Propertius 2,33 and 4,5,34 35; as well as Ovid Am. 1,8,73. See also Ovid Am. 2,2,25 26, and Ars 1,77 ff.; 3,393 ff.; and 3,635, which mentions the temple of Isis as a common place for clandestine sexual encounters.

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The explicit allusion to a chaperone guarding Delia’s chastity reveals, as James (2003: 135) argues, “his anxiety about her activities in his absence”³¹³. Tibullus can only dream of a beloved that remains faithful to him; he can merely fantasise about Delia as a new Penelope who patiently waits for her returning husband³¹⁴ ―but generic conventions require that Tibullus’ desire be unfulfilled. Alcyone, in contrast, fulfils this desire. She reserves her husband’s place in their conjugal bed (lines 473 – 473) and awaits his return. Moreover, Alcyone satisfies Tibullus’ fantasy of a puella who runs with uncombed hair to her lover (lines 91– 92)³¹⁵. She flings herself on her husband’s neck, following the intertextual model of Phyllis in Heroides 2,91– 95,³¹⁶ and begs him not to join the expedition against the wolf: induere arma viros violentaque sumere tela rex iubet Oetaeus; cum quis simul ipse parabat ire, sed Alcyone coniunx excita tumultu prosilit et nondum totos ornata capillos disicit hos ipsos colloque infusa mariti, mittat ut auxilium sine se, verbisque precatur et lacrimis, animasque duas ut servet in una.

385

The parallel between Tibullus’ longos turbata capillos… curre (1,3,91– 92) and Ovid’s prosilit et nondum totos ornata capillos (Met. 11,385) is meaningful.

 One could argue that Alcyone, too, displays a similar anxiety when Ceyx departs (utque foret sospes coniunx suus utque rediret // optabat, nullamque sibi praeferret (11, 580 581)). Certainly, as Bömer (1980: 390) observes, Ovid’s commentary on Alcyone’s jealousy sounds a little bit odd within the context. Yet, this allusion can be explained as a further thematic echo of elegy, in so far as fears about infidelity are a stock motif of the genre (the phase, in par ticular, draws on the conventions of the abandoned heroines from the Heroides). Moreover, it could also be understood as an intratextual allusion to the episode of Cephalus and Procris (where jealousy is a central topic), further reinforcing the common thematic lines of both nar ratives.  For the implicit association of Tibullus and Delia with, respectively, Odysseus and Penelope in poem 1,3, see Bright (1971).  The puella, grief stricken at the absence of her amator, is at times likened to a Bacchant, just as in Heroides 13,31 34, where Laodamia, in her sorrow, neglects her disordered hair: nec mihi pectendos cura est praebere capillos nec libet aurata corpora veste tegi. ut quas pampinea tetigisse Bicorniger hasta creditur, huc illuc, qua furor egit, eo. See also Propertius 4,8,51 52 for a similar image emphasising Cynthia’s fury (rather than her grief).  As Hardie (2002: 273) notes.

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Even if Tibullus does not state it explicitly, Delia’s well known levity transforms the whole image into a fantasy. Tibullus can only pray (precor: 94) that his dreams come true. Close comparison between the two passages obliges us, in sum, to scrutinise carefully any uncritical reference to the models that outwardly corroborate the episode’s “elegiac tone”. As I have shown for the episodes of Pyramus and Thisbe and Cephalus and Procris, allusions to elegiac subtexts are not vain textual reverberations; they are linked to deep semantic shifts. The explicit reference to elegiac conventions underscores, by contrast, that symmetry in hierarchy and desire, the utopia of an elegiac love-relationship, may be realised in the mutual love episodes that Ovid incorporates into the Metamorphoses. Carefully examining additional passages that are alleged to be “elegiac forerunners” for the episode of Ceyx and Alcyone also supports this transformation. In this regard, Hardie (2002: 274) interestingly observes that, as soon as Ceyx announces his departure, Alcyone reproaches him iam sum tibi carior absens? (line 424), “a rebuke to which the erotic cliché that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” suggests the answer “yes”, as we are taught in the Ars Amatoria”. In fact, this is the magister’s advice in Ars 2,349 ff.: Cum tibi maior erit fiducia, posse requiri, Cum procul absenti cura futurus eris, Da requiem: requietus ager bene credita reddit, Terraque caelestes arida sorbet aquas. Phyllida Demophoon praesens moderatius ussit: Exarsit velis acrius illa datis. Penelopen absens sollers torquebat Ulixes; Phylacides aberat, Laodamia, tuus.

350

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This intertextual parallel reinforces the elegiac traits of the episode’s protagonists. However, not only the congruencies, as Hardie relays, but also the discrepancies should be noted. The magister explicitly remarks that the amator’s absence should not last too long, because, otherwise, the effect could be counterproductive: the girl will get tired and she will seek another lover, just as it happened between Helen and Menelaus: Sed mora tuta brevis: lentescunt tempore curae, Vanescitque absens et novus intrat amor. Dum Menelaus abest, Helene, ne sola iaceret, Hospitis est tepido nocte recepta sinu.

360

This parallel unveils Ceyx and Alcyone as “supra-elegiac” lovers, since their love is able to overcome the obstacles that threaten a conventional elegiac love-rela-

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tionship. In contrast to the elegiac canon, Ceyx’s long absence does not jeopardise Alcyone’s fidelity. She emulates, thus, the paradigm of marital fidelity embodied by Penelope³¹⁷. As I showed above apropos of the Cephalus-episode, Procris’ identification with Penelope transforms her into an ideal and unreal elegiac puella, given that the “canonical” elegiac beloved is, by virtue of her levitas, rather an “anti-Penelope”. Another poem that scholars cite as an elegiac model is Propertius 2,26, whose similarity to the Ceyx and Alycone episode mainly stems from the shared theme of shipwreck as the cause of the lovers’ separation. Particularly, Tränkle (1963: 473) refers to this poem in his discussion of the iuncta mors motif. The author specifically focuses on the third section of the poem (lines 29 ff.)³¹⁸, where the elegiac speaker fantasises about following his puella wherever she goes ―even on a sea journey: seu mare per longum mea cogitet ire puella, hanc sequar et fidos una aget aura duos. unum litus erit sopitis unaque tecto arbor, et ex una saepe bibemus aqua; et tabula una duos poterit componere amantis, prora cubile mihi seu mihi puppis erit.

Expressing a desire for unity before one of the lovers undertakes a sea journey is, unmistakably, a common element in Metamorphoses 11,441 ff. Just like the Propertian speaker, Alcyone is ready to face the dangers of the sea together with her beloved: me quoque tolle simul! certe iactabimur una, nec nisi quae patiar, metuam, pariterque feremus, quicquid erit, pariter super aequora lata feremur.’

(Met. 11,441 443)

The lexical and semantic register used by Ovid in the mutual love episodes recalls Propertius’ diction in this poem 2,26, which is littered with terms semantically related to unity and togetherness³¹⁹. Alongside a general similitude in tone

 See Keogh (2010: 35), who examines some of the similarities between Penelope and Al cyone.  Some scholars, like Fedeli (2005: 733 ff.), think that a new poem begins here.  fidos una aget aura duos (30); unum litus unaque arbor (31 32); ex una aqua (32); tabula una duos poterit componere amantis (33); isdem nudi pariter iactabimur oris (43). Jouteur (2001: 182) also notes the Propertian (and, in general, elegiac) echoes of these expressions.

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and subject, Papanghelis (1987: 108) specifically notes the echo of line 43 of Propertius’ poem (certe isdem nudi pariter iactabimur oris ³²⁰) in the aforementioned lines of the Metamorphoses (certe iactabimur una… pariterque feremus). In turn, von Glinski (2012: 91) acknowledges the elegiac undertones in Ceyx’s characterisation, in so far as it recalls (in Met. 11,545 – 546) Propertius’ “romantic vision” (sic), which consists in his desire to see his love buried in the earth rather than at sea. However, selecting isolated elements that supposedly intensify Ceyx’ and Alcyone’s amatory feelings entails excessive simplification³²¹. Critical analysis of intertextuality requires specifically examining not only the text that hosts the allusion, but also the subtext itself. In this case, it is crucial to take into account the idiosyncratically multi-layered nature of elegiac discourse and the polysemy derived from its sophisticated use of intertextuality. Moreover, the specific context of each passage should be carefully assessed. The particular case of Propertius’ poem 2,26 merits doing more than indiscriminately quoting the lines where the motif of the iuncta mors appears. We need, instead, to read the whole poem ―whose most prominent feature is its awkward juxtaposition of themes and the obscurity of its arrangement³²². In the first part of the poem (lines 1– 20) the elegiac speaker narrates a dream in which Cynthia appears: shipwrecked, she is about to drown in the sea and implores Propertius to help her, confessing simultaneously all her lies: Vidi te in somnis fracta, mea vita, carina Ionio lassas ducere rore manus, et quaecumque in me fueras mentita fateri,

(1 3)

(…) at tu vix primas extollens gurgite palmas saepe meum nomen iam peritura vocas.

(11 12)

At this moment, a dolphin appears and leaps to aid her ―the same dolphin that saved the poet Arion of Methymna. Propertius transfers the typical confusion of oneiric images to his narrative and incorporates a last image into his dream be-

 This line hides a sexual innuendo, according to Papanghelis (1987: 86 ff.). As the author (1987: passim) argues, the fusion of the death and love themes pervades Propertius’ erotic dis course.  This is the case in Tränkle‘s (1963: 474) interpretation, who explains the presence of elegiac features as follows: “alle diese aus der Welt der römischen Elegie stammenden Motive haben ein Ziel: sie wollen das Bild einer großen Liebe malen”.  Indeed, this feature has provoked a number of editors to opt for dividing the poem into two, or even three different fragmentary poems. See Fedeli (2005: 733 ff.) for further details and bib liographical references.

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fore suddenly waking up: he is about to throw himself into the sea from a high rock: sed tibi subsidio delphinum currere vidi, qui, puto, Arioniam vexerat ante lyram. iamque ego conabar summo me mittere saxo, cum mihi discussit talia visa metus

(17 20)

Whereas the poem’s initial lines are relatively coherent, this last image is vague, since the reason Propertius hurls himself into the water remains obscure: does he want to save Cynthia³²³? Does he want to put an end to both his life and his suffering following her death?³²⁴ Alone the number of varying interpretations concerning Propertius’ leap into the sea evinces the obscurity of the image³²⁵. As Wiggers (1980: 124) notes, the last lines depict the image of a doubtful lover, whose jump from the high rock is abruptly interrupted the moment he awakens. The whole image is unveiled as only an oneiric attempt to jump (conabar: 19) and inevitably raises the reader’s suspicion: has he finally thrown himself into the sea? Is he really ready to do it? In all likelihood, Propertius creates a deliberate dreamlike confusion, whereby not only the order of events but also the meaning and reason for Propertius’ leap remain ambiguous. In any case, the depiction of Cynthia crying out Propertius’ name and repenting her faults is clearly distinguishable ―what is more, the description of this fantasy seems to titillate the narrator. Certainly, the nomen in ore nantis motif is a recurrent literary image³²⁶. Yet, Propertius takes advantage of the oneiric space in order to place Cynthia in a situation of absolute helplessness, from which only the poet, as a deus ex machina, can save her. The puella invoking Propertius’ name when she is about to die likely

 This is how Syndikus (2006: 298) and Fedeli (2005: 744) read the passage. To Hollis (2006: 100), who examines the link between this poem and some fragments of Euphorion of Chalcis, “it is not clear whether it is an attempt at rescue or suicide”.  This last interpretation would be corroborated by parallels from Propertius’ poem 2,17,13 (nunc iacere e duro corpus iuvat, impia, saxo) and by some analogous mythological examples. Particularly noteworthy are the similarities with Aesacus, who leaps off a cliff out of grief at the death of his beloved Hesperie, as Ovid narrates in Met. 11,778 ff. the episode that immedi ately follows the narrative of Ceyx and Alcyone.  For a general overview of the different interpretations, see Fedeli (2005: 744).  See Bömer (1980: 382).

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contains, as Wiggers (1980: 124– 125) notes, a metaliterary allusion to Propertius’ “(literary) name”³²⁷: only he ―as a poet― is able to save her from death³²⁸. Lastly, another feature revealing the tension between Propertius and his beloved is the apparent skepticism towards Cynthia’s repentance, given the intratextual context of the poem. In fact, in the previous poem (2,25) Propertius uses an important metaphor to illustrate the fickleness of women: the vows made mid-storm on the verge of shipwreck are not to be taken seriously; it is necessary first to arrive at the harbour³²⁹. This statement implicitly undercuts the promises made by Cynthia during her imagined shipwreck and ironically questions the feasibility of her words. Consequently, after using these allusions to destabilise the irenic image of Cynthia’s devotion, Propertius abandons the oneiric space and proceeds, in lines 21 to 28, to present reality (nunc: 21) ―an abnormal reality, if we consider the conventions of Propertius’ amatory discourse. This second part of the poem is, as I argued in Section I, Chapter 2 above, a rare example in the elegiac corpus where the poet literally expresses his supremacy over his puella, described here as a serva. Propertius proudly asserts the hierarchical pre-eminence granted to him by virtue of his being a poet (nunc admirentur quod tam mihi pulchra puella // serviat et tota dicar in urbe potens… [2,26,21]). Since I have treated this passage in detail above, I will now simply summarise the conclusions of my analysis: lines 21– 28 of poem 2,26 primarily express Propertius’ artistic self-awareness. In so far as he is the creator of the text on which his beloved’s existence depends ―be it as its reader, as its subject matter, or as a metaphor of the oeuvre itself―, Propertius asserts his indisputable power. This explicit statement of the hierarchy that governs the relationship between the poeta-amator and his puella

 See also Flaschenriem (2010: 196): “Cynthia herself seems to acknowledge the poet lover’s authority over their shared narrative”.  This metapoetic reading gains support from the specific mention of Arion’s dolphin swim ming to rescue Cynthia. Through an accumulation of synecdoches (just like the lyre, by synec doche, refers to Arion, the dolphin, by synecdoche, refers to the poet himself), the image of the dolphin poet as the beloved’s saviour corresponds, at a figurative level, to the invocation of Propertius’ name as the only one who can guarantee Cynthia’s survival. For a somewhat differ ent interpretation, see Flaschenriem (2010: 199), whose reading stresses to a lesser extent Cyn thia’s existential dependence on Propertius: “The phrase Arioniam . . . lyram equates Cynthia, as the object of rescue, with the poet’s instrument. Thus even as the dream of Cynthia’s rescue pays tribute to her, it subordinates her to the poet lover: she is his means of expression, the physical entity that animates his particular form of song and gives it its unique quality”.  credule, nulla diu femina pondus habet. // an quisquam in mediis persolvit vota procellis, // cum saepe in portu fracta carina natet? (2,25 22 24)

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should make us aware of the hermeneutical hazard of making only cursory connections between this passage and the Ceyx and Alcyone episode. Even the third part of Propertius’ poem (lines 29 – 58), which Tränkle (1963: 473) mentions as a typically elegiac example of the lovers’ desire for togetherness, contains some dissonant elements. Particularly, the long sequence of mythological allusions accompanying the grand storm imagined by Propertius creates an anticlimactic effect. The allusion to the story of Neptune and Amymone is particularly striking: the daughter of Danaus agrees to offer her sexual favours to the god in exchange of his help: he shows her the springs of Lerna, so that she can bring fresh water to her fatherland, as her father commanded her³³⁰. After the elegiac speaker details the inclement elements he is prepared to face³³¹, he invokes Neptune as a protector of lovers. However, by virtue of Neptune’s erotic past, this reference subtly alters the notion of devoted mutual love that, at first sight, seems to define the poem. To be sure, the vast world of myth offers the elegiac speaker more appropriate alternatives for illustrating the idea of togetherness in love than Neptune’s transaction with Amymone. But, this story, which would surely have been better suited for exemplifying the venality of love, seems, thus, an awkward and suspicious choice to represent a supposed paragon of mutual love. The reference to Orithyia is even more dissonant. Although Boreas raped her³³², Propertius strikingly claims that, in her eyes, he was not cruel³³³. Just like Neptune, Boreas, too, is presented as a god who protects lovers, although his “love story” with Orithyia is rather an exemplum of sexual violence. Propertius, who must recognise that this allusion is inappropriate for illustrating mutual love ―outwardly the poem’s overarching idea―, deftly hints at the power asymmetry between the god and his beloved. Even though Orithyia denies that Boreas treated her cruelly, Propertius simultaneously states that the girl was indeed raped. The reader, thus, assumes that Boreas’ infatuation manifested

 sed non Neptunus tanto crudelis amori, Neptunus fratri par in amore Iovi: testis Amymone, latices dum ferret, in arvis compressa, et Lernae pulsa tridente palus. iam deus amplexu votum persolvit, at illi aurea divinas urna profudit aquas (Prop. 2,26,45 50)  omnia perpetiar: saevus licet urgeat Eurus … (line 35).  As Ovid himself narrates in Met. 6,675 721.  crudelem et Borean rapta Orithyia negavit: // hic deus et terras et maria alta domat (2,26,51 52).

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itself in a violent act made possible only by virtue of his superior power ―the same power that enables him to tame (domat) the earth and the oceans (line 52). The third mythological example used by Propertius to illustrate sea-deities showing mercy towards lovers is Scylla, the terrible monster that, together with Charybdis, devours the ships of passing sailors³³⁴. According to Gazich (1995: 257), the exemplum of Scylla follows the same tack as the exempla of Neptune and Boreas, “quasi che la comune militanza d’amore unisse uomini e dèi in una ‘koinonia’ di comprensione e di mitezza”. However, Propertius certainly knew the version of the myth³³⁵ where Scylla, before becoming a monster, was a young woman. Poseidon fell in love with her but eventually transformed her into a sea monster because she refused to yield to his sexual advances. After so traumatic an erotic experience ―one may argue―, would she have any reason to sympathise with lovers, as Propertius claims in line 53? Once again, the exemplum seems ill-suited to illustrate the ostensible point. If we take into account the agonistic semantics that, as we see, pervade the poem, Propertius’ mythological allusions become much more than a mere ornamental feature³³⁶. The reference to Jupiter in lines 41– 42 further tests this apparently superficial use of myth (illa meis tantum non umquam desit ocellis, // incendat navem Iuppiter ipse licet). Propertius feels capable of confronting the wrath of Jupiter himself; the god’s power does not intimidate him. The poet situates himself, thus, at the apex of power, in radical contrast to the female characters of myth who were forced to deal with the superior power of gods: Amymone and Orithyia yielded and were consequently rewarded, whereas Scylla resisted and was met with punishment. Propertius quietly leads the reader to trace the analogy to his own relationship with Cynthia. The power symmetry implicit in the lovers’ indissoluble unity is, thus, called into question. Instead, the poet’s hierarchical pre-eminence subtly comes to the fore. The poem’s prevailing tensions and ―typical for elegy― agonistic tone oblige us, therefore, to recognise that these very features crucially distinguish it from the episode of Ceyx and Alcyone, where truly symmetric love is the Leitmotiv. Alcyone’s conviction to follow her husband into death³³⁷ situates us within a frame of an irenic reciprocity that is absolutely alien to the conventions of elegy.

 crede mihi, nobis mitescet Scylla, nec umquam // alternante vacans vasta Charybdis aqua (2,26,53 54).  Servius ad Aen. III, 420 refers to this version of the myth.  On the function of myth in Propertius, see Whitaker (1983: 87 ff.) and Gazich (1995: passim). Also cf. Booth (1998: 309) and Feichtinger (1998: 555).  nunc absens perii, iactor quoque fluctibus absens, // et sine me me pontus habet (lines 700 701).

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The allusion to the desiderative and hierarchical unevenness between Propertius and Cynthia (not only in the poem’s explicit expression at the centre, but also in the initial oneiric context and, in nuce, in the mythological allusions at the composition’s end) reveals their relationship’s crucial distance from the Ceyx and Alcyone-episode. In Ovid’s narration the forces of nature harmonise with the lovers and, thus, sanction their mutual devotion³³⁸, whereas, in Propertius’ poem, the indulgences of Neptune, Boreas or Scylla chiefly call attention to the intrinsic connection between love and power. One final intertext revealing the crucial metamorphosis of the canonical elegiac paradigm in the Ceyx and Alcyone-episode is Propertius’ poem 1,19, which Tränkle (1963: 475) adduces as another “elegiac model” for Ovid. I have already discussed this poem apropos of the episode of Pyramus and Thisbe. As I argued above, Propertius’ longed-for elegiac Liebestod is systematically deferred towards a utopian future and is, thus, generically unattainable. Consequently, the allusion to this poem as a “thematic model” for the episode of Ceyx and Alcyone turns out to be problematic. As is usual in the genre, the elegiac speaker states that separation from his beloved, not death, is the only thing that worries him³³⁹. The exemplum of Laodamia and Protesilaus, which Propertius introduces to illustrate the endurance of his love³⁴⁰, is particularly interesting if we read it alongside the Ceyx and Alcyone-episode. Tränkle (1963: 475) argues that Propertius’ vision of love that can overcome the boundaries of death is echoed in the image of Ceyx’s corpse returning to Alcyone. However, the irenic image of an enduring love beyond death is further interrogated in the last part of the poem, where the amator “returns” from the world of myth and arrives at the “here and now” ―the reality of a fickle and elusive Cynthia:

 See Otis (1966: 263) on the concept of “cosmic sympathy” in this episode. In the frame of an ethical interpretation of the poem, the Otis (see esp. pp. 251 256) argues for the existence of a cosmic justice that rewards Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s pious love.  Non ego nunc tristis vereor, mea Cynthia, Manes, nec moror extremo debita fata rogo; sed ne forte tuo careat mihi funus amore, hic timor est ipsis durior exsequiis. non adeo leviter nostris puer haesit ocellis, ut meus oblito pulvis amore vacet (1,19,1 6)  illic Phylacides iucundae coniugis heros non potuit caecis immemor esse locis, sed cupidus falsis attingere gaudia palmis Thessalis antiquam venerat umbra domum. 10 illic quidquid ero, semper tua dicar imago: traicit et fati litora magnus amor (1,19,7 12)

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quam vereor, ne te contempto, Cynthia, busto abstrahat a nostro pulvere iniquus Amor, cogat et invitam lacrimas siccare cadentis! flectitur assiduis certa puella minis. quare, dum licet, inter nos laetemur amantes: non satis est ullo tempore longus amor.

25

Cynthia is not Laodamia, but an elegiac mistress. If Propertius should come back from the dead, she may have found another new lover. Ceyx’s simulacrum (Met. 11,628) also returns to his beloved; yet, in crucial contrast to Propertius, he appears before a girl who fulfils the elegiac desire: Alcyone does sleep alone in her bed and she is ready to join him in death: luridus, exanimi similis, sine vestibus ullis, coniugis ante torum miserae stetit ingemit Alcyone lacrimans, motatque lacertos per somnum corpusque petens amplectitur auras exclamatque: ’mane! quo te rapis? ibimus una.’ (…) at certe vellem, quoniam periturus abibas, me quoque duxisses : multum fuit utile tecum ire mihi ; neque enim de vitae tempore quicquam non simul egissem, nec mors discreta fuisset. nunc absens perii, iactor quoque fluctibus absens, et sine me me pontus habet. crudelior ipso sit mihi mens pelago, si vitam ducere nitar longius et tanto pugnem superesse dolori ! sed neque pugnabo nec te, miserande, relinquam et tibi nunc saltem veniam comes, inque sepulcro si non urna, tamen iunget nos littera : si non ossibus ossa meis, at nomen nomine tangam.’

(11,654 655) 675

700

705

Alcyone’s life has no sense without Ceyx and, far from ignoring his obsequies ―as the Propertian amator fears that his puella may do (1,19,21)― she firmly intends to join Ceyx, be it only through the inscription of an imagined cenotaph. Hardie (2002: 280) notes that the nominal co-presence suggested by Alcyone evokes lines 25 – 26 of Amores 1,3: nos quoque per totum pariter cantabimur orbem, iunctaque semper erunt nomina nostra tuis.

25

However, Alcyone’s longed-for nominal union with her husband (iunget nos littera… nomen nomine tangam) starkly diverges from the elegiac speaker’s intention in Amores 1,3. As I argued in Chapter 3 of Section I, this poem conspicuously

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reflects on the puella as narrative material. She is demonstrated to be an entity wholly dependent on the artistic will of the poet, who has the ability to forge fictions that are seemingly real ―like Morpheus, the imitator of forms (artificem simulatoremque figurae: Met. 11,634) who conjures up Ceyx’s presence before Alcyone, although he no longer exists³⁴¹. The nominal union that Ovid proclaims in Am. 1,3 alludes to the programmatic announcement that he is going to devote his elegiac oeuvre to Corinna, whose name ―as long as he wishes it― will join with Ovid’s forever. The contrast to Ceyx and Alcyone is remarkable: whereas the lovers of the Metamorphoses eventually achieve an unbreakable unity, Ovid’s elegiac speaker expresses a desire realised only in the supra-fictional domain, since the puella’s elusiveness generically precludes her from the desire of a long-lasting union. Ceyx and Alcyone represent, thus, the realisation of the elegiac desideratum. In contrast to the discourse of elegy, which is founded on the agonistic tension between the amator-poeta and his puella, Ceyx’s and Alcyone’s relationship is entirely symmetrical, and their pact of fidelity is stable. As in the other episodes of mutual love in the Metamorphoses, the only source of tension in their love and the only factor threatening to separate them is fate³⁴² ―a dramatic force that is completely external to their relationship. Whereas the elegiac lover laments that his mistress’ levitas systematically thwarts their erotic plenitude, Ceyx and Alcyone lament a destiny that endangers their common wish to stay together. Yet, once the necessities of fate have been accordingly overcome, their mutual love, encountering no further obstacles, may continue perpetually after their metamorphosis into birds: tunc quoque mansit amor nec coniugiale solutum foedus in alitibus

(743 744)

 See Hardie (2002: 276 ff.; 89 and 136), who examines the function of Morpheus as a meta poetic fulcrum and surrogate for Ovid himself.  ’longa quidem est nobis omnis mora, sed tibi iuro per patrios ignes, si me modo fata remittent, ante reversurum, quam luna bis inpleat orbem.’ (11,451 453) See also 11,668, where Ceyx’s simulacrum attributes the sad outcome of his voyage to fate: ipse ego fata tibi praesens mea naufragus edo. As I argued above, the ineluctable presence of fate as the cause of separation is also an essential factor in the episode of Cephalus and Procris (see 7,816 and 828). In the case of Pyramus and Thisbe, fate is not specifically mentioned as the force threatening to separate the lovers, but their respective families. However, crucially this too is an external factor that the lovers cannot control.

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Having endured physical separation in life ―the barrier of the sea transformed them into amatores exclusi― and even in death, Ceyx and Alcyone, in a way, symbolise passage and transition. Ovid’s insistence on their capacity to overcome boundaries hints at their crucial role in the metapoetic process of transforming the elegiac paradigm. Just as time, space and even death become labile boundaries, generic boundaries are subject to flux as well. By undermining the hierarchical principles that govern the amator-puella relationship of elegy and presenting, instead, love symmetry as the semantic key of the episode, Ovid definitively upholds ―as he anticipated in the previous episodes of mutual love― the transformation of elegiac forms³⁴³. The process of change that started from the moment that elegiac forms first appeared in the Metamorphoses reaches its fulfilling conclusion. After explicitly ―even hyperbolically― detailing the hierarchical nature of elegiac love through the episodes of the Daphne-pattern, Ovid demonstrates that it is possible to transform this traditional elegiac model into a novum corpus where power asymmetry no longer rules the relationship between the lovers. The hallmark of elegiac discourse ―i. e. the agon between amator and puella― has been reshaped by the forger of forms who presides over the whole world of the Metamorphoses, the ποιητής Ovid. To be sure, the presence of Morpheus in the Ceyx and Alcyone-episode certainly facilitates the comprehension of this metamorphic process: literary reality is a simulacrum shaped by the artist; it is he who decides whether this simulacrum corresponds to a greater or lesser extent with the expectations of his readership.

Pomona and Vertumnus Having explored the morphology of elegiac love in two contrasting ways ―the fidesand the Daphne-pattern―, the narrative course of Ovid’s carmen perpetuum leads us, in the last part of the penultimate book (14,622– 771), to the tale of Pomona and Vertumnus: the last erotic episode of the poem³⁴⁴. The story enjoys a much

 Within the arrangement of the poem, the episode’s transitional nature (in this regard, see Har die [2002: 121] and Stadler [1985: 201]) subtly corroborates its meta narrative importance. In fact, the Ceyx and Alcyone episode concludes the section of the Metamorphoses that Otis (1966) puts under “the Pathos of Love” thematic rubric. The episode marks the final stage in the systematic exploration of love and simultaneously yields to the “historical” section of the poem.  If we obviate the episodes of Romulus and Hersilia (14,829 851) and Numa and Egeria (14,479 496 […] 547 551), where there are amatory elements, but love is not the central theme. See, e. g., Schmitzer (2001: 133 and n. 95), Myers (2009: 1 and 6) and idem (1994b: 225), Griffin (2008a: 1) or Gentilcore (1995: 210).

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more complex narration than it may seem and surely does more than merely represent a tale from Italic folklore³⁴⁵. Its importance can be inferred, on the one hand, from its position close to the end of the poem and its cosmogonic conclusion. Simultaneously, the story occupies a point of narrative transition from Greek myths (which provide the subject matter treated in the first thirteen books) to Roman myths (which predominate the poem’s last two books). As Hardie (2015: 448) notes, Ovid’s main literary source is Propertius’ poem 4,2, where the god Vertumnus’ statue describes his origin and metamorphic abilities. Ovid’s thematic transition towards Italo-Roman aetiology is, thus, quietly signalled in the allusion to Propertius’ Vertumnus. Moreover, even though the subject matter of the Propertian subtext is not amatory, the allusion per se to elegy implicitly prepares the reader to expect further intertextual play with elegiac power relations, given the intratextual precedents set by the previous “elegiac” love narratives. Not only its marked liminal position, but also its length hints at the significance of the story: with 150 lines, the episode belongs to the group of the longest narratives in the poem³⁴⁶. Moreover, the episode bridges significantly two key moments in the evolution of Rome: Aeneas’ (14,581– 608) and Romulus’ apotheosis (14,805 – 828). As the narrative flux of the poem appears to march towards the telos of mythical history ―the foundation of Rome―, Ovid delays its culmination by inserting the seemingly trivial love tale of Pomona and Vertumnus. Significantly, though, Ovid devotes far more space to this episode than to the apotheosis of the two fathers of the Roman homeland. Thought-provokingly, the episode immediately follows the enumeration of the Alban kings (14,609 – 622). The juxtaposition of these two narratives seems to reduce the tradition of Latium’s legendary kings to a mere list of names that is narratively subordinated to an unknown folktale³⁴⁷. The story’s role as a closural narrative ―the ultimus ardor (14,682– 683) of the Metamorphoses― explains its distinctiveness and its especially metamorphic features. Critics have approached the programmatic nature of the episode from different perspectives: in some cases, it has been viewed as a final assertion of the theme  See Fränkel (1945: 106), who characterises the episode as “a very simple tale, steeped in the homely spirit of Italian countryfolk”.  A fact that Bömer (1986: 199) observes with surprise.  The tale is not found in any other source and, thus, may arguably have been invented by Ovid. See Johnson (1997: 373), Myers (1994b) and idem (1994a: 114) and, particularly, (2009: 163): “… as Ovid’s catalogue begins to fast forward the poem to Rome’s foundation, it is inter rupted by the amatory tale of Pomona and Vertumnus, the first episode presented in “Italian” time, which takes place during the reign of the legendary Italian king Proca. The leisurely erotic story (…) interrupts and delays (by 150 lines) the Roman chronology and the poem’s historical and teleological move towards Rome, reducing the king list to a mere narrative framework”.

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of mutual love³⁴⁸; in other cases, it has been understood to consolidate the theme of love as a destructive force³⁴⁹. Some authors have analysed the thematic and stylistic traits of the episode³⁵⁰, whereas others have opted for a narratological approach³⁵¹. Still, despite the diversity of hermeneutical perspectives, there are some traits on which critics unanimously agree: on the one hand, the episode displays a number of elements whose origin is unmistakably elegiac; on the other hand, it adheres to a thematic outline that clearly resembles the Daphne-pattern, but, simultaneously, differs from it in some meaningful respects, particularly at key moment of the story’s narrative dénouement. I will now examine the most important features of the episode, in order to throw light on its complex hybridism and to clarify how this narrative helps complete our understanding of Ovid’s handling of the elegiac paradigm within the Metamorphoses. The episode begins with the presentation of Pomona, a young hamadryad who dedicates her life to her gardens and orchards ―thence her name: Rege sub hoc Pomona fuit, qua nulla Latinas inter hamadryadas coluit sollertius hortos nec fuit arborei studiosior altera fetus; unde tenet nomen: non silvas illa nec amnes, rus amat et ramos felicia poma ferentes; nec iaculo gravis est, sed adunca dextera falce, (…) hic amor, hoc studium

625

(634)

Myers notes that Pomona’s association with a cultivated garden and not with the woods or hunting anticipates that “she will not follow the pattern of the huntress-determined-virgin type (such as Daphne or Syrinx)”³⁵². Yet, like other nymphs in the poem, she is coveted by many suitors whose erotic enticements she constantly refuses: Veneris quoque nulla cupido est; vim tamen agrestum metuens pomaria claudit intus et accessus prohibet refugitque viriles.

    

See Fantazzi (1976), Littlefield (1965) or Johnson (1997). See particularly Gentilcore (1995), Parry (1964: 275) or Curran (1978). See Myers (1994b) and Griffin (2008a). See Fabre (1987). Myers (1994a: 116). See also idem (2009: 163 and 165).

635

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The text clearly evokes earlier passages about nymphs who suffered the violence of an infatuated god³⁵³. These intraliterary antecedents lead the reader to expect that Pomona will also be victimised by sexual violence. On the other hand, like the women of the Daphne-type, she is characterised as an elegiac dura puella whose insensitivity must be soothed. This is what Vertumnus aims to achieve through his strategies of narrative seduction: referam tota notissima Cypro facta, quibus flecti facile et mitescere possis

(14,696 697)

Just as Apollo tries to persuade Daphne in the primus amor, Vertumnus intends to subdue (flectere) and soften (mitescere) the hamadryad’s duritia. Meaningfully, the verb flectere is also used by Propertius in 1,8 when he refers to his “victory” over Cynthia ―in a poem that, as I argued above, alludes to the supra-fictional power imbalance between the poet and puella ³⁵⁴. These intra- and intertextual precedents insinuate that we are dealing with a well-known thematic pattern. In the same vein, Vertumnus’ characterisation clearly reproduces a typically elegiac stance. On the one hand, his metamorphic capacity on its own evokes the description of an ideal elegiac amator, who, according to the precepts in Ars 1,759 – 762³⁵⁵, must be versatile, knowing how to feign and how to don the mask suited for each occasion in order to adapt to the variegated exigencies of the puellae: Pectoribus mores tot sunt, quot in ore figurae; Qui sapit, innumeris moribus aptus erit, Utque leves Proteus modo se tenuabit in undas, Nunc leo, nunc arbor, nunc erit hirtus aper

760

Moreover, by performing the “classic” role of the servus amoris, Vertumnus adopts the same “elegiac pose” that Apollo has introduced in the primus  The parallel with Syrinx, another hamadryad who rejected the satyrs and rustic deities harass ing her, is particularly remarkable, as Hardie (2015: 448) also observes. See Met. 1,609 613: inter hamadryadas celeberrima Nonacrinas naias una fuit: nymphae Syringa vocabant. non semel et satyros eluserat illa sequentes et quoscumque deos umbrosaque silva feraxque rus habet  The puella could not resist his words (assiduas non tulit illa preces: 28) and was, thus, de feated by the power of Propertius’ poetic voice (hanc ego non auro, non Indis flectere conchis, // sed potui blandi carminis obsequio: 39 40).  See Myers (1994b: 228) and idem (2009: 169), as well as Hardie (2015: 451).

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amor. After enumerating the diverse suitors who have tried in vain to enter Pomona’s enclosed garden, Ovid presents the god Vertumnus: although he is more tenacious than the other wooers, the hamadryad does not reciprocate his love either, and thus he is condemned to the same unhappiness that characterises the elegiac servus amoris (sed enim superabat amando // hos quoque Vertumnus neque erat felicior illis [14,641– 642]). As Griffin (2008a: 4) notes³⁵⁶, Ovid’s narrative focuses on Vertumnus’ suffering: “he tries to be reaper, a harvester, a herdsman, a gardener, a soldier³⁵⁷ and a fisherman —all fail”. o quotiens habitu duri messoris aristas corbe tulit verique fuit messoris imago! tempora saepe gerens faeno religata recenti desectum poterat gramen versasse videri; saepe manu stimulos rigida portabat, ut illum iurares fessos modo disiunxisse iuvencos. falce data frondator erat vitisque putator; induerat scalas: lecturum poma putares; miles erat gladio, piscator harundine sumpta; denique per multas aditum sibi saepe figuras repperit, ut caperet spectatae gaudia formae.

645

650

Even though his disguises allow him to gain entry into Pomona’s garden³⁵⁸, he only manages to gaze at her (line 653) —recalling, thus a typically Propertian attitude, as O’Neill (2005) argues. The infatuated god is ready to obey any order of Pomona —who is, thus, projected in the role of the elegiac domina (et quod erit iussus, iubeas licet omnia, fiet [14,686]). Thus, like an elegiac amator, he is ready to renounce everything and abandon his prerogatives for love: sed neque iam fetus desiderat arbore demptos nec, quas hortus alit, cum sucis mitibus herbas nec quicquam nisi te: miserere ardentis

690

Additionally, the dramatic situation itself, whereby Vertumnus fruitlessly attempts to enter Pomona’s enclosed garden, recalls the elegiac paraclausithyron, as Myers (1994b: 228) observes. His role as an exclusus amator who relentlessly wanders

 On Vertumnus’ suffering, see also Gentilcore (1995 :118).  Playing the role of a miles, an evocation of the militia amoris motif, further reinforces the connection with elegy, as Myers (2009: 171) notes.  As Hardie (2015: 452) notes, aditus “è un termine quasi tecnico nell’Ars per « accesso ses suale » a un amante”.

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around the puella’s house corroborates his identification with the elegiac lover: nec passim toto vagus errat in orbe, // haec loca sola colit (680 – 681)³⁵⁹. As a consequence of Vertumnus’ failed attempts to persuade Pomona, he decides to “disguise” himself as an old woman. Thanks to this metamorphosis, the god is able to penetrate into Pomona’s pomarium. As some critics observe³⁶⁰, this is not only an invasion into her private space, but also a metaphorical rape, which anticipates the outcome that the reader expects for the story. At the same time, Ovid appeals to the intraliterary memory of his readership, setting Vertumnus’ strategy against the backdrop of tactics employed by other gods earlier in the Metamorphoses who also resorted to transvestism to deceive their beloveds and eventually rape them³⁶¹. Likewise, Vertumnus’ hidden identity allows him to enter Pomona’s enclosed garden: ille etiam picta redimitus tempora mitra, innitens baculo, positis per tempora canis, adsimulavit anum: cultosque intravit in hortos pomaque mirata est ’tanto’ que ’potentior!’ inquit paucaque laudatae dedit oscula, qualia numquam vera dedisset anus

655

Vertumnus kisses her as no true old woman would do and thereby emulates Jupiter’s and Sol’s behaviour when they use their disguise to bestow immoderate kisses³⁶² on their beloveds. Once the god penetrates into Pomona’s pomarium,

 In this same vein, another relevant echo is his resemblance to the Propertian elegiac speak er in poem 1,18,1 4, where the solitary woods are the best place to utter his love lament: Haec certe deserta loca et taciturna querenti, et vacuum Zephyri possidet aura nemus. hic licet occultos proferre impune dolores, si modo sola queant saxa tenere fidem Ovid’s expression haec loca sola (Met. 14,681) echoes Propertius’ haec certe deserta loca. The links between Vertumnus’ behaviour and the typically elegiac erotic attitude are, thereby, further underscored.  See particularly Gentilcore (1995: 114 and 119 120), who alludes to Catullus 62 as a parallel example of the enclosed garden as a symbol of virginity.  As Johnson (1997: 367 368) observes. See also Hardie (2015: 452 453). This is the case for Jupiter, who disguises himself as Diana in order to rape Callisto (Met. 2,424.438); or Sol, who vi olates Leucothoe after disguising himself as her mother (4,218 320); or Apollo, who passes him self off as an old woman in order to rape Chione (11,310). Minerva provides a similar example when she also disguises herself as an old woman (6,43 49). Even though the context is not erot ic, one can see a hint of sexual violation in her deception, as Oliensis (2004: 289) argues.  Compare Vertumnus’ kisses to Sol’s: ceu mater carae dedit oscula natae (4,222); and to Ju piter’s: et oscula iungit, // nec moderata satis nec sic a virgine danda (2,430 431).

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the reader would expect her rape to follow, as Johnson (1997: 368) observes. However, Ovid does not dwell on this well-known narrative pattern. Instead, deferring the outcome of the story and meticulously describing Vertumnus’ disguise, Ovid reveals his crucial interest in emphasising the episode’s liaison with elegiac discourse. Indeed, the god passing himself off as an old woman meaningfully reminds the reader of the figure of the elegiac lena, the bawd who instructs the puella in matters of love³⁶³. Yet, Vertumnus re-orients his particular erotodidaxis towards his personal interests and recreates, thus, the conventions of the genre³⁶⁴: (s)he recommends that Pomona love only Vertumnus, rather than counselling her to yield to many suitors, as elegiac convention stipulates³⁶⁵. Ovid himself provides an illustrative instance of this generic trend in Am. 1,8,54– 56, where Corinna’s bawd praises the advantages of having many wooers: nec satis effectus unus et alter habent; certior e multis nec tam invidiosa rapina est. plena venit canis de grege praeda lupis.

Thus, contravening the elegiac standards, the bawd-Vertumnus advises her to shun all the other suitors—as if she were a new Helen, a new Penelope or a new Hippodamia³⁶⁶— and to choose the only suitor who truly loves her, Vertumnus: (…) Helene non pluribus esset sollicitata procis nec quae Lapitheia movit proelia nec coniunx nimium tardantis Ulixis. nunc quoque, cum fugias averserisque petentes,

670

 As Griffin (2008a: 5 ff.) and Hardie (2015: 453) observe.  See Griffin (2008a: 5): “While normally the lena works as a foil against the elegiac amator, here Vertumnus usurps her power by incorporating her position and influence into his repertoire of tricks”.  Tibullus 1,5,47 58 and 6,43 54; as well as Propertius 4,5 conspicuously instantiate the presence of the bawd figure in elegiac poetry. See Moreno Soldevila (2011: 413 415) for addition al references.  An additional feature linking Vertumnus’ narrative with elegaic discourse is the use of myth as an exemplum, as Griffin (2008a: 5) and Myers (2009: 174 175) observe. Vertumnus’ spe cific allusion to Penelope as a mythological paradigm interestingly coincides with Dypsas’ own allusion. Yet, in crucial contrast, the procuress of Amores 1,8 mentions Penelope for exactly the opposite purpose (Penelope iuvenum vires temptabat in arcu //; qui latus argueret, corneus arcus erat : lines 47 48). As González Iglesias (2004: 173) argues, Ovid (through the voice of Dypsas) subverts the Penelope exemplum: “así, Penélope no trataría de entretener a los pretendientes, sino de probar sus fuerzas y su virilidad”.

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mille viri cupiunt et semideique deique et quaecumque tenent Albanos numina montes. sed tu si sapies, si te bene iungere anumque hanc audire voles, quae te plus omnibus illis, plus, quam credis, amo: vulgares reice taedas Vertumnumque tori socium tibi selige! (…) nec, uti pars magna procorum, quam modo vidit, amat: tu primus et ultimus illi ardor eris, solique suos tibi devovet annos adde, quod est iuvenis, quod naturale decoris munus habet formasque apte fingetur in omnes,

675

685

Vertumnus strives to distinguish himself from the other wooers who harass Pomona. Furthermore, I argue, his efforts to dignify his own behaviour convey, at a meta-narrative level, a reflection on the validity of the Daphne-pattern for his own erotic context. Ovid not only openly contrasts Vertumnus’ narrative with the primus amor through the programmatic reference to his love as the ultimus ardor (682– 683)³⁶⁷. Moreover, Vertumnus deliberately distances himself from those gods —like Apollo— who fall in love at first sight; thus, he explicitly rejects the erotic pattern “vidit et incaluit”³⁶⁸: nec, uti pars magna procorum // quam modo vidit, amat (681– 682). In contrast to most lovers in the previous amatory tales, Vertumnus promises Pomona long-lasting faithfulness (solique tibi devovet annos: 683). Through this declaration of fidelity, which is in large part alien to the typical erotic attitude of the infatuated gods in the Daphne-pattern³⁶⁹, Vertumnus assumes an erotic stance that interestingly moves him closer to the amatory pattern of the mutual love episodes. The result, we feel, is a hybrid narrative that destabilises the erotic categories formed and consolidated by poem’s previous episodes.

 As Myers (2009: 177) notes, alongside its programmatic value and its specular relationship with the primus amor, the expression underscores the elegiac undertones of the episode, since it alludes to Propertius 1,12,19 20: mi neque amare aliam neque ab hac desistere fas est: // Cynthia prima fuit, Cynthia finis erit.  See Met. 2,574 or 3,371. This expression synthesises the characteristic manner in which a god becomes infatuated with a female character, like archetypically Daphne. See Garson (1976: 9 ff.) and Myers (2009: 118), with further references.  Certainly, Apollo promises Daphne eternal fidelity (Met. 1,558 ff.). However, in contrast to Vertumnus, Apollo’s promise is addressed to Daphne as laurel. In other words, Apollo promises fidelity to a symbol that will be henceforth associated with his own cult, whereas Vertumnus makes a promise of love. This difference perhaps anticipates the different outcome of Vertum nus’ attempt at seduction.

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However, this feeling, like Vertumnus himself, is unstable and changing. Indeed, hints at the mutual love pattern are swiftly abandoned in the immediately following lines. Here, the disguised Vertumnus praises his metamorphic capacity (lines 684– 686) —inevitably calling to the reader’s mind the tricks of the infatuated gods in previous narratives. Moreover, Pomona’s intraliterary memory surely warns her about her compromised situation: she not only stands before a potential aggressor; she should also be cautious to avoid any criticism of Vertumnus’ metamorphic faculties, as the intraliterary precedents show. Arachne is the most enlightening example: by indicting the gods for using transformations to satisfy their lust, she suffered severe punishment at the hands of Minerva, the goddess who felt offended by Arachne’s impious critique of the gods’ changing shapes³⁷⁰. The implicit threat of violence that this passage elicits further emphasises the imminent danger looming over Pomona³⁷¹. Despite Vertumnus consciously distancing himself from his intratextual predecessors, his next courtship strategy strengthens his links to a vertical erotic pattern. Subsequently, in order to persuade Pomona, he narrates the story of Iphis and Anaxarete and underscores how the story warns about the dangers of erotic resistance: ultoresque deos et pectora dura perosam Idalien memoremque time Rhamnusidis iram! quoque magis timeas, (etenim mihi multa vetustas scire dedit) referam tota notissima Cypro facta

695

His key reference to the wrath of a deity (693 – 694) punishing the duritia of those who spurn love³⁷² and his specific statement that the goal of his narration is to

 See Met. 6,103 126. Ovid narrates how Arachne weaves a tapestry on which she excessively depicts gods changing forms in order to deceive and rape their human victims. Minerva is so enraged by the sacrilege that she beats Arachne and eventually provokes her transformation into a spider. Even though Minerva herself does not refer to Arachne’s tapestry as caelestia crim ina [6,131] (but, rather, the narrator), one could argue that the expression is focalised from the perspective of the goddess. See Oliensis (2004) on the meta political implications of the weaving contest between Arachne and Minerva.  All the more if we take into account that, as Rosati (1983: 107) and Oliensis (2004: 289) ob serve, Minerva disguises herself as an old woman (anum simulat: 6,26). The intertextual coinci dence between Vertumnus’ and Minerva’s disguise underscores the allusion to Pomona’s risky position.  As Myers (2009: 178 179) argues, Ovid alludes, thus, to the elegiac motif of the dura puella. See also Hardie (2015: 456), who refers to the appellation to the ultores dei as a typically elegiac feature.

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arouse Pomona’s fear (time… timeas: 694 – 695) situate us, once again, before an imminent act of sexual violence —as the previous episodes about gods trying to persuade girls imply. In this regard, the primus amor is particularly illustrative: Apollo’s attempt to seduce Daphne verbally is merely an ornamental prelude³⁷³ to his true tactics: violence³⁷⁴. The tale of Boreas and Orithyia, in Book 6, further clarifies this reflection: the god initially emulates the infatuated deities of the previous books, until he realises that it is useless to waste time with blanditiae and persuasive means: violence better fits a god (6,685 – 690): ast ubi blanditiis agitur nihil, horridus ira, quae solita est illi nimiumque domestica vento, ’et merito!’ dixit; ’quid enim mea tela reliqui, saevitiam et vires iramque animosque minaces, admovique preces, quarum me dedecet usus? apta mihi vis est:

Yet, intratextual allusions to erotic violence are not the only means to reinforce the image of power imbalance between Pomona and Vertumnus. The intertextual reference to subjective love elegy through the embedded tale of Iphis and Anaxarete corroborates this idea. This admonitory narrative³⁷⁵ is probably the passage that most explicitly and systematically reproduces the topoi of elegy within the Metamorphoses. The protagonist, Iphis, comes from a humble family, similar in this respect to the elegiac pauper poeta ³⁷⁶. When he sees Anaxarete for the first time, he becomes deeply infatuated with her and is unable to overcome the intense passion overwhelming him: ’Viderat a veteris generosam sanguine Teucri Iphis Anaxareten, humili de stirpe creatus, viderat et totis perceperat ossibus aestum luctatusque diu, postquam ratione furorem vincere non potuit, supplex ad limina venit

700

 See Met. 1,504 ff.  The episode of Jupiter and Io confirms this argument. Before raping her, the god tries to “convince” her that he is not an ordinary lover. See Met. 1,595 596: nec de plebe deo, sed qui caelestia magna // sceptra manu teneo, sed qui vaga fulmina mitto.  On Vertumnus’ “narrative seduction” see, e. g., Possanza (2002: 92), Nagle (1988b: 89, n. 20; 1988a: 42) or Gentilcore (1995: 118).  On this motif, see, e. g. Propertius 2,24b,49; 2,3,49; 2,8,11.; Tibullus 1,1; or Ovid Am. 1,3,7 10. See Myers (2009: 181).

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Iphis not only recalls the amatores like Apollo in the primus amor —who is unable to subdue his passion having been struck by Cupid’s arrows³⁷⁷. He also complies with the intertextual principles of the Ovidian elegiac speaker in the postproemial poem of the Amores (1,2), where Ovid describes his love-symptoms after Amor inoculated him with an untamable passion for writing love poetry (as explained in Amores 1,1). Yet, the feature that most clearly links Iphis to elegy is the paraclausithyron-motif ³⁷⁸: madly in love, the protagonist places himself before his beloved’s door and hopes that she yields to his pleas (supplex ad limina venit: 702). From then on, Iphis reproduces point by point some of the most conspicuous elegiac conventions: et modo nutrici miserum confessus amorem, ne sibi dura foret, per spes oravit alumnae, et modo de multis blanditus cuique ministris sollicita petiit propensum voce favorem; saepe ferenda dedit blandis sua verba tabellis, interdum madidas lacrimarum rore coronas postibus intendit posuitque in limine duro molle latus tristisque serae convicia fecit.

705

710

His recourse to the nurse as an intermediary (703 – 4); the writing of letters in order to win the beloved (707); as well as his tears before the jambs of a closed and insensible door (708 ff.) are, as critics unanimously observe³⁷⁹, typically elegiac motifs. In response to Anaxarete’s insensitivity, Iphis threatens to commit suicide —a manoeuvre that is not untypical of elegiac lovers³⁸⁰: non tulit impatiens longi tormenta doloris Iphis et ante fores haec verba novissima dixit: “vincis, Anaxarete, (…) vincis enim, moriorque libens: age, ferrea, gaude!

(716 718) (721)

The protagonist suffers the same symptoms as the elegiac lover³⁸¹, with the crucial difference that he does indeed commit suicide:

 See Met. 1,473 474: laesit Apollineas traiecta per ossa medullas // protinus alter amat.  See Myers (2009: 182 ff.) and idem (1994b: 238), Raval (2001: 307), Griffin (2008a: 3), Jouteur (2001: 107 114) or Gentilcore (1995: 116).  See Hardie (2015: 458 459) and Myers (2009: 182 ff.) with further elegiac intertexts. On the nurse as a stock element in Hellenistic narrative, see Knox (1990b).  See, for instance, Propertius 2,17,13 14. See also Papanghelis (1987: 136).  Conspicuously, his tears and paleness (734) are typical symptoms. See Myers (2009: 188) for further instances of the motif of lovesickness in erotic poetry from Sappho onwards.

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cum foribus laquei religaret vincula summis, “haec tibi serta placent, crudelis et inpia!” dixit inseruitque caput, sed tum quoque versus ad illam, atque onus infelix elisa fauce pependit

735

In turn, Anaxarete, who hard-heartedly shuns Iphis, assumes the role of an elegiac dura puella, ironically anticipating the real petrifaction that she is going to suffer as a consequence of her cruelty. In correspondence with the profuse description of Iphis’ “elegiac suffering”, her harshness is quasi-hyperbolically emphasised, as we can understand from the frequent use of the adjectives dura, ferrea and saeva ³⁸². Aiming to persuade Pomona through fear, the story reaches its admonitory corollary: as Iphis’ funereal cortège passes by Anaxarete’s house, she wants to see the spectacle; in this moment, her duritia is literalised as she turns to stone: “videamus” ait “miserabile funus” et patulis iniit tectum sublime fenestris vixque bene inpositum lecto prospexerat Iphin: deriguere oculi, calidusque e corpore sanguis inducto pallore fugit, conataque retro ferre pedes haesit, conata avertere vultus hoc quoque non potuit, paulatimque occupat artus, quod fuit in duro iam pridem pectore, saxum.

755

Anaxarete’s petrifaction is, as some critics observe, the realisation of her literary characterisation as a dura puella ³⁸³. Yet, furthermore, her transformation inverts the kind of metamorphosis we witnessed for Pygmalion’s ivory beloved: in the latter’s case, a dura puella is eventually transformed into a “flesh-and-blood” woman who yields to the erotic desires of her amator. This specular relationship between the two narratives is meaningful, since both episodes occur within programmatically important passages of the Metamorphoses. In Pygmalion’s case, the metamorphosis of his insensible beloved into a loving woman synthesises, as I argued above, the transition to a new erotic pattern. This erotic pattern grows increasingly important alongside the dominant erotic paradigm (the Daphne-type stories) and represents the shift from a vertical (subject-object) to a horizontal (subject-subject) desiderative and hierarchical model. In Iphis’ and Anaxarete’s case, Ovid presents an inverted metamorphosis: a “flesh-and As Gentilcore (1995: 116) notes: “for Vertumnus, one comparison is not sufficient; Anaxarete is saevior illa fretu surgente cadentibus Haedis, // durior et ferro, quod Noricus excoquit ignis, // et saxo, quod adhuc vivum radice tenetur (…) [711 713]”.  Myers (2009: 22) and idem (1994b: 238) or Solodow (1988: 179).

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bone” (but symbolically hard) puella is turned into stone. The task now is to elucidate how this reversal fits semantically within its narrative framework. In relation to the framing narrative, Anaxarete’s metamorphosis demonstrates the vengeance of the ultores deos (693), whom Vertumnus mentions at the beginning of his story, and thereby underscores the nexus of the whole episode with the Daphne-pattern and the theme of erotic violence. However, the inset-narrative is not the only means of coercion. Ovid’s particularly broad and systematic recourse to intertextuality allows the reader to observe that the embedded tale alludes to another thematically analogous text, namely Pseudo Theocritus’ Idyll XXIII³⁸⁴. This poem, which most critics deem spurious³⁸⁵, in a similar fashion to the Iphis-tale develops the theme of divine punishment for those who scorn love. The story concerns a lovesick young man falling madly in love with another boy, who cruelly shuns him (lines 1– 18). The lover laments his misery in front of his beloved’s closed door; yet, after his paraclausithyron fails, he finally decides to commit suicide hanging himself in front of his lover’s doorjambs (lines 19 – 48). The next morning, the haughty beloved passes the hanging corpse but cruelly refuses to pay any attention to it (lines 53 – 57). As a punishment, a statue of Eros falls on the young man and kills him (lines 58 – 62). The corollary of the poem is the gnomic assertion ὁ γὰρ θεὸς οἶδε δικάζειν (line 63). The pseudo-Theocritean subtext corroborates the threat of coercion that the episode intratextually insinuates through Vertumnus’ subtle emulation of certain characteristics and behaviours of the Daphne-pattern’s infatuated gods. Anaxarete is turned into stone, and the boy of the Idyll is killed by Eros himself. Thus, both the inset tale and the pseudo-Theocritean subtext become sophisticated narrative-intertextual mechanisms for alluding to impending violence. Vertumnus already warned Pomona at the beginning of his narration that the gods punish the hard-hearted (dura pectora: 693). As a consequence of his narration, in which Anaxarete is literally petrified, and an intertext evoking the death of a boy from a falling stone statue, the initial threat is openly confirmed. Yet, alongside this use of “meta-narrative violence”, the profuse presence of elegiac features in the Iphis-tale is also meaningful. In fact, although Iphis’ (the elegiac amator’s) love ambitions are thwarted, the allusion to a pattern of hierarchical love, which is implicitly present in the erotic world of traditional elegy, further substantiates connecting the episode of Pomona and Vertumnus with the thematic domain of the Daphne-pattern. Moreover, it indirectly confirms that Po-

 Some authors note the intertextual echo of this poem in the Ovidian passage. See particu larly Myers (2009: 181), Copley (1940: 53), Griffin (2008b: 4) and Hardie (2015: 457).  See Copley (1940: 52) and Griffin (2008b: 1).

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mona plays the role of the elegiac puella, whose existence depends on the poetaamator. Still, the sophisticated allusions to elegiac discourse are deliberately complex and, so to speak, protean, like Vertumnus himself. Thus, within the larger narrative framework of the Metamorphoses, the Iphis-tale can be read as a reflection on the validity and immutability of subjective elegy as a literary paradigm. Gentilcore (1995: 116 – 118) contends that Ovid parodies the world of Roman love elegy (particularly the paraclausithyron-motif) and debunks the premises of obsessive love. However, if we consider the broader context, we see that Ovid’s mockery of elegy is not his objective per se. Beyond depicting love as a destructive force³⁸⁶, the embedded tale has a metaliterary purpose. Iphis’ point by point imitation of the “key features” of elegiac discourse reveals the eminently “theatrical” nature of his “elegiac performance”. His painstaking replication of generic topoi is synthesised in a series of “elegiac norms” that he performs in a meticulous but uncritical manner (symptoms of love, paraclausithyron, writing tablets, recourse to the nurse as an intermediary, love lament …). This dramatisation conveys the impression that Iphis aims to be “more elegiac” than the elegiac lovers themselves. Iphis “overacts” in his elegiac performance and, thus, really kills himself ―without ever realising that the threat to commit suicide is merely a persuasive mechanism in elegy, which the lover obviously never carries out³⁸⁷. In the same vein, Anaxarete’s petrifaction³⁸⁸ can be understood in metaliterary terms too, in so far as it parodies the literal readings of the elegiac genre: just as the lover never consummates his daydreams of death, the beloved’s hard-heartedness is a metaphor ―she is not really made of stone. Elegy is, as Propertius notes (4,1,135), a fallax opus, and, consequently, literal readings, like those instantiated in the tale of Iphis and Anaxarete, are ridiculous or grotesque. The broader semantic framework of the embedding tale definitively justifies interrogating the canonical elegiac model. Despite Vertumnus’ long admonishing tale, his attempt to seduce Pomona with words is unsuccessful (nequiquam: 765) ―like most cautionary tales in the Metamorphoses ³⁸⁹ and, specifically, like

 As argued by Gentilcore (1995).  See Gentilcore (1995: 117).  Her petrifaction represents, according to Gentilcore (1995: 117), the culminating point of “Ovid’s mockery of the elegiac genre”.  See Myers (1994b: 242 243). Moreover, the author interestingly observes that Pomona’s dis missal of Vertumnus’ story prefigures the impeding danger: “not to listen to a tale often means transformation or death”.

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all such verbal efforts by infatuated gods³⁹⁰. In view of his failure, Vertumnus puts away his disguise and reveals himself to Pomona as the god he really is: Haec ubi nequiquam formae deus aptus anili edidit, in iuvenem rediit et anilia demit instrumenta sibi talisque apparuit illi, qualis ubi oppositas nitidissima solis imago evicit nubes nullaque obstante reluxit, vimque parat

765

Vertumnus’ attitude in the end culminates his assimilation to the pattern established by Apollo in the primus amor. The expression Vim parat (770), markedly at the beginning of the line, summarises all the episode’s preceding elements that have alluded, directly or indirectly, to the theme of violence. Furthermore, the thematic strands first articulated in the episode of Apollo and Daphne here convergene and are synthesised in the word vim, which symbolises the association of an outwardly elegiac love with power imbalance and, subsequently, sexual violence³⁹¹. Vim hyper-literalises the assertion of the magister amoris in Ars 1,673: vim licet apelles; grata est vis ista puellis. Just as Boreas at the end of Book 6 offers a summarising allusion to the modus operandi of the Daphne-pattern infatuated gods, apta mihi vis est (6, 690), so too does Vertumnus now allude (echoing Boreas’ affirmation) to the expected outcome for the pattern of elegiac discourse long established in the Metamorphoses. Moreover, even prior to the programmatic expression vim parat, a last additional detail prefigures the violence Pomona is about to suffer. Vertumnus’ description in lines 767– 769 (talisque apparuit illi, // qualis ubi oppositas nitidissima solis imago // evicit nubes nullaque obstante reluxit) in the moment when he reveals himself to Pomina alludes to the image of Jupiter appearing to Semele in all his divine splendour (Met. 3,235 – 315). Semele’s death, the fatal outcome of Jupiter’s theophany, prepares the reader for the imminent violence threatening Pomona after Vertumnus’ theophany³⁹². Furthermore, a careful reader will surely note how another connection between the Vertumnus-narrative and story of Jupiter and Semele further underscores the theme of violence: Juno passes herself off as Semele’s nurse and provokes the mortal woman to ask Jupiter, as fraud prevention, to appear to her in all his divine glory ―for, as the disguised Juno

 See Myers (2009: 192) with additional references.  As Myers (2009: 167) notes, “vis in the Metamorphoses often implies rape”.  For the theme of theophany as a source of danger and as an allusion to the violence loom ing over Pomona, see Parry (1964: 277) and Myers (2009: 192).

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spitefully argues, mortal lovers often deceive their beloveds by pretending to be gods: simulavit anum posuitque ad tempora canos (…) ergo ubi captato sermone diuque loquendo ad nomen venere Iovis, suspirat et ’opto, Iuppiter ut sit’ ait; ’metuo tamen omnia: multi nomine divorum thalamos iniere pudicos. nec tamen esse Iovem satis est: det pignus amoris, si modo verus is est; quantusque et qualis ab alta Iunone excipitur, tantus talisque, rogato, det tibi conplexus suaque ante insignia sumat!’

275 280

285

Deceit and false identity are common features of both episodes³⁹³: Vertumnus pretends to be an old woman (positis per tempora canis, // adsimulavit anum: 14,655 – 656), just like Juno (simulavit anum posuitque ad tempora canos: 3,275). With tragic irony, the false nurse warns Semele against those who feign to be what they really are not (281– 282) ―an ability that, for his own benefit, the disguised Vertumnus praises (formasque apte fingetur in omnes, // et quod erit iussus, iubeas licet omnia, fiet: 685 – 686). Thus, the precedent of a false old woman giving erotic advice to a young woman and the subsequent appearance of a god in all his supernatural splendour together warn the reader about the impending outcome of the story. Furthermore, the simile highlighting Vertumnus’ beauty as he unveils his true identity evokes the image of Sol in Book 4³⁹⁴. There, the god, infatuated with Leucothoe, disguises himself as her mother before ultimately raping the girl. As Myers (1994b: 244) notes: “the comparison of Vertumnus with the sun (14.765 – 69) seems to suggest we remember the previous episode”: nec longius ille moratus in veram rediit speciem solitumque nitorem; at virgo quamvis inopino territa visu victa nitore dei posita vim passa querella est.

230

Leucothoe is literally overwhelmed by Sol’s brightness, and has no choice but to submit to the god’s power. Ovid emphasises the theme of violence by alluding

 For a detailed examination of the episode in relation to the play with hidden identities, (false) appearances and reality, see Rosati (1983: 106 107).  As observed, e. g., by Myers (1994b: 244), Oliensis (2004: 289), von Glinski (2012: 78) and Gentilcore (1995: 114 and 119 120).

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twice to the key-term vim (233 and 239³⁹⁵). In a similar vein, Vertumnus’ image, which is likened to the sun as it overcomes the clouds, corroborates the reader’s expectation of violence. Thus, this vast network of echoes converging thematically in the expression vimque parat (770) suggests that the episode will reach its expected violent end. However, the narrative takes an unexpected turn, and Ovid “defrauds” the reader’s expectations. Indeed, ironically expanding the themes of deceit and false identity, the poet unveils the “true essence” of the narrative: … vimque parat: sed vi non est opus, inque figura capta dei nympha est et mutua vulnera sensit

770

Some critics argue that clues throughout the narrative intimate the essential distinctiveness of this episode relative to the tales of the Daphne-pattern³⁹⁶. Still, be it as it may, I argue that Ovid deliberately aims to “misguide” the reader. The bulk of the narrative, together with the embedded tale, clearly adheres to the thematic pattern of vertical love. The sequence of events ostensibly follows a wellworn path, until we encounter the aprosdoketon sed vi non est opus (770). All the gods of the Daphne-pattern resorted to violence after their futile attempts to seduce their victims. As Boreas states in Book 6, apta mihi vis est (6,690): what fits a god is violence. Ovid intentionally puts a well-known narrative pattern before the reader’s eyes, only to yield abruptly to its unexpected “metamorphosis” ―a clever gimmick. Thus, what matters in the end is the dénouement of the story, or, in other words, the result of this “metamorphosis”: we encounter an episode of sexual violence that ultimately transforms into mutual love (mutua

 After her rape, Leucothoe’s father punishes her adulterium and orders her to be buried alive: ille ferox inmansuetusque precantem tendentemque manus ad lumina Solis et “ille vim tulit invitae” dicentem defodit alta crudus humo tumulumque super gravis addit harenae (4,237 240)  Myers (2009: 163 and 165) and idem (1994a: 116 117) argues that Pomona’s characterisation as a “civilized nymph” anticipates the different outcome of the story. On the other hand, some authors (particularly Álvarez Iglesias [2009: 270] and Johnson [1997]) argue that Vertumnus’ characterisation and his erotic tactics distinguish him from the typical image of an infatuated god: “Jupiter and Sol and Apollo are in lust, Vertumnus is in love” (Johnson, 1997: 368). It may be true that Vertumnus is more patient and eloquent than other gods, but the distinction between “love” and “lust” is too far fetched and evidences, as I argued above, a projection of modern ethical values upon texts where amor/eros encompasses a broad palette of feelings os cillating between lust and a more profound love attraction. On the uniformity of eros in Antiq uity, see Konstan (1994: 41).

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vulnera: 771). The resolution of the story destabilises any previous categorisation: when the god is about to rape Pomona, she suddenly falls in love with him and reciprocates his feelings. How should we understand this unexpected infatuation, particularly if we remember that previously Pomona was absolutely adamant to reject any kind of love (Veneris (…) nulla cupido est [line 634])? How can we explain this transformation? The unexpected outcome of the episode facilitates our understanding of the elegiac paradigm’s metamorphosis within Ovid’s magnum opus. By narrating the evolution of Pomona and Vertumnus’ love relationship, Ovid dramatises, at small scale, the transformation of the elegiac paradigm that has taken place within the Metamorphoses as a whole: namely, the transition from a vertical to a horizontal pattern. By syncretising within the episode the two opposite poles of love pervading the poem, Ovid emphasises its specular position to the episode of Apollo and Daphne: the ultimus ardor (14,682– 683) closes the circle of love and elegy that the primus amor began³⁹⁷. The closural nature of the Vertumnus-episode is, thus, unveiled both at an intra- and an intertextual level: first, the episode explicitly juxtaposes the two opposing patterns of hierarchical and non-hierarchical love and, thus, obliges the reader to acknowledge the intratextual evolution of “the elegiac” within the poem. Thus, resuming, in a way, the programmatic stance of the Pygmalion-episode, the Vertumnus-episode dramatises, this time in an overt and deliberately distinctive manner, the transformation of asymmetrical elegiac love into reciprocal love. Moreover, the episode is also intertextually meaningful, in so far as this seemingly frivolous and ludic tale of divine love helps Ovid present the culmination of the metamorphosis of the elegiac genre. The ultimus ardor synthesises the transformation of love elegy into a non-agonistic generic discourse characterised by erotic symmetry. Therefore, regardless whether we are dealing with a “happy end” or not³⁹⁸, the crucial point is to acknowledge the metaliterary importance of Ovid’s play with elegiac forms. Ovid, certainly, tells the origin story of elegy, as Griffin (2008a: 7) argues. In fact, the tale of Pomona and Vertumnus illustrates how the hierarchical and desiderative dynamics of elegy work, establishing, so to

 On the structural opposition between this episode and the episode of Apollo and Daphne, see Schmitzer (2001: 134), Myers (1994b) and idem (2009: 6).  See Myers (2009: 192 193) and idem (1994b: 243 244); as well as Griffin (2008a: 2), who synthesises the two main interpretative trends thus: “While some scholars such as Roxanne Gen tilcore (1995) and Leo Curran (1984) view the story as a troubling rape masked by the ideal land scaping of the garden of Pomona, others such as David Littlefield (1965) and Walter Johnson (1997) see the tale as a disavowal of rape and fraud, the ancient equivalent to the romantic com edy.” See also Fantazzi (1976), who interprets the story as a positive assertion of mutual love.

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speak, the “mythical origins” of the genre. Yet, beyond its aetiological nature, the episode is also a narration about the genre’s alteration. The transformation of vertical elegiac love into mutual love is a fantasy, to be sure, as Griffin (2008a) argues³⁹⁹ ―but it is a fantasy that radically mutates the genre’s key idiosyncrasy. The episode’s comparison to elegy ascribes to Vertumnus and Pomona, respectively, the roles of the amator-poeta and the puella. As I argued in Section I of this book, elegy’s agonistic nature is conceptually rooted in the asymmetrical power relationship between the poet and his beloved. The ontological barrier between them derives from the fact that the puella is a literary construct purposed for expressing the poet’s artistic self-awareness. This metaliterary interpretation of the relationship between the elegiac lovers leads us to analyse elegiac elements in the Metamorphoses through a doubly metaliterary prism, in so far as these constitute a metatextual reflection on a fact that is, in turn, also metatextual. Elegy is, above all⁴⁰⁰, the arena where the poet dramatises his anxious relationship with artistic creativity and with the threat of dispossession that looms over him from the moment he brings his creation to life. In an unusually meticulous manner, the Metamorphoses explore and disentangle the elegiac aesthetic, bringing it, as I have shown in Section II of this book, beyond its formal limits. The conversion of Pomona and Vertumnus’ love into reciprocal passion profoundly illustrates the metamorphosis of the elegiac paradigm over the course of Ovid’s magnum opus. Mirroring the primus amor, the ultimus ardor closes the metamorphic circle running through the poem: after the episodes of the Daphne-pattern present the idiosyncratically agonistic nature of elegy, Ovid’s tales of mutual love transform it into a novum corpus where violence has no place, since both members of the love-relationship are equally amatores. The Vertumnus-episode is distinctively closural because it synthetically reproduces the the elegiac paradigm’s change over the length of the Metamorphoses: Vertumnus makes the genre’s power imbalance, its central quality, explicit and then, in only two lines, transforms it into something new that no longer re See idem, p. 6: “Vertumnus is the hero of the elegiac amator: he addresses the puella on how she should love him, and she actually ends up following his suggestion!”.  As I have argued throughout the first section of this book, the elegiac power play goes be yond the socio sexual struggle between the lover and his mistress, which many authors consider the genre’s conceptual core. In this regard, see Griffin (2008a: 1), who does not consider the deeper metatextual implications of Ovid implementing the elegiac paradigm in the Vertumnus and Pomona narrative: “the (…) episode invites its readers to make comparison with elegiac love poetry by evoking stock elements from its Latin and Greek generic predecessors, leading us to view the piece as a reinforcement of masculine hegemony as Sharon James (2003b) identifies as an authorial stance in elegiac love poetry”.

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quires force (vi non est opus, line 770). It is surely not a coincidence that Ovid bestows this synthesising role on Vertumnus, the metamorphic god par excellence. As Myers (1994b: 226) argues: “Vertumnus, whose very name etymologically suggests the verb vertere and thus embodies the subject of the whole of the Metamorphoses, is an appropriate figure to announce Ovid’s final change in direction and to recapitulate many of the themes which have already figured prominently in the poem”.

While I fully agree with Myers’ premises, we should not overlook the specifically elegiac characterisation of the episode. The final conversion of a hyperbolically asymmetrical elegiac love into a passion that, in its desiderative and hierarchical dynamics, follows the course set by the fides-pattern episodes, underscores the programmatic relevance of the narrative⁴⁰¹. Vertumnus is, simultaneously, simulator ⁴⁰² and simulacrum, just like the elegiac poet, who is simultaneously the author and the protagonist of his narrative. Although criticism does not usually regard the Vertumnus-episode as a poetologically relevant passage within the Metamorphoses ⁴⁰³, Vertumnus, like the artists that Ovid features in his poem, is also a creator of realities. Beyond Pygmalion’s achievement, Vertumnus not only transforms himself into an elegiac amator; moreover, he is able to intitiate ―even if not deliberately― a transformation that turns Pomona into a new elegiac puella. Thus, he assumes poetological prerogatives that are only available to Morpheus, the artist and imitator of forms (artificem simulatoremque figurae: Met. 11,634). What is more, whereas Morpheus imitates pre-existing forms and creates shapes that resemble previous forms, the metamorphosis that Vertumnus provokes (that of Pomona into an amatrix) symbolises the creation of a novum corpus that differs from the previously existing reality. Pomona is turned into an extraordinary elegiac puella, a character who alters the fundamentals of the genre from the moment she abandons her duritia and unswervingly reciprocates the desire of the amator. Eburna already antici-

 See Myers (1994b) for additional stylistic and generic features corroborating the program matic nature of the episode.  See 14,656: adsimulavit anum.  Some notable exceptions are provided by Rosati (1983: 106 107) and Solodow (1988: 190). The former examines the episode in the frame of his broader discussion on fiction, deceit and reality in the Metamorphoses, whereas the latter suggests that Vertumnus, like Ovid himself, is also a story teller and a self transformer. However, criticism usually gives preference to the nar ratives about artists (such as Orpheus or Pygmalion) or about artistic contests (as in the episode of Arachne and Minerva or the Muses and the Pierides), when it comes to identifying the poeto logically relevant passages in the poem.

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pated the incipient shift towards a symmetrical erotic paradigm; in fact, Pygmalion’s creation complies, like an automaton, with his passion. Pomona, however, goes one step further; she fulfils the elegiac desideratum for a puella who not only yields to her lover, but also willingly and autonomously loves him. Certainly, as Jones (2000 – 2001) observes, Pomona’s response is unusual, since women who are the object of unwanted sexual advances routinely undergo a physical transformation ―they never change their minds. Jones rightly argues that this prefigures the spiritual transformations that are about to happen in the last part of the poem. Yet, the specifically elegiac constellation hosting Pomona’s extraordinary “transformation” is worth noting: her change epitomises the transformation of elegy. Thus, like any process of metamorphosis, this change is both prospective and retrospective: the violence that looms over Pomona alludes, retrospectively, to elegy’s generic essence, with its markedly hierarchic and agonistic character. Simultaneously, in a prospective sense her change symbolises Ovid transforming the elegiac paradigm in his hexametric poem. Only the poet ―or one of his narrative surrogates― can construct and deconstructgeneric forms and create and re-create himself as an elegist, an epicist, a dramatist… Only he can trace and retrace poetic paths and adopt forms ad libitum ―but Pomona cannot: her transformation into an amatrix, like most of the metamorphoses in Ovid’s magnum opus, is irreversible. It represents elegy’s change into a novum corpus and its consequent arrival at a point of no-return. Read closurally, the episode synthesises and clarifies the shift from an asymmetrical into a symmetrical erotic paradigm. As a matter of fact, in retrospect, the ultimus ardor of the Metamorphoses turns out to be the last glimpse of love elegy in Latin literature.

Conclusions “The road up and the road down is one and the same” Heraclitus, Fr. 60 Diels “Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. (…) Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind Cannot bear very much reality. Time past and time future What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present” T. S. Eliot, “Four Quartets: Burnt Norton”, The complete poems and plays.

Having travelled across a map marked by elegiac forms and after explaining their particular transformation within the Metamorphoses, we can now better understand the multiple forms of elegiac continuity in Ovid’s magnum opus ―a task that has proven to be a true tour de force. In Section I I analysed elegiac poetry with respect to one of its distinctive marks, namely, the concern with the hierarchies governing the relationship between the poet and the products of his creative activity, which are synthesised in the figure of the puella. As a result of the unequal agon between the fictional domina and the supra-fictional dominus, the poet unmasks himself as the sovereign controller of a fallacious discourse in which the beloved ―in spite of her elusive character― is ultimately subordinated to the elegiac poet’s artistic self-assertion. Whether as reader, poetic material or emblem of the poet’s work, the puella emerges, in any case, as an entity whose existence depends on the poet-lover’s will. On the base of these precedents, in Section II I scrutinised the incorporation of the elegiac paradigm into the Metamorphoses. On the one hand, Ovid associates explicit sexual violence with the world of elegiac love. This demonstrates how Ovid, as a reader of elegy, understands the genre’s primary concern as a reflection on hierarchy and power ―an understanding which my own reading of elegy evinces. The link between elegy and those episodes from the Metamorphoses where one stronger, more powerful character tries to win the erotic favours of another weaker figure becomes now more intelligible: in short, the “Daphne model” presents a mythological version of the relationship between the poetlover and his puella. A god in love, who despite his humanised and even ridiculous attitude is in no way obstructed from exerting absolute sexual dominion DOI 10.1515/9783110490282 011

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over his beloved, evokes the relationship between the puella and an elegiac amator who sacrifices his fictional dignity to show his hierarchical pre-eminence over his puella and over the whole literary world that he capriciously creates and manipulates. This supra-fictional reflection in elegy becomes the very centre of fiction in the Metamorphoses, where the depiction of mythological characters as elegiac lovers hyperbolically reproduces the agonistic scheme and hierarchical patterns of the amator-puella relationship. The parallel analysis of elegy and the Metamorphoses raises another question concerning elegy’s polymorphism within the hexametric work: the poet not only associates sexual violence with elegy, but also describes a mutual love pattern marked by elegiac traits. Examining the elegiac tone of the mutual love episodes demonstrates that they are radically alien to the agonistic imagery of canonical elegiac love. The prism of metapoetics, I argue, offers an explanation, namely that mutual love in the Metamorphoses is a mechanism for Ovid to advance a larger game of literary criticism within his poem on changing forms. Otis famously interpreted Ovid’s “invention” of mutual love in the Metamorphoses on the basis of ethical criteria¹. However, we need not tread the slippery terrain of ethics to solve this problem, as we have seen in the previous pages. Instead, recognising the moves within a literary intra- and intertextual dialogue offers a plausible path to an explanation. As I have argued, Labate (1999) illustrates how Ovidian elegy occasionally incorporates reflections on new poetic orientations that jeopardise the pre-eminence of the amatory subject matter. The possibility of a μετάϐασις εἰς ἄλλον γένος is a Leitmotiv in Ovid’s poetics; therefore, literary variatio may explain creating a model of reciprocal elegiac love. This possibility is confirmed, if we viewing Ovid’s keen interest in experimentation as a major interpretive key, as opposed to the poet’s ethical interests, which are far more obscure and hazardous. Once we realise that hierarchical asymmetry is inherent to elegiac discourse, we see how the creation of a “symmetrical love” pattern in the Metamorphoses entails achieving the eternal desideratum of subjective elegy. The deferral of love-happiness to a hoped-for future is, as the elegiac code stipulates, an essential condition for the continuity of amatory fiction. The puella may momentarily return the amator’s love, but the key principle of elegy’s fictional dynamics is the systematic postponement of erotic fides. Amor mutuus is, thus, an axiomatically unattainable ideal. Hence, once reciprocity enters the world of the elegiac lovers, the possibilities of generic continuity are seriously altered. Close readings of different passag-

 See Otis (1966: 266 277). See above in Chapter 3, Section II.

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es from the Metamorphoses demonstrate that a non-agonistic love model devoid of power imbalance alters the paradigm that love elegy previously established for itself. In syntagmatic relation to the other “elegiac episodes” in the poem (the “Daphne-type” episodes), the horizontal love model functions as a contrasting device whose aim is to stress, by antithesis, the importance of power in the aforementioned “Daphne pattern”. In paradigmatic relation to the genre of love elegy, these mutual love episodes retrospectively illustrate the traditional elegiac code’s dynamic principle and reveal that a non-agonistic elegiac love-discourse blatantly alters the traditional generic patterns and generates a new context. Myth, thus, reveals itself as a fantasy world from a longed-for era ―optato tempore ². As argued by Veyne³, it recalls an oneiric temporality set “before” our history, such that we are separated from myth less by span of time than by a change in being and truth. Thus, in a literary universe where the author is no longer constrained to preserve the verisimilitude inherent to confessional poetry (an exigency that elegy, in contrast, imposes to a greater or lesser extent), the Metamorphoses carries us to a dreamlike world, the world of “otherness, of difference, which, by virtue of its distance permits the imagination to create solutions that are not possible within the boundaries of the daily world”⁴. The space of myth is inhabited by characters that, as Aristotle argues in relation to tragedy⁵, are superior to contemporary men ―with respect to the depth of their vices and virtues. For this reason, as if using an amplificatio, Ovid permits himself to create in his mythic world erotic settings that in elegy were confined to the domain of dreams (a love relationship based on fides) or the non-real (a puella under the control of the amator) ―provided that we understand the notion of “reality” as the textual level of the servitium amoris. It is only by virtue of the distance granted by the double fiction of myth⁶ that Ovid is able to re-read elegiac love relationships and throw new light on their limits and their idiosyncratic dynamics. The marked poetological content of the “elegiac episodes” of the Metamorphoses reinforces the idea that poetological reflections are not only located in

 As Catullus states in poem 64,22.  1983: 197. See also Fitzgerald (1999: 274, n. 10).  Fernández Corte Cantó (2008: 652).  Poetics, 1448a 1 18.  The term double fiction is appropriate because, in contrast to the “simple” fiction that is, the erotic fiction of elegy , the narrations of the Metamorphoses do not strive to imitate biograph ical events, but are, by definition, mythoi or fabulae: fictitious tales.

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traditionally “programmatic” passages⁷, but are embedded in a considerable number of erotic tales and, thus, pervade the whole work―given that love, as we have seen, is a Leitmotiv in the Metamorphoses ⁸. In the framework of my argument’s conclusions, the intertextual transfer of elegy’s agonistic imagery to the world of Ovid’s Metamorphoses can even be interpreted at a broader poetological and narratological level, if we recognise how incorporating these agonistic values may evoke Ovid’s literary self-assertion within his hexametric poem. The fact that Ovid presents the sexual aggressors of the Apollo-and-Daphne-pattern as omnipotent lovers, as we have seen, is meaningful, since even the powerful gods Apollo, Jupiter or Mercury, are, in the end, nothing more than characters manipulated and controlled by Ovid. The primus amor demonstrates this fact in particular, exposing Apollo as a naïve character who is not able to interpret the new reality. He is anchored in the past (i. e. in past elegiac conventions and in his former role as an omnipotent monster-slayer) and, for this reason, he (the god of oracles, ironically) cannot recognise that things change; for, as the reader knows, Cupid’s intervention condemns his love to be thwarted. Additionally, these powerful sexual aggressors are represented as elegiac lovers. This fact is narratologically and poetologically meaningful, since it further emphasises Ovid’s dominant role over his narrative. Indeed, as we have seen in Section I of this book, from behind the masks of elegiac fiction the elegiac poet-lover reveals himself as the most powerful figure in a genre where the assertion of authorial hierarchy is pervasive. Ovid’s marked manipulation of the elegiac amator character ultimately demonstrates his deep concern with authorial power. I have tried to show how Ovid depicts “elegiac characters” as figures who systematically look at themselves in the mirror of elegiac convention. Consequently, they transform the subliminal dominance of the elegiac poeta-amator into an open assertion of their power. Thus, Ovid’s capricious handling of the elegiac amator, whom the learned reader must have considered the representative figure of authorial power par excellence, can also be viewed as a poetological

 These programmatic passages are particularly concentrated around the episodes of Arachne Minerva [6,1 145], the daughters of Minyas [4,1 415], Orpheus [10,148 739], the contest between the Pierides and the Muses [5,294 672] or Pythagoras’ discourse [15,60 478]. On their program matic tone, see Salzman Mitchell (2005: 125 139 and n. 25), as well as Rosati (1999: 248 253) [on Arachne]; Rosati (1999: 241 247) [on the Minyads]; Fabre Serris (2005), Segal (1972), Holz berg (2007: 86) and Galinsky (1999) [on Orpheus]; Schmitzer (2001: 123 ff.) [on the Pierides/ Muses and Pythagoras]. See also Jouteur (2001: 67 81) on the four aforementioned episodes.  For this reason, the work has often been branded carmen amatorium. See Schmitzer (2001: 128), Otis (1966: 334 and 345) and Hardie (1999: 255).

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statement. In other words, when it comes to incorporating elegiac metapoetic themes within the Metamorphoses, Ovid maintains, in turn, a specular relationship with his elegiac characters. As a result, we can relate the elegiac poet’s anxious insistence of his artistic self-assertion (i. e., his unique way of confronting the ―ostensible― power of the puella) to Ovid’s own complex authorial position in relation to the generic and discursive polyphony of the Metamorphoses. In recent years, critics have focused with particular interest on Ovid’s authorial hegemony over the narrative polyphony of his hexametric poem⁹. Certainly, a narratological analysis of the Metamorphoses (in terms of the relation between Ovid and the various voices and narrative instances in his work) is beyond the scope of this study. Nevertheless, by examining how Ovid handles the elegiac tradition within the Metamorphoses, we were able to perceive the allusive force of elegy permeating the metapoetic level of Ovid’s magnum opus. Specifically, as a corollary to the arguments that I developed in this book, one may consider Ovid’s integration of the elegiac paradigm into the Metamorphoses as a means for establishing an analogy between the amator // puella relation and the relation that Ovid himself maintains with the work’s poetic-narrative instances and figures. Although a detailed and comprehensive survey of this particular issue would have required specific analysis, such a poetological reading remains possible. In fact, assessing the complex poetological function of elegiac discourse within the Metamorphoses suggests that this elegiac register, among many other aspects of

 Among the numerous approaches to the issue, Barchiesi’s is probably the most remarkable. The author (2001: 49 50) claims that the polyphony of narrative instances in the Metamorpho ses, despite the multiplicity of narrative viewpoints with which they contribute to the narrative whole, is ultimately subject to the control of the supra narrator Ovid, under whose authorial aegis the whole narrative of the poem is integrated. Cf. idem (1999: 113 114) and (2002: 183), for a comparison between Ovid and Vergil as narrators. Solodow (1988: 37 ff.) views Ovid’s au thorial voice as the expression of a unique external narrator too, but diverges from Barchiesi (esp. 2001: 49) in one aspect: Barchiesi claims that the variety of metadiegetic narrators organ ises thematically and even stylistically the internal narration, whereas Solodow does not. For a general reflection on the hierarchical pre eminence of the narrator over his narrative, see Gamel (1984: 127). For the paradigmatic case of Orpheus, one of the most conspicuous narrators in the Metamorphoses, see Fabre Serris (2005), Segal (1972), Sharrock (1991a: 37 38), Galinsky (1999), Henneböhl (2005) and Holzberg (2007: 86). For a general reflection on internal narrators in the Metamorphoses, Salzman Mitchell (2005: 150) is also illuminating. The debate on the possibility of autonomy for literary characters (including internal narra tors) within the work hosting them is ultimately related to Bakhtin’s discussion of the power po sition of the poet over the elements of his discourse. According to Bakhtin’s theory (1987: 285), poetic discourse does not offer space for the presence of voices other than the poet’s. For a par tial revision of Bakhtin’s chastened view of poetic discourse as anti dialogic, see Eskin (2000).

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the poem, warns the reader about the fallacious polyphony in this work: despite the force and outward autonomy of the narrative entities in the Metamorphoses, the poet demonstrates that each of them is subordinated to his discursive-authorial control. Thus, through the narratological exemplum of elegy, Ovid shows that the different narrative forces of the Metamorphoses are not independent at all. This is a lesson learned from elegy: despite the puella’s apparent independence and even hegemony within elegiac discourse, she is only fiction, a fabula. Leaving aside the obvious differences between first-person poetry and a third-person narrative (much of which is handled by internal narrators), we still note that the vast majority of elegiac reminiscences in the Metamorphoses draw attention to the limitations of fiction, with all that this entails for Ovid’s carmen perpetuum. Thus, with the subtext of elegy, Ovid transfers the concept of agon to his poem on changing shapes: the Metamorphoses absorbs the semantic potential of the elegiac poet’s struggle with the entities deriving secondarily from his poetic activity. Ovid exploits the polysemy of elegiac love and uses it to reassert his discursive authority in a polyphonic text whose multiplicity of voices jeopardises his power as narrator. Just as the elegiac poet channels the “threat of dispossession” through the figure of the puella (who systematically challenges the poetlover’s identity), so too do the aforementioned multiple voices in the Metamorphoses emerge as a threat of dispossession and embody the same push towards dialogicity that the elegiac puella symbolises. To be sure, elegiac discourse is not the only means for Ovid to express the narrator’s authority over the narrative polyphony of his hexametric oeuvre¹⁰. Yet, the conceptual background of elegy ―where the voice of the poet-lover is constantly challenged by the narrated entity, the puella― offers a cogent argument that Ovid intends this elegiac register to evoke his anxiety to reassert his authorial hegemony in a text that is arranged in mise-en-abyme and is particularly profuse in challenging narrative forces. I refer not only to the secondary narrators whose voices ―seemingly― compete against the poet’s hierarchical pre-eminence, but also to the many instances and figures of power that pervade the poem ―conspicuously, the infatuated gods. This reflection works in concert with Farrell’s (1992: 268) view of the Metamorphoses as a paradigmatically dialogic work. Farrell claims that one of the most noticeable features of Ovid’s hexametric poem is its systematic “recurrence to contrasts between a pluralistic, anti-authoritarian stance and an aggressive, domineering and, as it were, monologic force”. This tension reflects, according to Farrell, the fragility of the dialogic

 See, e. g., Solodow (1988: 37 ff.) with some illuminating passages.

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impulses when confronted with a unifying, assimilating will. If we link Farrell’s arguments to my views concerning elegy in the Metamorphoses, elegiac discourse (with its fundamentally anti-authoritarian semantics ―embodied in the figure of the puella) should be counted among what Farrell refers to as dialogic impulses. As we have seen, Ovid manipulates his elegiac characters: in many cases he forms them into predictable figures who, like Apollo, are only hyperbolically able to reproduce the power dynamics of elegy. In other cases, he transforms them into mere narrative causae, as in the case of Herse, who functions as a narrative pretext subordinated to a higher narrative goal. Alternatively, as in the case of Mercury, Ovid hints at the god’s fictional status by alluding that his role as a lover is merely a secondary characterisation. As the example of Apollo shows, all of these “elegiac characters” lack a broader view of their role in the narrative and serve, ultimately, as a vehicle for illustrating the change (per me, quod eritque fuitque // estque, patet [1,516 – 517]) that Ovid is enacting, although they are not able to understand it themselves. Even the case of Cephalus is illuminating: as we have seen, although he autodiegetically narrates his story and manipulates it to fit his subjective purposes, Ovid demonstrates that Cephalus, too, is subordinated to his ultimate authorial purposes. As the Cephalus-episode demonstrates, the poet intentionally transforms elegiac characters and their situations into nova corpora and alters the traditional power dynamics by creating symmetrical love relationships. Here too, the elegiac characters ―including the ostensibly autonomous narrator Cephalus― are, in the end, at the service of Ovid’s literary self-assertion, since the poet demonstrates that, in his hands, even genre is a mutable reality. Our conclusions are connected to the view of the Metamorphoses as a work primarily concerned with change. Change is a universal principle affecting all entities, including literary realities. The transformation of the elegiac paradigm over the course of the poem’s fifteen books entails a “polytropic”¹¹ view of history ―of literary history, in our case. First, Ovid employs a model of linear evolution; it is the model undergirding the whole tradition of national Roman literature: namely, the past shapes and determines the present. Thus, integrating erotic elegy within the Metamorphoses implies that the work assimilate its themes semantically. Elegy alludes systematically, though not explicitly, to a metaliterary reflection on the act of poetic creation as an agon against the forces (synthesised in the figure of the puella) that threaten the monologic nature of poetic discourse. Consequently, integrating

 We could also refer to this view as a “holistic” conception of history.

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elegy into the Metamorphoses transfers elegiac metaliterary considerations to the new context of Ovid’s magnum opus. At the same time, when we view the Metamorphoses as a poem about the mutability of everything (literary forms included), the elegiac forms within the Metamorphoses may also be explained using the concept of retroactive clarification, as proposed by Solodow¹². As I anticipated in the General Introduction to this book and attempted to demonstrate in Section I, Chapter 2, because metamorphosis is never a unilateral process, but something multivectorial, the “Daphne model” uses hyperbole to illuminate elegy’s idiosyncratic obsession with hierarchy and power. However, as I have shown throughout Section II of this book, the metamorphosis of the elegiac paradigm is not homogeneous: in juxtaposition to the “vertical love” model, Ovid presents the “fides model”, which radically alters the power dynamics of elegiac discourse. By crafting mutual love episodes that bear the unmistakable marks of elegy, Ovid incites, by contrast, an intertextual reflection on the hierarchical-desiderative asymmetry of elegy’s conventional amatory model. At the same time, moreover, the mutation of the traditional elegiac paradigm in these mutual love episodes also reveals how instability and flux may also govern literary forms. From a metaliterary standpoint, the changes undergone by elegiac forms in the Metamorphoses allude to the mutability of the very concept of literary genre. Thus, the protean nature of the elegiac in the Metamorphoses eventually leads us to speculate using a third model of influence: an additional temporal paradigm where the literary present may exhaust traditional models and, consequently, turn towards the future. This paradigm, which is particularly well-suited for turning the ending of this work into the hope for opening new hermeneutical horizons, aligns with literary allusion as a phenomenon which reflects not only the past but also the future. Thus, we may consider the allusion to the elegiac tradition entering the new text, the Metamorphoses, as a prefiguration of the future. Ultimately, this would be an intertextual expression of what Hardie―Barchiesi―Hinds (1999: 2) call “the narrator’s sovereign control over the temporal processes of his narrative”¹³. The corollary is a tripartite view of the relation between the Metamorphoses and elegy: first, subjective elegy, as a subtext of the Metamorphoses, reveals the poet’s power to dominate his work and mould it as he pleases. Secondly, Ovid, as a re-creator of elegy, is able to mould not only his poem about changes, but even

 1988: 174.  See also Barchiesi (2001: 105 128), as well as Hinds (1998: 106) and Myers (1999: 196).

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the literary tradition itself, creating, thus, an effect of enargeia for the hierarchical dynamics of elegy. And, thirdly, the creation of an elegiac model (the mutual love pattern) fulfilling the ideal that was systematically deferred in elegy ―an ideal whose continuous deferral constitutes the very structural base of the genre― involves a final reflection on the contingency of all elements of reality and, in our case, of the concept of genre. In contrast to Aristotle’s theory organising literary genres in accordance with the telos that the nature of each genre imposes upon them¹⁴, Ovid extends the concept of change to generic forms, demonstrating with elegy that literary forms are transient and do not have a predetermined perfect end. Of course, we should be consistent and avoid the temptation of establishing a posteriori causal relations. Thus, in order to escape the view of literary history as a teleological process, we must concede that the “death” of love elegy after Ovid is “ein literaturgeschichtlicher Zufall”, a matter of chance¹⁵. Yet, although Ovid could not have foreseen the crisis of elegy, he transformed the genre consciously. He did not exhaust elegy, but he definitely altered the chances of its continued existence in its traditional form. Certainly, Ovid did not conclude the transformation of the elegiac genre indefinitely. However, as the principle governing all metamorphoses would stipulate¹⁶, reversal was not possible either. With respect to the end of elegy, we cannot forget the socio-historical factors that led not only to the emergence of the genre but also to its decline¹⁷. If we observe the relation between the genre’s “intraliterary” changes and the gradual transformation of the socio-historical context within which elegy flourished, it is not easy to establish to what degree each of these factors contributed to the metamorphosis and ultimate extinction of the genre, nor is it easy to judge to

 As Aristotle lays bare in Poet. 1449a, 14 with regard to tragedy, literary genres contain in nuce the end of their development within their nature. Once the genre reaches its true nature (physis), change is no longer possibile, because (as observed by Sykoutris (2003: 40)) any alteration would mean that it is no longer the same entity. For Aristotle, change can only take place in so far as it is a stage within the development of literary forms, which, like living creatures, evolve until they arrive at their perfect realisation. From there on, change (metabole) is no longer pos sible and could only be conceived of in terms of degeneration. See also Jouteur (2001: 19 23) on Aristotle’s concept of purity as a key notion in his theory of genres.  As claimed by Schmitzer (2001: 11 and 207).  Of course, we have to exclude the reversible “disguises” that the gods occasionally adopt. See Forbes (1990: 171), who argues that the god’s metamorphoses are radically different from those undergone by other characters: “the transformation of the Olympians is only a form of dis guise under which the god continues to exist and behave as a god”.  See the General Introduction to this book. I have mainly drawn on Miller (2004) for an ex planation of the ideological reasons for the emergence of elegy.

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what extent the “intraliterary” changes were dependent on the transformations of the ideological milieu. This question goes beyond the scope of my work. Nevertheless, elegy steadily evolved from Catullus to Ovid, until the latter transferred some elegiac themes to his Metamorphoses. Ovid experimented with elegy to the point that he subverted one of the semantic principles of the genre ―that is, fides as an unreachable ideal― and furnished elegy with new semantics. Is this literary change a cause or a consequence of the end of elegy? Perhaps it is most sensible to speak, as Miller (2004) does, in symptomatic terms: the transformation of elegy is a symptom of deeper socio-historical and literary change, which, somehow, in due course affects the rules of the game for a poem where nothing keeps its prior form. Moreover, a crucial role is played by Ovid’s idiosyncratic poetics, whose most salient trait, as Fulkerson (2005: 18) argues, is “Ovid’s own Hegelian drive to rework all of previous literature in order to show that it leads directly to him”¹⁸. Does Ovid expect to influence the readers and authors who, in the future, will again encounter the same generic forms whose boundaries he manipulated? What remains of elegy after its passage through Ovid’s carmen perpetuum? Certainly, this question inevitably elicits a reflection on the impossibility of writing elegy after the Metamorphoses, since Ovid’s magnum opus can be considered, with specific regard to its treatment of elegy, an eschatological work from the standpoint of its vision of literary history. It seems that elegiac forms were doomed to reach an impasse after the Metamorphoses. Indeed Ovid himself resorted in his exile poetry to a subjective elegiac register to depict mutual ―specifically conjugal― love¹⁹. The Metamorphoses likely bears a great deal of responsibility for the design of this last elegiac lament from the exile. Nevertheless, the emergence of mutual love elegy in the Metamorphoses brings to a standstill any any impetus to continue writing traditional elegy. Only Ovid permits himself to return to elegy from the memory of his exile, signalling, thus, the definitive finale of love elegy²⁰. Thus, one could arguably venture that, by consciously altering the chances of elegy to continue, Ovid issues a challenge to his literary heirs. According to this idea, the poet of the Metamorphoses anticipates his place in literary history

 On the issue of Ovid reconfiguring the literary past in order to transform it into a teleological process ending with his own text, see also Rosati (2002: 288) and Hinds (1998: 104 122).  See Baeza Angulo (2010 and 2008).  Leaving aside the literary enterprise of Maximianus (usually dated by critics in the sixth cen tury A.D., as Ramírez de Verger (1986: 186) explains), who freely readapted some poetic motifs of classical elegy, but did not reach the qualitative level of his forebearers (according to Schmitzer (2001: 207)).

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and (self)-consciously transforms himself into the ghost that will appear in each new attempt to write elegy²¹. Burrow (1999: 272) argues for the existence of authors in Latin literature “who do wish to dispossess their heirs by appearing to end literary history”, although he does not include Ovid in this group, claiming that “this is usually a trope used by writers who have unusually adversarial relations to their times than an absolute poetic goal”. He cites Lucan as an example of this kind of antagonistic relation between an author and his milieu. To include or exclude Ovid from this category would require a detailed analysis of post-Ovidian elegiac projects in post-classical Latin Yet, we cannot rule out that Ovid’s play with the literary past, present and future may act as his sly, secret legacy to his posterity: namely, the impossibility to continue writing elegy once the Metamorphoses transforms it into a novum corpus. In the end, the only constant remaining after the mutability of genres is, as Ovid promises in the epilogue of his work, the fame of the poet, who exclusively is immune to change. If Pythagoras proves that the anima of things (15,171) remains unaltered despite shifts in form, Ovid’s animus, described in the proem as the force guiding his artistic endeavour, is the one unchanging form that survives decay²². Time has shown him to be right about that too. *** One hope (perhaps the one) that this study harbours stems from a personal conviction: despite the complexity of Ovidian discourse and scholars’ countless efforts to study it, we have not yet exhausted the possibile ways to approach and understand Ovid and his elegiac contemporaries. This work aims to prove that we can still read Ovid with new eyes or, rather, that new critics (and those to come) are unwilling to accept Ovid’s texts as worn out by so many years of scholarship. Reading Ovid and love elegy remains possible for future approaches prepared to see Latin texts on their own terms. It is perhaps helpful to evoke “inter-

 This view of literary history falls within the conceptual trope forged by Harold Bloom: the apophrades, the ghosts of the authors of the past that cut down each new literary enterprise that is created in their wake. See Bloom (1997: 139 155).  See Pechillo (1990: 44) on this issue. At the same time, as Anderson (1963: 27) points out, Pythagoras most explicitly indicates that, despite the continuous change of all the entities in reality, nothing perishes completely; there is always something of the prior nature that remains in the new one. By situating himself at the end of the chronological succession of history (ad mea tempora: 1,4), and, thus, by establishing himself as the true telos of his poem, “Ovid pres ents his own accomplishment as the greatest transformation of all: the poet into his verses” (Wheeler, 2000: 154).

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textually” Barchiesi’s (2001: 141) optimistic outlook²³ for new critical approaches daring to embark on the sea of Latin texts: the perilous waters of the hermeneutical ocean are dotted with points plotting successively the sites of shipwrecks suffered by critics who tried to navigate, with a more or less calculated course, towards the coasts of meaning. Even if all new readings of elegy and the Metamorphoses (or only some of them, like, perhaps, this one) are deemed new shipwrecks on the map of criticism, may these wrecks, if a future sailor should find them, serve as a guide for safer passage or ―why not?― may they nurture hopes for sunken treasures.

 An outlook that, in turn, is also intertextual. The nautical image used by Barchiesi was “per haps” (sic) inspired by Wills’ (1996: 33, apud Barchiesi, 2001: 141) view of intertextuality in Latin literature.

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Index of Passages Cited Callimachus Aetia I, Fr. 1.27 – 28 Pf.: 111 Epigrams – 51 Pf.: 137

– 28 Pf.: 120

Catullus – 5,1 – 3: 231 – 16,9 – 11: 107 – 35,16 – 17 – 50,1 – 13: 86 – 64,22: 262; 341 – 68a,17: 86 – 68a,20 – 24: 84 – 85 – 68b: 76 – 80 – 68b,43 – 44: 90

– 68b,48 – 49: 90 – 68b,92 – 96: 84 – 68b,70 – 73: 87; 131 – 68b,149 – 152: 90 – 68b,155 – 156: 85 – 70: 273 – 72: 273 – 74,1 – 6: 44 – 80: 45

Cicero Laelius 41: 59

Philippics 2,29: 59

CIL 4. 2360: 46 Hesiod Theogony – 27 – 28: 95; 288

Homer Odyssey – 6,102 – 109: 181 – 6,119 – 159: 176 – 177

– 6,178: 149 – 20,5 – 6 – 20,24 – 30

370

Index of Passages Cited

Horace Ars poetica – 75 – 76: 245 Odes – 1,1,36: 53 – 1,10,1: 193 – 1,33,10 – 12: 246

– 2,20,1 – 2: 53 – 3,30,1: 57 – 3,30,8 – 9: 57 – 3,30,10 – 14: 57 Satires – 2,1,58: 198

Lucretius de rer. nat. 4,1076 – 1083: 265 de rer. nat. 4,1101 – 1103: 265

de rer. nat. 4,1108 – 1112: 265

Ovid Amores – 1,1,1 – 2: 98 – 1,1 – 5: 154 – 1,1,3 – 4: 99 – 1,1,19 – 26: 116 – 117 – 1,2,1 – 4: 212 – 1,2,1 – 8: 117 – 1,2,5 – 8: 225 – 1,2,29 – 30: 117 – 1,3,1 – 2: 118 – 1,3,3 – 4: 211 – 1,3,5 – 6: 120 – 1,3,7 – 8: 118 – 1,3,11 – 26: 118 – 1,3,25 – 26: 316 – 1,4,17 – 18: 256 – 1,5,1 – 2: 143 – 1,5,9 – 10: 143 – 1,5,9 – 16: 209 – 1,5,13 – 16: 143 – 1,5,14 – 16: 190 – 1,5,17 – 18: 200 – 1,5,17 – 23: 144 – 1,5,23 – 25: 200 – 1,6,1 – 3: 196 – 1,6,1 – 4: 255 – 1,6,23: 195 – 1,6,28: 195 – 1,6,61 – 62: 196 – 1,6,65 – 66: 196

– 1,7,1 – 4: 282 – 1,7,12 – 13: 271 – 1,8,47 – 48: 324 – 1,8,54 – 56: 324 – 1,8,59 – 60: 164 – 1,9,26 – 27: 189 – 1,10,57 – 62: 121 – 1,11,7: 228 – 1,12,1 – 4: 227 – 1,13,1: 226 – 1,13,5 – 6: 226 – 1,13,9 – 10: 226 – 1,14,19 – 22: 271 – 2,2,45 – 46: 181 – 2,4,9 – 10: 96 – 2,4,10: 97; 100 – 2,4,11 – 18: 96 – 2,4,17 – 22: 47 – 2,4,31 – 44: 97 – 2,4,31: 100; 203 – 2,4,37: 158 – 2,4,44: 100 – 2,5,7: 276 – 2,5,15 – 20: 256 – 2,5,43 – 44: 271 – 2,9a,9 – 10: 246 – 2,9b,43 – 44: 160 – 2,12,1 – 4: 189 – 2,12,7 – 8: 189 – 2,13,15 – 16: 299

Index of Passages Cited

– 2,17,1 – 2: 122 – 2,17,14: 122 – 2,17,19 – 24: 122 – 2,17,27 – 30: 122 – 2,17,33 – 34: 122 – 2,19, 1 – 6: 160 – 161 – 2,19,3: 246 – 2,19,5: 160 – 2,19,6 – 8: 246 – 2,19,25 – 26: 246 – 2,19,27 – 30: 162 – 2,19,35 – 36: 162; 246 – 3,1,35 – 36: 130 – 3,1,41: 130 – 3,8,11 – 19: 200 – 3,9,2 – 5: 125 – 126 – 3,9,17 – 32: 126 – 3,12,5 – 23: 145 – 3,12,41 – 44: 146 – 3,12,16: 64 Ars Amatoria – 1,25 – 30: 288 – 1,45 – 49: 119 – 1,271 – 276: 161 – 1,351 – 356: 214 – 1,418: 215 – 1,437 – 440: 62 – 1,455 – 458: 62; 226 – 1,461 – 462: 216 – 1,489 – 490: 214 – 1,514 – 516: 194 – 1,517 – 518: 199 – 1,607 – 610: 215 – 1,631 – 636: 215 – 1,643: 215 – 1,659 – 660: 214 – 1,659 – 664: 228 – 1,673: 332 – 1,759 – 762: 321 – 2, 287 – 288: 55 – 2, 293 – 294: 55 – 2,349 – 360: 308 – 2,373 – 380: 279 – 280 – 2,385 – 386: 280 – 2,465 – 466: 220 – 2,719 – 724: 218

– 2,725 – 728: 243 – 3,795 – 796: 219 Heroides – 2,91 – 96: 296 – 2,94: 297 – 3,61: 297 – 3,61 – 66: 296 – 5,43 – 58: 296 – 5,45: 297 – 5,48: 297 – 5,53: 297 – 6,57 – 72: 296 – 6,58: 297 – 13,12: 297 – 13,16 – 26: 297 – 13,31 – 34: 307 – 14,103: 184 – 16,135: 285 – 18,125 – 126: 299 – 19,40: 298 – 20,25 – 26: 64 – 20,75 – 77: 65 – 20,80: 65 – 20,83: 65 – 20,150: 55 – 21,110: 65 – 21,144 – 145: 65 – 66 – 21, 212 – 214: 66 – 21,237 – 238: 66 – 21,239 – 240: 66 Metamorphoses – 1,4: 292 – 1,205 – 206: 176 – 1,319: 264 – 1,352 – 353: 264 – 1,463 – 469: 154 – 1,441 – 465: 155 – 1,473 – 474: 328 – 1,476: 195 – 1,488 – 491: 161 – 1,491: 160 – 1,494 – 495: 206 – 1,496: 160; 161 – 1,501: 232 – 1,504 – 507: 167; 180 – 1,504 – 524: 159 – 1,505 – 506: 180; 206

371

372

Index of Passages Cited

– 1,507: 203 – 1,513 – 514: 165 – 1,516 – 517: 162; 345 – 1,516 – 524: 165 – 1,525: 163 – 1,523 – 524: 166 – 167 – 1,530: 161; 253 – 1,530 – 531: 167 – 1,539: 160; 161 – 1,548 – 552: 168 – 1,551: 169; 174 – 1,553 – 567: 170 – 1,557 – 558: 183 – 1,558: 171 – 1,584 – 585: 184 – 1,588 – 600: 175 – 1,589 – 590: 176 – 1,595 – 596: 179; 327 – 1,600: 180 – 1,609 – 613: 321 – 1,610 – 616: 182 – 183 – 1,617 – 621: 178 – 179 – 1,647 – 657: 183 – 184 – 1,649: 185 – 1,669 – 674: 199 – 1,701: 232 – 1,745 – 746: 184 – 2,304 – 308: 187 – 2,401 – 416: 187 – 2,409 – 410: 189 – 2,417 – 440: 188 – 189 – 2,422: 189 – 2,430 – 431: 323 – 2,574: 325 – 2,708 – 736: 192 – 193 – 2,716 – 721: 197 – 2,723 – 724: 194 – 195 – 2,726: 194 – 2,727 – 729: 198 – 2,730 – 735: 199 – 2,734: 194 – 2,737 – 749: 195 – 2,741 – 747: 202 – 2,742 – 747: 193 – 2,743: 199 – 2,745: 203 – 2,750 – 751: 196

– 2,804 – 805: 201; 205 – 2,814 – 817: 196 – 2,818 – 821: 197 – 2,830 – 833: 197 – 2,862 – 863: 201; 217 – 2,873: 217 – 3,275: 333 – 3,279 – 286: 333 – 3,301: 179 – 3,371: 325 – 4,55 – 56: 260 – 4,60: 264 – 4,60 – 61: 267 – 4,62: 264 – 4,65 – 66: 254 – 4,66: 264 – 4,69 – 75: 254 – 4,70: 221 – 4,73: 268 – 4,74: 264 – 4,83: 264 – 4,84 – 85: 257 – 4,88: 264 – 4,93: 257 – 4,104: 258 – 4,105: 258 – 4,105 – 110: 259 – 4,108: 264 – 4,115 – 119: 259 – 4,119 – 127: 262 – 4,128: 258 – 4,140 – 141: 263 – 4,145 – 146: 267 – 4,149 – 153: 259 – 260 – 4,156: 264; 290 – 4,157: 264 – 4,158 – 161: 264; 265 – 4,161 – 162: 260; 261 – 4,162 – 163: 263 – 4,166: 266 – 4,222: 323 – 4,230 – 233: 333 – 4,237 – 240: 334 – 4,320 – 330: 178 – 4,473: 253 – 4,598: 269 – 4,600: 269

Index of Passages Cited

– 5,256 – 261: 203 – 5,602: 232 – 6,26: 326 – 6,131: 326 – 6,172: 183 – 6,427: 218 – 6,429: 221 – 6,451 – 458: 208 – 6,452 – 453: 211 – 6,455 – 456: 206 – 6,461 – 464: 211 – 6,461 – 466: 214 – 6,465 – 466: 207 – 6,469: 207; 215 – 6,471: 214 – 6,473 – 474: 215 – 6,489 – 493: 212 – 6,496: 215 – 6,498 – 501: 215 – 6,506: 215 – 6,511 – 514: 217 – 6,516 – 518: 217 – 6,519 – 524: 212 – 6,527 – 529: 206 – 6,529 – 530: 221 – 6,549 – 560: 219 – 6,551: 211 – 6,673: 222 – 6,685 – 690: 327 – 6,690: 233; 332; 334 – 7,704 – 711: 290 – 7,685 – 688: 287 – 7,697 – 698: 290 – 7,711 – 716: 282 – 283 – 7,714 – 716: 272 – 7,715 – 736: 276 – 277 – 7,716 – 718: 278 – 7,719: 277 – 7,721: 283 – 7,723 – 733: 283 – 7,724 – 726: 281 – 7,727: 285 – 7,729: 285 – 7,730: 285 – 7,730 – 733: 270 – 7,730 – 736: 281 – 7,734 – 739: 290 – 291

– 7,737 – 740: 277 – 7,738 – 742: 285 – 286 – 7,741 – 742: 282 – 7,743 – 744: 279 – 7,748 – 752: 279 – 7,753 – 756: 280 – 7,800 – 804: 272 – 7,811 – 820: 271 – 7,842 – 843: 291 – 7,846 – 849: 291 – 7,852 – 853: 278 – 9,468 – 471: 225 – 9,485 – 486: 226 – 9,505 – 506: 233 – 9,511 – 514: 233 – 234 – 9,523 – 527: 230 – 9,551 – 554: 231 – 9,564 – 565: 228 – 9,568 – 572: 227 – 9,586 – 589: 229 – 9,601 – 603: 228; 229 – 9,614 – 619: 232 – 9,616 – 617: 226 – 9,631 – 632: 232 – 10,167 – 173: 174 – 10,173: 172 – 10,187 – 189: 172 – 10,197 – 199: 172 – 10,204 – 208: 172 – 173 – 10,204: 174 – 10,206: 174 – 10,214 – 216: 173 – 10,247 – 251: 236 – 10,250 – 255: 239 – 10,473 – 475: 219 – 10,259 – 269: 237 – 10,283 – 289: 240 – 10,291 – 292: 241 – 10,293 – 294: 241 – 11,265: 292 – 11,270: 298 – 11,297 – 298: 298 – 11,382: 298 – 11,382 – 388: 307 – 11,387 – 388: 299 – 11,391 – 392: 298 – 11,439 – 443: 295

373

374

Index of Passages Cited

– 11,440 – 443: 300 – 11,441: 297 – 11,441 – 443: 309 – 11,451 – 453: 317 – 11,458 – 459: 297 – 11,458 – 468: 295 – 11,461: 297; 303 – 11,471 – 473: 296 – 11,542 – 545: 303 – 11,544 – 545: 298 – 11,562 – 563: 298 – 11,563 – 565: 303 – 11,577 – 579: 303; 305 – 11,580 – 581: 307 – 11,564 – 655: 316 – 11,634: 317; 337 – 11,668: 317 – 11,674 – 676: 300; 316 – 11,684 – 685: 300 – 11,696 – 707: 316 – 11,694 – 707: 300 – 301 – 11,700 – 701: 314 – 11,743 – 747: 317 – 11,771: 232 – 14,623 – 628: 320 – 14,634: 335 – 14,634 – 636: 320 – 14,641 – 653: 322

– 14,654 – 659: 323 – 14,655 – 656: 333 – 14,656: 337 – 14,669 – 678: 324 – 325 – 14,680 – 681: 323 – 14,681: 323 – 14,681 – 685: 325 – 14,682 – 683: 335 – 14,683: 325 – 14,685 – 686: 333 – 14,686: 322 – 14,689 – 691: 322 – 14,693: 330 – 14,693 – 697: 326 – 14,696 – 697: 321 – 14,698 – 702: 327 – 14,702 – 710: 328 – 14,711 – 713: 329 – 14,716 – 718: 328 – 14,721: 328 – 14,735 – 738: 329 – 14,751 – 758: 329 – 14,765 – 770: 332 – 14,770: 332; 334; 337 – 14,770 – 771: 334 – 14,771: 334 – 335 Remedia Amoris – 763 – 764: 107

Plato Symposium – 192e: 266

Propertius – 1,1,1: 60; 106 – 1,1,9 – 16: 60 – 1,1,27: 51 – 1,2: 138 – 139 – 1,2,1 – 2: 158 – 1,2,4: 64 – 1,2,8: 158; 236 – 1,2,17 – 21: 158 – 1,2,24: 236 – 1,3,1 – 2: 239; 289

– 1,3,1 – 8: 105 – 1,3,7 – 8: 239 – 1,3,7 – 20: 283 – 284 – 1,3,15: 240 – 1,3,16: 285 – 1,3,17: 240 – 1,3,27 – 28: 284 – 1,3,28: 285 – 1,3,31 – 38: 284 – 1,7,11: 47

Index of Passages Cited

– 1,7,21 – 24: 53 – 1,8,27 – 28: 52; 191 – 1,8,28: 321 – 1,8,39 – 40: 52; 70; 191; 321 – 1,8,39 – 46: 52 – 1,11,1: 275 – 1,11,5 – 8: 275 – 1,11,15 – 18: 275 – 276 – 1,12,19 – 20: 325 – 1,15,21 – 24: 260 – 1,15,21 – 24: 102 – 1,15,40: 260 – 1,16,1 – 5: 255 – 1,16,17 – 20: 255 – 1,16 – 26 – 27: 256 – 1,18,1 – 4: 323 – 1,18,1 – 9: 129 – 130 – 1,18,11 – 12: 130; 131 – 1,18,22: 132 – 1,18,17 – 32: 130 – 1,18,31 – 32: 132 – 1,19,1 – 12: 315 – 1,19,7 – 10: 261 – 1,19,9: 263 – 1,19,21 – 24: 262 – 1,19,21 – 26: 316 – 2,1,1 – 4: 64 – 2,1,14 – 15: 108 – 2,1,1 – 16: 112 – 113 – 2,1,17 – 46: 114 – 115 – 2,1,71 – 78: 115 – 2,1,12 – 14: 114 – 2,1,16: 114 – 2,3: 88 – 91 – 2,3,1 – 4: 107 – 2,3,32 – 40: 108 – 2,3,41 – 44: 109 – 2,3,33: 89 – 2,5,1 – 8: 133 – 2,5,10: 133 – 2,5,13 – 14: 134 – 2,5,18 – 30: 134 – 2,8,17 – 28: 260 – 261 – 2,8,23: 263 – 2,8,25 – 26: 261 – 2,8,26: 263 – 2,9,3 – 8: 278

– 2,9,19 – 20: 278 – 2,9,51 – 52: 261 – 2,10,8: 116 – 2,10,3 – 4: 156 – 2,11,1 – 6: 67; 185 – 2,13,1 – 16: 49 – 50 – 2,13,7: 168 – 2,13,11 – 12: 47 – 2,13,11 – 14: 49 – 2,13,19 – 25: 50 – 2,13,35 – 38: 51 – 2,13,57 – 58: 51 – 2,15,1: 299 – 2,15,4: 299 – 2,15,41 – 46: 299 – 2,17,13: 311 – 2,17,15 – 16: 257 – 2,20,18: 299 – 2,22b,45 – 46: 160 – 2,24a,1 – 7: 127 – 128 – 2,24b,37 – 38: 164 – 2,24b,49: 195 – 2,25,1 – 4: 128 – 2,25,17: 131 – 2,25,22 – 24: 312 – 2,26,1 – 3: 310 – 2,26,11 – 12: 298; 310 – 2,26,17 – 20: 311 – 2,26,21 – 28: 54 – 2,26,29 – 34: 309 – 2,26,30 – 33: 309 – 2,26,35: 313 – 2,26,41 – 42: 314 – 2,26,43: 309; 310 – 2,26,45 – 52: 313 – 2,26,53 – 54: 314 – 2,28,15 – 24: 110 – 11 – 2,28,29 – 30: 111; 112 – 2,28,39 – 42: 299 – 2,28 – 39 – 46: 111 – 2,29a,17 – 18: 194 – 2,29b,23 – 42: 284 – 285 – 2,29b,25: 285 – 2,29b,25 – 30: 194 – 2,30b,25 – 27: 135 – 2,30b,37 – 40: 136 – 2,30b,31 – 32: 135

375

376

Index of Passages Cited

– 2,32,25 – 26: 109 – 2,32,31 – 34: 109 – 2,32,61: 110 – 2,32,45: 110 – 2,34,14: 49 – 2,34,27 – 30: 58 – 2,34,42: 58 – 2,34,57: 69 – 2,34,55 – 58: 59 – 2,34,85 – 94: 129 – 3,2,7 – 8: 70 – 3,2,1 – 10: 67 – 68 – 3,2,9 – 10: 95 – 3,2,15 – 22: 68 – 3,2,17 – 18: 71; 94

– 3,2,25 – 26: 68 – 3,6,9 – 18: 280 – 281 – 3,10,17 – 18: 59 – 3,13,15 – 24: 259 – 3,13,23 – 24: 278 – 3,13,25 – 32: 238 – 3,17,11 – 12: 160 – 3,23,1 – 10: 53 – 3,23,1 – 6:229 – 3,23,10: 229 – 3,24,1 – 6: 133 – 3,25,37 – 38: 133 – 4,1,135: 203 – 4,7,94: 263

Pseudo Theocritus Idyll XXIII 63: 330

Tibullus – 1,1,55 – 56: 255 – 1,1,56: 96 – 1,2,15 – 16: 257 – 1,2,21 – 22: 256 – 1,3,3 – 26: 302 – 303 – 1,3,9: 305 – 1,3,10: 305 – 1,3,23 – 26: 306 – 1,3,33 – 36: 304 – 1,3,57 – 64: 304 – 1,3,83 – 94: 306 – 1,4,9 – 14: 96 – 1,4,41: 93 – 1,4,47: 93 – 1,4,61 – 66: 93 – 94 – 1,4,65: 100

Vergil Aeneis – 6,179: 212

– 1,4,75 – 84: 94 – 1,4,77: 96 – 1,4,82 – 83: 288 – 1,6,9 – 10: 257 – 1,6,30: 64 – 1,6,73 – 76: 282 – 1,6,85 – 86: 245 – 1,8,5 – 6: 64 – 1,9,79 – 80: 59 – 2,2,11 – 20: 244 – 245 – 2,3,11 – 20: 165 – 2,3,39: 166 – 2,3,53 – 56: 166 – 2,4,51: 288 – 2,6,27: 160

Index of Names¹ and Subjects Achilles: 108, 211, 218; and Briseis: 296 – 297 Acontius and Cydippe: 62 – 66 Acteon: 185 adikia: 247 Admetus: see Apollo as pastor Aeneas: 208; 212; 319 aequalitas: 272 Aesacus and Hesperie: 191; 292; 311 aetiology / aition: 155 – 157, 167, 172, 203; 319; 336 Aglauros: 195 – 197, 200 – 202, 242 agon / agonistic: 15 – 16, 18, 22 – 24, 37 – 39, 52, 60 – 61, 63, 66, 73, 92 ff., 116, 125, 135, 145, 149, 153 ff., 191, 234, 240, 247, 249, 265 ff., 314, 336 – 338, 339 ff. Alban kings: 319 Alcinous: 176 Alexandrianism: 85, 105, 112, 140 – 142, 154 Alphesiboea: 102 – 103, 106, 260 amor mutuus: 25 ff., 30 ff., 63, 221, 243 ff., 263 ff., 267 – 268, 272 ff., 282, 286, 289 ff., 301, 308 – 309, 313 ff., 320, 325 – 326, 334 ff., 340 – 341, 346 – 348 amor socialis: 272 Andromeda: 105, 111 Antigone: 260, Antimachus: 126, 88 Apelles: 140 Apollo / Phoebus: and Daphne: 25, 26, 29, 150 ff., 175, 179, 180, 183, 189, 193, 198, 201, 203, 204, 206 – 208, 216, 222, 230, 232, 243, 247, 252 – 253, 321, 325, 327 – 328, 332, 335, 342; and Hyacinthus: 164, 172 – 174, 186, 248, 298; as an elegiac amator: 159 ff., 163 ff., 169 ff., 173 – 175, 186, 345; as a dives amator: 164 – 166, 193, 216; as god of medicine: 165, 166 – 167, 172; as god of oracles: 160 – 161, 163; as monster-slayer: 155, 158; as pastor:164 – 165; as patron of poetry and

music: 51 – 52, 64, 69, 112, 118, 164 – 165; vs. Cupid: 153 ff., 156, 158, 167 Apollonius: 156, 297; Argonautica: 156, 295, 297 apophrades: 349 Arachne: 253, 326, 337, 342 Arethusa: 232 Argus: 181, 198 – 200, 284 argutus (meta-discursive connotations of): 87, 132 Ariadne: 105, 239 Arion: 310, 312 Aristophanes: 266,294 Aristotle: 74, 341, 347 Arsinoe: 136 – 137 Augustus: 112, 155 Aurora: 97, 226, 259, 269, 274, 276, 278, 282 – 283, 290, 306 Bacchus: 69, 118, 142 Baiae: 276 Bakhtin, Michael: 23 – 24, 343 Barthes, Roland: 117, 230 Berenice: 137, blanditiae: 159, 167, 175 – 176, 179 – 180, 187, 220 – 221, 238, 253 ff., 271, 327 Bloom, Harold: 349 Boreas: 233, 313 – 315, 327, 332, 334 Borges, Jorge Luis: 25 Byblis and Caunus: 223 – 234 Cadmus: 252, 268 – 269 Caesar: 59, 114, 145 – 146 Calypso: 103 – 104, 106, 260, 278, 295 Callimachus / Callimachean aesthetics: 49 – 50, 84, 87, 95, 115 – 116, 130 – 132, 136 – 137, 139 – 142, 144, 164, 168, 173, 247, 288 carmen perpetuum: 150, 235 Catullus: 14 – 15, 18, 42, 43 – 46, 75 – 91, 93, 107, 109, 128 – 129, 131, 132, 136, 140,

 For references to specific passages of works by ancient authors, see Index locorum.

378

Index of Names and Subjects

182, 186, 230 – 231, 262, 272 – 273, 323, 341; as an elegiac precursor: 45; and Allius: 75 – 77, 80, 83, 85, 86, 89, 90, 131; death of brother: 76, 78, 80 – 84, 87, 88 causa (as an allusion to the objectified puel la): 96 – 97, 100, 108, 113 – 114, 119, 124, 202 – 204, 345 Cephalus and Procris: 5, 248, 251, 268 – 292, 298, 307, 309, 317, 345 Ceyx and Alcyone: 150, 248, 290, 292 – 318 Chione: 323 Cicero: 59, 61 comedy / comic: 15, 167, 193, 206, 254, 292, 335 conjugal love / fidelity: 5, 63, 75, 244, 249, 250, 272, 274, 278, 293 – 294, 307, 348 Corinna: 48, 64, 97, 118 – 124, 143 – 146, 161, 164, 181, 189 – 190, 200, 209 – 211, 246, 251, 256, 276, 317, 324 Cornutus: 244 – 245 Coronis: 172 Culex: 87 Cupid (see also Apollo vs. Cupid): 99, 117, 153 – 156, 158, 159, 161, 162, 167, 230, 232, 251, 328, 342 custos (in elegy): 181, 189, 195 – 197, 257 Cylarus and Hylonome: 248 Cynthia: 21, 48 – 55, 57, 58, 60 – 61, 67, 69, 71 – 72, 97, 101 – 114, 116, 127 – 141, 144, 157, 168 – 169, 185, 191, 238 – 240, 259 – 262, 275 – 276, 278, 280 – 281, 283 – 285, 298, 307, 310 – 312, 314 – 316, 321, 367; as a pseudonym for Hostia: 39, 48 Daedalion: 293 deinon vs eleeinon: 4 – 5 Delia: 91, 97, 126 – 127, 245, 256 – 257, 282, 302 – 303, 305 – 308 Demophon and Phyllis: 296 – 297, 307 Deucalion and Pyrrha: 248, 264, 268 – 269 dialogic / dialogicity (in literary discourse): 23 – 24, 343 – 345 Diana / Artemis: 156, 177 – 178, 181 – 182, 185, 188, 195, 323 Dido: 179, 182, 208 dives amator: 54, 163 – 164, 166, 193 – 195, 197, 215 – 216, 238, 277

doctrina: see docta puella Dream / Somnus: 293 duritia / dura puella: 52, 64, 67, 69 – 71, 103, 162, 171, 197, 238, 241 – 242, 253, 263, 305, 321, 326, 329 – 330, 337 Dipsas: 164, 195 Eburna: 236 – 238, 240 – 242, 337 Ehoiai: see Hesiod ekphrasis: 137 epigram / epigrammatic: 199, 245, 247 epos / epic: 4 – 7, 9 – 10, 13, 25 – 26, 53, 58, 90, 98 – 99, 101, 104, 112, 114 – 116, 135, 143 – 144, 146, 154, 156 – 158, 166, 175, 194, 213 – 214, 218, 220, 223, 237, 238, 253, 270, 274, 287, 295 ethical readings of the Metamorphoses: 32, 207, 222 – 224, 248, 250, 274, 293 – 295, 315, 334, 340 Evadne: 102 – 106, 259 – 260 exclusus amator: 131, 196, 322 exemplum (from mythology): 60 – 62, 68, 84, 86, 89, 103, 105, 111, 123, 162, 164 – 165, 169, 181, 260 – 261, 275, 278, 313 – 315, 324 fatum (as the cause of separation of lovers): 264, 317 feminism (feminist criticism): 3, 18 – 21, 27, 224, 235 fides: 26, 130, 243 – 244, 251, 264, 281, 292, 301, 337, 340 – 341, 346, 348 foedus amoris: 247, 272 – 273, 278, 317 formalism: 152 Foucault, Michel: 31 Galatea: 69 – 71, 194, 236, 253 Gallus: 91, 113, 129 – 130, 167 Golden Age: 14, 91, 304, 306 Graces: 137 Greek novel: 249 – 250 Harpocrates: 44 Hector: 218 Helen: 108 – 109, 285, 302, 308, 324 Hercules: 76, 78, 83

Index of Names and Subjects

Hesiod: 294; Theogony: 95, 141 – 142, 288 – 289; Works and Days; Catalogue of Wo men: 105 Hippodamia: 324 Homer: 84, 99, 112, 126, 213, 294; Odyssey: 126, 176 – 178, 180, 182, 213, 278; Iliad: 126, 156 homosexuality / homoeroticism: 93, 279 Horace: 53, 162, 247; Ars Poetica: 245; Epo des: 61; Odes: 53, 57 – 58, 71, 120, 193, 246; Satires: 198, 247 hymn / hymnic expressions: 164, 176 – 178, 193 – 194 Hypsipyle: 103 – 104, 106, 260, 295 – 297 ianitor (in elegy; see also custos): 255, 196 – 197 Inachus: 185 – 186 Iphis and Anaxarete: 191, 326 – 331 irrumatio / irrumator: 43 – 45 Isis: 306 iuncta mors: 263 – 264, 268, 299, 309, 310 Jason: 103, 295 – 297 jealousy: 183, 281 – 283, 286, 291, 307 Juno / Hera: 76, 79, 83 – 85, 90, 156, 178, 182 – 183, 233, 293 – 294, 305, 332 – 333 Jupiter / Zeus: 50, 71, 107, 120, 156, 163, 233, 272 – 273, 314, 334, 342; as father of gods: 156; as Juno’s husband: 178, 233, 294; and Callisto: 187 – 191, 192, 217, 242, 252, 323; and Europa: 201, 205, 217, 252; and Io: 111, 175 – 186, 193, 252, 327; and Semele: 179, 332 – 333 Juventius: 93 kletic expressions: see hymn Kreuzung der Gattungen: 7 Lacanian psychoanalysis: 15 lamentation (as a distinguishing feature of elegy; see also deinon vs. eleeinon and mourning): 173, 185 – 186, 244 – 245 Lais: 209 – 210 lena (bawd / procuress in elegy): 164, 195 – 196, 324 leptotes: 87, 115, 130, 141, 168

379

Lesbia: 43, 46, 75 – 77, 79 – 84, 86 – 91, 93, 109, 128 – 129, 131, 231, 262, 273 levis / levitas: as an allusion to slender style (see also mollis, tenuis and leptotes): 130; as a distinguishing feature of the elegiac puella: 103, 130, 306, 309, 317 Licinius Calvus: 86, 128 – 129 Liebestod: 258, 260 – 261, 315 limen (threshold: as a metaliterary trope): 86, 131 Linus: 50, 126 locus amoenus: 142 lovesickness: 86, 328, 330 Lucan: 349 Lucretia: 237 Lucretius: 187, 247, 265 – 266 lusus (with poetological connotations): 80, 85 – 86, 131 Lycaon: 31 – 33 lyric consciousness: 15 Maecenas: 112, 114 – 115 magister / praeceptor amoris: 55 – 56, 58, 62, 92, 94 – 95, 106, 119, 140, 161, 192, 194, 199, 214 – 215, 219 – 220, 226, 228, 247, 258, 275, 288, 308, 332 Marathus: 92 – 95, 100 Marpessa: 158 marriage as an elegiac adynaton (see also conjugal love): 244, 274, 292 Martial: 43, 162, 247 materia / materies (as an allusion to literary subject matter): 98 – 100, 116 – 117, 119 Maximianus: 348 Medea: 179, 230, Menelaus: 308 Mercury and Herse: 192 – 205, 206, 216, 242, 252, 342, 345 Milanion and Atalanta: 60 – 61, 169 militia amoris: 23, 144, 156, 189 – 190, 211, 217 – 218, 232, 322 mimesis / mimetic: 17, 73 – 74, 146, 162 Mimnermus: 126 Minerva / Athena: 156, 192, 196, 202, 204, 242, 323, 326, 337, 342 Minyads: 252 – 254, 342

380

Index of Names and Subjects

mollis / mollitia (as a stylistic allusion; see also tenuitas, levitas and leptotes): 87, 130 monologic / monologism (in literary discourse): 23 – 24, 344 – 345 Morpheus: 293, 305, 317 – 318, 337 mourning (as a distinguishing feature of elegy): 4 – 5, 13, 173 – 174, 186, 244 – 245 Muses: 52, 69, 90, 95, 99, 118, 135 – 137, 141 – 142, 203, 288 – 289, 337, 342 Myrrha: 33, 219, 223, 230, 233 „mythologisation“ of the elegiac mistress: 91, 105 – 106, 109, 112, 118, 182 Nausicaa: 176 – 182 Narcissus and Echo: 17, 189, 235, 252 – 253 Nemesis: 91, 126 – 127, 160, 166 neoteric poetry: 272 Neptune / Poseidon: 111, 156, 189, 252 – 253, 313 – 315 nequitia: 128, 272 Niobe: 146, 183 Numa: 318 Nützlichkeitstopik (in Latin elegy): 48, 51, 58 objective (vs. subjective) elegy: 40, 81, 83, 85 – 89 obscenity: 43 – 44 Odysseus / Ulysses: 103, 176 – 182, 213, 278, 295, 298, 302, 307 Orpheus: 50, 53, 68 – 70, 126, 220, 234 – 235, 337, 342 – 343 Orithyia: 290, 313 – 314, 327 paraclausithyron: 64, 196, 213, 254 – 255, 322, 328, 330 – 331 Paris and Oenone: 285, 296 – 297, 302 pauper poeta: 54, 118, 121, 163, 165, 196, 216, 327 Peleus: 292 – 293, 298 Penelope: 213, 259 – 260, 278, 298, 307 – 309, 324 Peneus: 170 Perseus: 105, 146, 189 pes („foot“ or „pace“ as a poetological allusion to meter): 87, 99, 130 – 131, 140, 154, 169, 183 – 186, 251

Phaeacia / Phaeacians: 176, 302 phantasia (aesthetic principle): 17, 73 Phaethon: 187, 242, 248, 292 Philomela and Tereus: 151, 185, 205 – 223 Philemon and Baucis: 248 Phoebe: 194 – 195 Picus and Canens: 248 Pierides: 203, 337, 342 pignus amoris: 280, 333 Plato / Platonic: 241, 266 poikilia: 85 Polyphemus / Cyclops: 69 – 71, 194, 253 Pomona and Vertumnus: 251, 318 – 338 praeceptor amoris: see magister amoris Procne: 146, 211, 214, 218 – 219, 221 propemptikon: 297 Protesilaus and Laodamia: 75 – 78, 81, 83, 89, 261 – 263, 297, 302, 315 puella, as Gegenstand (subject matter) 39, 72 – 124; as literary oeuvre: 125 – 148; as Muse / Quelle (inspiration): 39, 72, 109, 113 – 114, 136 – 137; as Ziel (addressee): 39, 43 – 71, 113; divina: 90, 106 – 108, 182, 194 – 195, 208 – 209, 218, 285; docta: 46 – 51, 62, 65 – 67, 71, 136, 141, 185 Pygmalion: 17, 210, 223, 234 – 242, 329, 335, 337 – 338 Pyramus and Thisbe: 26, 221, 248 – 249, 252 – 268, 269, 274, 286, 290, 301, 308, 315, 317 Pythagoras: 33, 342, 349 Python: 155 Quellenforschung: 152 rape: 5, 27 – 28, 30, 151, 175, 180, 188, 191, 198, 209, 211, 216 – 217, 221, 223, 313, 323 – 324, 326, 332, 334 – 335 „reality effect“ in elegy: 16, 48, 51, 101, 106, 124, 139 recusatio: 112, 115 – 116, 164, 236 Ringkomposition: 76, 85, 90, 291 Rome’s foundation: 319 Romulus: 318 – 319

Index of Names and Subjects

saevitia / saeva (heartlessness of the elegiac puella): 60 – 61, 70, 169, 220, 279, 284, 329 Salmacis and Hermaphroditus: 176 – 178, 189, 191, 247, 254 Sappho: 136, 247, 328 Scylla: 146, 223, 230, 233, 314 – 315 semiotics: 4, 16, 19, 21, 38 – 40, 73 Semiramis: 209 – 210 servitium amoris: 16, 37, 40 – 41, 49, 51, 54, 56, 59 – 61, 65, 72, 74, 90, 93 – 94, 112, 121 – 123, 144, 177 – 178, 341 Sol and Leucothoe: 191, 254, 323, 333 – 334 Somnus, see Dream structuralism / post-structuralism: 3 – 4, 10, 21 subjective elegy: see objective elegy Syrinx: 33, 170, 188 – 189, 208, 232, 252, 320, 321

381

tenuis / tenuitas (see also mollis, levis and leptotes): 87, 130, 141, 143 – 144, 168, 258 Tereus: 151, 189, 205 – 223, 224 Theban cycle: 252 Theocritus: 131, 173, 294 Thetis:292 Tragedy / tragic: 8, 10, 19, 25, 58, 103 – 104, 130, 206 – 207, 250, 252, 341, 347 Troy / Trojan War: 75 – 78, 80, 82, 108, 261 Varro: 129 variatio: 26, 63, 85, 97, 99 – 100, 108, 340 Venus: 109, 123, 231, 236, 246, 248, 254, 272, 285, 304; Venus Anadiomene: 109 Vergil: 26, 99, 130, 156, 182, 343 victory (in love-imagery): 145, 190 – 191, 217, 232, 321 vidit et incaluit-pattern: 189, 325 vigilia in armis: 213 vulnus amoris: 172, 291